#fernando alonso x fem reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oofthwoods · 1 year ago

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DEBUTANTE! ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: derived from the french language, meaning “a first performance or showing.” the original word debutante referred to a new actress making her first appearance on the stage. or, the one where dreams come true in bahrain.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: just a little bonus, but i picture jasper as kingsley ben-adir (secret invasion, barbie). if this is the first work of mine you're checking, reader is a driver for porsche and the daughter of rubens barrichello!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 5.5k

NO ONE ASKED HER A QUESTION IN FORTY-FIVE MINUTES.

Naturally, there were many questions about her. How did the drivers feel about a woman joining their ranks on the track? What were their thoughts on the growing number of female fans who were tuning in to watch Formula One, possibly due to the popularity of the documentary Drive to Survive or the historic moment of having the first female driver in decades?

She wasn't sure if this was better or worse than she anticipated. She vividly recalled her first press conference last year when she was still driving for ART Grand Prix. They asked her ridiculous questions like whether it was professional to wear skirts in the paddock (yes), who the most attractive driver was (herself, obviously), and even if her father was disappointed that she reached a milestone in motorsport before her older brother (Dudu, who raced with their father in Brazilian Stock Series. And no, he had already made it clear he was proud of both of them).

In the first few minutes, she assumed it was because she was a rookie. But then Oscar Piastri answered a fair share of questions while looking at her as if he didn't understand why people were treating her like an invisible presence. She would shrug her shoulders and the australian reluctantly answered reporters' inquiries.

She was sandwiched between Lewis, who seemed impatient as time dragged on without any questions directed towards her, and Max Verstappen, who quickly responded to his own questions and showed his eagerness to leave. Two rookies, two world champions, but only three drivers deemed important enough for interviews.

The world-renowned champion's frustration peaked when asked about his recent vacation activities.

"Is this a joke?" he asked. "Do you really want to know what I did on my vacation more than asking her interesting questions?" He gestured towards the girl beside him.

"It's alright, Lewis-"

"With all due respect, Hamilton," one of the reporters interjected with a sarcastic smirk on his face. "I can't imagine what kind of questions we could ask Miss Barrichello besides her makeup preferences or favorite clothing brands."

"How about the fact that I won four championships in a row as a rookie?" She responded with a fake sweet smile plastered on her face. She could accept to be ignored, but she refused to be underestimated. "Or maybe any questions about Porsche joining the grid this year?"

"I don't think winning a championship by such a small margin of points is anything to be praised." The reporter retorted. His expression implied that he wasn't expecting the young girl to comfort him, but he couldn't hold back.

"Really? So we should just say that the battle between Max and Lewis in 2021-" she indicated towards them "-was nothing worth celebrating? Such an uneventful year for this sport."

Verstappen leaned forward, observing the interaction between the girl and the reporter. This press conference just became much more interesting.

"Strong words from someone who has never stepped foot in a race car." He chimed in, agreeing with the youngest person in the room.

"That's not what I meant." The reporter stuttered, noticing the security chief slowly approaching him. The middle-aged man was one of many security guards in the paddock that had known the driver since she was a child, and she knew that one look in his direction and the man would be escorted out.

"Of course, of course," she replied sarcastically. "You mean it's not worth celebrating because a woman won, right? Please, if you're going to insult me, at least try to make it believable. Or better yet, don't speak if you have no idea what you're talking about"

The tension in the room was palpable as another reporter spoke up, "But Y/n, let's be real here. The races were mostly dominated by your teammate, Frederik Vesti or runner-up Felipe Drugovich. Your victories were purely tactical."

She leaned back in her chair with a smug smile playing on her lips. "Is that so? Yet somehow I managed to come out on top every time."

Verstappen nodded in agreement, "She's definitely got a point there."

The press room fell into an intense quiet, causing y/n to regret her decision to do this interview. She knew that this type of situation would become more common as her fame grew in the coming year. She also understood that Lewis would be praised for defending her while she would face criticism for simply standing up for herself against a man who was only doing his job.

The silence was broken by a female journalist in the back, hidden behind the larger, more muscular bodies of her male counterparts. But y/n could never mistake that blonde hair for anyone else. Mariana Becker was a veteran sports reporter, an icon in Brazilian journalism, and a role model for any woman breaking into a male-dominated field.

“I wish I had raised my hand earlier; I didn't realize it would take so long for someone to ask you a question,” she chuckled. "I don't think anyone will object to two questions, right?" The woman looked around the room, and the other interviewers avoided making eye contact with the veteran.

"So, y/n, you've been asked countless times about being a woman in a male-dominated world and the difficulties you face because of it. However, with such a successful junior career full of records, I honestly don't see the need to ask that question again. Instead, I'd like to focus on the positive aspects. What does it mean to you knowing that a new generation of girls can look up to you as an inspiration and be motivated to pursue their dreams?"

The girl's face lit up with gratefulness for the refreshing question and relief that she wouldn't have to answer the same question she had already answered countless times before.

"It's incredibly inspiring for me as well. Growing up in this environment, surrounded by racing cars, I was also discouraged from pursuing this career. But I can only imagine how much more difficult it must have been for young girls who were ridiculed just for dreaming of driving a go-kart. To know that I can play a role in encouraging them to follow their dreams without fear of judgment is truly exciting."

Lewis subtly raised his thumb in a gesture of approval while she chuckled.

"Excellent," said the reporter with a smile. "One more question, how did your father react when you told him you were entering the world of Formula 1?"

"He cried," y/n answered quickly, eliciting laughter from those in the room. "He's quite the crybaby, so I waited until we were together to share the news of my contract with Porsche. At first, he cried tears of joy, then fear, and eventually a mixture of both. That's when he realized that all three of his children were following in his footsteps as race car drivers and that he'd have to pay for everything he put his own father through."

The reporter chuckled along with y/n. Mari had interviewed Rubens back when he was in Formula 1, and remembers clearly how emotional the man always was. The conference went on like this for another half an hour, with y/n answering everything from her expectations for the upcoming season to her favorite tracks and how she dealt with pressure.

The balaclava, damp with sweat, clung tightly to her face as she stood at attention. Her race engineer, a tall black man with a buzzcut and a calm expression, waited patiently beside her. She smoothed down the folds of her crisp, red-and-black uniform, adorned with her country's flag on the sleeve.

"How was the conference?" Jasper asked.

The girl muttered something that Jasper couldn't make out. "That bad? Did they bring up the issue with wearing skirts in the paddock again?"

"They didn't ask anything at first, but then one guy made a comment about me winning the championship by a narrow margin of points not being worthy of praise. Except it wasn't even a narrow margin; Felipe finished about sixty points behind me., and Fred was more than a hundred points behind, despite driving the same car as me" She complained.

Jasper winced. The relationship between the engineer and the driver had been amazing during pre-season tests with the man acting like a friend and a mentor, and they had found a groove to envy.

"You'll need to come up with a strategy for dealing with these reporters," Jasper advised.

"I already have one."

"Really?" He glanced at the clock on the track and realized that time was running out. He handed her the helmet with both hands. She grinned and smoothly put it on. The colors of her country's flag stood out against the black and red of the car, making it impossible to miss.

"Yes. WWJD."

"What does that stand for?"

"What Would Jenson Do. Originally, it was "What Would Kimi Do," but I quickly realized that Kimi would just tell everyone to go fuck themselves, and I can't exactly do that yet."

The garage was a whirlwind of activity, with mechanics frantically making last-minute adjustments and drivers strapping into their cars. The scent of gasoline and burning rubber wafted through the air, adding to the excitement and tension that crackled in the atmosphere.

Everywhere she looked, there were people moving with purpose, each one focused on their individual tasks to ensure a successful first qualifying session of the season. The roar of engines being revved and tools clanging against metal filled her ears, drowning out any other sound. It was a chaotic but exhilarating scene as the countdown to the race began.

"Why not "What Would Rubens Do"?" He asked.

She chuckled. "My dad is too nice. In his only fight in his entire Formula 1 career, he told the mechanic who wanted to fight him to get someone else because he was too small."

Jasper's phone buzzed insistently, jolting him out of his thoughts and reminding him that only five minutes remained until the start of Q1. After the last few adjustments from the mechanics, y/n managed to squeeze into her car and secure her seatbelt. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might leap out of her chest, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her body as she prepared for the intense competition ahead.

Jasper rested his arms on the halo. "Don't forget what we discussed earlier," he reminded her. "In Q1, six cars will be eliminated, followed by six more in Q2. This means that the top ten fastest cars will battle for pole position. Based on our data, we are definitely faster than Alpha Tauri, Alfa Romeo, Haas, and Williams - a total of eight cars."

The girl nodded eagerly, her eyes glued to the man as he continued. "At the very least, you and Mick should be able to make it into Q2. We're not sure how Alpine and McLaren are doing, but they don't seem to be as quick as us." He gestured towards the track outside where the other teams were busy with their own preparations. "But we can't let our guard down. Anything can happen during quali." The tension was palpable as they both waited for their turn on the track.

"So, we're trying for Q3 then?" She inquired, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and determination.

"Officially, I was instructed to tell you that Q2 is sufficient, but we can't know our full potential until we're on the track."

A sly grin appeared on her face, hidden behind her helmet. She pushed down her visor, ready to give it her all. "Well, I say let's aim for Q3 then. I want to see what this car can really do."

A gentle laugh escaped Jasper's lips, his eyes shining with admiration. "That's the spirit, echo. Show them what you're made of."

With one final nod, y/n shifted her focus, tuning out the noise and commotion of the pit lane. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, using all her senses to ground herself in the present moment. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline filled her nostrils as she visualized the track ahead. The deafening roar of the engine drowned out all other sounds, sending shivers down her spine.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio in her ear, sounding like a distant robot. "Radio check," he said, his tone serious and business-like.

She adjusted gloves as she responded, "I hear you loud and clear." Her hands were tightly gripped on the steering wheel as she followed Logan Sargeant's Williams out of the pit lane. It was a tight squeeze with the Porsche garage being the newest addition to the grid. She bit her lip, hoping that their placement in the pit lane wouldn't cause any trouble in the future.

"Great. Warm up your tires and then do a flying lap. We want to get a better idea of our potential and avoid any possible disruptions from a Red Flag," Jasper instructed.

"Roger that," she replied, trying to keep her breathing steady as cars started to move around her. She prayed that the onboard camera wouldn't catch her trembling hands as she prepared for her first real lap on the track.

The engine roared to life as she pressed down on the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel with determination. The car surged forward, its tires screeching against the asphalt, leaving a trail of smoke behind. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, heightening her senses as she focused on the task at hand.

The wind whipped through, carrying with it a symphony of sounds—engines revving, tires squealing, and the distant cheers of the crowd. Her heart pounded in sync with the rhythm of the track, each beat pulsating through her chest.

As the cars whizzed by, she made a conscious effort to stay out of their way while completing her out lap. It was her first Grand Prix, and she wasn't about to receive an impeding penalty. She could feel the engine roaring to life and her car responding with precision, its tires getting ready to set a time that would hopefully secure her from elimination in the initial round.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio once again. "Alright, you're good to go. Try your best," he encouraged, his voice filled with unwavering support.

"Copy." She smirked.

The pre-tests and free practice had prepared her for what was to come, but nothing could have truly prepared her for the exhilaration of sitting behind the wheel of a Formula 1 car. The engine purred like a fierce beast, ready to unleash its power at any moment. The sleek body of the car hugged the track, cutting through the air with precision and grace.

As she approached the first turn, she braked hard, shifting her weight to navigate the corner with precision. The G-forces pressed against her body, threatening to tear her away from reality. But she held firm, refusing to let anything distract her from the objective ahead.

She feathered the throttle, feeling the car respond to her slightest movements. The tires gripped the track, providing a sense of stability as she accelerated out of the turn, leaving her the other car trailing behind. Y/n's focus was unwavering, her eyes fixated on the next set of corners, mentally calculating her approach.

The flying lap was over in an instant, and the sound of the cheering crowd filled her ears as she crossed the finish line and set her initial time.

"Way to go, girl!" Jasper's voice crackled through the radio. "You've got P8, I repeat, P8. We're safely into Q2, but stay on track just in case. Prepare for another quick lap."

"How did Mick do?" she asked eagerly.

"P10, 0.78 seconds behind you," Jasper's voice was filled with pride as he responded. Despite his efforts to maintain professionalism, they were both rookies in the Formula 1 world, even if in different roles. "I got a great feeling about us, Barrichello. This could be the beginning of something legendary."

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours as she waited for the race to begin and she started to feel claustrophobic inside her cramped driver's room.

Finally, unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere any longer, she stepped outside into the bustling garage. The sight of her team, clad in matching uniforms and working tirelessly on their cars, brought a small smile to her face. As she made her way through the maze of mechanics and equipment, she was greeted with reassuring smiles and words of encouragement.

This was not just her first race, but also the team's inaugural race. In a way, they were all rookies, feeling the pressure and nerves just as she was.

Standing outside, it was clear that several eyes were on her. Some, like the veteran Ferrari mechanics who had known her since she was a little girl, flashed comforting smiles and gave her thumbs up, wishing her the best of luck. Others raised their eyebrows with skepticism, as if they believed her presence on the grid was some sort of elaborate prank that hadn't been revealed yet.

Amidst a sea of red and black uniforms, the bright green outfit of the two-time world champion stood out prominently. Fernando paid no mind to the curious glances from his mechanics as he made his way confidently towards the girl.

"You're not allowed in here, Alonso." She teased, playfully crossing her arms in a gesture that made her seem much older than she was.

"Is that how it is now? You qualify in the Top 10 in your first race and all of a sudden I'm just Alonso, not Nando?" He responded with a chuckle. Clutching his heart dramatically, he leaned back as if struck by sudden agony. "What happened to all our pizza days? They meant nothing to you?"

The character she was playing no longer felt right to her, and the words she spoke didn't align with the expression on her face. She fought to suppress a smile as she continued, "That person you knew, Alonso? She is gone now."

As the man approached, she couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity wash over her. His dark hair and intense brown eyes were etched into her memory, but it was his infectious smile that brought back a flood of childhood memories.

Fernando rested his hands on her shoulders and held onto his helmet, which puzzled her. With only a few minutes left before the race began, he could have easily stored it in his own garage rather than carrying it around. But she pushed those thoughts aside as his gaze softened and he spoke.

"You were the size of a flea when I met you," he said with a chuckle. She smiled at the memory of their first encounter. She had been just six years old at the time, tagging along with her father to one of his races. She remembered being mesmerized by the speed and energy of the cars on the track, but also feeling a little intimidated by the loud noises and bustling crowds.

But then she saw him – Alonso – standing tall and proud in his racesuit. He had noticed her watching him from behind the fence and had flashed her a tight smile. Somehow, from that one interaction, she had become a fan. From then on, whenever she visited the track with her father, she would always seek out Fernando.

Initially, the Spaniard couldn't comprehend why the young girl found him so intriguing. He knew he was talented and quick on the race track, but children were not his forte. Alonso would often try to distance himself from the girl, offering only friendly waves and smiles. However, when she presented him with a drawing of himself on the podium with a trophy (which he still keeps today), everything changed.

"You used to avoid me like the plague," she recalled.

"That's not entirely true," Fernando denied, but quickly changed his tune when the girl raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe I wasn't too fond of being followed around by a little girl. Can you blame me? If anything happened to you, I would have to deal with your father, Michael, Kimi, and all the mechanics that you had wrapped around your finger."

He became somewhat of figure between an older brother and a father figure to her, always ready with words of encouragement and advice.

Now here they were, both grown up and about to race against each other for the very first time.

"I can't believe we're finally racing against each other," she said with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

"It's about time," Fernando replied with a smirk. "I've been waiting for this moment since you beat me in go-karts."

A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the moment. During one of his trips with her family to cheer her on during her junior career, they decided to have some fun and race go-karts. She had managed to beat him by mere thousandths of a second, and she made sure to remind him of it constantly afterwards.

"What's on the agenda for today, Mija?" He asked, looking around at the girl's garage.

"Hah, like I would share that with you. I love you, Nando, but now we're competitors." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You're just trying to take advantage because we're close."

"You got me." He chuckled, knowing it wasn't entirely true.

She sighed and crossed her arms with a hesitant expression. "Rule number one is to not crash into Mick. Number two is to avoid crashing into anyone else. Our team isn't expecting a stellar performance, so if we can maintain our starting positions, both cars will score points. That's our main goal."

"Oh, come on. Don't you want to try overtaking someone?" he prodded.

Y/N laughed. "Why? You want to see me in your rearview mirror?"

"Of course I do," he admitted. "Competing for a win with you would be incredible."

He pushed his helmet towards the girl, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Confused, she tilted her head in question. “I appreciate the gift, but I think you’ll need it today.”

Fernando laughed, memories flooding back to him. “Remember when your dad retired and you started coming to races with me?”

The memories flooded back, of her father's days in the high-stakes world of Formula 1. Though he had since retired, Fernando still managed to convince Rubens to allow her to travel with him to races closer to her home, and sometimes even to the grand prix in his homeland.

She quickly caught on to his request and playfully darted away from him before snagging the helmet. It had become a tradition since she was ten years old, and Fernando had unofficially taken on the role of her godfather. She used to do this same routine with her own father, so it felt natural to continue with the spaniard. He stood there, slightly perplexed, wondering if he had said or done something wrong. But just moments later, the young girl returned with her own helmet in hand.

"Wouldn't it be fair for you to do the same for me this time?" she asked playfully.

The two exchanged helmets and planted a kiss on the part of the helmet that would soon cover each other's foreheads.

"Stay safe, Nando"

"You too. Give us hell"

"It's an easy overtake for Barrichello in the Porsche, and she takes the position from Lance Stroll in the Aston Martin!" David Croft's voice rings across the circuit, and the crowd roars, the flags from her country and Germany flying around.

"Great job!" The voice of her race engineer appears in her ear, breaking through her intense concentration. "Russell is 1.2 ahead, close the gap to be able to use DRS when it is enabled."

"Copy" she nods, instinctively, her eyes never leaving the track ahead. She knows what she needs to do, and she pushes her car to its limits, weaving through the curves and straights with precision and skill.

As she closes the gap between her and the british driver, she can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She's in her element, in the midst of the intense competition that she lives for.

"0.7. Go for it, elbows out" Jasper said again.

The cheers of the pit crew resounded in her ears as she used the extra boost to overtake the Mercedes. It was a challenge to defend against George's attempts at whiplash and reclaim her position, but once they were off the main straight, she managed to create a considerable gap between them.

The rest of the race flew by in a blur. The girl lost track of her position, constantly overtaking some cars only to be overtaken shortly after. However, Jasper's encouraging words kept her going.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio as she approached the final stretch of the race. "Virtual safety car, slow down," he instructed.

She quickly checked her rearview mirror, looking for her teammate. "Is it ours?" she asked.

"No, it's Leclerc in the Ferrari," Jasper replied, "which puts us in fifth place."

She could see Hamilton was more than five seconds behind, and the yellow flag meant that Alonso was slowing down ahead of her.

"As soon as the VSC is lifted, you'll have a clear shot to overtake," Jasper added.

Who would have thought that she would be right on Fernando's heels after all?

After a few laps of caution due to the previous incident, the green flags were waved and she wasted no time in accelerating towards the Aston Martin driven by the Spaniard. She steadily closed the gap between them until she was right behind him. However, just as she was about to make a move to pass him, he outmaneuvered Carlos Sainz's Ferrari.

In a swift and calculated maneuver, she positioned her car on the inside of Sainz, who seemed too focused on reclaiming his position to check his mirrors. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse of attention, she quickly overtook him.

Jasper's voice was filled with excitement as he shouted, "That's it, echo! What a fantastic move!" She could almost hear the smile in his tone. "Alonso is already ten seconds ahead, so concentrate on defending now."

The final laps seemed like a blur, the girl steadily increasing the gap between her and the Ferrari with each lap.

"It's a flawless performance from Porsche, with both cars scoring points on this historic day. Mick Schumacher equals his best career finish with an incredible P6, and Y/N Barrichello takes fourth place, becoming the first woman to score in a Formula 1 race since Lella Lombardi and achieving the highest position for a woman in history!"

The sound of the bustling cheers from the Porsche garage fills her ears as she struggled to park the car with trembling hands. “Unbelievable! P4, y/n, P4! We scored 21 points and Mick got the fastest lap. What a start,” Jasper exclaims over the radio.

She stepped out of the car on shaky legs and is immediately greeted by Carlos, who had parked his car behind hers. “Where did you come from?” he asked with a chuckle. “I was trying to overtake Fernando, and suddenly you were right beside me.”

She took off her helmet and balaclava, her hair damp with sweat and sticking to her forehead and neck. She culdn't help but laugh. "Next time, check your mirrors," She teases her good-naturedly.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace. The sweat that coated both of them didn't matter, nor did the fact that she still needed to weigh herself. She squeezed Mick even tighter and they both seemed too overjoyed to let go.

He took a step back but kept his arms around her. "Fourth place in your first race! I told you not to worry," the German exclaimed proudly.

"And look who's talking with the fastest lap!" She laughed in agreement. "We did it, Mick. We fucking did it."

A bottle of water suddenly appeared in her line of sight, and she turned to thank the person who handed it to her. To her surprise, it was Lewis with a smile on his face.

"If you had just overtaken one more person, you would have joined the club," he joked, pointing to Kevin Magnussem, who appeared to be deep in conversation with his teammate. "It was quite a race for the two of you."

"Honestly, I wasn't expecting to end up anywhere higher than where I started, so P4 is already a great achievement," she replied with a laugh as she took the cold bottle from him. The girl then turned to Lewis again and asked about his own race.

"P7. Mick managed to pass me on the last lap," he responded, glancing over at the young driver who chuckled in response.

The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins as y/n made her way to the weighing machines. She couldn't believe it, a P4 finish on her debut race. It seemed like a dream come true.

She stepped onto the scales, trying to calm her racing heart. The number flashed on the screen, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Phew, just made it," she muttered to herself.

Grabbing a towel to wipe off the sweat from her face, she quickly discarded her race suit at her hips, and made her way to her garage in her white fireproofs.

To an outsider, it might have seemed like the team had just won a world championship, not a P6 and P4. People were clapping her on the back and embracing Mick, and she struggled to decipher the various voices exclaiming with joy.

Jasper appeared in front of her with a bottle of champagne in hand. "Congratulations y/n, you did amazing out there!" he exclaimed before popping open the bottle and spraying champagne everywhere.

She laughed as some of the bubbly liquid hit her skin. "Thanks Jasper! I couldn't have done it without your perfect strategy. Great call with the tyres"

He grinned at her before turning serious. "But seriously y/n, you did a great job out there. We're all so proud of you." The rest of the team joined them in cheers and congratulations.

Before they could continue their conversation, Adrian, the team principle, arrived at their garage looking ecstatic. "Great job everyone! A double-points finish for our debut race, this is just the beginning." He raised his glass of champagne before taking a sip.

Y/n looked around and couldn't help but feel proud of her team. They had come a long way since their first tests together. And now here they were, competing in one of the most prestigious racing championships in the world.

Adrian turned to her with a smile. "Y/n, I must say you exceeded all expectations today. You have proven yourself as a valuable addition to our team." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Keep up the good work."

She couldn't help but blush at his words and nod gratefully. This was everything she had ever dreamed of - to be part of a successful racing team and make her mark in the sport.

As the celebrations continued, y/n couldn't help but think about how far she had come. From fighting for sponsorships to competing against some of the best drivers in the world, it felt like a dream come true.

But amidst all the excitement and joy, there was still one thing weighing on her mind - her family. She missed them terribly and wished they could be here to witness her success.

Just then, her phone buzzed.

"Muito orgulhoso de você filhota. Eu sabia que você ia arrasar! Me liga quando acabar tudo aí" — PAPAI. (so so proud of you, baby. i knew you would rock it! call me once you're done with everything there.)

Soon after, her older brother's name appeard on her phone as well. A quick congrats was followed by a video. Tapping on it, she couldn't contain the tears as she watched her father by the TV, holding tightly their flag and exploding in joy as the checkered flag was waved and his daughter finished in fourth.

He erupted with happiness, leaping and embracing her siblings and close friends who had gathered to witness her debut. He would excitedly point towards the television, shouting with pride, "There she is! My little girl!"

A big smile crept onto her face as she quickly replied back with an update on how things were, and a promise to video call her family as soon as she was cleared from the media.

"Time for the boring stuff now. Ready for the interviews?" Mick pulled her out of her thoughts. He had his phone on his hand, and she imagined he was also communicating with his family. "I can go first, if you want."

She took a deep breath, and smiled. "It's okay, i'll go. There's nothing they can say that could ruin my day. Not anymore."

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3) :: @studioreader, @fanficweasley, @stinkyjax, @namgification, @judespoision, @cha-hot, @disneyprincemuke, @itsjustkhaos, @trouble-sistar, @ihateyougunthersteiner, @treehouse-mouse, @cherry-piee, @fangirl125reader, @cassie0sstuff

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annewithaneofthegreengable · 5 months ago

Text

Kinktober - Day 17

17th — lingerie, Fernando Alonso

The previous day I The next day I Kinktober masterlist I Main list

Fernando loves it when you get that glint in your eyes, one full of mischief as you guide his hands to your clothes, urging him to unwrap them, telling him to take his time, prolonging the foreplay that simply undressing provides. As each inch of your skin is revealed, Nando’s eyes darken and his breathing shallows, and you can see his Adam’s Apple bob as he gulps when the straps of a new bra are revealed.

Deep red this time. Fernando's gaze lingers on every exposed curve, his fingers itching to explore further. He leans in closer, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispers in his signature Spanish accent. “Mi amor, you're even more stunning than the Ferraris I've driven…” Each layer reveals a masterpiece. He traces a finger along the edge of your bra, his touch feather-light but electrifying. His other hand finds its way to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

Fernando's hands slide around to cup your breasts, thumbs teasing over the hardened nipples straining against the fabric of your bra. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, kissing and nibbling at the sensitive skin there.

"Mmm, you taste as sweet as the victory champagne," he murmurs, voice low and husky with desire. "I need to feel all of you, mi corazón. Let me worship this incredible body of yours."

With deft fingers, he unclasps your bra and lets it fall away, revealing your bare breasts to his hungry gaze. He palms them gently, admiring their shape before leaning down to capture a nipple between his lips. He suckles and teases the sensitive bud with his tongue, drawing a gasp from your lips. Having had enough of your breasts (for the time being) his kisses trail lower until his breath is ghosting the sensitive skin at your waist as he urges you to shimmy out of your skirt. He turns to help you toss it aside and a guttural groan catches in his throat when he turns back, utterly star-struck by the sight before him.

Fernando's eyes widen as they drink in the breathtaking view of you standing before him in nothing but your panties and heels. A low whistle escapes him, followed by a heated smile. “Joder, you're a vision, mi reina, he rumbles appreciatively, his gaze roaming your body like a physical touch. So beautiful, so alluring... I don't think I've ever seen anything more stunning.” He steps closer, reaching out to trace the delicate curve of your hip with his fingertips. His touch ignites sparks under your skin, making you ache for more contact. “I want to taste every part of you,” Fernando declares, his voice thick with lust. “To map out your body with my mouth until I know it better than my own racing lines.”

Without waiting for a response, Fernando drops to his knees before you, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulls you closer. His face hovers inches from your core, his hot breath wafting against your most intimate area through the thin fabric of your panties.

"You smell divine, mi amor," he growls, nuzzling his nose against you. "Like a fine wine, complex and intoxicating."

With a swift motion, he tugs your panties to the side, exposing you fully to his eager gaze. His tongue darts out, licking a slow, sensual stripe up your slit, savouring your flavour.

"Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined," he moans, burying his face between your thighs. "I could feast on this sweetness forever."

Fernando alternates between long, languid strokes of his tongue and quick, targeted flicks against your clit, driving you wild with sensation. One hand grips your ass, holding you steady as the other slides up your thigh, teasing the crease where the leg meets the hip. “Cariño, you're dripping for me already, he observes smugly, lapping up your arousal. Your body responds perfectly to my touch like we were made for each other.” He sucks your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves as two fingers slip inside your tight channel. He pumps them slowly at first, letting you adjust to the stretch before gradually increasing his pace. “That's it, mi amor,” Fernando encourages, his voice muffled against your sex, “ride my fingers.”

As you begin to move against his fingers, Fernando redoubles his efforts, sucking harder on your clit while pumping his digits deeper into your heat. The combination of sensations sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, making your head spin and your toes curl.

"Oh god, Nando," you gasp, your hips rocking frantically against his face, "just like that! Don't stop!"

Fernando hums in approval, the vibrations adding another layer of bliss to the intense stimulation. He curls his fingers just right, stroking that magical spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and your mind go blank.

"So close, mi amor," he rasps against your throbbing flesh, "come for me. Let me taste your release."

Fernando's words are the final push you need, and with a keening cry, your orgasm crashes over you. Your inner walls clench rhythmically around his fingers as waves of ecstasy wash through you, your juices flooding his mouth.

"¡Dios mío!" Fernando exclaims, lapping up your essence greedily as you ride out the aftershocks. "You're incredible, mi amor. So responsive, so passionate..."

Slowly, he eases his fingers free, bringing them to his lips to clean them with a satisfied smirk. "Delicious, too. I could get addicted to this taste."

Standing up, he claims your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, sharing the lingering flavours of your passion with you. "Now, let's see if I can match this performance with my cock, hmm?"

Taglist:@formula1-motogpfan@iamafootballfanmiasanmia@arian-directioner@annimausi@mythicalmaven@lucycowr@hamilton-mount @Chuxk-leclerk @landosgirl @Kikiaaaay @iluvvmeeee @stars4me @starz4me1 @fxrmuladaydreams @Ashleyo1611 @ln-fours @cloud-55 @neo-stay @mysteriesincorporated @nzygftoji @dinodumbass @qxeenjen @lilmacabe @9fi @sya-skies @toriiez @jud-3 @ryl-xoxo @fandomz-queenie @gracie23x @kr1sblog @b-law @F1fan24 @taylorsdoratheafr @missevrythingg @salma @cherrypopsicle @toasterpiastri @uhhvictoria @01rrdbull @aracelys-stuff @horseymchorse3 @lou-ghoul @unknownmystery22 @thisbitxhs-blog @toxicdreamer296 @maxivstappen @si1ver06 @mendes-bae @bestgirlie @mbioooo0000 @depressedgiftedburnout @lieslostinsilence @chaoticversion @kaydesssssssss @maryelizaart @milkyymelanine @bisrae @carlando4 @mystichandspruneshark @sweetwh0re @larastark3107 @fiveyjustin @moonchildlec @bicrazybabe @maximumflaps @sainzwife @i--sa @liviav @nitonan-blog @moodymoony71 @horrible-decision @verstappenluv111 @Meyla123X @bea-stilinksi24 @Hayley125 @imjustme-n @elizamoe133 @bernelflo @evie-likes-stuff @anne1444444 @celtis--vr @rockytheluver @orlafitz1664 @aliceespector @ricciadosredbull @novelant @briannamh07 @oliveswiftly @hotlapshottakes @sinners-98-world @ramenblutte @fallenlunar @little-nando14 @fore45fore @importantduckhumanoidpatrol @eroselless @strabunny @sydneyhlove @jkdaddy01 @multi-fandom5 @f1-hoff @kittylolly4 @reguluscrystals @uhhvictoria @arian-directioner @forza-dolce @dukeofjjune @vimayxo @ilove-tswizzle @peachapat119

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disneyprincemuke · 1 year ago

Text

testing, testing * fem!driver

nobody is more glad to be back in bahrain in her new race car more than the girl racing for andretti

pairings: fernando alonso x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, sebastian vettel x fem!driver, liam lawson x fem!driver

notes: hi surprise before the first race of 2024 and also because I've been writing this piece for like a week now

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

she sighs, tilting her head as she looks down at the car. her hand hovers above the side pod as she grins, “ah, my baby. so pretty.”

liam, standing next to her, has a scowl on his face as he lifts his eyebrow at her. “what?”

“look at the purple on this car,” she whispers in bewilderment as she claps her hand, bouncing on her tiptoes. “she’s so pretty! i have a good feeling about this year, liam!” she grabs his shoulder and shakes him as she throws her head back. “this is our year and i’m going to win a race for andretti.”

“if you don’t stop shaking me, i’ll throw myself in front of your car and you’ll have to find a new teammate.”

she hums. “i have fred — toto will hand him over if i bat my eyelashes and say really nice things and offer free babysitting.”

“hater,” liam mutters, shaking his head. he turns his head back to the car. it is pretty: the purple and the specks of black give it a nice touch. “but it is a pretty nice car. it felt nice right?”

“it did.”

she sighs and leans on the car with her arms wide open. she pushes her cheek against the halo of the car. “i love you, my baby car. we’re gonna win a race together.”

“what’s going on?”

liam turns his head and shrugs. “not sure. might be the lack of ice cream in her bloodstream that’s making her like this.”

which is possible. sebastian and noah (her physical trainer) had banned her from ice cream for testing, afraid that she would simply camp out in the bathroom in the short couple of hours she has in the car today.

“i drank pepsi, it’s okay,” she giggles, scrunching her nose. she perks up with a giddy smile and looks around with her lips pursed. “where is oscar? he owes me timtams.”

“no chocolate either,” sebastian says sternly, furrowing his eyebrows at the young girl.

“what? why not?”

“because you’ll kill yourself when you’re in the car for too long,” noah sighs with the shake of his head. “eat fruits like normal people.”

“normal…” liam furrows his eyebrows as he turns to the slightly older man. “who eats fruits for fun?”

“they’re good for you.”

“they’re not all good. they could give you diabetes.”

“fruits can give you diabetes?” she yelps, shoving liam back a couple of steps with wide eyes. “i knew there’s a reason i resented fruits! they’re so unhealthy!”

“actually it’s because you didn’t have an ounce of internet safety growing up. you were traumatised by annoying orange,” liam mutters. only then he notices that it’s something he was sworn to secrecy by logan. he glances at the girl, breathing heavily as her eye twitches. “or so i assume.”

noah turns to her. “you’re scared of annoying orange?”

prepared for the girl to unleash some sort of violence on him, liam sucks in a deep breath as he closes his eyes to brace for impact. much to his surprise, she just nods and walks past him to walk to where her helmet is.

“yeah. and it’s all blythe watched growing up. so it was kinda,” she shrugs, “detrimental to my brain development.”

liam raises his eyebrow. “that’s the only thing that held back your development?”

“that and meeting you in my early teen years for sure altered my brain chemistry.”

“wow.”

“i know. kinda sucks, doesn’t it?”

pre-season testing has always been one of the days of the year that she’s most excited for. going out there and showing everybody she can do — it’s always fun to shut a lot of people up. and it’s the one time that she can drive a race car without so much pressure on her shoulders.

it’s lots of fun, really. and after not seeing a couple people over the break, it’s fun to be back in the paddocks to mess around with them.

she rests the helmet above her head and turns to liam with a grin. “if i beat you in testing, you owe me 5 pints of rocky road.”

“rocky–”

liam punches her shoulder gently. “you’re on. and if i beat you, you do my laundry for a week.��

“yeah– wait, how is that fair? boy laundry is gross!”

“you live with a boy!”

“i don’t do his laundry! logan’s a grown ass man!”

“enough bickering,” sebastian sighs, putting a hand behind her back. his other hand lands on the top of her helmet and slowly pushes hit down to help her put it on. he understands her excitement: she’s missed racing so much that she had resorted to bringing her brother karting over the winter break. “get in the car and show everyone what you can do.”

she squeals. “and beat liam and get my ice cream.”

“yeah, that too.”

she drives into the pitlane, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she looks for the set of andretti garages. she sighs as she comes to a stop, feeling the car be lifted as they put her back into the garage for a little more testing.

“aw, hey! you’re back,” liam grins, knocking on the top of her helmet. she swats his hands away from her head as she grips on the halo to pull herself out of the car. “how was it?”

“i was not feeling great. but i reckon it’s just me,” she shrugs, voice muffled by the layers over her mouth. “i’m telling you — i need my ice cream. i can handle it without having to run to the bathroom before a race!”

liam scrunches his nose. “you’re not fooling anyone with that.”

“i swear, mate,” she throws her head back in frustration, “it was just the rookie vibes last year. i’m better this year.”

he hums, turning around to readjust the headphones on his head. “i don’t reckon sebastian and noah would believe you. but alright.”

“believe me!”

“believe what?”

“what are you doing here?” she giggles, covering her mouth as she hunches over. “you got my ice cream?”

mick sighs heavily, shoulders slumping when their eyes meet. he presses his lips together and shakes his head and her smile drops. “noah checked me for illegal items on the way in.”

“that asshole!” she shrieks, turning to the large doors where her trainer stands. “you don’t understand — i need my ice cream! i’m dying.”

“i know,” mick turns to the pit wall where sebastian sits, swinging his legs as he eats the ice cream reserved specifically for the girl. “i got caught. i’m sorry.”

she clenches her jaw and turns away from sebastian grinning smugly as her from across the pitlane. she hums. “i will find a way to get myself ice cream. just you wait.”

“i don’t reckon that’s a good idea mate,” liam mutters. “you’ve still got the afternoon session for to drive. maybe you should sit this one out.”

she wiggles her finger in the air as she walks towards the backdoor of her garage. “no can do. i’m sure oscar’s got some extra ice cream from me.”

“no, you cannot race one another during testing.”

“why not? not even a little bit?” max shrugs, frowning as he throws his hands into the air. “just one lap.”

the girl, standing next to him, nods with a wide smile. “please? we won’t crash into one another, i promise.”

“you’re not supposed to crash into one another even in a normal race!” sebastian points out, scratching his head in frustration.

it is one thing to compare lap times when you’re pushing everything out of your car, but to go out on the track and race side by side is another thing. there is simply too much at stake, especially for a time like pre-season testing where everything is in shambles.

“okay, fine!” she huffs, throwing her head back before turning to max. she drops her head. “might i suggest a scooter race around the paddocks before the afternoon session today? after lunch?”

sebastian clears his throat, prompting both of them to turn their heads to look at him before max could muster an answer. “i thought i told you that you can’t use your stupid scooter without adult supervision?”

she looks at him in confusion. “i was talking about the scooter fernando got me.”

“aw, he got you a scooter?” max whines, frowning. “i wanted one — kelly wouldn’t let me get one.”

“seriously?” she giggles. “logan, oscar and i got one along. mine’s the cutest, i’d reckon. you might be able to use oscar’s!”

sebastian just sighs. he waves them off and turns on his heel and starts to walk the other day. “get yourselves injured, i don’t even care.”

“you’re… asking me to join you?”

“what does it sound like?”

a sheepish giggle passes the man’s lips as he covers his mouth and takes a step back. “i feel so honoured. i’m being included in your activities?”

liam furrows his eyebrows. “what’s that supposed to mean? it’s just a scooter ride around the track before the new session. it’s not a big deal.”

“it’s literally a scooter race out on the race track,” she whispers, turning away from liam to look at fernando in confusion. “literally kilometres on a fucking scooter meant for kids.”

“and we somehow convinced the marketing team to film us doing it for content,” logan beams, puffing his chest with his hands on his hips.

they went on a limb when the girl texted their groupchat: something about helping her convince the f1 marketing team to let them book the track for 40 minutes so they could race on it without getting into trouble.

she walked in with logan, oscar and liam trailing behind her with a half thought out speech, a sweet smile and a dream. she barely even made it halfway through the speech she spent so long thinking over while she had her lunch when they agreed without another thought.

and being that it was fernando’s idea to get them all matching scooters (actually a gift to liam for his rookie year, but the girl had convinced him to get her one too), they invited him along as well.

and max, because sebastian had admitted that fernando got him one as well. he had been too ashamed to admit it, muttering about how borderline embarrassing it is.

“how did you do that? they never agree to my ideas.”

“how can you resist a face like this?” liam asks.

liam puts a hand under her face, logan squeezes her cheeks together and oscar pushes her nose up. she poses with her hand in a peace sign.

“i’d feel threatened if i were the f1 marketing team.”

“hey, take that back!” she cries. she swats the hands from her face and grins. “are you joining us or not?”

fernando shrugs. “sure, why not.”

there’s a screech that breaks the barrier by the pitlane followed by the clanging of something. everyone pipes down, heads turning and looking around in curiousity to find the source of the scream.

“there’s no way this happened to me again!”

along the track’s grid is the girl sitting on the ground, hands up in the air with her scooter not too far from her. she’s surrounded by her friends first before the marketing crew finally takes steps forward to check on her.

“if i were you, i’d take this as a sign to just stick with a car,” oscar laughs, clutching his stomach.

“yeah, mate,” logan wipes tears from his eyes, “there’s no way you’re two for two falling down and hurting yourself on a scooter.”

her teammate, however, towers over her with hands over his hips. “i swear you might be stupid. how did you fall down again on a scooter that’s meant for kids?”

she looks up, genuine tears in her eyes as the red liquid seeps out of her palms. “you guys are so mean!”

fernando looks down at her. “are you okay?”

“no!” she holds her hands up to fernando to show him where she is bleeding. “it hurts!”

“okay, mija,” fernando grins, nodding empathetically. he puts a hand on her elbow and the other around her back to help her up. “let’s get you some first aid.”

max appears, actually being the only one that finished the race, still riding on a scooter. he balances on it and tilts his head, “really? again?”

her head snaps back around to max, taking a threatening step forward with an arm wound back to hit him. “max emilian verstappen!”

“not the government name,” he scoffs, furrowing his eyebrows. “this is why you fell down.”

“bitch,” she mutters as fernando whisks her away. “there’s no trophy so it doesn’t even count.”

“you’re just mad that max beat you,” liam snorts, rolling his eyes, “and fernando… and logan… and oscar…”

“you didn’t beat me though, so i’m fine with that.”

“oh, my god?”

“what happened?”

the two germans walk into the garage to her sitting on a bench with her head dropped, being bandaged by noah.

“she fell down,” noah answers immediately, shaking his head as he spares her one more disappointed stare. “can you believe it?”

“have you considered just… not racing?” mick asks, tilting his head. “on a scooter, i mean.”

she shakes her head. “i have to be the best at everything.”

“wow,” sebastian blinks, “well, are you okay?” he looks over liam’s shoulder and rolls his eyes as well. “seriously? the same spot as before?”

“hey, i didn’t take your stupid smart glasses — just mind your own business!” she slouches and lets out a heavy sigh. “it wasn’t even my fault this time.”

liam perks up. “i didn’t do shit to you, mate! you’re just stupid!”

“you were screaming at me approaching me from behind!”

“i was not! i was simply singing the mission impossible theme song!”

“same thing! it was intimidation — you should have been disqualified for that.”

“sore loser!”

“you know what this means?” she hums, batting her eyelashes at sebastian with a small grin. this is her only chance into coaxing herself to completion. “ice–“

before she can finish her plea, her race engineer is already walking away from her with a hand held up in her direction. “not a chance.”

“okay.”

“good results, mate!” liam screams, his claps filling the garage as she climbs out of her car. “you’re in the top 10!”

she turns her head towards him, the way her shoulders and back straighten an easy telltale of how she feels. she pushes her visor up, “really?” she sees the smug grin on his face, ripping her gloves off and throwing it at him. “there’s only 10 of us testing today!”

“you believed me, though.”

“i literally just drove several laps out!” she hits him. “you’re so annoying — i wish mick was my teammate.”

liam shakes his head as she takes her helmet off. “you don’t mean that.”

“i actually do. very much,” she sighs. she puts her helmet into the seat of her car and turns to liam, only then noticing that liam is now holding something out to her. “oh!”

“yeah, i got you ice cream!” liam beams proudly. “they didn’t have rocky road, but… i figured it’s still chocolate ice cream and you wouldn’t–“

he’s cut off by the girl throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around him beforw pulling away to take the small cup into her hands. “aw, liam! thank you!”

“we’re going to have so much fun this year.”

“bold of you to assume i won’t run you off track like i did in f2.”

“i’m prepared to hit you back — you’re an adult now.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @inejismywife @love4lando

#fernando alonso x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #logan sargeant x reader #oscar piastri x reader #liam lawson x reader #fem!driver #female driver #f1 fem!driver #f1 female driver #vettel reincarnate #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke vr #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader

723 notes · View notes

love-belle · 2 years ago

Text

por siempre, mi amor !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they're the unproblematic couple of formula one.

for when you find your forever. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // fernando alonso x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - had this one in my drafts for days now, i really hope u like it!!! second part of used to love you ( my danny fic ) will be posted soon so if you'd liked me to tag you, just send me an ask or message or reply to that post wtv works!!! anyways, thank u so much for reading, i love you <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lilymhe, carlossainz55, fernandoalo_official and 71 others

yourusername almost adopted another puppy but i knew nando wouldn't agree

28 comments

pierregasly adopt one anyway

-> yourusername maybe i should

-> fernandoalo_official y/n no

carlossainz55 missing you around the paddock!!!

-> yourusername see you soon carlitos!!!

lewishamilton roscoe needs a new friend

*liked by yourusername*

lilymhe DO IT

*liked by yourusername*

fernandoalo_official y/n, mi amor, please don't

-> yourusername fine

-> fernandoalo_official really?

-> yourusername no

landonorris DO IT WE CAN NAME IT NANDOS

-> yourusername LMFAOAOOA I LOVE THAT

-> fernandoalo_official NO

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, carmenmmundt and 715,428 others

fernandoalo_official estas flores necesitaban sol, así que ella era la elección obvia ( these flowers needed sunshine so she was the obvious choice )

tagged yourusername

username STOP IM CRYINF

username will never get over nando calling her sunshine

username sobbing fr

danielricciardo the most sunshine-y sunshine

*liked by fernandoalo_official*

username THEY'RE SO IN LOVE I COULD THROW UP

username parents fr

charles_leclerc 🤍

*liked by fernandoalo_official*

username sunshine x grumpy is so them

username SJAKSHDJAKSJSKSKS

yourusername te amo mi sol ❤️

-> fernandoalo_official te amo mucho ❤️

yourusername thank you for getting me the entire flower shop but i hope you know it's up to you to carry them home

-> fernandoalo_official cualquier cosa por ti ❤️ ( anything for you )

username he's so soft for her like

username i need this omg

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by fernandoalo_official, lilymhe, maxverstappen1 and 87 others

yourusername all's well that ends well to end up with you ❤️‍🩹

tagged fernandoalo_official

34 comments

lilymhe the cutest couple!!

-> yourusername we love you lily 🫶🏼

charles_leclerc you're the only one he ACTUALLY smiles at, we just get the -_- face

-> fernandoalo_official it's because i like her

-> landonorris woah nando ok.

-> lewishamilton breaking my heart over here man

-> pierregasly we see how it is

-> danielricciardo oh my god

-> fernandoalo_official los odio a todos iguales ( i hate all of you equally )

-> yourusername mi amor be nice ( my love )

fernandoalo_official everything made sense with you ❤️

-> yourusername i love you ❤️

carlossainz55 please come and see him as soon as possible, he gets really grumpy

-> fernandoalo_official i do not

-> yourusername sure i believe you!!!!!!!!!!!!

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, carmenmmundt and 775,628 others

fernandoalo_official por siempre, mi amor ( forever, my love )

tagged yourusername

comments are disabled for this post

#f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #social media au #fake instagram imagines #f1 imagines #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x fem!reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso imagines

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verstappensrealwife · 1 year ago

Text

Just Friends - Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

[ lando norris masterlist / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... they go from friends to lover. ʚɞ fluff ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 2300 words ʚɞ warnings: drinking alcohol, mentions of drunkness, kissing.

-୨♡୧-

You have known Lando practically since the day you took your first breath—well, maybe not quite that early, but close enough. He was barely two when you entered the world, your mothers having been friends since their school days. So, it was only natural that he made an appearance at the hospital with his mother to welcome you into the world.

His first reaction upon meeting you was a mixture of surprise and disappointment, his innocent query about your gender met with tears when your mother revealed you were, indeed, a baby girl. It's a story you never fail to bring up whenever he expresses admiration for you.

"Y/N, you're such an amazing person," he mumbled, his words slightly slurred from the alcohol, as you practically carried him through the pulsating lights and booming music of the club. His arm draped heavily over your shoulders, you were on a mission to save him from humiliating himself with an ill-advised karaoke rendition of a Queen song.

"You didn't think I was this great when I was born," you quipped, your own sobriety a stark contrast to his inebriated state. In fact, you hadn't planned on being in the club at all. It was Lando who had insisted on your presence, summoning you to "rescue him from this esteemed establishment!"

Today, Lando, you and a few others found yourselves dining together. The evening air was balmy, with the soft glow of summer casting a golden hue through the windows, illuminating your face in a particularly enchanting manner.

He won’t deny looking at you a little longer sometimes, and quickly coming to his senses by stopping immediately. Just a friend.

You found yourselves amidst the lively celebration of a friend's engagement, nestled by a large window that framed the enchanting evening sky. The restaurant exuded a cosy ambiance, with lush greenery draping the walls and vibrant artwork adorning every corner. Across the room, the exposed brick walls added a touch of rustic charm to the eclectic space.

The table before you was a veritable feast, adorned with an array of delectable dishes and overflowing drinks—empty glasses serving as a testament to the spirited revelry that had unfolded. Amidst the cheerful chatter of your companions, you found yourself engaged in a spirited discourse with your friend beside you, passionately expounding on the intricacies of drink measurements, though your slightly slurred speech betrayed your less-than-sober state.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the scene, you settled your portion of the bill and rose from your seat, bidding farewell to each friend with warm hugs and heartfelt kisses. Exiting the restaurant alongside Lando, you were met with the cool night air and the anticipation of your awaiting ride.

With the Uber en route and a mere seven minutes away, you and Lando stood side by side in comfortable silence, the faint glow of his phone illuminating his features as he scrolled through Instagram. Occasionally, he would eagerly show you a post, finding amusement in the most obscure content, prompting an amused quirk of your eyebrow or an incredulous shake of your head.

When he insisted on the hilarity of yet another post, you regarded him with mock incredulity, your eyes silently questioning his sense of humour. His playful insistence only served to deepen your amusement, eliciting a hearty laugh that bubbled from deep within your chest.

The video showed himself as “Lando Norizz”.

"I do have ‘rizz’, you know," he declared with mock indignation.

“As if,” You snorted, “Prove it tough guy.”

Drawing closer to you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. The proximity of his body, the warmth of his breath against your skin, and the intensity of his gaze should have rendered you speechless—if only you were sober. Instead, you couldn't help but burst into laughter, the sound ringing out into the night air.

Apologies tumbled from your lips between fits of laughter, though any offence Lando might have felt had quickly dissolved into shared amusement. Chuckling together, you settled into the Uber, the echoes of your laughter filling the night as you made your way home.

As you stumbled through the door of your apartment, Lando in tow, the weight of laughter and shared moments still lingering in the air, you tossed your keys onto the side table with a careless flick and collapsed onto the inviting embrace of the couch. Without missing a beat, Lando joined you, his presence a comforting anchor in the whirlwind of the night. With an affectionate eye roll, you nudged him playfully as he settled beside you, the warmth of his body a familiar presence against your own.

He reached for the remote, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. He flicked on the TV, the ambient murmur of the characters serving as a gentle backdrop to the two of you being occupied by other things. Despite the lure of the TV screen, your attention remained steadfastly on the book you were reading, Lando’s on his twitter feed.

"Was my charm really that terrible?" he queried out of the blue.

You glanced up, eyebrows knitting together in contemplation before offering a nonchalant shrug. "It wasn't horrendous," you admitted.

"So... any pointers? What went wrong?" he pressed, a hint of curiosity lacing his words.

"Because I was a tad more drunk thirty minutes ago, and besides, we're friends," you replied matter-of-factly, returning your attention to the book you had been engrossed in.

As the weight of your words settled between you, Lando felt a pang of realisation pierce through him like a dagger. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a truth he had been oblivious to until that moment. The casual dismissal of his attempts at charm stung deeper than he cared to admit, a stark reminder of the invisible barrier that separated them. With a heavy heart, he watched you return to your book, the distance between you feeling more pronounced than ever before. In that fleeting moment, Lando's gaze lingered on you, his heart aching with the silent acknowledgment of what could never be—a realisation that left him feeling more alone than he had ever felt before.

He coughed awkwardly, the sound breaking the tense atmosphere like a fragile thread snapping under pressure, and rose from his seat with uncharacteristic haste. "I- um- I'm gonna go to bed," he mumbled, his words stumbling over each other in a clumsy attempt to fill the silence.

"Alright," you replied, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you watched him retreat. "No funny business in my spare room!" you called after him, injecting a note of levity into the moment.

His laughter echoed in the hallway, a bittersweet melody that lingered long after he had disappeared from view, leaving behind a lingering ache in his chest as he wrestled with the realisation that his unspoken desires would forever remain unfulfilled.

The next morning, as you nursed your slight hangover with a steaming cup of coffee, you sought solace in scrolling through TikToks in the comfort of your kitchen. The first few videos passed by in a blur of mundane content, until your own face suddenly appeared on the screen.

You weren't a celebrity by any means, but being known as Lando's friend had its consequences, as evidenced by the video capturing the previous night's awkward encounter outside the restaurant. Your groan echoed in the quiet kitchen as you watched the clip unfold, realising with a sinking feeling that your innocent moment with Lando had been misconstrued by the watching world.

He was mere centimetres away from you in the video, his gaze unmistakably fixed on your lips with an intensity that made your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It was clear to anyone watching that his intentions had been misinterpreted, yet the damage had already been done. As the video looped, each replay serving as a painful reminder of the misunderstanding, you couldn't help but wonder how something so innocent had been twisted into something else entirely.

As you read through the comments, a curious mixture of amusement and surprise washed over you as you noticed a recurring theme emerging: shipping you and your friend, Lando. At first, you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, scoffing at the playful speculation and fanciful theories concocted by strangers on the internet. But as you delved deeper into the comments, something shifted within you.

With each passing remark, you couldn't shake the nagging sense of recognition that began to take hold. You found yourself reflecting on the countless moments you and Lando had shared together— the inside jokes, the late-night conversations, the unwavering support through thick and thin. And as you considered the undeniable bond that existed between you, you couldn't help but acknowledge the striking parallels between your friendship and that of a romantic relationship

Suddenly, the playful banter and lighthearted teasing that had once been the hallmark of your friendship took on a new significance, leaving you grappling with the realisation that perhaps there was more to your connection with Lando than you had initially realised. With a newfound sense of introspection, you closed your phone, the words of the commenters lingering in your mind as you pondered the possibility of something more between you and your friend.

As the minutes ticked by and your thoughts swirled with newfound clarity, a profound realisation settled within you like a weight in your chest: you wanted him. Wanted him in a way that transcended the boundaries of friendship, in every conceivable sense. You wanted his laughter to be the melody that filled your days, his warmth to be the comfort that enveloped you in moments of doubt, his presence to be the anchor that grounded you amidst life's storms.

Yet, amidst the fervent desire that pulsed through your veins, a gnawing uncertainty gnawed at the edges of your newfound revelation. Did he feel the same? Did he see you as anything more than just a friend? The questions lingered, casting a shadow of doubt over your burgeoning feelings, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension at the prospect of laying your heart bare.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back against the kitchen counter, the weight of your newfound realisation settling upon you like a mantle. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with the potential for heartache and rejection, yet amidst the swirling tumult of emotions, one thing remained clear: you couldn't ignore the undeniable truth of your own heart any longer.

As he strolled into the kitchen, the sight of him shirtless and clad in joggers that seemed all too familiar sent a jolt of warmth coursing through you. Yet, as you met his gaze, the weight of your realisation pressed heavily upon you, urging you to confront the truth that had been swirling in your mind. "Did you know people shipped us?" you blurted out, unable to contain the urgency in your voice.

He shrugged nonchalantly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he masked it with a casual indifference. But you knew better. You could see the subtle tension in the set of his jaw, the guardedness in his expression. He had known—had felt the weight of those speculative gazes just as keenly as you had. "I guess so," he replied with a noncommittal shrug, his tone carefully neutral. "Why?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications, and you found yourself grappling with the sudden urge to lay bare your heart before him, to confess the depth of your feelings and the tumultuous journey of self-discovery that had led you to this moment. But as you met his gaze, the uncertainty that clouded your mind held you back, leaving the words trapped on the tip of your tongue, unspoken yet pulsing with a fervency that threatened to consume you.

Without a word, he took a step closer, the distance between you shrinking until you could feel the heat of his body radiating against your skin.

In that charged moment, with the weight of unspoken words pressing down upon you, you felt something shift within you—a primal urge to seize the moment, to bridge the gap between friendship and something more. And so, fueled by the fire of your newfound realisation and the palpable tension that hung between you, you closed the whole distance between you in a single, daring move.

With a trembling hand, you reached up to cup his cheek, the warmth of his skin electrifying against your touch. And then, with a surge of courage that bordered on reckless abandon, you pressed your lips to his, the kiss a declaration of desire and longing that transcended words.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the intoxicating sweetness of the moment, the taste of him searing itself into your memory with every brush of his lips against yours. And in that fleeting instant, as the world fell away around you, you knew with a certainty that resonated deep within your soul: this was where you were meant to be.

As you pulled back, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you met his gaze with a newfound sense of clarity and certainty. And in the quiet understanding that passed between you, there was no need for words—just the simple, unspoken acknowledgment of the bond that had always been there, waiting to be embraced.

With a soft laugh and a tender squeeze of his hand, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together, hand in hand, hearts entwined in a love that was as simple as it was profound. And as you leaned in to rest your head against his chest, basking in the warmth of his embrace, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement for the journey that lay ahead—a journey that promised to be filled with laughter, love, and countless moments of simple, unadulterated joy.

El fin.

this is the best thing i have ever written in my many years of life. thank you me.

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37sommz · 6 months ago

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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

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monzaaasharl · 1 year ago

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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

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f1girliefics · 1 year ago

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Sing with Me

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You have a particular liking for an ABBA song.

For as long as you two have been married, he knew you had a love for music.

Even when you were only dating, you would dance around the house, singing your 80s classics all day.

And he loved it.

He loved you.

One particular song seemed to have caught your attention as of late.

A particular ABBA song with an interesting title.

Although one can say you are a huge ABBA fan, the song, Fernando, is your favourite.

It is not only a very catchy song, but the man named in the song has the same name as your husband.

It was meant to be, you thought.

Your husband often found you making dinner while singing songs, and when a particular song came up, you gave him a solo performance.

"You know this song is about two old freedom fighters from the Mexican Revolution, right? Not about me." he said as he watched you sway now with a pout on your lips.

"Ruining my fun." you murmured as you continued to cook.

But then suddenly the music restarted, and your husband moved closer to you, grabbing you by the waist, turning you around as he quietly sang and swayed with you.

You smiled as you moved your arms around his neck.

"There was something in the air that night

The stars were bright, Fernando" he sang along the song and you soon joined.

You two just slowly danced and sang as the song played in the background.

Oh just how amazing it was to be in love with him.

His smile was contagious, and his eyes shined with love and care.

Much like yours.

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37sommz-archive · 11 months ago

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✼. THRU SPACE 'N TIME | GRID DYNAMICS.

NOW PLAYING: michaela's grid dynamics. ✼. view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request.

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀ALEXANDER ALBON.

Bonding over their mutual dry sarcasm, Alex and Michaela are another underrated pairing on the grid. Though not exceptionally close when compared to their other grid friendships, there is a lighthearted respect for one another that underscores all of their interactions. Michaela regularly voiced her missing Alex’s presence on the grid during his brief hiatus from the track and Alex claims Michaela was the first driver to congratulate him upon his return. As regulars on each other’s personal Instagram profiles, they’ve subtly played into fans’ expectations of a monthly Albon dump on Michaela’s secondary page.

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀FERNANDO ALONSO.

Fernando is admittedly one of Michaela’s racing heroes. Aside from his clear talent, Michaela has been vocally in support of his “villain” approach to racing, though she admits she doesn’t have half the courage needed to pull off some of his stunts. On Fernando’s end, he has always identified Michaela as a blossoming force on the grid who would be capable of domination if given the right team behind her.

It’s a little-known fact that Michaela’s signing with Aston Martin was actively encouraged by Alonso who insisted the team allow the two drivers to compete against each other for points. In his view, the two would flourish in an environment where they were encouraged to outplace each other. To Fernando’s credit, his approach has worked pretty well for the team in its development of a more competitive reputation on the grid, for which Michaela has repeatedly thanked him.

As teammates, the two spend a considerable amount of time together having grown quite comfortable in each other's presence. From the occasional humorous quip during press conferences to their iconic tiktoks, Fernando and Michaela's partnership has been her most successful at the Formula One level.

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀PIERRE GASLY.

Of all the drivers on the grid, Michaela shares the most extensive history with the Frenchman. As her first teammate after joining Prema to race in the GP2 series in 2016, Michaela has not been shy about expressing how thankful she was for Pierre’s consistent inclusion of her in a sport that had been continuously unwelcoming. Though their beginnings were an awkward mix of pubescent introversion, by the end of their season together Michaela was a regular guest with Pierre’s family when her own family could not make the flight from Australia. Accordingly, Michaela is quite close with Pierre’s mother, Pascale, who is never seen without a #37 pin on race weekends.

The next three years of their friendship would be strained by Pierre’s move to Super Formula in 2017 while Michaela remained at the Formula Two level. Their friendship would recover, however, after Michaela was selected for the 2019 grid as a driver for Alfa Romeo. Since then, Pierre has continued to be one of Michaela’s most vocal supporters, regularly extending cheers her way through passive comments during press conferences.

However, their close comfort with one another is often mistaken for a bitter rivalry. especially after a particularly tense moment at the 2022 Monaco GP where Pierre pulled off a choppy overtake with Michaela calling him a “cunt” over the radio. The swirl of rivalry rumors never seems to fully go away with their limited interactions on race weekends, but their dual-family dinners tell the full story.

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀LEWIS HAMILTON.

As the two black drivers on the grid, the two have always been silently protective of one another. In a similar vein to her admiration of Fernando, Lewis has always been Michaela’s greatest motivation in believing that she was capable of reaching Formula One despite the matters of her race and gender. Accordingly, Lewis was the first of the senior drivers to pass his personal number to the driver in her rookie season.

To this day, the two conduct quiet check-ins with each other whether grabbing a gourmet lunch in Monaco or sitting front row at Fashion Week. One of the more underrated pairings, the other drivers recognize the unique bond the two have and marvel at Michaela’s ability to chip away at Lewis’ guarded exterior.

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀CHARLES LECLERC.

Another set of former teammates, Michaela and Charles were admittedly not very close during their time at Prema in Formula Two. The running joke of “Sommers falls just short behind Leclerc” rings uncomfortably true for the Australian who first experienced a taste of Il Predestinato’s reign after finishing 2nd in the Formula Two Championship. Though that simple fact never bothered her much, the media storm that continues to cloud over any semblance of tension between the two bothers her to no end.

As the two have matured past that tense 2017 season, they’ve found common ground in the issues that frustrate them within their careers. Similar to the sense of pressure she shares with Max, Michaela shares a passionate frustration with Charles in the face of a less-than-beneficial strategy. In particular, Michaela’s second season at McLaren and Charles’ 2022 season with Ferrari brought the two almost infinitely closer as they bonded over not the nicest words vented about their respective teams. In fact, Charles was the one to convince Michaela to take a risk in signing with Aston Martin after the 2022 season, a decision he never lets her forget turned out quite nicely for her driving style.

Aside from their shared tempers, Michaela and Charles spend quite a bit of time together privately, frequently attending tennis matches alongside their partners—and Pierre. Their friendship is a fan favorite though the two rarely publicly outside of Instagram comment sections and press conference giggling.

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀LANDO NORRIS.

Though Lando and Michaela have known each other since 2014 when they both competed in the Ginetta Junior Championships, it wasn’t until their rookie Formula One season that the two exchanged their first words. While Lando fervently claims that Michaela was quite removed from the other drivers in the championship, they both know the hidden truth of Lando’s bashful shyness in the face of the then taller, more competitive Australian. Despite the rocky start to their friendship, their first two seasons in Formula One were marked by a noticeable growth in recurring bits and shared inside jokes.

That growth was initially spelled out to be a dream pairing for McLaren after they signed Michaela to a two-year contract in 2021. Placing two extraordinarily talented drivers with a rare competitive respect for one another seemed to be the right choice for the papaya team until the two actually began racing during the 2021 season. Disaster for the two drivers quietly drew closer throughout the bulk of their first season as teammates with glimpses of the future lying in terse shoulder checks after particularly competitive races.

The discord between the two McLaren drivers became clearer in 2022 after Michaela publicly voiced her frustration with their overwhelming support of Lando despite her outperformance of the British driver in all but two races in those two long years. The tension between Michaela and the rest of the team came to a head in Sao Paulo when she was ordered to give way for Lando to pass her into 3rd place so she could defend against Carlos in 5th. Despite begrudgingly following the orders, Lando would collide with Leclerc to receive a penalty and be forced to retire later on with gearbox failure. With a new order to compete for points, Michaela would win the race but be left to celebrate on her own with the rest of the team retiring early to discuss adjustments with Lando.

After the season closer in Abu Dhabi, Michaela would sign a joint statement with McLaren stating she would not be pursuing another contract with them and would instead be joining Aston Martin. The disastrous season for the Australian only stifled her friendship with Lando who found himself less than happy with the grudge she would hold against him for their entire tenure as teammates. In the two seasons since then, the two have spoken on short occasions in attempts to repair their friendship. Though they seem to be on less bitter terms with one another, their interactions are kept brief in public between tight-lipped smiles and the very rare return of an old joke.

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀DANIEL RICCIARDO.

As the only Australians on the grid until Oscar’s promotion in 2023, Michaela and Daniel bonded over their mutual distaste for English cuisine and endless homesickness. Admittedly a bad influence, Daniel brings out Michaela’s wild side often dragging her along into his X-rated jokes and late-night adventures in the cities they visit.

Though their vibrant friendship is frequently exploited for PR purposes on Drive to Survive and Formula One promotional content on YouTube, the two prefer being matched up together due to their similar energies. Michaela’s image, carefully crafted by her Press Officer Beata, always comes tumbling down as she giggles at Daniel’s shenanigans, letting out the off-color expression with the ease of a wide smile adorning her face.

The normal tense in her shoulders naturally relaxes whenever Daniel enters the room who is more than aware of his calming effect on the younger Australian. Most recently, the two have attempted to indoctrinate Oscar in their more extroverted ways. Michaela in particular has taken Oscar under her wing at press conferences in her own way of simulating the state of ease Daniel places her in.

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀CARLOS SAINZ.

Before 2023, the extent of Carlos and Michaela’s interactions was limited to shared eye rolls across the press conference room and a rare Sommers-faulted crash at the 2021 Canadian Grand Prix. Though fans mourned the lack of interaction between the two favorites, their friendship suddenly burst onto the public radar after Michaela appeared in one of Carlos’ vlogs in early 2024.

Since that surprise appearance, they’ve been somewhat unsuccessful at hiding their shared camaraderie in the public eye. Giving into the public demand for their interactions, Carlos and Michaela have slowly opened up about their friendship, giving the occasional insight through seemingly empty comments. Though not much is known about just how close the two are, it’s frequently pointed out that Michaela was a guest at Carlos’ sister’s wedding despite not being publicly announced as one.

Privately, Carlos is possibly Michaela’s closest friend on the grid with Carlos Sr. even musing that he had hoped the two would get together, much to their mutual genuine distaste for the idea. In Michaela’s own words, Carlos is the only driver she trusts with her precious puppy Tilly. Carlos has casually echoed that sentiment claiming that the two push each other to continue to be at the top of their performance, encouraging each other through the roughest of times in both their career and personal lives.

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀YUKI TSUNODA.

When Yuki first entered Formula One, there was an unspoken expectation that he would get on quite well with Michaela. Paradoxically, the two bring out the absolute worst in each other. Amongst the glaring jabs thrown at each other in press conferences, there lies an animosity that both intrigues and bewilders everyone in and around the Formula One world.

The discord between the two shortest drivers was placed center-stage through a screaming match in the pits after Yuki spun out of a turn, taking Michaela with him and handing them both a DNF in a critical race for the Australian. Since then, the two racers have done their best to exchange as few words as possible, keeping the strife cold for the sake of their teams’ best interests.

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀MAX VERSTAPPEN.

If you asked the other drivers if they thought Max and Michaela would have gotten along, they all would have responded with resounding dissent. Despite the odds, however, the two have only become parters-in-crime through their time competing against each other. As two naturally ultra-competitive people Michaela and Max have bonded over the pressure they both feel to deliver—admittedly in different ways—every weekend. Though most of that pressure is relieved in late-night rants over the phone, they do find levity in making fun of the press every chance they get. As such, the two are rarely placed next to each other in press conferences unless they’ve finished with a very familiar Verstappen-Sommers podium.

Max is another driver who’s particularly vocal about his support of Michaela’s “trailblazing”. Though the media frequently attempts to bait him into forced high praise of the Australian driver, he makes it a point to call out journalists who center her gender in a less than well-meaning way. One of the more iconic Mickey and Maxie moments came after Max shut down a reporter fishing for an unflattering story while ignoring her glorious winning finish.

Off duty, the two spend quite a bit of time together whenever Michaela finds herself in Monaco. Joining him for simulation streams and being pictured spilling their secrets over drinks has led to an abundance of deranged shippers and secret romance rumors. The two find the fun in the rumors, playing up their dynamics when they become aware of fan presence during their private outings. However, they’ve both been more than clear that their friendship is nothing more than that, leaving no room for their partners to be harassed by crazed fans.

✼. taglist:⠀@evie-119 @lavisenri @doodlehunz @thearchieves @pamacs-macs @hwalllllllelujah @d3kstar @thewannabewriter @vogueprincess @cha-hot @certifiedlesbianbaddie @nichmeddar @bxdbxtxh

✼. note:⠀if you are listed here but are not receiving notifs, pls let me know!

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oofthwoods · 1 year ago

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CHAPTER ONE! ── ˙ ̟ bring home the glory !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: "what is a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. i wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me". | a victorious journey always begins with a death and an offer.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: funerals, grief and death. if you don't feel comfortable with these themes, go straight to the part after 2023. you won't lose much, i promise! the second part is somehow based on right hand man from hamilton, don't ask about it. this is pretty much a prologue number two tbh, but i still hope you enjoy it.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 3.2k

⭠ previous masterlist next ‭→

2021

In the solemn setting of the cemetery, the sun hung in the sky, seemingly unaware of the grief below. Its golden rays contrasted sharply with the darkness consuming your soul, each beam of light piercing through the heavy clouds of sorrow. As tears streaked your face, the warmth of the sun felt out of place, a painful reminder of the world's indifference to your shattered heart.

Standing beside the graveside, you looked up to the sky, seeking solace in its vastness. But the heavens offered no comfort, no relief from the ache within. You wondered why the sky remained clear, why it didn't reflect the storm of emotions raging inside you. Its serene blue expanse seemed to mock your devastation, its unwavering indifference amplifying your pain.

Your mother and her siblings stood ahead, their shoulders bowed under the weight of grief, their sobs a haunting melody that echoed through the air. But you stood alone, isolated in your sorrow, drowning in memories that threatened to consume you whole.

Memories of your grandfather flooded your mind like a deluge, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love you had lost. His laughter, once a source of joy and comfort, now felt distant and painful, a cruel reminder of all that had been taken from you. His stories, his wisdom, his gentle touch — they all seemed like distant echoes of a life that was slipping further and further away with each passing moment.

You recalled his final moments, the frailty of his form, the sadness in his eyes as he whispered his last words to you. "Be proud of who you are," he had said, his voice barely a whisper, his breath brushing against your cheek. "And never forget where you come from. Your roots are your strength, my dear." His words had been a lifeline in the storm of your grief, a reminder of the legacy he had left behind, of the love that would endure long after he was gone.

As you stood beside his grave, the words offered little solace. They felt empty, a faint reminder of the warmth once found in his embrace. You longed to reach out to him, to feel the warmth of his touch one last time, to beg for just a moment more in his comforting presence. But he was gone, lost to you forever in a world that seemed infinitely colder and darker without him.

You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely as you whispered your silent goodbyes to him, each word a prayer for his eternal peace. But even as you spoke, you knew that no amount of tears could ever hope to fill the void he had left behind, that no words could ever hope to capture the depth of your loss.

As you stood there, lost in your grief, the soft sound of footsteps approached from behind. You turned to see your mother returning, her eyes red and swollen from tears, her expression etched with the same pain that weighed heavily on your own heart. For a moment, you simply stood there, sharing a silent understanding born from the depths of your shared sadness.

Without a word, she wrapped you in a gentle hug, her arms providing solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling around you. "I'm not sure I can go on without him, Mom," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you buried your face against her shoulder.

Her embrace tightened, her fingers gently combing through your hair. "I feel the same way, sweetheart. But we have to find strength, for his sake," she whispered softly, her words tinged with a mixture of sadness and determination.

As you leaned into her embrace, the weight of your grief seemed to press down upon you, threatening to crush you beneath its relentless force. Your mother's presence briefly brought comfort, like a delicate lifeline amidst the stormy sea of emotions swirling inside you.

"I miss him so much already," you confessed with your voice trembling. "It feels like a part of me is missing, like I'll never be whole again."

Her arms tightened around you, a silent reassurance that you were not alone. "I know, my love. I do too," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "He was the heart of our family, the glue that held us together."

A bittersweet silence fell between you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Memories of your grandfather danced through your mind like flickering candle flames, casting shadows of laughter and love against the walls of your grief-stricken heart.

"Do you think he's watching over us?" you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the evening.

Her hand stilled against your hair. "I'd like to think so," she replied, her voice wavering with uncertainty. "I'd like to believe that he's found peace, that he's somewhere out there, looking down on us with love in his heart."

Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined him, a silent guardian in the heavens above, watching over you with a warmth that transcended the boundaries of life and death. "I hope he knows how much we love him," you whispered, your words a fervent prayer whispered into the vast expanse of the sky.

"I'm sure he does, my dear," she murmured, her voice soft with tenderness. "And I know that wherever he is, he'll always be with us, guiding us through the darkness, lighting our way with the love that he left behind."

As your mother's words gently washed over you, a sudden movement caught your eye. In the corner of your vision, a flash of royal blue fluttered amidst the solemn surroundings. You blinked, momentarily startled, before fixing your gaze on the delicate creature that alighted on a nearby branch.

A small gasp escaped your lips as you beheld the bird, its feathers shimmering like fragments of the sky woven into living form. With a heart full of wonder, you watched as it stretched its wings, basking in the fading light of the evening sun.

"We can leave now, if you're ready, sweetheart." her mother murmured, delicately turning her daughter's face to meet her own.

As your mother looked into your eyes, you could see the sadness reflecting in them, speaking volumes on its own. Although she softly hinted that you could go if you wished, it was evident that she longed for some respite from the weight of your mutual grief. Beneath her calm demeanor, you sensed her vulnerability, a silent plea to escape the overpowering sorrow surrounding you both. With a simple nod, you silently agreed.

With a mix of sadness and resolve, you followed your mother's lead, letting her guide you away from the graveside and back into the world. While you walked together, a quick look back caught your attention, drawing your eyes to the scene you were departing. And there, on top of the gravestone, sat the blue bird, its colorful feathers standing out against the solemn surroundings.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you watched the bird, a silent sentinel overlooking the final resting place of your beloved grandfather. He seemed to look at you, and, if birds could smile, you would swear he did.

2023

You find yourself standing outside a closed door, your hand hesitantly reaching out to lightly tap against the wood. The muffled voices from within only add to your uncertainty, but the urgency of speaking with the team principal before the Abu Dhabi sprint pushes you to take action. Whatever discussion awaits behind that door must be significant enough to pull you away from your pre-race meeting with the mechanics.

In the stillness of the hallway, time seems to stretch endlessly as you wait for a response that never comes. With a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins, you finally muster the courage to grasp the doorknob. Its cool metal provides a fleeting sense of reassurance as you turn it slowly, the hinges creaking softly in protest as the door swings open to reveal the dimly lit room beyond.

Inside, seated at a table, is Mr. Vowles, engrossed in conversation. Your presence at the threshold goes unnoticed for a moment until you gather your resolve and speak up, your voice barely above a whisper as you address him.

"Mr. Vowles, did you need to see me?" you venture, your words hanging in the air with a hint of uncertainty.

At the sound of your voice, James looks up, his expression softening into a welcoming smile.

"Williams, come in," he says, his warm tone instantly easing your nerves as he gestures for you to enter. "Have you met Sargeant?" he continues, motioning towards a figure standing nearby, their presence previously hidden in the shadows of the room.

As James mentions Logan, it's like a floodgate of memories bursting open, whisking you back to the time when you and Logan shared an unbreakable bond. You were inseparable, navigating the twists and turns of life at the academy with laughter, support, and a shared vision of the future.

But as the competition for a spot in Formula One heated up, your friendship began to strain. What started as friendly competition slowly morphed into something more complicated. The pressure mounted, and with it came a subtle shift in your relationship. Each race seemed to drive a wedge between you, rather than bringing you closer.

It was at the peak of your rivalry that things started to unravel. Every little disagreement or perceived slight seemed to fester, poisoning the once vibrant atmosphere between you. Despite your efforts to keep up appearances, there was an underlying tension that threatened to fracture your bond.

When Logan secured a seat at Williams while you remained in F2, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you. Of course, you were genuinely happy for him, but there was also a pang of envy and disappointment gnawing at your heart. It felt like a piece of your own dream slipping away, leaving you grappling with a sense of loss you couldn't quite shake.

And then, just when you thought things couldn't get any more complicated, James hinted at the possibility of you stepping into Logan's shoes. The idea of replacing your friend-turned-competitor added another layer of complexity to an already tangled web of emotions. It was a constant battle between your ambition and the fear of losing the one person who had been by your side through it all.

"Yes, sir," you respond, choosing a simple response. Logan's gaze meets yours, seeming to ignite with intensity. "We keep on meeting"

In a deliberate choice of silence, Logan sidestepped any engagement with you, his eyes fixed on the team leader instead. "As I was just saying," he began, his voice brimming with confidence, "I truly believe that with these adjustments, I can improve my control over the car."

James reciprocated Logan's smile, though his gaze hinted at a wandering mind. "Sargeant?" he interrupted, signaling a shift in focus to another pressing matter.

"Yes, sir?" Sergeant replied promptly, ready for further instructions.

"We'll talk about this later. Close the door on your way out," James commanded, his tone decisive, drawing their exchange to a close.

As Logan's footsteps faltered on his way out, a pang of unease settled in your chest. You couldn't shake the guilt that crept in, knowing your success might come at the cost of his dreams.

In the relentless world of Formula One, sentimentality was a luxury few could afford. You grappled with the harsh reality that success often meant sacrificing the dreams of others. It was a something you had grappled with since the beginning of your journey, one that forced you to confront the truth that in this fiercely competitive arena, there would always be someone waiting in the wings to take your place if you faltered.

As you redirected your focus towards James, the man who now held the reins of your family's team, you couldn't help but reflect on the rarity of such a moment. Conversations with him had been few and far between, a testament to the typical hierarchy within Formula One teams where direct interaction between a team leader and a junior driver, especially mere hours before a pivotal race, was uncommon.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” You ventured, a tinge of uncertainty coloring your tone.

"Not at all, quite the opposite actually," James responded, rising from his seat and leaning casually against the table, his arms folded. "Your stats this season are impressive—seven wins, numerous podium finishes. You've got a bright future ahead of you. But here's the thing, every day I see offers come across my desk to buy out your contract, and frankly, I find it amusing."

"Uh, sorry, I'm not following," you admitted, furrowing your brow in confusion.

"Williams, why is it that no team seems to be able to snag you?" James clarified, a hint of curiosity lacing his words. "You're undeniably talented, but turning down offers from big names like Alpine and Alpha Tauri might not be the smartest move."

"To drive their tractor, or worse, become a reserve driver? I don't think so." you remarked with a disbelieving smirk.

"Think about it, a spot at Alpha Tauri could open doors at Red Bull down the line," James suggested, attempting to sway your perspective.

"Everyone knows they have their sights set on Daniel Ricciardo, or Liam Lawson at best" you countered, a note of frustration creeping into your voice. "I'm a bit lost here. Why are you laying all this out for me?" you questioned, a perplexed furrow creasing your brow. You knew full well the offers on the table and why you were declining them. James likely wasn't in the dark about your reasons either.

"I'm just being honest with you," He replied, his tone carrying a hint of earnestness. His hand reached up to rub his forehead, fingers tracing over the lines etched there as if seeking solace in the familiar. "We're on a tight budget," he explained, a touch of resignation in his voice. "We're short on engineers and mechanics compared to almost everyone else, except maybe Haas and Sauber. While we've made progress since last year, I can't promise our car will match up to the competition next season."

James lifted his gaze, fixing it upon you with a mixture of earnestness and concern. "I'm not one to squander talent. I know you've got your reasons for sticking with us, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to have you on board. But I can't move forward without ensuring you understand exactly what you're signing up for."

"I'm just asking for a shot, James. Just one chance to prove that we've still got what it takes," you implored, your words tinged with determination. Images of past triumphs flickered through your mind, a reminder of the team's glory days.

With a weary smile, James let out a soft sigh. "Seems like sheer tenacity runs in the family, huh?"

"They used to say I took after my grandmother," you remarked casually, a wistful grin playing on your lips.

Turning to the desk, the man retrieved a piece of paper from a drawer, his movements deliberate and measured. "What are the odds?"

You knew precisely what he was referring to. "Iwasa's already out of the running. If I take the sprint, I'll have enough points to clinch the championship."

Extending the contract towards you, James presented it as if unveiling a glimpse of what lay ahead. "Win this championship, and the seat is yours."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the anticipation that crackled between you. With the contract poised like a tantalizing promise, the room seemed to hold its breath.

You reached out tentatively, fingers hovering over the document that held the potential to shape your future. The paper felt crisp beneath your touch.

"I know it's a risk, trading one rookie for another" James conceded, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. "But I believe in you, and I need someone who believes in this team."

A surge of determination coursed through your veins, bolstered by James's unwavering faith. "I won't let you down," you vowed, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her chest.

"TO TOP OFF AN INCREDIBLE SEASON, Y/N WILLIAMS WINS THE ABU DHABI SPRINT AND HAS ENOUGH POINTS TO CROWN HERSELF A CHAMPION." The narrator's voice reverberated through the sprawling circuit, amplifying the momentous declaration that crowned your achievement.

The roar of victory surged through the airwaves as your race engineer's voice erupted over the radio, a symphony of celebration. "You did it, Williams! Formula 2 champion, with one race to spare!"

Amidst the cacophony of cheers echoing from Rodin Carlin's garage, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, the weight of your accomplishment settling upon your shoulders like a mantle of triumph. Your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions, a torrent of exclamations, gratitude, and tears that threatened to overwhelm your senses.

As you gradually eased the car to a decelerating pace, you couldn't help but feel the swell of pride and disbelief wash over you. With trembling hands, you lifted them skyward in a gesture of reverence, a silent tribute to the one who had inspired you journey.

"This one's for you, grandpa," you murmured, your voice a whisper against the backdrop of roaring engines and jubilant cheers. "I hope you're proud up there."

Amidst the jubilant chaos enveloping the pit lane, your thoughts swirled like a tempestuous storm, each emotion vying for dominance in the tumult of your mind. As you joined in the exultant cheers of your team, a sense of disbelief mingled with elation, the reality of your victory sinking in with each heartbeat.

In the midst of the celebration, you couldn't help but steal a moment to glance towards the podium, where your destiny awaited. The anticipation pulsed within you, a heady mixture of excitement and nervous energy propelling youforward.

As you ascended to the highest step, each stride felt like a triumph, a testament to the countless hours of dedication and sacrifice that have led you to this pinnacle moment. Your mind hummed with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a kaleidoscope of memories and aspirations swirling in the depths of your consciousness.

The thunderous roar of the crowd enveloped you like a tidal wave, the sound of applause echoing in your ears as you stand upon the podium, bathed in the radiant glow of the spotlight. Your chest swells with pride, your heart beating in time with the pulsating energy of the spectators.

Locking eyes with James amidst the sea of faces, you feel a surge of excitement washing over you. There's a silent understanding that passes between you, a shared recognition of the journey you will embark upon together. In that fleeting moment, as your gazes meet, you know with a certainty that transcends words— you'll be signing that contract.

With a triumphant smile, you raise the championship trophy high above your head, the weight of your accomplishment buoyed by the unwavering support of your team and your unyielding belief in yourself.

And in the middle of the bustling paddock, a blue bird chirped happily, swooping towards the girl as she lifted the trophy high. It appeared as though he'd be sticking around a while longer.

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3 | italic means i couldn't tag you) :: @formulanni @clownrrari @leilanixx @notyouraveragemochii @alliwantisadonut @oooom4rie @watermelon-sugars-things @glitterquadricorn @minkyungseokie @formulaal @itsjustkhaos @thebearchives @hiireadstuff @laura-naruto-fan1998 @cptg00s3 @welovediaaxx @eugene-emt-roe @cha-hot

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galaxygurlll · 4 months ago

Text

Media Day - Aussie GP 2019 - Part 3

A new team? With two females? This is unheard of and will most certainly shake things up in F1! Meet Y/n Rose-Ocean and Evelyn Match as they get assigned seats into a new team into the F1, Porsche Royal racing. Y/n holds the number 38 whilst Evelyn holds the number 72. The two are introduced as rookies in the 2019 season, but, their area has been yet to be revealed, it being closed by tarps, and the two girls' identities have also remained a secret. Over time, even though she’s one of the youngest, she soon becomes the “grid aunt” and even “grid older/younger sister” as well.

Warnings for this chapter: Google translated English to Spanish, English to Thai, English to Greek

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Previous chapter

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/galaxygurlll

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Continuing on...

"Rápido, cúbrete la cabeza cariño," (Quick, cover your head darling)," Fernando rushingly tells me whilst I'm just still in shock and he reaches over, after probally seeing me not moving, and hastily, but gently, puts the hood back over my head and leans down to pick up the glasses that I somehow didn't even realsie fell off.

"Gracias Fernando," (Thank you, Fernando), I tell him with a deep appreciation and get a firm nod in response before he decides to talk, "You might want to hurry up to your interview now, it's only a few minutes away and you may need to jog there darling." With that comment, I feel my eyes widen once more before smiling at the man that I've been a fan of since forever, and start a quick jog whilst calling out to him, "Gracias de nuevo Fernando, nos vemos por ahí!" (Thank you again, Fernando, see you around!) and can't catch his reply due to the distance that I've put.

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Small time skip

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"So, number 38, who would you say is the driver that you look up to the most at this current point in time?" I sit up straighter, surprised by the question since, surprisingly, it hasn't been asked yet and I now have to try and hide my giddiness, "That would be Fernando Alonso or Sebastian Vettel. They've always been my inspiration and I've always looked up to them. Fernando is actually my reason for starting my journey. But that's a story for another time." The journalists seem to really like that answer as each and every one of them, I can see, jot down some notes.

"Number 72, same question." Ev glances quickly to me before looking back forward and saying, "Kimi Raikkonen. The Ice Man." Everyone looks at her expectantly, "What?" She questions, "Aren't you going to say why?" She just shrugs her shoulders at this and remains silent whilst I've been trying to hold in my laugh, I have to hold up my fist to my mouth to stay silent and also just to keep it contained.

"Nạ̀n pĕn reụ̄̀xng tlk," (That was funny), I whisper to her, "C̄hạn phyāyām," (I try), she responds causing me to snort and lean into her shoulder before sitting back up again to focus back in.

This goes on for a little while longer, good questions, bad questions, questioning questions, and also questions that are trying to figure out Ev's and mines identities, but we know better. We've been trained better then this.

"Question for the both of you," We both hum to this, urging them to go on, "Will we hear your voices when racing this weekend, or no? Cause if so, wouldn't that just reveal who you are?" Me and Ev look to each other, before she gestures for me to speak, "No, you will not hear our actual voices like how right now, you're not," this comment makes the room murmur, before someone asks, "What do you mean?" I respond quickly with, "What I mean is that we have a voice changer on right now. That's all I'll say."

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Time skip to end of day

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NOTIFICATION ALERT!

1 NEW POST FROM evelynmatch7

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Late nights with my little sister = the best nights ever!!

Tagged: y/n_roseocean

❤️ 527K 💬 5,450 ✈️ 3,178

Liked by y/n_roseocean, lance_stroll✹ and 527,439 others

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y/n_roseocean I love you so much!! Best sister ever! Such a fun night!!! ❤️ by author

Liked by evelynmatch7 and 899 others

- evelynmatch7 Maybe even best sibling? 🤨

Liked by y/n_roseocean and 409 others

--- hassanbakes Uh- no. Most definitely not Evelyn

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----- atlasscott Yeah, sorry Ev, you don't even come close to the top

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lance_stroll✹ And where are the photo credits evelynmatch7? ❤️ by author

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- evelynmatch7 😊

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allieform1 My girlsss!! You two will forever be stars to me and I will be waiting for the day that you make it into Formula 1!! Only a matter of time!! ❤️ by author

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cloversand889 So cute!

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ericmarshells 🙄😒

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y/n_roseocean Can't wait for tomorrow! Hagamos esto!

See translation (Let's do this!)

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and 6,298 others

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Small time skip to dinner

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"Mmm... this is so good Hassan, thank you," Ev basically praises him, "I am glad you like it, they're some new dishes I'm trying out for the restaurant," he explains to her, "Well, you should definitely add it," she points to him with her fork.

The meal tonight is a Vegan Red Lentil Curry with some Vangi Bath, Vegan Naan, Aloo Matar Samosas, Vegan Potato Salad with Turmeric and Green Peas and Kachumber. With dessert being an option of either Carrot Halwa Trifle or Paleo Kulfi.

"So, how are you girls feeling about tomorrow?" Ev's father asks as he picks up some naan bread, "Pretty good, you know, still nervous but who wouldn't be?" Ev responds to him as he hums in agreement, "Kápoios pou prépei na prosécho to mikró?" (Anyone I need to keep an eye on little one?) Dad asks me in Greek making me stare at him in shock and I feel a slight blush rise up to my cheeks, "Bampás! Óchi! Kai akóma ki an ypírche, den eínai dikí sou douleiá!" (Dad! No! And even if there was, that is none of your business) I scold him as he chuckles and so do my brothers that are here.

Hassan has a night off tonight, Javiar is off being a DJ at some club nearby, Atlas just arrived home around three hours ago from rehearsals, and Nolan has just been home all day working on his next novel. Dad got home around an hour ago, and Papá was working from home today, so he and Nolan kept each other company alongside my baby River. From Evelyn's family, her father and stepmother are here, her uncle and aunt from her dad's side, her three grandmas, two from her dad's side, one from her mother's, and two of her grandpas are here, one from each side.

All I'll say is, it's lucky that we have a big dining table.

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Small time skip to a little while after dinner

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I stand on my balcony of my room in my stripped pink Peter Alexander pj's and just look out to the sky. It's a peaceful night with crickets making their usual quiet noise and the moon shining bright with it occasionally getting blocked by the clouds. Everything is going to change on Sunday afternoon.

Being honest, I don't know if I'm fully ready. But Porche Racing did pick me. I just have to keep remembering that. I need to do this for my family, for Evelyn, for River.

I can do this.

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Next chapter

Part 4: https://www.tumblr.com/galaxygurlll

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