One Shots | Formula 1

LN✩

"See? Told ya." 

trigger warning: explicit content, nsfw

I sat in the press area, my fingers tracing the edges of the chair absentmindedly. The buzz of anticipation in the room was palpable, journalists and photographers murmuring excitedly among themselves. The Silverstone circuit was alive with energy, a pulsing heartbeat of motorsport history and fervent fans. I glanced down at the crisp white racing suit I wore, still in disbelief that I would be filling in for Charles Leclerc this weekend. It was a whirlwind opportunity, one I never imagined would come my way so soon.

My heart pounded as I replayed the moment I received the call. Just two days ago, I was gearing up for another F2 race, fully immersed in my routine, when my team principal approached me with a serious expression. Charles Leclerc had suffered an injury, and Ferrari needed a replacement. It was surreal, the kind of chance every young driver dreamed of but few ever experienced. Now, here I was, about to address a room full of seasoned journalists, not as an F2 racer, but as an F1 driver, even if just for the weekend.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. The weight of the Ferrari emblem on my chest felt heavier than ever. My thoughts wandered to the race ahead, the daunting task of living up to the legacy of one of the sport's greats. But amidst the nerves, there was an undercurrent of excitement, a thrill that coursed through my veins. I was ready to prove myself, to show the world that I belonged on this stage.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of the door opening. I looked up to see Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, and Carlos Sainz entering the room. Their presence commanded attention, and the chatter in the room hushed to a low murmur. The trio made their way to the front, taking their seats with the ease and confidence of seasoned professionals. I couldn't help but feel a pang of admiration and, if I was honest, a touch of intimidation. These were the drivers I had looked up to for years, and now I was about to share the stage with them.

Max's intense gaze scanned the room, his expression as serious as ever. Lando flashed a quick, charming smile at the assembled press, while Carlos exchanged a few quiet words with his team representative. They were a striking group, each exuding a different kind of charisma that made them fan favorites and formidable competitors.

I shifted in my seat, feeling their eyes on me as they settled in. Lando caught my eye and gave a small, encouraging nod. I felt a rush of warmth at the gesture, a reminder that despite the competition, there was camaraderie in this sport. Max and Carlos followed suit, each offering a brief acknowledgment. It was a silent welcome, a subtle assurance that I belonged here.

The moderator cleared his throat, signaling the start of the press conference. Cameras clicked and pens poised, ready to capture every word. I straightened up, a determined resolve settling over me. This was my moment, and I was ready to embrace it.

"Good afternoon, everyone," the moderator began. "We have a special addition to today's conference. Joining us is the talented young driver who will be stepping in for Charles Leclerc this weekend, making her F1 debut at Silverstone. Let's give her a warm welcome."

The questions started immediately, with the journalists focusing on Max first. They asked about his strategy for the weekend, the improvements Red Bull had made to the car, and his thoughts on the Silverstone track. Max answered with his usual stoic confidence, his eyes unwavering and his tone precise.

Next, it was Carlos's turn. The questions were about Ferrari's recent struggles and his relationship with Charles. Carlos handled them with ease, his voice calm and measured, reflecting his experience and poise under pressure.

When they turned to Lando, the room seemed to lighten. He spoke with enthusiasm about McLaren's progress, the fans at Silverstone, and his excitement for the home race. As he answered, I couldn't help but notice his eyes frequently flicking over to me. Each time they did, a warm blush crept up my neck.