would you consider writing a Raikkonen or Vettel reader x grid, where she’s a lawyer w the same fierceness as her brother, and the drivers get into media trouble and she goes all harvey specter on the problem and leaves the drivers speechless/ scared/ impressed/ proud etc. thank you for considering this love your work!!!
objection bitch
✦ pairing - f1 grid x female!lawyer!vettel!reader
✦ genre - all fluff
The FIA had crossed the line. Again. In a shock to nobody.
A new rule had come into place penalizing drivers for swearing in post-race interviews and the race. Ridiculous. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. The grid was in an uproar, but no one had the power to do anything about it. No one except Y/N Vettel.
If there was one person who could go toe-to-toe with the FIA and emerge victorious, it was her. A formidable lawyer, sharp as a blade, and just as relentless as her brother, Sebastian Vettel, in a fight. The drivers had learned long ago not to underestimate her. But this? This was war.
And Y/N was ready as ever.
“What are they gonna do? Fine us for every ‘shit’ or ‘fuck’ we let slip?” Lando scoffed, shaking his head as he, Charles, and Max sat in a conference room waiting for Y/N.
“They already have,” Carlos muttered, tossing a paper on the table. This was unacceptable. How were the drivers not allowed to CURSE? Were they toddlers?!
Y/N entered the room with a folder in hand, slamming it down with a force that made George sit up straighter. “Alright, let’s get one thing straight,” she began, voice crisp. “This rule is unconstitutional, violates multiple freedom of expression precedents, and is fundamentally stupid.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Hamilton said with an approving nod.
Y/N continued, eyes glinting. “The FIA is overstepping. Swearing is not slander, it is not defamatory, and it is not harming anyone except for some pearl-clutching bureaucrats who think drivers should be robots. I am filing a formal challenge.”
“A lawsuit?” Charles asked, eyebrows raised.
“A lawsuit,” Y/N confirmed, leaning forward. “We will argue that this rule is vague, arbitrary, and restricts free speech. We’ll also highlight that no other sport enforces such nonsense. If footballers can scream expletives mid-match and not get fined, why should you?”
Daniel Ricciardo grinned. “You are actually my hero.”
Max, arms crossed, smirked. “This is going to be fun.”
It was finally courtroom day.
The FIA’s lawyers sat across from Y/N, already shifting uncomfortably in their seats. She was poised, calm, and radiating pure authority. Dressed in an all black ensemble she looked like she ate losers for breakfast.
The lead FIA attorney cleared his throat. “Ms. Vettel, the FIA merely wishes to maintain a professional environment in post-race interviews for viewers.”
Y/N tilted her head, her smile sharp. “Define ‘professional,’ then. Because as far as I know, passion is part of the sport. Swearing out of frustration, joy, or sheer adrenaline doesn’t harm anyone. If anything, it makes drivers more relatable. Unless, of course, the FIA prefers that they all sound like pre-programmed AI.”
Murmurs from the audience. The drivers, seated together in the back, exchanged smirks.
“Furthermore,” Y/N continued, “this rule is selectively enforced. Are you prepared to produce data showing that every instance of swearing has caused a dip in viewership or complaints? Or will I have to subpoena past race interviews to prove bias?” (guys im sorry I googled most used lawyer terms so idk if its correct or not)
The FIA’s lawyers hesitated.
Y/N leaned in. “Let’s talk precedents. In 2019, the Court of Arbitration for Sport ruled that sports organizations cannot impose arbitrary speech restrictions unless they are justified by legitimate concerns. Tell me, gentlemen, what legitimate concern does the FIA have?”
The lead attorney fumbled with his papers.
Y/N smirked. “Nothing? Thought so.”
She turned to the judge. “We are requesting an injunction on this rule, as it is vague, inconsistently enforced, and lacks merit. We also seek damages for the fines already imposed.”
The judge glanced at the FIA’s team. “Do you have a counterargument?”
Silence.
Carlos leaned over to Charles. “She’s terrifying.”
“I know,” Charles whispered. “It’s bloody amazing.”
The ruling came swiftly. The swearing fines were scrapped.
The drivers were ecstatic. In celebration, Daniel made it his mission to curse as colorfully as possible in his next interview, just because he could.
Y/N received a round of applause when she walked back into the paddock that weekend. Max, standing off to the side, simply smiled. “Proud of you, schat.”
She nudged him playfully. “You should be. I’m basically the FIA’s worst nightmare now.”
Max grinned. “Oh, you definitely are.”
And she loved it.
Later that night, the drivers sat around in the paddock lounge, laughing as Lando held up his phone, Sebastian's name glowing on the screen.
“Do it, do it!” Charles urged, barely holding back his grin.
Lando hit the call button and put it on speaker. The dial tone rang before Sebastian picked up. “Lando?”
“Seb!” Lando beamed. “Mate, your sister is an absolute legend.”
Sebastian chuckled. “I assume she won?”
“Won? She obliterated them,” Daniel chimed in. “I’ve never seen FIA lawyers look like they wanted to evaporate before today.”
“She literally made them speechless,” George added. “It was… kind of scary.”
Sebastian sighed dramatically. “And to think, I used to help her with her homework.”
“You should be honored, mate,” Max teased. “Your sister might be more feared in F1 than you were.”
Sebastian groaned, but they could hear the pride in his voice. “Don’t tell her that, or she’ll never let me live it down.”
Lando grinned. “Too late.”
