#but the one for hungary still comes on top

[singaporehelmet]

lando's special helmet for singapore — liquid carbon.

[maxlarens]

OP: i can’t complain but i will

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader; oscar piastri & driver!reader & lando norris; lando norris x oscar piastri

word count: 2.4k+

an: here’s a little bit of angst a little bit of fluff and me holding myself back from making osc x reader x lan a poly ship😭 disclaimer: this isn’t an accurate reflection of the events of the Hungary GP. i take creative liberties as usual! and sorry to lewis. it’s still a mercedes P3 i guess😭 also here are my thoughts on the race so nothing is misconstrued here. AND gif credit because it keeps disappearing!

I. I choked on such longing I couldn’t spit out

Oscar crosses the finish line in Hungary and it’s fine.

It’s fine.

Y’know, fine in the way where there’s this feeling in his chest. This thing gnawing at his insides. At his gut. And maybe it’s his helmet, maybe it’s the temperature, but there’s something on his cheeks. Heat. Something burning. Maybe.

His mind goes immediately to those clips he’d seen of Lando’s onboard in Miami. The shrill little giggles, the high-pitch of his teammates voice, the cheer of the crowd faintly in the background. Crackle hiss—

No one’s cheering for Oscar—

Tom is on the radio.

Oscar’s not stupid, not by a long shot. He can hear the strained quality of it, the forced cheerfulness.

Yeah. Oscar apologises before he can think twice about it. It just slips out of him. He thinks of you telling him— on a Tuesday night two weeks ago— that he needed to “stop saying sorry so fucking much, Oscar”. The way he’d been distracted by his name in your mouth. Oscar. Not Osc like he’s used to, or the occasional Oscie you’re prone to throw out. Oscar. Like you were serious.

Whatever. He says something to Tom that his publicist would be proud of. Waves at the grandstands. Tries not to think, not like this. I didn’t want it like this.

A sigh leeches out of him. Lando’s car is in his periphery and you’re trailing behind him as the three of you turn. The three of you on a podium… it’s a dream come true for him. But— yeah— not like this.

He’s in the car for too long. Helmet on his head, where no one can see his face. He’s okay, he thinks. He’s fine.

He thinks of being a little kid at Albert Park. Watching F1 in the living room late at night. Getting in a kart for the first time and feeling alive. And okay—

Yes, there’s a sour taste in his mouth. Words unsaid sitting on his tongue. But he’s starting to feel the smile tugging at his lips. The feeling is his chest starts to ease, just a little. Just a bit.

He’s looking up and there’s you and there’s Lando. You’re on opposite sides of the car, Lando’s reaching for him, for his hand. Clutching it tightly. Lando squeezes once, his helmet covered face bobs in a nod that says something… part of Oscar hopes it’s I’m sorry. Another part of him is mad that it may not be.

And you, well you have no idea the half hour he’s just had. But your hand is on his shoulder and then on the top of his helmet and you’re whacking it with a gusto he hadn’t expected. He thinks you might be crying. You keep reaching in through your visor to wipe at your eyes and it’s making Oscar feel sick. You’re crying and he’s sitting here feeling sorry for himself because the win wasn’t perfect.

Fuck.

So Oscar grins and he bears it.

He gets out of the car and he smooths it over until everything is okay again. Because that’s what he’s good at. Because that’s how he’s made it here. Oscar Piastri is a team player, sometimes more than he is anything else. And that’s okay, that’s fine for now, because one day, eventually, Oscar is going to be the reason they need to hire a team player. One day he’ll be the beating heart of some Formula One team and he won’t have to win a race because his teammate had to let him by—

That’s not Lando’s fault either. Lando is…

He’s Lando. Oscar gets it.

Oscar gets it more than anyone.

II. I am obsessive. I contain nothing but the replay

Lando is trying so fucking hard not to have a tantrum.

It’s this infuriating feedback loop where he thinks I had it and then something cuts in to say but Oscar deserved it and then it starts over again. It’s making Lando feel like shit, for losing, for being a bad friend, for jeopardising the relative peace of the team. He’s trying to temper the angry, selfish little spoiled brat voice in his head but it’s so fucking hard to keep that dog on a leash.

He’s trying to be okay.

He’s in the post-race room with you and he’s trying to be fine.

And okay, so he knocks the stupid second place cap to the ground in front of the camera that’s broadcasting you guys to the world. Always second. God. He’d tasted a win in Miami and it’s almost like he’s worse off for it. It’s a win or it’s nothing and it’s tearing him apart from the inside out. There’s a voice in his head that’s saying, you’re just a one trick pony, Lando. Do it again and you might be worth something.

It’s making him crazy.

He bites his tongue. Turns to look at you, lounging in the third place chair like it doesn’t matter, like you’re happy to just be on the podium.

You raise an eyebrow at him, face blank but he knows what it says anyway. Be happy for him. He would be happy for you.

Fuck, and he would—

He would. Selfless and kind above all, Oscar.

Lando frowns, his back to the lens.

Your gaze flicks from him, to the hat on the floor. Pick it up, it says. Pick it up and pretend.

Lando picks it up. He’s the one who gave Oscar the position back after all. He’s his own worst enemy right now. Not you, certainly not Oscar—

Speaking of Oscar.

He’s here. He’s holding the first place cap that Lando wants to be his, he’s putting it on his head and Lando’s okay. Lando’s fine. He’s watching the race replay and seeing Max turn into your car and he’s trying desperately to look at that, pay attention to that, and not Oscar.

Because it hurts.

Not in a good way, not the way Lando looks at him sometimes and feels some yawning sun in his chest.

Instead there’s something bitter and snarling.

Some chained, angry dog on a leash.

Lando turns, goes to sit in the chair he doesn’t want to sit in, and catches Oscar’s eye. He feels the snarling thing strain, it goes to bark, to bite. Then Oscar smiles. It’s not much— it doesn’t reach his eyes exactly. But it’s effort. It’s thank you. It’s I know what that meant.

It’s enough.

III. He forgives you, dogs are like that, so loyal

You know something is off the second that you get out of the car. This isn’t what Oscar’s maiden win is supposed to look like— or it almost is, but the picture is wrong.

It’s not ecstatic, it’s not crowds chanting his name, it’s not Oscar getting out of the car like a shot and jumping into the arms of his team.

Instead, you see grim faces plastered over with smiles, McLaren engineers huddled into groups and talking in hushed tones. Lando’s sulking, you can tell by the set of his shoulders, the way people hover around him, keeping their distance a bit. You blink— there’s something in your eyes, your nose tingling with some emotion—

Whatever. You push it aside, go to Oscar’s car before anything else, before even taking your helmet off. It's you and Lando on opposite sides and whatever the case, whatever happened out there that you're not aware of, Lando's here. Lando's sucking it up.

You find out bits and pieces over the next hour, from your race engineer, from the post-race interviews, from Lando's attitude in the cool down room. The tension between them is bleeding into everything and they orbit around each other all afternoon. They can't quite look at each other, they keep making eye contact for a split second and then letting it slide away. They keep smiling these strained things at each other. Lando keeps reaching out to touch Oscar, but always at arms length. Like an apology neither of them can quite commit to.

You know it's the team that are the issue and it's also this hurt that Lando can't quite get over, and an Oscar who is trying to just be happy but needs more time to get there.

It's making your heart ache.

You've dreamt of this, stupidly enough. Oscar on the top step of the podium, that bunny-tooth grin of his spreading and spreading. Champagne and confetti. You're there, of course you're there. Lando is too. So it's painful to have that dream actualised and to realise it's not perfect— because, well, nothing ever is.

And it's fucking unfortunate.

But it's them. So it's fine.

You're baffled by that sometimes. You still hold grudges against old teammates. There are things you'll never forgive them for, wounds that will never heal. But you come back from your frustratingly long debrief and find them doubled over outside their driver's room, giggling their heads off at something. It's not perfect, there's still something between them, something in the air.

But they're trying.

And Oscar is smiling wider than you've seen in a long while.

So for Oscar's sake you push it aside—

It's always a little different away from prying eyes, away from rolling cameras, in front of which you feel pressure to act like Oscar and Lando are first and foremost your rivals. When they're gone they can just be your friends. Your boys.

Naturally, you're thudding into Oscar before he really notices you're there. Too busy throwing his head back at something Lando had said. He's still in champagne wet fireproofs as you reach your arms around his shoulders, but so are you. He smells vaguely like a wet dog and lets out a soft oft noise as you charge into him.

"Hey, race winner," you say as he threads his arms around your waist.

You put your forehead on his collarbone, close your eyes as a laugh flutters out of him. You hear it rumble in his chest as he rocks the two of you gently from side to side. It's giggly, light and joyful like the one he does when he's tipsy. But he's not tipsy, just happy you think.

"Race winner," he mumbles, low, quiet, to himself more than anything, "Yeah."

"Yeah," you whisper back.

You're like that maybe for too long. Longer than people who are just friends should be. You can hear Lando moving around behind you, asphalt grinding under his feet. His gaze prickling the back of your neck. Eventually, you pull away. You slide your hands to grip Oscar's shoulders, fingertips pressing into warm skin, lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. Accidentally, your lips land too close to the corner of his mouth, brushing against stubble and sweat. You hear something soft escape his lips, barely audible as his brown eyes bore into yours. Pupils blown large, gaze drifting momentarily down to your lips.

"Good job today, Osc," you say, trying not to let your breath hitch.

You pull away a little before he does something in the heat of the moment— and right in front of Lando, of all people. He's high on adrenaline, that's all. That's all.

"Thank you," he smiles, all teeth.

You feel hot all the way down your neck, into your chest. Hm, premature menopause, you think, rather than the obvious— which is that it makes you mega nervous to be that close to Oscar Piastri.

Lando clears his throat.

In a jerky, surprised movement you step away from Oscar, while Oscar fumbles awkwardly for his phone in his pocket. He holds it up, says something stumbling about calling his family and then takes only maybe five steps away before you or Lando can say a thing.

You laugh, just a little.

Then do a pleased little spin to face Lando.

Who seems better, lighter. At least in comparison to how he was immediately post-race. Which you’re glad to see. Especially after catching bits of his team radio from a brief conversation with George. You’re not particularly happy about it, but it’s not really your place to be upset.

“Hey,” you smile warmly.

He smiles back, tighter than you’d hoped.

You move a bit closer into his personal space, watching him carefully. It’s okay you think. He’s more subdued than usual, but you can’t see the seething thing that was under his skin earlier. That would be fine of course, he’s entitled to that, but his sake you’re glad it’s gone.

“You okay?”, you ask.

Lando nods, eyes falling closed momentarily as he hums contemplatively, “‘M okay. Happy for him.”

You nod, stepping closer to pull him into a one armed hug that’s not quite as energetic as the one you’d given Oscar before.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, pressing the side of your face into his cheek, “Upset too?”

He hums again, sighs, “Yeah. ‘Course.”

“Yeah,” because you get it,

Maybe not in these exact circumstances. But you know what it’s like. To chase a win with everything you have, to fall short after it’s been in your grasp. You understand that. So does Oscar—

Speaking of.

Oscar’s back, footsteps crunching asphalt behind you.

“They’re asleep,” he explains, “I’ll talk to them later.”

You half let Lando go, moving to accommodate the race winner into your little circle. They’re a bit weird about it, shuffling into place awkwardly, you’re not surprised after a day like today, but you persevere— wrapping arms around both of them and pulling them simultaneously down into a haphazard hug that you’re in the middle of.

Lando’s face is in your neck somehow, mumbling something about you being overbearing while his hand clutches at your waist to keep himself upright. Oscar’s arm is tight around your shoulders and your face is squished up against his chest. You squeeze tightly— let them go when it’s been a minute too long—

You can feel yourself almost getting caught up in the tangle of limbs. The warmth of your friends. The emotion of it. You think there’s something stuck in your eye again, something wet in your tear ducts.

You sniff, try to ignore it, hope they don’t see.

Then, stupid observant Oscar, “Are you crying?”

You let out an offended noise and shake your head to deny it, but instead something that’s almost a sob, but not quite, slips out—

“No,” you declare, but it’s unconvincing—

and then you’re back in the hug. All sweat and sticky champagne residue, Lando’s too-strong cologne and Oscar who smells like burnt rubber. And it’s not perfect, because nothing ever is, but it’s enough for you.

this was really cathartic for me to be honest. just needed my little driver!reader to hug landoscar after that race. needed to get some big feelings out and then needed a sweet little fluff section to make me feel better.

ALSO DISCLAIMER: this was a work of FICTION it does not reflect the entirety of what i feel about the events of the hungary gp. i am simply playing with dolls! thank you and goodbye!

[pastryfication]

Can you please, if you'd be so kind, do one with Oscar x driver!reader, and him proposing on media day, when they're talking in front of people? And Lando has to hype him up before. 🤭

hi!! thank you for your request!!

i can’t imagine oscar proposing in front of so many people—i think he’d be more the type to do a private, intimate proposal—so i’ve changed the request a bit. i hope you still like it!

just say yes | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x driver!reader

content warnings: mentions of hungary 2024… also, this is messy! i’m not even sure myself what is going on.

the race hadn’t worked in your favour. starting p8 and moving down to p11 wasn’t good enough. just out of the points, in a race with so much potential, wasn’t good enough.

in the final lap, you wanted nothing more than to exit the car, throw away your helmet and hide yourself away in the hotel. but then, your race engineer turned on the radio and delivered the message you had waited to hear for so, so, so long. oscar had won the race. oscar passed the finish line in first place.

now, after such news, your eagerness to finish the race wasn’t build on the need to sulk, but instead, an eagerness to celebrate your boyfriend.

as soon as you were out of the car, you were running towards were you knew he would be. the smell of burnt tires and gasoline faded to the background and you threw yourself against him, race suite and helmet still on, and enveloped him in a hug.

you were so happy you wanted to cry. he deserves this more than anyone else and to see him achieve it was a dream come true for you. as he decented the podium, you were in the crowd and clapped louder than anyone else.

oscar had found your face in the crowd as he stood on the top step. he smiled brightly when your eyes met, and when lando initially ignored him and he felt the world slowly crashing down on his happiness, your silhouette was what he sought again.

you were there. you were always there. even when you had a shitty race yourself, even when he could see how sad you were about the position you ended up in, you still came to celebrate him. and you poured your entire heart into the celebration, pushing yourself into the crowd of papaya to be closer to his beaming face.

too caught up the the giddiness you felt, you truly hadn’t noticed anything wrong until oscar pulled you aside just before your media duties. he wasn’t smiling quite as bright as he was supposed to, considering he just had his maiden win. he explained, voice a bit strained, that he had been allowed to pass lando. he told you how the win didn’t feel completely like his own, like he didn’t quite deserve it, and you listened with a frown on your face.

this was his win. he deserved it. he earned it fair and square. and you told him exactly that. you told him while holding him close in another hug, your mouth up close to his ear so only he could hear the sweet words you whispered.

as you leaned your head on his shoulder and comfortingly rubbed his back, oscar mind began to cloud with thoughts of the ring in his trouser pocket. barely a hundred meters away, tucked safely away in his jeans in his drivers room, lay the diamond ring he so delicately had picked out with your sister.

he wanted it then, he wished so desperately to have magical powers so he could make it spawn in his hand, but he didn’t, so instead, he took your hand in his and dragged you along.

“where are we going?” you asked, but it was for deaf ears. he had a mission and he was going to accomplish it. he was going to propose right then and there. he was going to spend the rest of his life with you.

୨୧

the reporter had to fight hard to hide the smirk when he spotted the diamond on your finger. it stood in stark contrast to the dull race suit hanging from your waist, sparkling prettily against the sweaty fireproof shirt clinging desperately to your damp skin, compliment the op1 cap on your head perfectly.

“what is it i spot on your finger?” he asked, microphone pushed up against you eagerly in await of your response.

“well, what does it look like?” you answered, showing it to him with a joyful smile adorning your face.

“i guess your boyfriend wasn’t satisfied with just a win.” the reporter laughed.

“fiancé.” you corrected. “and my fiancé is quite satisfied with his amazing win. but you can never get too many things to celebrate.”

[toffee-and-tandoori]

it's been nearly 24 hours since esteban released his statement and i still can't get over how masterfully crafted it was, how carefully and intentionally it was phrased. i've seen a number of people pick up on a lot of the subtle jabs esteban carefully laced into his statement but as someone who's been following this from the jump, it is honestly amazing how many zingers there are. in case anyone hasn't been following the whole saga and therefore may not have caught on to everything, i'll try my best to dissect the statement (also selfishly i want to have this preserved on my blog).

the pride of having been the driver who brought the team’s best results since its return to the sport

i first saw this on reddit but since alpine/renault returned to the sport in 2020, esteban was the teammate who scored the highest result for the team every year. from 2020 onwards, alpine/renault's highest results of the season are as follows:

2020 - esteban finishing 2nd at sakhir

2021 - esteban finishing 1st in hungary

2022 - esteban finishing 4th at suzuka

2023 - esteban finishing 3rd in monaco (tied with pierre finishing 3rd in zandvoort)

2024 - esteban finishing 2nd in brazil (obligatory disclaimer that there's one race to go)

climbing the top two steps of the podium in bahrain, hungary, and brazil

esteban intentionally leaves out his podium in monaco here as it allows him to point out that since alpine/renault's return to the sport in 2020, esteban is actually the only driver to have scored 1st or 2nd place for the team.

daniel's two podiums in 2020, fernando's podium in 2021, and pierre's podiums in 2023 and 2024 were all 3rd places. and nico...yeah...

it has not been an easy year on track for the team and the second part of the season has been especially difficult. for various reasons.

compared to the first half of the season, alpine actually made improvements to the car as evidenced by pierre AND esteban both making it into q2 more consistently as well as the excellent performances by both in brazil and by pierre in qatar. not to mention that alpine's first point of the season was esteban's p10 in miami, the SIXTH race of the season.

yet esteban is still saying the second part of the season was ESPECIALLY difficult. for various reasons. (notice how that's a separate phrase).

i believe these "various reasons" are alluding to how the qualifying head-to-head has flipped DRASTICALLY since esteban officially signed with haas...which coincides perfectly with briatore officially signing on as an advisor. canal+ has implied on their broadcasting that esteban's side believes there is an issue with the car hampering his performance but he has been prohibited to talk about it publicly. another time esteban reported an issue with the car was back in 2021 when he stated there was an issue with his chassis. at the time alpine altered the chassis with esteban's feedback in mind...hungary 2021 closely followed.

i want to say here that i do think that pierre and esteban are so evenly matched it's ridiculous but i will note that i think pierre has the SLIGHT advantage when it comes to qualifying pace while esteban has the SLIGHT advantage when it comes to overtake racecraft (though both are still very talented at both). so i do expect pierre to be faster in qualifying. and since esteban is leaving the team while pierre is staying it does make logical sense to develop the car more to pierre's liking. however, the gap between esteban and pierre in qualifying has NEVER been as large as it is now.

i do not regret a single thing knowing i gave it 100% every single session. like i always have.

according to some comments on reddit, flavio has alleged there were concerns that esteban's "lack of performance" may have been on purpose to help haas secure 6th in the constructor's. apparently flavio does not know basic math considering without esteban's 2nd place in brazil, alpine wouldn't even be close to fighting for 6th in the constructor's...

also if you know ANYTHING about esteban it's that he would never purposefully compromise his own performance. his statement here is making that explicitly clear.

as you know, the plan was always to race one last time this weekend and personally say goodbye to you all next week. i was looking forward to both of those things. this is not how i wanted things to end.

the most damning parts of esteban's statement. here he is directly contradicting the initial reports stating that this was a pre-planned "mutual decision" between esteban and the team (with some people somehow trying to even claim that esteban came up with this solution...). the initial plan was for esteban to race in abu dhabi, visit the factory to say goodbye to everyone at viry and enstone, and then participate in the post-season test with haas. a plan that was apparently settled weeks before the last-minute switch esteban was informed about HOURS before the qatar gp.

i would like to first and foremost thank the mechanics and engineers across all functions at the track, enstone, and viry-châtillon who have raced alongside me these last five seasons. we have shared so much together, and i am proud to call many of you my friends. hundreds of hard-working men and women at enstone and viry i would also like to wish nothing but great things to my friend jack

i saw someone on reddit point out that esteban "thanked the people he worked with, not the people he worked for" and i can't think of a better way to phrase it than that. esteban will always have love for alpine/renault because the people he worked alongside. but rightfully so, none of the love extends to alpine's higher management.

[latenightdaydreams]

I can't stop thinking about Mafia Konig who never let his wife wear bras because once she complained about how uncomfortable her bra is. And he just loves to circle his finger on her nips through the fabric whenever they have meetings with allies, in front of everyone! But if any guys dare to make dirty jokes about her body (how plump her ass is, how round her breasts are, etc) he will shoot that mfker in the middle of his eyebrows in a heartbeat. That's so disrespectful respectfully 😩😍😍 thank you for accepting a lot of my previous requests, love youuuuu🎀🎀🎀

Ofc!!! 🩷🩷 I love breast man König

Mafia!König x Braless!Wife (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw fem/afab, blood, gun violence, groping

1.0k word count

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.

König has always loved the fact that you are a curvy woman. When he first saw you, you were dating one of his associates. He charmed you with his Austrian accent and icy blue eyes. Soon he had you coming to his office late at night, buying you expensive gifts, and bringing you home. One day, your ex showed up at a meeting with his boss, König, to just see you sitting on his lap. Your breasts were so large and filled his hands, and he knew you were his. Your body is just perfect for him. He can never keep his hands off of you; no matter what. That’s why he married you after only six months.

Your breasts are so large, bras are very uncomfortable. The underwire is always digging into you, the straps never feeling right on your shoulders. Sports bras never fitting right, always too tight. That’s when you approached König about the idea of giving up bras all together.

Obviously, he agreed quickly. Bras were only another barrier in between him and those bouncy, perfect pair of tits. König bought you light colored or sheer fabric tops and dresses. Your breasts are marvelous and deserve to be shown off.

König, seats you on his lap, you’re wearing a cream-colored shirt that clings to the curve of your breast naturally sitting on your chest. One of his hands is busy sifting through papers. The other squeezes your breast. Fingers slowly rubbing circles around your hardened nipple. You squirm over his erection as you lean your head back on his shoulder.

“Sit still, Liebling.” König whispers into your ear, his warm lips kiss your neck tenderly before looking away.

The table you’re sitting at has seven men seated, associates of König. They all look at your breast, watching as König’s finger begins to pinch and tug at your nipple that is visible through your shirt. They all share glances with one another; eyebrows raised with cheeky smirks across their lips. Some men had to adjust themselves as they watched König’s display of affection.

One man clears his throat. König’s eyes shoot in his direction. His gaze bore into the man waiting for him to speak.

“-Uh, sir, we have a shipment coming in from Hungary on Wednesday.” His eyes glued to your breasts as he speaks makes him forget his train of thought. “There are no set plans on who will be at pick up.”

“Mein Gott, your breasts are perfect.” König ignores the man to focus on you.

The man looks around at everyone’s eyes glued to you. “Sir?”

“You. Take Johan as well.” König’s attention shifts from you to the men. He notices their lustful gaze.

An awkward silence falls across the room as König pulls your shirt from the back as he looks over your shoulder at your breast. He perfectly sees the texture and color of your areolas and nipples. Perfection.

He continues to hold the back of your shirt with one hand. The other comes around and squeezes your breast. Cupping them in his hands before running them over your nipples, making you moan quietly. You turn your head to him and lift his hood slightly to kiss the pale skin of his neck. His cock is painfully hard. He cannot wait until this meeting is over so he can fuck these beautiful fucking breasts.

“Is that all we had to discuss?” König asks in a snappy voice.

“I can’t blame the guy; I’d want to hurry this up too.” One associate whispers to the one sitting next to him.

König hears him and smiles. His smile quickly disappears once he hears what the other man’s response was.

“I’d love to squeeze those massive breasts.” He lets out a low whisper before they laugh together.

König’s eyes fall on him, the both of them, and just glares. They don’t notice his gaze just yet, so they continue.

“Yeah, well, she was Christoph’s before, so we might get our turn.” They chuckle between them.

“Excuse me, my love.” König gently takes you off of his lap.

You stand and look up at König. His large hands come down and caress your face gently. “Take a seat Maus.”

König slowly walks past you around the table, his footsteps loud as he walks. He stops right behind the two men that were talking about you. Everyone at the table had eyes on the two men. Their fear was palpable.

König leans down slightly before whispering, “You know, this table isn’t big at all. And my hearing is wonderful.”

“Sir, I was just-”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before König quickly withdrew his gun and shot the man in between his eyes. His body lingered upright for a moment as everyone stared with wide eyes. Finally, the body fell forward onto the desk, causing a loud thump.

There was shock written all over the face of the man, sides of him that got all the blood splatter. König then turned the gun to the man that said he might have a turn with you in the future. His icy blue eyes bore into the man’s soul, almost.

Shaking, the man got out a short sentence. “I- I didn’t mean it…She’s your wife…”

“She is.” König nods and looks over at you sitting in his seat.

Your nipples are still hard and your breast jiggle lightly as you breathe rapidly from everything that just happened. My god you’re so perfect.

Without looking back at the man, König shoots him too. He puts his gun back into his holster and looks around the room.

“Anyone else have anything to say?”

A unanimous “no sir” breaks out across the remaining five men. All of them are too scared to look at König or me, so they keep their gaze down at the wooden table. König scans the table and looks at how they cower in fear.

“Gut.” König begins to walk back over to you. “Now, where was I?”

[iimplicitt]

I WAS ALL OVER HER PT. 3 — O.P.

pairings: oscar piastri x reader (romantic/platonic) | lando norris x reader (romantic)

part three of three, link to part one and two here

summary: tensions are at an all time high between the mclaren drivers. y/n makes a choice. lando gets punched, both by reality and a friend.

warnings: pining, missed opportunities, cheating (mentioned), cheating towards the end, 18+ smut, jealous!oscar, toxic!lando, mirror sex, fingering + oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex sorta (stay safe), technically a HEA for oscar x yn? bumpy road to get there, though. lando, i apologise.

word count: 5.5k

authors note: this in no way speaks on my opinion of lando and what his personality may be like, i love him this is purely for the plot <3

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The Italian sun was warm and for the most part, all you could see was a sea of Ferrari red in the crowd. Not a surprise given it was Monza. The last twenty four hours had been a bit chaotic. Lando got on pole position, and despite everything you were still happy for him. That annoying part of yourself that was a touch too sentimental. Of course it wasn’t that simple, though. McLaren locked out the front row, Oscar starting on P2.

It was obvious to anyone he was hungry. For more, like any other driver but there was simply something different about the way Oscar had been carrying himself lately. After the complicated first win he had in Hungary, the world knew he still felt like he had to prove himself. That wins didn’t have to be handed to him.

You watched, nervous and hands sweating with the heavy headphones over your ears. The drivers had just finished their warm up lap, filing into position. Your eyes flicked between the two McLaren’s, a whole range of complex emotions eating you up inside over the pair of them.

Those red lights lit up one by one, then pouring out of the headphones the infamous words “It’s lights out and away we go!” Engines roared, your jaw fell open.

Oscar overtook Lando’s lead into turn one.

Charles had won, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy for him. A Ferrari driver on top of the podium in Monza was always a sight to behold.

Your breath was held tightly in your lungs however as you watched the Tifosi flood onto the track because there was a bit of commotion going on after the initial post-race interviews of the top three drivers. Oscar finished P2, Lando finished about six seconds behind him and landed P3.

The two McLaren drivers had come to an abrupt stop in the hallway that lead up to the cool down room, their shouting could be heard in the garage despite the roar of the crowd outside. Your stomach dropped, you could barely see them but that didn’t matter. Lando was the main one yelling, Oscar on the other hand had a calm rage about him, his voice sounding more cold than you had ever thought him capable of.

The team looked around awkwardly for a few moments before someone ran to go get Andrea Stella. Not a moment later the team principal threw off his headphones and ran to try and diffuse the situation.

You stood there against the wall, acutely aware of all the cameras that may be filming into the garage. Knowing Netflix was about to have a field day with this. The season had been so messy, and that wasn’t even in regard to your own issues with the drivers but the grid in total.

Messy. What a simple word for such fucked up situations.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

A WEEK AGO, ZANDVOORT

He couldn’t keep his hands off you. Not as he had recklessly driven back to the hotel, not as you rode up the elevator, not as you two stumbled down the hallway to his hotel room. The moment it was in sight he had pushed you against the door, forgetting he was supposed to unlock it first but his mind was on other things.

The feeling of your mouth against his, your nails dragging against his scalp, the way your chest pushed against his in an attempt to get closer. He was consumed by you, not quite believing this was real. Years, he had dreamed about this moment for years. The longing he had felt about getting to touch you like this had driven him to the brink of insanity. He was terrified if he took his hands off you, you’d disappear. That he would wake up alone again in bed, hating what his life had come to despite the building success of his career.

Oscar pressed your body onto the door further, completely covering you with his own body, every nerve ending on fire with a desperate need to be close to you. His hips pressed into yours, a hand cupping your throat while the other tugged at your shirt in a fit of desperation to get at your skin.

Call it demented or sick, but at that moment he wanted to consume you. And he wanted you to do the same to him, to devour him in any way you so pleased.

His tongue danced against yours, teeth hitting and the sounds being made were vulgar but only sent him into a further frenzy. You were right here, giving in as well and he felt like his heart was about to explode.

“Bed,” you gasped out in between kisses barely finding a moment for air.

He didn’t take his mouth off you as he haphazardly dug in his pocket for his wallet, shoving it against the sensor and hoping it would pick up on the hotel key. Not a moment later there was a click and he pushed the door open, one arm wrapping around your waist as he backed you into his room, kicking the door shut behind him. He picked you up, a surprised gasp leaving your lips as he did so. Instead of depositing you on the bed, he sat you down on the desk, arm swiping out and not caring what he knocked over.

His strong hands grabbed at your waist, yanking you to the edge of the bed and his erection pressed snuggly into you. He shuddered at the contact, feeling delirious.

Oscar needed to see you, all of you. Now. His fingers found the hem of your shirt and began to lift. “Arms up,” his voice was soft but commanding, and the blush dusting your face was something he wanted imprinted in his mind for forever.

You did as told, the fabric sliding up and over your head. The shirt fell to the floor soundlessly, his hands resting on your hips as he marvelled at you. Your bra was white cotton, no padding and due to the rain the fabric was practically see through. Hiding nothing and making your hardened nipples stand out. He groaned, not being able to help himself as he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to each one.

“Oscar,” your voice was shy, timid and shaky. He looked up at you, watching with apt attention how you bit your lip and your hands came to rest on his shoulders. “Listen, I know I might not look like a lot of the other-“

He cut you off, grabbing hold of your chin and forcing you to meet his eyes. His expression was stern. “There’s no one else I want this with. Okay? No one, not even as I’m rotting in the earth will there ever be anyone else.” His calloused hands cupped your face, his thumb wiping away a tear that slipped out of your pretty eyes. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, taking in every minuscule detail that made up your face.

You tugged on his shirt this time and he quickly rid himself of it for you, the cool air of the hotel room hitting his skin. He watched as your eyes raked over him, every line of muscle that adorned his stomach, to his neck, then his face.

“This is wrong.” You said quietly, even as your fingers hooked into his belt loops and tugged him into you again.

“Probably,” he said in return, sliding the straps of your bra off your shoulders before undoing the clasp at the back, watching in adoration as it fell away from you. “But I’ve dreamt of this for years and it’s going to take a nuclear bomb to stop me from fucking you, Angel. I hope you know that.”

Your breath hitched and he blinked before you were pulling him down to meet your wanting mouth again, moaning into the kiss as he began to undo the button and zipper on your pants. The moment felt so surreal. If this did turn out to be a dream, when he woke up he was genuinely considering killing himself. He wouldn’t be able to live with the torment any longer.

He smacked your ass lightly and you yelped, getting the hint and lifting your hips for him so he could slide your pants off. Oscar fell to knees and he tugged off your shoes, then your pants, looking up at you like a deprived man seeking salvation at the altar. You chest was heaving and he watched in fascination the way your breast moved and your ribs expanded. Your pupils were blown wide and hungry.

He placed a hand on each of your knees, slowly pulling them apart as he kept eye contact. Oscar placed hot, open mouthed kisses as he danced up your thigh, closer and closer to where he knew you needed him most. The white cotton of your panties giving off a twisted sense of innocence that made him even more hard, if possible. The white fabric made it easy to tell how wet you were and he could hear his heart beat pounding in his ears knowing that it was all for him. Moving closer, he pressed a warm kiss on your navel, taking in the sweet smell of your perfume and he knew he would die a happy man after this.

Next, he placed a kiss right onto your clit, finding it blindly through your underwear.

You yelped at the contact, hips thrusting up into his face and he couldn’t help but smile. His grin surely wicked as he looked up at you through heavy lidded, lust filled eyes.

You swallowed roughly, “Oscar, please.”

He kissed you again, savouring the taste of you and how drenched your panties were, working you through the thin cotton as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Oh my god,” your voice was a whine, your nails digging into his scalp. The pain of it quickly fizzled into pleasure though as he moaned into you, mouth following along with your desperate thrusts.

“Please.” You panted, “I need you, Oscar.”

He pulled back, feeling hazy and in utter bliss. “How badly?”

“So fucking much.”

Oscar ripped your underwear off you, leaving red marks where the fabric had snagged against your skin. With one hand splaying against your stomach, he pushed you backward until your back hit the window, neither of you caring who saw. Fuck, you were stunning. Swollen and glistening for him, practically dripping out into his lap with how wet you were.

He could feel your heart beat as he got closer before looking up at you, watching to see your face when he finally tasted you. Lowering himself, he licked long and flat up your cunt, moaning along with you as you trembled violently, your hands digging into his hair to pull him closer.

One arm reached around your thigh, fingers dancing across your hip before he pulled the skin above your pussy taught, exposing you to him fully to get unobstructed access to your clit. With his other hand, he pushed your other knee up and out, wanting you as exposed as possible. He knew there was a mirror behind him, so before he dove back in like a man starved, his rough voice carried out around the room. “Look at yourself.”

You shook your head, clearly embarrassed. “Oscar—“

“If you stop or if you close your eyes, I’ll stop.”

You pouted, the sight devastatingly adorable and he wanted to bite at your lip but he had other things on his list first. He didn’t move until your eyes hesitantly moved to the mirror behind him, breath hitching at the sight of him kneeling between your thighs.

Oscar’s mouth latched onto your clit, sucking harshly but slowly, the paired strokes of his tongue deliberate, and without warrant a shout left your lips. You had smacked a hand over your mouth, but he quickly tugged your hand away, he wanted to hear you.

Hands returning back to his hair, he watched you as you watched yourself come undone against his mouth. Your jaw falling open as two of his thick fingers sunk into your pussy, instantly clenching around him. He must really have amazing self control because he felt like he could cum in his pants then and there.

“So fucking warm,” he said against you, lapping at your clit as your thighs trembled. “And tight, for me.” His fingers set an unrelenting pace, curling up in a come hither motion and he knew he was dragging the pads of his fingers against your g-spot with the way you were screaming his name.

“Oscar!” You threw your head back against the window, still obeying him and keeping your eyes on the mirror. Your hips rutting into his mouth and fingers, desperate for a release.

Your voice sounded like church bells to him and he added another finger, three digits fucking you at a relentless pace. He felt your stomach tighten, fingers clenching around him. You were breathless as you forced the words out, there was even some drool starting to leak from your lips. “I’m— I’m going—“

“Come for me, Angel. Give me all of it.” He didn’t stop, not even as liquid started to spurt out of your pussy, coating his lips and chin as he continued his relentless licking and sucking on your clit, not stopping the thrusting of his fingers and you screamed and clamped your thighs around his head, being sent into absolute overdrive as you twitched against him. Your orgasm was violent, and he wasn’t letting up.

“Oscar, oh my god.” Your voice was hoarse and rough, followed by another orgasm that completely shattered you as you convulsed against him. He was a moaning mess, pre-cum soaking through his boxers and trousers. You yanked his head back by his hair and he let go of your clit with a resounding pop.

“Greedy.” You teased through panting breaths, a delirious smile on your face and he couldn’t help but share it.

“You taste like heaven.” He leaned in again, gently licking a long stripe up your entrance, collecting whatever wasn’t on his face or on the floor. You shuddered against him as he placed a light kiss against your clit.

He watched as you stood up on trembling legs, his hands coming up to rest on the back of your thighs as he stared up at you from where he was, still on his knees. Your fingers brushed his hair back from his eyes, taking in his face and swollen lips, but his brows started to furrow as your eyes began to water.

“What’s wrong?” He said quietly, pulling you to him so he was hugging you around your legs, resting his chin on your stomach as he looked up at you.

Shaking your head, you wiped the tears away and smiled. “I’m happy. And I’m mad we waited so long.”

“Yeah,” Oscar said softly, giving you a warm smile as he slowly stood up, his fingers dragging up your body as he went. He cupped your throat with both hands as he got to his feet, pressing his thumbs up under your chin to tilt your face to him. He kissed you gently, yet there was still a rough desperation underlined in it. “It’s a good thing I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Your eyes glowed, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, turning you and backing you up slowly till the back of your knees hit the bed and he lightly shoved you onto the mattress. He watched you carefully as he began to undo his belt, watching as your eyes traced down his toned stomach, down his happy trail, and to the obvious bulge in his trousers.

“What do you have in mind?” Your voice was timid, but clearly excited as you then sucked in a sharp breath as he took off his trousers and boxers in one go, his cock twitching at the cool air in the room and the tip was glistening and red.

“Oh, Angel.” He walked forward, slowly climbing over you and parted your thighs with his knee. He lowered his face, nipping at your neck gently before his hot breath danced over your ear. “I’m going to ruin you.”

He took hold of himself, dragging the tip up and down your entrance and he just about came undone there and then. This had to last, he needed it to last.

Oscar’s eyes locked onto yours before he sunk in, burying himself to the hilt and a loud groan left him while you moaned, throwing your head back against the sheets. You were devine. Warm, wet, already spasming around him. He was losing his hold on his sanity as he slowly pulled back out, then slammed back into you with a brutal thrust.

“I hate that he got to fucking touch you.” The words had slipped out before he realised what he had said. But he meant every syllable.

“I know,” you gasped out, nails dragging against his back, surely leaving red streak marks but he didn’t care.

Oscar had driven himself mad knowing that Lando got to see you like this. Got to feel what it was like to have you wrapped around his cock. Haunted by the thought of his teammate making you cum. Horrified by the thought of you screaming Lando’s name.

He didn’t realise it, but a hand had wrapped around your throat, choking you as he fucked you with next to no gentleness. Bottoming out each time, his other hand taking hold of one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, needing to go deeper.

You cried out, a mixture of pain and pleasure as he hit your cervix over and over again.

“I thought of you every time he touched me,” the cruel admission left your lips. Both of you were horrible, awful people. Yet neither seemed to care as your teeth sunk into his forearm that was next to your head, tears slipping out of your eyes as you screamed. His pace was brutal, unrelentless. The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room and an animalistic groan left him and you clenched around his cock.

Oscar turned you both so you were facing the mirror, his hand that was choking you tilting your head back so you could watch him fuck you upside down. “I’ve gotten myself off every week to thought of fucking you like this. Anywhere. Of bending you over the sink. Fucking you in the shower. In my driver’s room before a race. I’d fuck you in front of the whole paddock if I could.”

You choked out a cry, blood rushing to your head from the lack of oxygen. He knew you liked the filth he was muttering due how hard you were clenching around him, your hips going up to meet his thrusts.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you? Coming around my cock as everyone watched. Knowing Lando would be watching as I made a mess of you.”

“I’m going to come,” you cried, coughing violently afterward. He may have gotten ahead of himself as he pulled his hand away, noticing a red hand mark on your throat. But the sight only spurred him on further, his hand dancing between your bodies before finding your clit, rubbing tight circles into it.

He felt your orgasm before he heard you. Your cunt clamped down onto his cock, screaming his name as you convulsed. God, you were ethereal.

His thrusts became sloppy and unorganised, one hand holding your hip and yanking you down onto him as the other continued its agonising circled on your clit.

Oscar cried out your name as he came, yanking you all the way down on his cock as his cum spilled hotly into you, filling you up in such a primal way it made another wave of pleasure shoot through him.

He collapsed on top of you, both your bodies sweaty and he began peppering kisses across your face. Kissing your tears away and muttering mine between each.

Oscar was still buried deep inside you, holding his release in and he never wanted to move. Your chest heaved, slowly coming down from your high. He felt your arms move before your hands gently took hold of his face, bringing his eyes up to meet yours.

Messy trails of mascara ran down your cheeks, painting a beautiful picture of ruin in front of him. If his muscles weren’t so tired, he would’ve reached for his phone to take a picture.

“Oscar,” your voice was a whisper.

He hummed, lifting a hand up to gently tug at your bottom lip with his thumb. You seemed hesitant, searching his gaze for something. But he didn’t need to be given any hints.

“I love you,” he said the words against your lips. He said them again against your forehead. Again as he kissed each of your eye lids. Your nose.

You started to cry again, a grin stretching at your lips as you spoke the words that sealed his fate, “I love you.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

MONZA

You shut the door softly behind you, looking at his back as he leaned over to untie his shoes.

Clearing your throat, Lando sat up and turned, raising a brow at you. “Yeah?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you considered how there was no hello. No smile, though you weren’t expecting much of one. Sure, he scored a podium, but it wasn’t enough.

You stood there and stared at him for a moment. Genuinely wondering why he had even asked you out in the first place. What was the point? Then again, you shouldn’t have said yes in the first place.

Sighing, you brought out your keys and took off the one he gave you to his flat in Monaco.

His eyes widened, realising quickly what was happening and he stood up, crossing the room and taking hold of your hands to halt the finality of your actions. “Hey, what’s going on?” Lando cupped your chin, bringing your eyes up to his. “Talk to me, baby.”

Despite everything, you still felt guilty. Your mind couldn’t help but wander over all of his sweet moments with you. Because he could be, he could be really fucking sweet. Romantic even. But he was also really fucking awful sometimes. Mean, even.

Your brows furrowed, taking hold of his wrist. “We both know I’m not what you want.” You looked at his eyes, how stunningly green they were and curious how he was able to look at you in such adoration sometimes. “And we both know I know about the other girls.”

Lando clenched his jaw, his eyes flickering shut as the words were finally out. Sure, he may actually want you. He just didn’t only want you. Besides, you knew you were in no place to pass judgement anymore. With your other hand, you brushed a thumb over his cheek bone, his eyes then opening. Looking at you in confusion, not understanding why you weren’t angry. Not understanding why you were being so… understanding.

With a small sigh, you kissed him softly on the cheek before dropping his key into his hands. He didn’t stop looking at you, and maybe you were reading too much into it, but he nearly looked sad.

“Bye, Lando.”

And you left.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

AZERBAIJAN, BAKU

The thick rug that ran down the middle of the hallway muted your footsteps as you walked. You had flown home during the small break between the last race and the one that’s tomorrow. You hadn’t been able to see Oscar, though you had texted a few times.

You came to a stop outside of his door, you hadn’t told him when you were coming back. He understood you needed a break.

Stealing your breath, you knocked on the door once. The sharp sound echoing down the long hallway. Muffled sounds came from the other side of the door before it opened, Oscar blinking at you in surprise before he grinned at you.

He was so effortlessly handsome, wearing a white t-shirt that hugged his muscles perfectly and a pair of grey sweats. You licked your lips, mouth feeling dry and looked down at your shoes.

“Angel?”

“I broke up with Lando.”

There was a moment of silence before you heard him step forward, his warm and rough hands holding your face, tilting your face up to his. The look on his face, it was hard to put distinct words to it but the look of hope in his eyes made your knees weak.

“What?”

“I broke up with him.” Your breathing was uneven, and despite everything, doubts still lingered in your brain. “And you’re under no obligation to—“

Oscar pulled you to him, kissing you with such urgency your head spun.

You smiled into his mouth, “I’m all yours.”

He picked you up, looking at you with heaven in his eyes, carrying you into the room and shutting the door behind him.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Lando watched as champagne sprayed out and over the podium, watching Oscar laugh and smile as he got drenched with the Australian flag glowing above the top step. Despite his annoyance, he couldn’t hate him. His teammate was a good driver and a good person.

All of Lando’s karma was finally catching up to him, but he clapped anyway. Smiled for photos. Patted Oscar on the shoulder in congratulations, who in turn looked at him sceptically before eventually giving him a small smile.

A tiny truce.

After the crowd had died down, Lando had grappled with his consciousness for a while before forcing himself to go to Oscar’s room. He could at least try to make some sort of amends. They were going to be teammates for a while; they might as well try and get along. Water under the bridge.

He knocked on the door, he didn’t hear a response but slight muffled shuffling. He rolled his eyes, they needed to get this conversation out of the way or else Lando wasn’t sure he’d pluck up the courage again. Plus, he was sure Oscar was in a good mood after a win.

Testing the handle, the door clicked and he pushed it open, mouth opening to say something when he suddenly froze at the sight before him.

You were sitting up on the dresser, Oscar standing between your legs and his hands under your shirt, kissing you as if his life depended on it. Your desperation was palpable, hands buried in the Aussie’s hair and moaning into his mouth.

Lando blinked a few times, his mouth dry and feeling as if he’d vomit. Quickly and quietly, he shut the door and started to walk away. His pace brisk, trying not to cause a scene and run.

He knew he was in absolutely no position to feel upset over this, but he couldn’t help it. He did. He knew he had fucked up. Fucked up a wonderful opportunity you had given him. You were perfect in every sense of the word, but he had been too caught up in his ego to give a shit if he fumbled one of the best things life had tried to offer him. Right after you left his hotel room in Monza, he sat there staring at the key he had given you for a pathetically long time as a cold wave of reality slammed into him.

Not sure why, but his feet brought him to Red Bull’s section of the paddock, eyes searching desperately for Max. He was always someone he could talk to, even in the worst circumstances the Dutch man somehow always knew what to say.

After a few frantic minutes of searching, he finally found Max and called out to him. His friend turned, raising a brow at the look on Lando’s face. He probably looked insane. Max crossed his arms as he approached, not looking all too thrilled at seeing him. Which wasn’t a surprise. The entire grid wasn’t a fan of his behaviour in regards to women, Max especially given everything that had happened with Kelly and Daniil.

“Can we talk?” He asked.

Max eyed him over for a moment before nodding, guiding him back to his room. He sat on the edge of the counter, not saying anything but looked at Lando expectantly.

Lando bit the side of his cheek, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I fucked up.”

Max let out a long breath through his nose, his eye brows rising. “You’re realising this now?”

Sighing, Lando considered how to move forward. “Look I know it was dumb but can you really blame—Fuck!” His eyes began to water and his hand went up to cover his now bleeding nose. Staring at his friend in bewilderment as his head began to pound with pain.

Max had just punched him.

“You are such a fucking dumbass, Lando.” Max was practically yelling at him, not caring that the sound hurt the Brit’s head.

“I just walked in on her and Oscar practically fucking! They’ve probably been doing it behind my back all this time, anyway—“

Max looked like he wanted to deck him again. “Get over yourself! How does that even begin to justify the countless women you were screwing around with behind her back all these months.” Lando went to open his mouth but Max held up his hand. “I have never in all my years even considered doing that to someone, let alone Kelly.”

Lando grew quiet, slumping against the wall, not caring that blood was dripping down his face and he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes till stars appeared. “I know, I fucked up,” his voice cracked as he spoke. “I can’t justify it. And I can’t explain it, but I really feel like I’ve had a wake up call, mate.” He laughed ruefully, looking up at the ceiling. “She’s so perfect and I just— I fucked her over.”

Max considered his friend for a long moment. He hated him for what he did to you, but he still cared about him. “I’m not saying you can fix this, nor do I think there is anything to even fix. But you need to apologise to her. But I need you to understand this,” he stepped towards Lando, placing a hand on his shoulder. “She doesn’t need to forgive you. I don’t even think she should. But she deserves a proper apology from you. Get down on your knees and cry for all I care.” With one last pointed look, Max walked over to his door and gestured an arm out. “Now get the fuck out of my room.”

That night at the club the team had picked to celebrate Oscar’s win, Lando couldn’t take his eyes off you. He held his drink, still full and ice long ago melted as he watched you dance. The multicolour lights painting you in a beautiful image.

He waved off multiple girls who approached, not even an inkling of interest igniting in his chest. His heart for some reason set on torturing himself as he watching how Oscar held onto you possessively, never letting you go and with stars in his eyes.

He had known the whole time Oscar was in love with you, and it gave him a screwed up thrill to know you were with him instead. He didn’t know what was wrong with him sometimes, but he regretted everything. Not like it mattered. You looked properly happy for once and Lando realised you had never looked at him that way.

Another girl came up to him, resting her hand on his shoulder and smiling seductively.

All he could see was you, though. Looking at him one last time before kissing him on the cheek and leaving. Shrugging the girl off, he called it an early night and left.

Despite everything, how he treated you, Lando came to a crushing realisation and he felt his lungs stop working.

He was in love with you.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

landonorris

liked by youruser, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 1,436,097 others

landonorris smile. 🏆

*tap to load more comments*

userone: LESGOOO

usertwo: singapore looks good on you!

userthree: anyone find it odd how unhappy he’s looked lately? even when he wins

userfour: anyone see those leaked photos of oscar and lando’s ex?

| userfive: YESS they were making out in front of some pub in london

| usersix: WILLDDDD

youruser: congratulations lando 🥳

❤️ by author

landonorris: thank you, love ❤️

| userseven: i’m so lost 😭

[cheriladycl01]

I payed my dues - Oscar Piastri x FemNorrisDriver! Reader

Plot: Y/N Norris and her thoughts on Hungary and Monza 2024.

A/N: This is fiction and I don’t want to see any genuine hate towards Oscar or Lando in my comments. I just could see a Lando sister getting really protective and this idea stemmed from my ‘My love is mine all mine’ fic …

As Lando’s little sister, you’d come into the sport two years after him. Rookie Season with McLaren in replacement of Carlos Sainz.

You basically just road your brothers bumper unless you’d out qualified him by a long shot. But you were very obviously second driver, and you were okay with that. You were an incredible driver, already rivalling your brother. However, you wanted a chance for race wins and so when Christian Horner came to you about taking over Sergio Perez, you knew you needed to take it seriously.

And you knew being in a top team would pave the way for you too go into a top team as a top driver.

You and Max stormed though the 2023 season having an incredible stint of race wins between you and for the first time since being in Formula One you had ended the season above your brother in the standings and you now had 5 race wins under your belt that you didn’t have in McLaren.

2024 and the season was starting off strong for you and Max. You and Max were behind each other in the standing and got a very high way up. You were incredibly consistent not falling out of the top 5 for any race. Even when Max had a DNF for cooling issues you still made podium.

Miami was a special moment. It was a McLaren-RedBull Sandwich on the podium. You were so incredibly happy for your brother and his first career win. He’d worked so hard with McLaren thus far and he was the most loyal person you knew for sticking by their side.

But Hungary … you all could tell there was something different with the McLaren since Miami. Lando was on pole yet Oscar got around him into turn 1 and after some dramatic undercutting for the pit stop. Oscar took his first race win.

There was redemption in Zandvoort … but then Monza. Lando was on pole. Oscar was in P2. And you were in P3.

Strategy was for you to put pressure on Oscar who they thought was going to defend for Lando so that he could keep P1.

However … team orders didn’t seem to be a thing.

“And Norris makes it out of turn 1 still in first place. Y/N putting pressure on Oscar Piastri as we go into turn 2. Oscar no longer defending for Lando Norris and omg, through goes Y/N Norris into P1” the commentators say.

At the end of Monza you ended in P1, Charles Leclerc P2 and Oscar P3. Your brother out of the points but having set the fastest lap.

After watching the footage of Oscar baiting Lando and not defending him from you like a good teammate would you were beyond fucked off. It was the riskiest overtake of the month and shouldn’t have been done especially between teammates as both Oscar and a Lando could have ended out.

“So Y/N incredible race from you how are you feeling?” An interviewer for sky sports asks you and you nod.

“Yeah, really hot in the car today. Happy that I could gain places and win, and yeah I think McLaren will learn something’s after today” you say shortly not wanting your PR team to hate you for shitting on anyone.

“And what’s that? What do you think they’ll learn?” He asks cocking his head to the side.

“I dunno man, but having driven for McLaren as second driver behind my own brother for 2 seasons even when I was the quicker driver or I had the fresher tires I was still asked to defend Lando in the position he was in rather than overtake and that’s why we had such great results. Then you manipulate your diver into giving back position saying he’ll need the support in the future and proceed not to give them that support? Lando is so close to overtaking me and Max and you’d think McLaren would start to prioritise a driver … the one who is closest? No? Because I also helped Charles through today which has pushed McLaren as a constructors back even further. So McLaren really need to look at what they want to do going forward… they say my doesn’t have a championship mentality … no McLaren racing don’t have a championship mentality” you say your frown getting angrier as you continue speaking.

“And do you think RedBull have what it takes to secure the championship?” He asks and you nod.

“We already have” you say confidently.

“Some … harsh words from Red Bull driver Y/N Y/L/N there” the interviewer says just as your PR manager starts to pull you away.

“Your a menace you know that right?” She sighs as she drags you away.

“Yeah I know …” you sigh.

“Ooo what the hell was that about?” Oscar rushes coming up to you.

“What was what?” You laugh, looking over him up and down at his race suit that was loosely hanging around his hips. You had just made a comment that wasn’t wrong, and it was your opinion, one that you were entitled too.

“You’re shit talking me on interviews just because your pissy McLaren never saw your potential and that we now have the better car” Oscar says crossing his arms making you burst out laughing.

“So my freedom of speech is just gone now? I can’t make comments but you can question Stroll driving like he’s in go-karts still? Fucking grow up Oscar and then maybe just maybe you’ll be half the driver you pretend to be” you tell him, a stern look on your face.

“That’s not exactly fair, did you see the way he was driving?” He asks with an incredulous look on his face.

“Rich coming from you mate, did you see the way YOU were driving. Look I used to have a lot of respect for you, especially last year with how helpful you were … but I don’t know what’s gotten into you this year” you say, a little softer than the rest of the conversation had gone, wondering what had happened to the boy you once had a crush on.

“Your just sour that were quickly catching up top you, just like Ferrari and Mercedes are and that you aren’t as good as your brother” he says t matching your softer tone.

“I payed my dues at McLaren Oscar and that’s how I’ve ended up where I am now. It’s your turn to take the backseat once in a while and respect your teammate whose been grafting his arse of and dedicating his life to the team” you frown, once again angry that he isn’t seeing sense with you.

“I’m not a secondary driver like you Norris…” he seethes.

“Hey hey hey what’s going on here” is heard from behind Oscar as your brother and two McLaren staff come running up next to him. He stops next to Oscar looking between the pair of you, both having furrowed brows.

“Maybe tell your teammate to start acting like one if you want both championships yeah?” You frown before taking your leave and walking into the Red Bull hospitality immediately flopping down in a booth next to Max.

“I didn’t know you felt that way about Oscar…” Max sighs softly.

“Yeah well neither did I until today…”

Instagram Story Caption:

Can’t say the same for everybody!

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[vro0m]

the whole thing around how drivers will race even when injured and/or sick for the sake of their teams and the championships rlly gives me the ick honestly, especially bc of the message it's sending to kids in junior series, which is that they should be willing to sacrifice their health and wellbeing if it means they go up in the standings or whatever. f1 historically being a dangerous sport probably hasn't helped this idea, esp taking into account the glorification of things like niki coming back after his accident in '76 to keep on fighting for the wdc and senna's death, but the fact that it's persisted this long honestly can have some really dangerous implications. yes, these injured drivers go onto win races and championships (niki only losing the wdc at the last race in '76, max winning races and eventually the wdc 2021 despite blurry vision following silverstone, lewis winning formula a with a broken wrist (at 15 too which is properly mind boggling honestly), lewis getting pole in german 2019 despite having a 40ºC fever, carlos winning australia after appendicitis, oscar winning hungary with a broken rib) but imo it's setting a borderline dangerous precedent for other drivers and kids coming up through the junior formulas.

What annoys me about it is that the athletes themselves can't say no, in this sport or any other. They can't and won't say no because they've been taught to not listen to their bodies and to push through and sometimes that they are weak if they need a break* and that the chance they have to be where they are is fleeting and they need to be on top all day every single day to not lose it. So they won't say no.

Remember Qatar 23? Some of these drivers reported losing vision in the corners due to the heat and the effort and they didn't stop. Ocon threw up in his helmet twice and he didn't stop. George said he almost passed out before the end of the race. He didn't stop. Only Sargeant stopped.

Noah Lyles ran the 200m with covid and he might or might not have permanent damage from doing so. And he still went.

What all of them and the ones you cited have in common, is that nobody around them said no for them. No one in Lyles entourage said man that's a bad idea. His girlfriend spent the night turning him around in his bed because of how much he coughed and she didn't say maybe you shouldn't go. No one said maybe it's a bad idea even though he had severe asthma in his childhood. Carlos was in horrible pain from appendicitis and no one told him maybe sit this one out. They gave him painkillers and sent him back out. Oscar had a broken rib and they sat him in the car all the same.

And sure these are adults, not puppets, not victims, they are responsible for themselves as adults and they do have some responsibility in these decisions. But truly even if they wanted to, which I'm not convinced they do, these people can't say no. The people around them should say no for them. They won't because they're greedy. The athletes don't see it because they've been primed not to see it and/or they also are greedy (for money or other things). No one is there to say no. I'm betting if people (doctors) are saying no, they are ignored. Someone needs to say no.

*btw remember that Lewis, who did not race in Qatar 23 because of the contact with George, said a whole thing about how that's just how it is and if the drivers suffered they had to train more because they weren't prepared enough. they are all part of this culture and very few seem to even notice it.

[disneyprincemuke]

everything at 18, but nothing at 22

alternatively: times she finished in the points while he dnfs

in which the drastic difference in their performance in their career seems to finally be catching up to them

(series masterlist)

-> australia, 2023

she simply cannot wipe the permanent smile on her face. she runs into her garage, straight from weigh-in, immediately greeted by blythe and ciara who are quick to take her in for a hug.

"oh, i made the points!" she laughs, jumping in a circle with her sisters. "can you believe it? i made history just by finishing in the top 10 today!"

"i told you you'll be amazing!" ciara puts her hands on her older sister's cheeks, before quickly pulling her in for another tight hug. "you did so well on the track amidst all the chaos!"

"history in the making with you just being here!" blythe shrieks, grabbing her shoulder. "you were amazing on the track. half the grid retired - did seb tell you?"

"he did," she laughs, slowly settling down as she stands on her feet. "speaking of that, i've got to speak to logan."

"no need to look around, i've got him here with me," oscar's accent fills her garage. "good job finishing above me, mate."

another shrill shriek escapes her mouth as she hops over to the two boys still in their race suits. she is received by oscar first, whispering neverending praises into her ear as they sway in their spot. she rubs circles on his back as they exchange compliments, both proud at their feat of achieving points in arguably one of the more chaotic races they've found themselves in.

as she pulls away, she meets a forced smile and sad green eyes as she is pulled into a hug by logan. "i'm so proud of you today. i stayed and watched the race just for you."

"baby, i'm sorry for the dnf," she whispers, her smile faltering slightly as she wraps her arms around his neck. she's lifted off the ground slightly, the height difference making their public hug slightly awkward. "this is only the third race - i swear it won't stay like this all season."

"no, don't worry about me," logan grins, pulling away from her. with a tender hand on her cheek, he quickly pulls it away when a flash goes off at the corner of his eye. instead, he settles for a hand on her shoulder and shakes her slightly. "today is all about you, ms. record breaker."

"for what it's worth, the fia is under fire for the chaos of today's race," she frowns, rubbing his sleeves up and down to offer a sense of familiarity.

their dream of getting into f1 together has finally come true. it's just a shame that they've got to keep their romantic gestures on the down low, or kept under wraps in fear of the backlash she might get.

"stop trying to justify my race," logan smiles, squeezing a cheek. he takes a step back and huffs, tilting his head as he looks at her. "look at you - i could have sworn you were just that lonely girl oscar decided to befriend at karting. now you're in f1 making history."

her smile carves into something softer, and looks up at him with a glimmer in his eyes that he couldn't ever get tired of. "i wouldn't be here without either of you."

logan squeezes her arm. "sneak into my hotel room later? let's watch a movie."

"oh, max invited me for drinks at some bar tonight. celebrate my first points or something like that," she frowns. "come with us, please? oscar will be there."

"i'll be okay," he smiles. "then sneak in after the drinks. you're funny when you're drunk, anyway."

"i'll sneak some cocktails in your room so we can watch a disney movie together and cuddle," she giggles. at the call of her name by sebastian, mentioning something about an interview she has to go do now. "i'll see you later?"

"i'll see you later." logan bends down, closing an eye when he feels her lips pressed against his cheek. "love you."

she turns around, already being pulled away by an impatient sebastian. she twists her body back to look at him. she mouths, "love you."

-> hungary, 2023

she presses her lips together, rocking back and forth on her feet as she awaits the door to open. when it does, it reveals a clearly dishevelled logan with a towel hung around his shoulders.

he's already in his sweatpants, while she stood out in the hallway in a romper, ready to head out for the evening. she scans her boyfriend head to toe and slumps her shoulders. "baby, you're not going out with us tonight?"

he pokes his head past the door, looking left and right before he lets her walk into his hotel room. she sighs softly, following him further into the room.

he drops himself onto the bed and shakes his head. "i don't deserve to be out and about celebrating after the race today. you go ahead and enjoy yourself, babe."

"my love," she hums, climbing onto the bed with a hand finding his neck to massage the muscle. "just because the race didn't go your way today doesn't mean you should lock yourself up here and be by yourself."

he leans into her touch, turning to lie on his side. he slings an arm around her waist while she comfortably sits on his bed. "i just don't think i should be outside. i'm an embarrassment." he nuzzles his face into the side of her thigh. "good call to keep the relationship behind closed doors - you'll be ridiculed for being with me."

"what?" she says softly, never really getting used to logan's harsh words against himself. she hangs her head low, trying to meet his eyes. "please, don't say that. i'm very proud of you. dnf or not."

"you and oscar have gotten your first points this year. i still have not," he sighs, turning to lie on his back again. "trust me, you don't want people to know you're dating me."

"i do want people to know i'm dating you," she coos, running her fingertip down the side of his face. she moves down and props herself up on her elbow to look over him. "it's just complicated right now - you know that."

"but you get what i'm saying, right?"

"i do," she lays on her stomach, pressing a kiss on his bare shoulder. "okay, let me tell max i'm not feeling great to head out tonight for drinks. do you want to go and eat somewhere just the two of us?"

"what? (y/n), please. you don't have to do any of this. i'm fine being by myself tonight."

"i want to be with you tonight," she grins. "let's go shopping? it's our first time in hungary."

-> zandvoort, 2023

"mate, have you seen logan?" she asks, approaching oscar with a frown. with a pepsi can in hand, she sips on the straw as her bright eyes scan the paddocks for her missing boyfriend. "usually, he'd be right by my garage after a race, but i've yet to find him."

"i can't say i've seen him since before the race," oscar frowns, realising that it's been a while since he's seen logan. he also scans the crowd, hoping that it's just her height that's hindering her chances of finding logan. to no avail, he doesn't find logan either. "is everything okay?"

she shrugs. "i don't know. he retired from the race again, did you hear?"

"i heard. do you know why?"

"no," she shrugs. "seb's got no idea either. can you let me know if you find him, please? i've got an interview i need to go and do."

-> singapore, 2023

"seriously?" she cries, tears rushing into her eyes. she takes the bouquet of loud colours and holds it against her chest. "this is the sweetest thing ever!"

"you like them?" logan grins down at the flowers that clash against the dark motif of her race suit tailor-made for tonight. "i saw them in the mall the other day when oscar and i were out. i was banking on the fact that you'd make it into the points today.

"even luckier that you made podium."

"this is the cutest thing ever," she smiles, sniffling as she drops her head to smell the flowers. "thank you so much, logan."

"you deserve it."

"but i'm sorry for where you finished today," she frowns, dropping an arm and moving to his side. she puts an arm around his waist and squeezes him slightly. "was the car not good today?"

"i think it's the street circuits not being very kind to me," logan sighs, shaking his head. "but, please, enjoy your podium celebrations. i'll join you for drinks tonight?"

"oh, really? you're joining tonight?"

"of course! my girlfriend just made history again," logan says softly into her ear. he squeezes her shoulder. "i have to be there to celebrate with her, right?"

-> qatar, 2023

"fuck!"

"logan, please. just sit down - you're really dehydrated."

"no, god. i'm such a fuck up!"

"hey, don't say that!"

"i retired again because i couldn't take the fucking heat!" he tugs at the roots of his hair, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.

meanwhile, his girlfriend sits in the corner on a plastic chair with her lips pressed together as he paces around the room against the medical advice of every personnel who's attended to him.

still in her fireproofs, the younger girl nurses her helmet in her lap as she tries to calm logan down. "it's okay, baby. you weren't feeling well. you couldn't have done anything else."

"i could have just sucked it up and raced like everybody else!" logan frowns. "even you finished the race despite your period! what's that say about me?"

she scoffs, eyebrows furrowed as his statement manages to hit her the wrong way. "what are you trying to say? that between you and me, you deserved to finish more because i was hindered by the fact that i've got my period?"

regret strikes logan immediately, and she can see it in the way his look softens and his shoulders slump. "no, that's not what i meant. i mean, like-"

"it sounds like the way it sounds," she says softly, hurt lacing her every word. she shakes her head as she gets up to her feet, helmet hanging off her fingers by the strap. "i'll call you tomorrow, logan."

"(y/n), please wait. i'm sorry."

"i just need to be alone," she frowns, turning her back on him as she heads for the door. "feel better and stay put until the nurse comes back with an iv for you. but i've got to go - i just can't believe you'd say that to me."

-> mexico, 2023

"god, i'm no better at 22 than i was at 18." logan holds his face in his hands, elbows propped up on his knees as he finds comfort in the beanbag in her driver's room after their media commitments. "i don't understand."

it's another race where he's forcibly retired and she's managed to climb her way into the points. despite starting in the back of the grid that afternoon, she managed to challenge lando climbing up the positions on the track.

while she lost out to the more experienced driver, starting 16th and eventually climbing to 8th is no easy task. with sebastian in her ear, it was a slightly easier task that had a lot of people confused and shocked at where she suddenly finished the race.

realistically, it helped that the car was just feeling much better with the upgrades that the team brought in for her this weekend.

but logan unexpectedly had to retire towards the end of the race. which, was disheartening after the point that he got just last week in austin.

"am i just not made to be in f1? i don't get it," he says softly. "something's not right."

all she can do is sigh. nothing about their predicament now is easy: she can't fully relate to the low he's feeling because- well, she's doing fine in her rookie season compared to him.

she knows that and so does he. they try not to talk about it, but it's something that looms over their head whenever they're on social media or are attending interviews together. it doesn't make it any easier that fans are easily gawking at her presence when they chance upon them together in public.

while logan loves being her boyfriend, the past couple of years being the best times he's ever experienced, it's easier said than done to be proud of your girlfriend's achievements when you're always in the trenches week after week.

"i don't even know if i'll still have a seat next year," he sighs, throwing his head back to rest on the wall behind him. "god. i don't know what to do."

"i don't even know what to say," she whispers, crawling over to where he is. she places a hand on his knee and rests her chin on her hand. "i'm sorry you're feeling like this, lo."

"i know you don't get it."

"i know i don't. but i'm your girlfriend."

"you being by my side means more than you think it does." he breathes out with a sigh passing his lips, a hand resting on her shoulder as they sit in silence. "you can boast about your achievements to me, you know?"

"i know." she turns her head to look up at him. logan forces another smile, her worried stare igniting something in him to make sure that she knows he's okay. "but i'm with you even in your darkest hours."

"i'm extremely proud of how far you've come this season."

"i'm proud of how eloquently you're trying to hold yourself around me," she frowns, tracing circles on the material of his jeans. "but you don't have to pretend around me. we celebrate my achievements when you're feeling better."

"we can do both." logan sits up, a hand cupping her cheek to lift it up to meet his gaze. "your achievements shouldn't be tucked away in some box just because i had a bad weekend. i'm happy enough seeing you make history."

"logan..."

"let's head out to dinner with oscar tonight. it's a celebration - you guys have done so well."

"we can just stay in if you want."

"no more of that!" he cheers, his lips meeting the tip of her nose. "we're celebrating tonight. let's dress up, let's go out and take pictures, and then we can post about them on instagram while people speculate about how too close we seem to be. i don't care.

"you've done so much for the sport, you should be celebrated, babe. if you don't want to, i will celebrate you."

she sighs, rolling her eyes. "you're an idiot."

"but an idiot you love, yes?"

"an idiot i love, correct."

[billybob598]

Look What I've Got (Sophia Smith x Reader)

Heyyyyy. I did not want to put this gif in because it makes me sad, but I thought it made sense with the story. Also, this is a F1 reader, there was a little vote between f1 reader or swewnt reader and f1 won 8-6 so sorry to anyone wanting the swewnt reader but this is a democracy. I might do a similar one later with a swewnt reader for those people. Anyways, it's a shit title and a shit ending so have fun reading! Remember any feedback good or bad is welcomed! Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.8k (My longest fic ever wooooo!!!)

You were a proud girlfriend right now. Here you were watching your girlfriend of almost two years, Sophia Smith,  playing in her first-ever World Cup. While you missed the group stage games due to the F1 Grand Prix in Hungary and Belgium, you were finally able to come to Australia. Your girlfriend didn’t know that you were here yet nor that you were attending the USA’s Round of 16 match against Sweden. Throughout the warm-ups, Sophia seems laser-focused, so much so that she doesn’t see you sitting in the stands wearing her jersey. Of course, it is instead her best friend Naomi Girma who spots you first. When she points you out you don’t think you’ve ever seen your girlfriend's head turn so fast. Her eyes land on you and she sprints towards you with a blinding smile.

“Oh, my God! Baby, I’ve missed you so much!” Sophia squeals out as she hugs you tightly. 

You chuckle, “I’ve missed you too, love.” When you pull away from the hug, Sophia immediately connects your lips. You reach back and slip your arms around her neck, trying to deepen the kiss. Gagging sounds come from beside you. Sophia groans and tries to chase your lips when you take your lips off of hers, suddenly aware of all the cameras, family members, and teammates surrounding you. You give her a weak smile and slightly push her back to the field. 

“Nooo, I wanna stay with you,” she pouts. You find her pouting adorable, but as much as you want her to stay with you, you know that she has to go continue to warm up. 

“Hi Y/N! I’m your favourite player right?” Naomi yells from across the field.

You wink at her with a cheeky smile, “Oh, of course. Girma on top baby.” Sophia gives her best friend a harsh glare before leaning in to give you one last hug.

“I’m your favourite though, right baby?” She asks quietly. You give her a subtle kiss on her ear while mumbling an “Always” to her. 

As the game gets underway, you watch nervously at every movement the US makes. Each time Musovic makes a fantastic save you can’t help the little groan of frustration that leaves your mouth. You can tell Sophia is starting to get frustrated with herself, whenever she feels she misses an opportunity she puts her head in her hands. The skin around your nails has been chewn. When extra time ends still in a 0-0 draw, your nerves increase tenfold. As Andi steps up to take the first penalty kick, Mollie, Sophia’s mom, reaches down and grabs your hand, squeezing tightly. When Sophia steps up to take a potentially game-winning penalty, you and her mom hold your breath. You can only watch in despair as her kick goes over the bar, her hands going straight to her head as the reality that she missed sinks in.

When the VAR call comes through and Lina Hurtig’s penalty is called good, your entire body deflates. The entirety of the US team breaks down, including your girlfriend. All you want to do is hold her and comfort her when you see her crying. It’s not her fault, you know that, but she’s already got it in her head that she’s to blame for everything. After a couple of minutes of tears and hugs among the team, the players start to make their way to their families and friends. You let Sophia sob into her parents' shoulders for a while. Finally, she pulls away and looks at you. You try to give her a smile and reach for her. She looks away and slowly starts to back away from you. The confusion you feel is represented on your face. 

“I’m sorry Y/N I just need some space right now,” she softly speaks. You nod, albeit confused but trying your best to be understanding.  After a long time in the locker room and taking their showers, the players start to emerge. Sophia shows up, her eyes bloodshot and puffy. She heads straight for her family once again. You hang back unsure of what she wants you to do. Her family leaves the two of you alone when her eyes meet yours. Opening your mouth to say something, you are caught off guard when she speaks first.

“Just don’t, okay?” Once again confusion writes itself all over you.

“Don’t what?” You ask.

“Don’t say that I did such a good job, that it was just unlucky I missed and that I’m still young, or some shit like that,” she says, a bit of anger seeping into her voice. You nod slowly, carefully choosing your next words.

“Okay, I won’t say that. I do think you did a good job, though. But, if you don’t think you did then whatever. All I know is that you made me crazy proud,” you state, trying to cheer her up. You don’t know what happened, but it seemed that sentence had set off Sophia. 

“Well I don’t care if you're proud of me, that doesn’t change the fact that we lost and it was all my fault! If you think that it wasn’t my fault, you’re astronomically wrong,” her voice rising with each word said, “I don’t care if you're proud of me. I don’t even know why you’re here, I don’t want you to be.” Her words sting. You take a step back, trying not to show just how hurt you are. 

“Do you really mean that?” You ask quietly.

“Yes. Yes, I do,” Sophia says harshly. Of course, she didn’t mean it. She has no idea why she’s saying these things right now, her heart cracking at how dejected you look. 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine, I think I’m gonna head back to my hotel I guess,” you whisper, looking down at the ground to ensure that she doesn’t see the tears pooling in your eyes. Quickly, you turn around and make your way to the parking lot. Your eyes stinging and your vision blurring, but you’ll be damned if Sophia gets to see you cry. The second you disappear out of her sight, Sophia feels terrible. Why on Earth would she say that? “I don’t care if you're proud of me,” who the fuck even says that? You flew halfway across the world to spend some time with her during your summer break which was only a few weeks, and this is how she treated you? For the entire bus ride back to the hotel, everyone is silent. Some people are crying, but Sophia is kicking herself over how she behaved towards you. She sends you a couple of texts, which she can see you read but don’t respond to. Then, when the team gets back to the hotel, she tries to call you a few times. Each attempt just gets your voicemail. Naomi, who was aware of the situation, just told her friend to rest and try again tomorrow. Sophia relents and comes to the conclusion that you won’t respond tonight and that she just needs to let you sleep and calm down a bit. 

The next day, as soon as she wakes up Sophia tries to get a hold of you. She calls you again and again. While eating breakfast she’s on her phone, praying that you’ll reply to one of the many texts she’s sent you. Her friends are slightly concerned at how dejected the forward looks after each passing minute with no word from you. Finally, Ashley Sanchez suggests that Sophia goes to your hotel to try and iron things out. Their flight wasn’t until the next day so she had the time. After thinking about the idea for a bit, Sophia decides to just go for it. She does know where you are staying and figures it’s only a fifteen-minute walk over. Sophia plays with her rings the entire time, her nerves only increasing as she gets closer to the hotel. Finding your room easily, she stands outside of it for a few minutes, trying to plan out exactly what she’ll say. Eventually, she knocks and holds her breath. When you open the door, Sophia’s heart breaks at the sight. Your eyes were red and you looked tired. You had heavy bags under your eyes and your hair looks dishevelled. You were definitely caught off guard by Sophia just showing up at your door. 

“Hey,” Sophia speaks softly.

“Hey, what do you want?” Your words have a slight bite to them. Sophia winces at your tone, but she knows it’s well deserved. 

“Um, I just wanted to apologize, you know, for last night,” she says avoiding eye contact with you. You sigh heavily.

“Yeah, okay,” your girlfriend looks up at you confused by your words.

“Okay?” 

“Okay. What you said was totally out of line and right now I don’t particularly feel like talking to you,” your voice is flat and she can sense a hint of anger in it. 

“Oh…” Sophia trails off, now feeling stupid for coming over. Obviously you wouldn’t want to talk to her. “Right, sorry. But can’t we just try and talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about? I understand you were sad and disappointed in yourself, Soph, but you don’t get to just lash out at someone who didn’t actually need to be there. I chose to be there, for you, and then you say shit like, ‘I don’t want you to be here’ That’s not fair to me and you know it,” you breathe out, happy to finally get that off your chest. 

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever I have to do to show you that I’m sorry. Please just forgive me and I’ll make it up to you, please Y/N,” she begs, her eyes full of tears at this point. Now it’s your turn to avoid eye contact, looking anywhere but her eyes. You hate seeing her cry, more than anything. While your heart aches to just forgive her, you know that you can’t just let it go that easily. She’s said sorry, but that alone is not enough. 

“Soph, I’m sorry. I think I need some space.”

“What? No, no, no, please Y/N. I’ll do anything,” she continues to plead with you. 

“I’m not breaking up with you, okay? Don’t worry. I just need some time. What you said wasn’t cool and I just want to calm down a bit,” you say trying to keep the emotions out of your voice. You feel terrible at how heartbroken Sophia looks. “Sophia?”

“Yeah, yeah. Um, that’s okay. As long as you're not breaking up with me,” she mumbles, wiping at the tears running down her cheeks.

“No, God no. It’s just a break,” you say quickly, wanting to make sure she understood. She smiles slightly at how panicked you looked. With that, she moves to walk away, but not before giving you a hug and a kiss on your cheek. You blush slightly, watching sadly as she walks away. 

For the next few weeks, you and Sophia did not talk. You went back to your apartment in Monaco and continued to train and prepare for the Dutch Grand Prix. Sophia went back to Portland and after taking a week off recovering from the World Cup, rejoined training with the Thorns. Everyone could see how distracted Sophia looked at training and outside of it. They knew that you guys were on a break and that you were not talking to each other. While she was still playing well, her friends noticed that she was a lot quieter and that she didn’t seem to want to spend too much time with other people more than she had to. Your own team could also see how sad and distant you looked. So, a few days before you were due to fly to the Netherlands, your teammate and friend, Lando Norris, suggested you ask her if she wanted to come to the race.

A/N: I know that the race weekend is scheduled from the 25-27th and that Portland has a game on the 27th, but let’s just pretend that there is no game lol.

Agreeing with the idea, you send Sophia a text asking if she wanted to fly out to the Netherlands and watch the race. Sophia, of course, says yes and immediately starts to pack her bags. You send her the tickets for the weekend and the plane. 

As Sophia walks into the paddock, she’s nervous but excited. There was someone from the McLaren team showing her to the garage, and while she had come to a few Grand Prix’s before the car had been terrible then. Since the last time she came, the team had seen a ginormous amount of improvement. Now, you were competing for podiums and top 5 finishes instead of trying to not finish in the bottom 5. She was shown to your driver room and told that you were in a meeting, but you’d be done soon. After waiting for about ten minutes the door opens and you walk in, with your race suit hanging around your waist and the black fireproofs leaving little to the imagination. You stop your movements when you see Sophia sitting there.

“Hey, thanks for coming I know it was pretty last second,” you say sincerely.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. Thanks for inviting me,” she responds. She notices you playing with your hands nervously. Deciding that you need to stop, she stands up and reaches out, grabbing your hands and encouraging you to play with the rings on her hands instead. You smile softly, finding it sweet that she always remembers you like to play with her rings. For a few moments, there was silence. Then you break it with your words,

“How have you been?” Sophia sighs, thinking back to the last couple of weeks.

“I’ve been…okay,” you give her a look, “What?”

“The bags under your eyes say differently.” The US player looks down, embarrassed. 

“Okay, so maybe I haven’t been that great.”

“Mhm, well I guarantee you’ve been better than I have,” you murmur. Sophia gives you a questioning look. “I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t focus, I did terrible in the simulator training. I think some space was good for us, but now I think I’m feeling better.” She smiles at you, raising her eyebrows, encouraging you to continue “Do you wanna get back together?” Sophia smirks,

“I thought we didn’t break up? We were just on a break,” she challenges. Your eyes widen at your mistake,

“Err, well, shit.” She laughs at the expression on your face. “Well, whatever we were on, do you want to stop it now?”

“Yes please,” she requests. You chuckle lightly, before wrapping your arms around her neck. She smirks and rests her hands on your hips then leans in slowly. Your lips meet and start to move against each other. One of her hands moves across your abdomen, your abs tensing slightly under your fireproofs. She runs her tongue across your lips asking for access which you grant. Your tongues fight for dominance as she pushes you against the wall, deepening the kiss. After a couple more seconds, you pull away from each other.

“So, no more break right?” You ask teasingly. She fake ponders the question until you hit her shoulder lightly. She laughs,

“Yeah, yeah. No more break, babe” You grin and connect your lips once again.

For the rest of the weekend, Sophia is by your side. She loves hanging out with the mechanics and engineers. She also really likes Lando, who’s in a good mood for most of the weekend because the car is performing really well. Your girlfriend watches from the garage in excitement as you get your first-ever podium in F1 at Zandvoort. The Internet goes mad when you point and blow her a kiss from the podium, something which she returns. The team starts the post-race celebrations inside the garage while you are finishing up some media and debriefs. When you come running in everybody cheers and there are a lot of hugs and high-fives given out. You go straight to Sophia, holding your 2nd place trophy proudly.

“Babe! Babe! Look what I’ve got! It’s so shiny!” You shout happily. She laughs at the giddy expression on your face.

“Yeah I see it, love. It’s pretty cool,” she says while pulling you into a tight hug, “I’m so proud of you.” The smile that you give her melts her heart. For the rest of the night, you two stay tight together and drink the rest of the champagne in the bottle given to the podium finishers. A couple of weeks ago you thought your relationship was over, but now here you are with your girlfriend proudly beside you for one of your lifelong dreams. It doesn’t get much better than that.

[joblrcensus]

it’s time for the JOblr census results 🧡🙌

before we start i want to thank everyone who took their time to answer this silly little project, gathering responses from 203 baby boos!! it’s my first time doing this so hopefully i can bring some excitement with the results <3

so buckle up and let’s get into it

general questions

Which continent are you from?

Unsurprisingly, the majority is European with a total of 80.8% but it’s amazing to see that they’ve crossed the continent’s border and we also have 9.9% people from North America, 3.9% from Australia & Oceania, 3.4% from Asia and 2% from South America. No person chose the Africa option.

Which country are you from? (optional)

With this being an optional question, 162 respondents out of 203 opted to answer it. Let’s take a look at the top countries by number of people in JOblr (small note: I counted the few people who wrote England or Scotland as part of the UK answer)

Drumrolls 🥁…..

Finland - 29

UK & USA - 15

Germany - 11

Poland - 9

Italy - 8

Australia - 7

Sweden - 6

Austria, Spain, The Netherlands - 5

Croatia, Slovenia - 4

Czechia, France, Romania - 3

Belgium, Canada, Denmark, Hungary, Lithuania, Norway, Philippines, Portugal, Ukraine - 2

Bolivia, Brazil, China, Estonia, Greece, Iceland, India, Luxembourg, Malta, Mexico, Russia, Switzerland - 1

How old are you?

45.8% of us are between 18-25, following by 23.6% between 26-30, 18.2% between 31-45, 10.8% under 18 and two people who are over 45 years old.

Are you part of the LGBTQ+ community?

Remember when they said Joker Out are for the girls and gays? 🏳️‍🌈

Well that was absolutely not wrong since 77.3% baby boos answered that yes they are part of the community, while 11.8% are questioning and 10.8% have answered no

tumblr activity questions

How do you participate on JOblr?

a majority of 98 people are mostly reblogging posts in the fandom but sometimes making posts of their own, 38 are only reblogging while 36 lurkers have stepped out of the shadow and made themselves known. The least amount of people (31) said to be active posters

Do you post any of the following?

It’s already known this fandom is mad talented and entertaining!! It’s always a joy seeing everyone’s creations and posts no matter the type. And the people who are only enjoying and supporting the content are just as important 🫶

Do you also post about Käärijä?

Since these two fandoms are basically overlapping, sometimes even seen as one fandom, I was curious just how much

50.7% also post about Käärijä outside of Joker Out, while 35% don’t post about him at all (or perhaps very rarely). 14.3% are mainly coming from Käärijä’s fandom

joker out questions

How did you find out about Joker Out?

Another unsurprising result, with 89.7% of us finding out about them through Eurovision. But it was really cool to see that there are people who discovered them differently. Ten people found out about them through Tumblr or other social media, to four they were recommended by someone and one through a music platform. The “other” option was chosen as well and included:

finding out about JO through Käärijä

through a music blog review

on slovenian radio

Who from the current members is your favorite?

One of the hardest questions but it had to be done

So Tumblr’s top favorite members areee:

Bojan - 69 votes

Jan - 42 votes

Kris - 40 votes

Nace - 35 votes

Jure - 17 votes

Have you been to a Joker Out concert?

I did not expect this one to be so balanced but I am pleasantly surprised! 104 people have been to a JO concert, while 99 haven’t. It often feels like you’re the only person who hasn’t seen them live yet but it’s nice to see that you’re not alone, so if anyone feels the same don’t worry our time will come too 🥹

If you answered yes, have you seen them multiple times?

Out of the 104 people who previously answered yes, there’s still a balance between those who have been to only one concert and those who have been to multiple

If you’re into RPF, which one of the most popular ships (according to AO3) is your favorite?

Another optional question where 181 out of 203 opted to respond to.

Oh boy, ooooh boy this was a tough battle. It felt like I was watching a horse race. I can tell you that all three ships have been at some point in the first place, or even equal. Are you ready to see the most interesting result yet?

Drumrolls again 🥁…….

BoJere - 58 votes

BoKris - 57 votes

Jance - 56 votes

The “other” option was also chosen and the following ships were included:

BoMartin

Jan/Jure

Kris/Jure

Nace/Kris

Nace/Jere

poly!JO

aaaand that’s it, you made it to the end 🫶 hope you enjoyed and why not see you on the next census!!

[froot-batty]

post this bird when they least expect it

(LORE BE DOWN THERE)

Oswald Cobblepot was born to a poor family in a small Hungarian village, the eldest child of what would come to be six children. From the moment he could function by himself, he was expected to take up responsibilities around the house - taking care of his siblings, earning a little extra money when he could. Not because his parents were neglectful, but because they were trying to scrape together what little money they earned from multiple jobs. Oz had to help out somehow, because there was no one else to do it.

Oz was 12 when they left Hungary. His father had gotten desperate and had turned to working for some bad people in order to provide for his family. When continuing down that path grew too dangerous, they fled to Britain, where their life was only a tiny bit better. They were still poor, but by now Oz was able to get a couple of real jobs (through lying about his age) to help properly support the family. However, by his early teen years the symptoms of his IED had begun to develop and show, and his frequent outbursts oftentimes got him sacked or even, on a couple of occasions, jailed for short periods of time.

Though he tried his best to keep his head inside of his home, it was something he couldn't control. He would always feel awful about being cruel to his family after the fact, but he had never been the type to apologize with words, so he decided that to pay them back, he needed to provide even more for them.

This is when Oswald began to dip into criminality. He couldn't keep a proper job, but peddling drugs or breaking bones worked just as well (and even paid better, in most cases). His outbursts even helped him, giving him a reputation amongst low-level criminals that eventually grew into recognition from bigger ones.

These more powerful criminals could see that under the anger and the violence, Oswald was actually incredibly cunning when he was allowed to be. He could come up with schemes that, while risky, did prove to pay out in the majority of cases. Eventually, one of Oswald's more frequent employers and a major crime boss decided to take him in, impressed by how naturally he'd taken to the criminal life.

It was through the experience within that crime family where Oswald really honed his skills. He learned how to be intimidating and send a message without doing more than lifting a finger. He was never able to tame his reactions to the slightest provocations, but he learned how to be less impulsive. Throw his tantrums in the moment, but properly plan after he'd calmed down.

With the trust and wisdom gained from this family, Oswald grew...cocky. He felt untouchable; like he could master the game he'd only recently been taught. The money was coming in, he was respected, feared...and it made him feel on top of the world.

This was when he made a plan. A plan that would get him and his family all the money they needed to leave the country and start somewhere new, somewhere where Oswald could create his own criminal empire and shower them all in all the riches they could ever imagine.

He went behind his employer's back and started to feed information to the other crime families. Things that would not only distract his boss, and leave him and his property vulnerable, but endear him to the other families. Slowly, through a lot of verbal manipulation and betrayal, Oswald stole....a ton of money, from a lot of different people. It only made him more and more confident.

Still, despite all he'd done to get where he was, he hadn't really understood that people in this business do whatever it takes to get ahead. Someone snitched on him to his boss, and he was very quickly dragged right back to where he'd started. Oz was briefly tortured for his disloyalty (where he got his blind eye), and then dragged to a scrap yard, where he was put into an old car under a car crusher.

Luckily, the scrap yard they took him to used a very outdated, very slow machine, so Oz was able to figure out a way to escape undetected. It did, however, leave him with a permanently mangled leg, which he didn't have the means to treat at the time. Instead, he used the remaining time to put his escape plan into action. He collected the money he'd squirreled away and took his forged documents onto a boat headed to America, never saying a word to the family he'd leave behind. As long as the world thinks the person he used to be is dead, they're safe, so he's accepted he can never speak to them again.

Gotham City, the world capital of crime, was the perfect place to build his own criminal empire. He doesn't regret anything that lead to where he is now, but sometimes he does miss what he used to have, though he'll kill you before he admits it. But the way he treats the younger members of the rogues gallery - like wayward younger siblings to reluctantly corral - proves that there's a heart somewhere under all of that ice.

[charles-leclerc-official]

Every Grand Prix in 2024 as a Taylor Swift Song

A 24 song playlist to capture the 2024 season vibes. Each song is meant to capture something unique about each race or to convey a notable moment.

Now this is Charles and Ferrari biased, I am not giving Mclaren the happy endings here.

Bahrain: New Romantics

"We team up, then switch sides like a record changer"

"Please take my hand and // Please take me dancing, and // Please leave me stranded // It's so romantic"

Start of a new season with hopes and also old rivalries. Let's go, everyone's excited even though the race was a disaster for most teams with their cars falling apart, but baby heartbreak is the national anthem, so stay hyped!

Jeddah: Fearless

"'Cause I don't know how it gets better than this // You take my hand and drag me head first // Fearless"

Ollie did jump in that car fearlessly.

Australia: . . . Ready For It?

"So I'll take my time // Are you ready for it? // Oh, are you ready for it?"

This was the race that in hindsight was the beginning of a tone shift, Ferrari 1-2 and the whole world saw that the Red Bull car/team wasn't perfect.

And in hindsight I don't think any of us were in fact ready for it.

Suzuka: Dancing With Our Hands Tied

"I, I loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us So, baby, can we dance // Oh, through an avalanche?"

Hard fought race on many sides, especially Yuki and Charles who had the defining drives this race.

China: The Way I Loved You

"Breaking down and coming undone, it's a roller coaster kind of rush"

"But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain"

Rain means we needed some rain metaphors, and also this is when we started to really see some fighting on track between the Ferraris and also between Lewis and Max and Max and Lando. A lot of clashes happened here that would foreshadow tensions later in the season.

Miami: This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

"This is why we can't have nice things, darlin' // Because you break them, I had to take them away"

This is the song the safety car was playing when it came out where it did.

Imola: Out of The Woods

"Are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet? Are we in the clear yet, good"

A race with many questions. Max barely held on to his lead, Ferrari wasn't sure where they were with the upgrades, a lot of questions left to ask after a fairly uneventful race.

Monaco: Long Live

"Long live the walls we crashed through // How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you // I was screaming, 'Long live all the magic we made'"

Really no other song can come close to capturing the Monaco win.

Canada: This is Me Trying

"I've been having a hard time adjusting. I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting."

Another race of struggle. Not just for Charles and Ferrari as a whole, but this was not an easy race for anyone. A lot of things fell apart. Merc messed up, Mclaren messed up, Checo and Red Bull massively messed up. This was the race of the strugglers.

Spain: Anti-Hero

"I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser"

"It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me"

A lot of problems cropping up again, and again, they are familiar battles that still have yet to find resolution.

Austria: Bejeweled

"Best believe I'm still bejeweled when I walk in the room I can still make the whole place shimmer"

"I think it's time to teach some lessons"

Max did teach some lessons, and George did come out of this still bejeweled.

Britain: The Alchemy

"I haven't come around in so long, but I'm coming back so strong"

"So when I touch down // Call the amateurs and // Cut 'em from the team // Ditch the clowns, get the crown // Baby I'm the one to beat"

Taylor wrote this song so it could be played for Lewis' return to the top step. Doesn't matter the rest of the field behind him was having the worst race of their lives, Lewis was the moment.

Hungary: Getaway Car

"It was the best of times, the worst of crimes. I struck a match and blew your mind. But I didn't mean it, and you didn't see it."

"No, nothin' good starts in a getaway car"

Yeah, Oscar bites it turns out. Nothing good starts in an orange car.

Spa: Haunted

"It's getting dark and it's all too quiet and I can't trust anything now. And it's coming over you like it's all a big mistake."

Inside George's head after his win was taken due to the team's mistake.

Zandvoort: I Forgot That You Existed

"I forgot that you existed // It isn't love, it isn't hate // It's just indifference"

There's only one orange army, and it aint Mclaren.

Monza: Sweeter than Fiction

"I will say, "I knew it all along" // Your eyes are wider than distance // This life is sweeter than fiction"

"Proved me right, proved me right when you proved them wrong. And in this perfect weather, it's like we don't remember the rain we thought would last forever and ever"

Charles winning after so many thought it was over, proved a lot of people wrong and reminded the sport why winning in Monza only matters in red.

Baku: Should've Said No

"Yesterday I found out about you. Even now just looking at you feels wrong."

"You should've said, "No" // You should've gone home // You should've thought twice 'fore you let it all go"

I mean, intense race, with crashes and an illegal car part scandal that will forever taint the race result? Yeah seems like the classic infidelity song captures the strong emotions from that weekend.

Singapore: Vigilante Shit

"You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them"

"I don't start shit, but I can tell you how it ends"

Max stole the show in Singapore, not only with his drive, but also with his response to sweargate. It didn't matter who won or how, this is where Max stopped playing nice with the media and the FIA this season.

Austin: I'm Only Me When I'm With You

"Well, you drive me crazy half the time, the other half I'm only trying to let you know that what I feel is true. And I'm only me when I'm with you."

Only team worth winning with is red, Charles and Ferrari together in the chaos of this season for the highs and the lows, this being another high.

Mexico: Castles Crumbling

"And I feel like my castle's crumbling down // And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground"

"Their faith was strong, but I pushed it too far. I held that grudge 'til it tore me apart."

A lot of things falling apart this race. Similar to Canada in many ways.

Brazil: Wonderland

"And life was never worse but never better"

"Flashing lights and we took a wrong turn and we fell down a rabbit hole. You held on tight to me 'cause nothing's as it seems and spinning out of control"

Hard to find a song that captures the duality of the high that Max and the alpines experienced alongside the chaos and pain felt by the rest of the field, but life was never worse but never better is as close as I can get.

Vegas: The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

"Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed? Were you writing a book? Were you a sleeper cell spy? In fifty years, will all this be declassified? And you'll confess why you did it And I'll say, 'Good riddance'"

This seems pointed, but Charles basically recited the bridge to this song in his post race radio. That was the standout moment that people were talking about. Now I also think it fits as this was Max's fourth win and that win sent a message to all the small (likely british) men who questioned his fitness as a champion and tried to stop him at every turn this season.

Qatar: I Bet You Think About Me

"Mr. Superior Thinkin' Do you have all the space that you need?"

"I bet you think about me when you say "Oh my God, she's insane, she wrote a song about me" // I bet you think about me."

Hard to encapsulate the George vs Max of it all in a single song. But the tone of this one I think fits the petty vibes.

Abu Dhabi: I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

"Lights, camera, bitch smile, even when you wanna die"

"All the pieces of me shattered as the crowd was chanting "More" I was grinning like I'm winning, I was hitting my marks 'Cause I can do it with a broken heart"

Charles drove like that for the fool's chance at the constructor's, and then they made him act in a stupid movie. In any case losing the constructor's was heartbreaking, but we continue on because it's Ferrari and we come back next year stronger.

That and I think the song is a good finish to the season where so many just had to keep going even when it was hard (physically and mentally)

That's my playlist. Congrats on surviving whatever the 2024 F1 season was.

Hopefully 2025 makes for a banger playlist too.

[mariacallous]

Europe’s center of political gravity is veering to the right.

Center-right and far-right parties are set to take the largest number of seats in Sunday’s European Union election in the most populous nations: Germany, France, Italy, Spain and Poland.

France led the rightward lurch with such a crushing victory for the far-right National Rally that liberal President Emmanuel Macron dissolved France’s parliament and called an early election. Early results suggested the National Rally would win some 32 percent of the vote, more than twice that of the president’s party.

“The president of the Republic cannot remain deaf to the message sent this evening by the people of France,” National Rally’s President Jordan Bardella told his supporters at the Parc Floral in Paris.

In Germany, the center-right is cruising to a comfortable victory, with the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) coming second and beating Chancellor Olaf Scholz’s Socialists into third place.

Voters across 27 nations have voted over the past week to select 720 members of the European Parliament, who will serve over the next five years. Their first main role with be to approve or reject the main candidate for Europe’s top job: president of the European Commission.

In a Continent that has sought to exorcise the ghosts of fascism for eight decades, the scale of the presence of far-right will be one of the hottest topics of conversation.

Even though they are highly unlikely to be able to coordinate as a unified group inside the European Parliament — thanks to divisions on topics such as Russia — they will still be able to influence the overall direction of the EU, on everything from immigration to climate policies.   

Collected together, the radical right parties would theoretically represent the second biggest bloc in the Parliament — being on track to come first in France and Italy, and second in Germany, the three biggest and most important countries in the 27-nation bloc. In Italy, Giorgia Meloni’s right-wing party secured the most support, projected to be about 28 percent.

The far-right is also expected to win in Hungary, and picked up five more seats in the Netherlands. The center-right was comfortably first in Greece and Bulgaria.

The single most ominous warning signal for the future of the EU is France, given the scale of the far right’s win over Macron. All eyes will now be on whether France’s populist wave can maintain its momentum through the impending parliamentary elections and on to presidential elections in 2027 — where a victory for far-right leader Marine Le Pen would threaten to throw the whole EU into turmoil.

The official winner of the evening looks set to be European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen whose center-right European People’s Party will still make up the single-biggest bloc in Parliament. 

With early projections showing the EPP will secure about 181 out of the 720 seats in Parliament, the center right will be the dominant force but can hardly govern alone as it will be miles from an absolute majority in the chamber.

The main challenge for von der Leyen in the coming days and weeks will be whether she can strike a deal with the traditional centrist parties — the socialists and liberals — to build a majority of 361 or more in the Parliament.

“Today is a good day for [the] EPP. We won the European elections, my friends. We are the strongest party, we are the anchor of stability … Together with others we will build a bastion against the extremes from the left and from the right. We will stop them!”

Her supporters replied with chants of “Five more years.”

In all, the three big center groups look set to have just over 400 seats. That means von der Leyen’s reapproval will go down to the wire, because she will be rejected if only about 10 percent of lawmakers from the main parties rebel against their party lines. The rebellion rate is normally higher.

This raises a big question of whether she will need to fish around for other allies, ranging from the Greens to Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni’s right-wing Brothers of Italy.

Von der Leyen’s center-right is quick to reject the xenophobia and euroskepticism of the far right, but it knows its voters share the same concerns on the cost of living, migration and a sense that Europe’s traditional core businesses — manufacturing and farming — are being strangled by green regulation.

Staking out its ground in the culture war over the EU’s identity, the EPP opened its EU election manifesto with its commitment to Europe’s “Judeo-Christian roots.”

[umlewis]

Hamilton Says Ralf Schumacher's Coming-Out Sends "Positive Message"

Lewis Hamilton says Ralf Schumacher's revelation that he is in a same-sex relationship is a "positive message" for Formula 1, but feels more has to be done to promote inclusivity. Six-time F1 race winner Schumacher made the announcement on social media this week, posting an image of himself and his business manager, Étienne, with the words: "The most beautiful thing in life is when you have the right partner by your side with whom you can share everything." Schumacher posted another photo of himself with his partner a day later, saying: "Many thanks for the many congratulations and comments. We are very happy and thank you all." The younger brother of seven-time world champion Michael Schumacher is the fourth driver to come out in F1's history, and the first to do so having competed in the 21st Century. It follows Mike Beuttler, who drove privately-entered Marches in F1 between 1971 and 1973; Lella Lombardi, the first female driver to score a point, in 1975; and Mario de Araujo Cabral, who came out almost fifty years after the last of his five F1 race starts in 1964.

F1 drivers were asked in Hungary for their thoughts on Schumacher's decision and were full of support for the ex-Jordan, Williams, and Toyota driver, who made 180 starts between 1997 and 2007. Hamilton, who has championed LGBTQ+ rights and raced with the six-colored pride flag painted on his helmet in races staged in nations where homosexuality is illegal, said: "I think within sports it still has a long way to go. It's one thing saying that it's accepted, but it's another thing to make sure that people feel comfortable in the environment. This is a male-dominated space and, as far as I know, he is one of the first to publicly be open. I think we are very inclusive within our team, but I think the sport does need to continue to do more to help people feel more comfortable; to help women more welcomed in this space. I know there is a lot more to do." When pressed whether Schumacher's decision showed a change in attitude, Hamilton pointed to his and Sebastian Vettel's decision to support the LGBTQ+ community at the 2021 Hungarian Grand Prix, against a backdrop where the nation's government was looking to pass laws banning the teachings of LGBTQ+ issues to under-18s.

The Mercedes driver added: "I don't know if he felt he wasn't able to say it in the past, but I think it just shows that we are at a time when finally we can take that step and don't have to fear. So far it's got positive feedback from people, but it's a different time and it's changed who we are, and it's all started from Seb and I standing on the grid here, fighting against all the governments that are here, and in Saudi Arabia, and Qatar. And if Ralf felt that he was going to be able to do those things perhaps today, it may have shifted his mind, and even him taking that step sent such a positive message. And race drivers have got to do the same, and we need more of these people to be able to do that." When asked what more F1 could do, Hamilton added: "It's a good question. I don't know if I can come up with a solution off the top of my head, but I do know, more often than not, it's about conversation, it's about dialogue with key stakeholders. It's about how we're analysing how the accessibility is. It's getting information from people who do or don't feel included. It's engaging the community. It's easy to do. You could do a questionnaire for every single person that's here, and just have a few questions and just ask them honestly how they feel and what they feel could be done. There's a lot that you could do. But it's firstly speaking about it, rather than ignoring that it's an issue, and having a lot more of the priorities to bring it up and actually set some people a task and going about how can we make people feel."

[eightsixtiism]

https://www.tumblr.com/eightsixtiism/767309836702646272/its-honestly-so-dumb-that-the-only-evidence-that

adding onto this, people act as if lando has always disrespected max, or used max in some ways or the other.

they’ve known each other since 2012-2013, so clearly they have a lot of respect for each other (or at least, lando does). max is in the top 3 friends list for lando, and verstannies just conveniently forget that because they don’t like him. i don’t understand why they don’t like him, honestly, because i don’t think lando has ever done outwardly disrespectful to max. the simply love was not a dig, but banter between friends who have known each other for a decade. max did not “claim his catchphrase” again in brazil. it was something he said. so fucking what. yknow, i want lando to “claim” the simply lovely in lv. if that’s disrespect according to verstannies, then idk what they classify max’s behaviour as that, because his behaviour is way worse than anything lando has ever done. in a mental health charity stream, making fun of two of the biggest mental health advocates in f1 (lando and george) was disrespectful. making racist comments, making a joke out of child abuse, those things are disrespectful. in comparison, lando’s barely been disrespectful (as far as i know), and im not saying that to baby him, but because out of every interview, every interaction i’ve seen on media, this is the truth that i’ve seen, despite asshole journalists trying to change the narrative for more engagement.

hell, if lando’s ever been properly disrespectful (like after hungary with lewis), i’ll take full fucking responsibility as a lando fan. but, i need more than one example as compared to max’s list.

apparently, i have a lot to say on this, im sorry.

don't even apologise, because they really over exaggerate lando's behaviour when max is way way worse, and they'll still stand beside that man through anything.

i meant that reclaiming thing as a (half) joke, meant to stay in the lando tag, but now that max fan's are coming at me like a force, idec anymore. let lando do whatever, and if it's by saying max's phrase, or something of the sort, then so be it. i'm actually so fucking tired with max fans thinking that just because their driver got handed championships riddled with corruption/controversy, that suddenly every criticism against him is unjustified and disrespectful. cry me a river