#grey hairs for toto is confirm

[raycassidy]

Why does Fernando Alonso and George Russell to be paired as teammates in Mercedes gives me McDanno vibes from Hawaii 5 o??? I know I'm being a delulu here.

But seriously if Fernando is teammate with George in 2025, who's Steve McGarrett and who's Danny Williams?????

The height difference between these two

The tall one is unhinged and the short one has short fuse.

[onlyangel4]

miss americana & the heartbreak prince. lh44. smau.

lewis hamilton x wife!reader

reader and lewis have always been fashion icons. so when the news about lewis moving to ferrari leaks reader decides to add some colour to her wardrobe

faceclaim: megan fox

author's note: we visit the future in this one first post comes from the announcement earlier this year and everything following is end of 2024 season to the 2025 season.

taylor swift series masterlist.

scuderiaferrari

liked by lewishamilton, y/nhamilton, user1 and 2,300,231 others

scuderiaferrari: team Statement: scuderia ferrari is pleased to announce that lewis hamilton will be joining the team in 2025, on a multi-year contract.

view all 150,922 comments

user1: holy shit i bet toto is so mad

user2: oh my god, the y/n fits are going to go insane

user3: i'm new to the fandom what is the significance with y/n's outfits

user2: ever since her and lewis got married, three years ago, she only attends races and events in mercedes colours, grey, black, white, silver and green

user4: i was not expecting this announcement so early

user5: this makes me so sad for carlos

y/nhamiltonlover

liked by user10, user11, user12 and 32,483 others

y/nhamiltonlover: as it is the end of lewis' merecedes era i wanted to look back at my fav of y/n's mercedes outfits.

the first ever mercedes outfit at the first grand prix after their wedding back in 2021

y/n on the red carpet for a film premiere this is when she confirmed that all her outfits were taking inspiration from her husband's racing team

last year's met gala look, my all time fav y/n outfit

y/n on the cover of vogue, this suit is so gorgeous i love it so much

view all 1,202 comments

user10: i forgot about that met gala look omg

user11: i'm looking forward to all the red and maybe some yellow

user12: fingers crossed for a blue look for miami again

y/nlh44updates

liked by user6, user7, user8 and 23,418 others

y/nlh44updates: guys lewis' contract with mercedes finished last week and we have just gotten our first matching ferrari coded outfit, the red is small but knowing y/n it has to be purposeful.

view all 561 comments

user6: power couple fr

user7: they look so fucking good

user8: i can't wait to see the paddock fits etc

user9: red at the met gala this year?

metgalaupdates

liked by user13, user14, user15 and 230,117 others

metgalaupdates: racing power couple lewis and y/n hamilton have arrived at the met and they are our top vote for the hottest couple on the carpet. y/n is wearing ferrari red signifying her husband's move to the italian team and lewis is in a stunning all black number, both husband and wife are wearing matching gold jewelry pieces.

view all 2,178 comments

user13: oh this is my fav look of the night so far, that red dress is so gorgeous

user14: i called it, red at the met is such a good statement

user15: i don't really know much about either of them but i do know that they are both fucking gorgeous

y/nupdates posted a story

written: holy shit everyone thought y/n was going to arrive to australia qualifying in red, turns out she dyed her hair red instead. she is insane i love it

thehamiltonsfashion

liked by user17, user18, user19 and 27,511 others

thehamiltonsfashion: it is race day in australia and once again the hamiltons are the best dressed y/n is showing off the red hair in a two piece suit and skirt combo and lewis was spotted in a jacket that matches y/n's hair perfectly.

view all 1,721 comments

user17: i know that the red hair will be gone next week but it looks so good

user18: him matching his jacket perfectly to her hair is such husband material

user19: ugh i love them

y/nhamilton posted a story

written: today's outfit

lewishamilton posted a story

written: matching my wife again

thehamiltonsfashion posted a story

written: it finally happened! y/n has arrived to the miami grand prix wearing the exact same shade of blue as what the drivers are in this week. i am so obsessed with her ability to match her husband every single week.

y/nhamiltonlover

liked by y/nhamilton, user20, user21, user23 and 340,226 others

y/nhamiltonlover: it is the end of the 2025 season and i just wanted to celebrate all of the red looks that mother hs given us this year. i just love her so much she is the most fashionable wag for sure, i can't wait for another year of red.

view all 16,444 comments

y/nhamilton: aww thank you darling, i am so glad you enjoyed the looks from this year

y/nhamiltonlover: omg today is the best day ever i love you so much, this means so much to me

user20: i loved the week where she decided to just wear team merch, like relatable queen sometimes you just want to be comfy

user21: the red suits always hit different

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[just-some-guy-at-shiz]

“On the day before I met the Scarecrow,” Dorothy said, “I was invited to stay at the home of a Munchkin farmer named Boq and his family, and—“

“Boq?” both the Scarecrow and the Tin Man repeated in surprise, almost speaking in unison. They then turned to one another in confusion.

Dorothy was taken aback by this reaction. “Yes,” she continued. “He was very kind. He hosted a wonderful dinner, and an evening of dancing where I almost wore out my feet.” The girl giggled. “Of course, these lovely shoes are as pristine as ever. I suspect we’ll all wear out before they show even the slightest sign of age.”

Dorothy’s companions seemed oblivious to her attempt at humor. “Can you describe this Boq?” the Scarecrow asked curiously. The Tin Man stayed silent, watching for Dorothy’s response.

“Well, he was an older man,” Dorothy began, putting a finger to her lips as she recalled, “Grey haired and barrel-chested, always laughing good-naturedly. He reminded me of my Uncle Henry. Except that Uncle Henry is tall and thin, and doesn’t ever seem to smile at anything.” Dorothy frowned, realizing the fault in her comparison. “Well, they’ve both got gray hair, at the least. And I feel very safe and protected around the both of them, as I imagine one would with a father or mother. I was a bit sad to say goodbye.”

“He sounds wonderful,” the Scarecrow said, though there was a certain disappointment in his voice that did not match his words.

“He was,” Dorothy said, beaming, “I’m so happy to have met so many good people on my travels, even in such a short time.”

The Tin Man nodded absently, then spoke. “How are his children?”

“Oh, yes,” Dorothy said in surprise, “He does have several children. I played games with them after we ate, long into the evening. It was quite nice to be with other children, as I spend so much time back home with only Toto as my company.”

“Then his family is doing well?” The Tin Man pressed.

“Oh, certainly,” Dorothy confirmed with a nod, “They seemed as contented as a family could be, with all they desired from life. In fact, the family seemed to be rather wealthier than any other I had encountered—though of course they were generous with what they had, inviting many of their surrounding neighbors to join in on the celebration of their newly gained liberty.”

“They are well-off enough to send some of the younger children to college, perhaps?”

“You seem awfully concerned with the well-being of this Boq and his family,” the Scarecrow interjected, casting an inquiring look towards the Tin Man.

“I am Munchkin myself,” the Tin Man responded quickly, “I knew the family once, and I only wanted to be assured of their continued well-being, if such assurance was available.”

“How can you care for their well-being?” Dorothy asked plainly, “If you are without a heart, and therefore without compassion? I ask only because you yourself have told me of your inability to love.”

The Tin Man paused. “Call it simple curiosity. Nothing more important than that. Whether they prosper or suffer, it no longer has anything to do with me, and has not for some time.”

“Do you miss them at all?” Dorothy asked.

“Perhaps in another time, I might have,” the Tin Man mused, his voice measured. “I’m not sure that I can miss them at present.”

“Oh. Yes,” Dorothy said solemnly. “Well, perhaps once you have your heart, you can return and visit them. I’m sure they would be very glad to see you.”

“Would they?” The Tin Man asked quietly, more to himself than to his companions. He hesitated a moment, then shook his head. “I cannot visit them in this state. I am not myself.”

“Of course,” Dorothy smiled with understanding. “We must return to our quest, so that we all may receive that which makes us complete. Do you agree, Scarecrow?”

“Yes, of course,” the Scarecrow said without looking at Dorothy. His gaze was instead focused on the Tin Man with a concentration unexpected from one lacking a brain. The Tin Man glanced behind himself, then back at the Scarecrow’s steady stare, with slight unease.

“Are you all right?” Dorothy asked the Scarecrow, noticing the intensity in his expression.

“Oh yes, just trying to… figure it all out,” the Scarecrow murmured, pulling his eyes away from the somewhat bewildered Tin Man. “I haven’t got a brain, you know, you must be patient with me. It’s very difficult to understand things when you don’t know… things…”

“Do you think you’ve got it now?” Dorothy asked patiently.

“Oh yes,” the Scarecrow said, “I cannot be certain, of course… but I think some things are starting to make sense.”

[f1tyreslightmyfyre]

Toto, Please - Pt. I

Series Main List

Single-&-Morally-Grey!Toto Wolff x Fem!Reader AU

Warnings: Explicit language, sexually charged situation, dom/sub implications, inappropriate boss/employee interaction, manipulated Toto quotes

Word Count: 2.3k

Pt. I - Gross Negligence

Your stomach plummets when the email arrives. The words Post-Race Report - FINAL make your heart gallop, and your fingers tremble against the mouse as you click the document open. 

There it is in black and white - the story of your failure. How you misread the temperature data in a moment of distraction and advised the wrong camber angle. How the tires experienced high rates of degradation as a result, and the car responsiveness was shit from lights out to the chequered flag. 

Of course, the report doesn’t mention you by name. The ‘No Blame’ culture makes sure that never happens, but you can clearly read between the lines. If you hadn’t messed up, if you hadn’t given the wrong direction, if you had done better with your part of the car setup…. 

The team is only as strong as their weakest link, and right now - you’re it. 

You exhale a shaky sigh as you continue to scan through the report. The frustration had been evident in George’s voice the entire race, and the unplanned pitstop proved unforgivable. When George arrives at the factory, you owe him an apology - but honestly? He’s the least of your worries. 

Closing the report, your gaze strays to the first name on the email “To:” address line. 

Toto Wolff 

Your boss misses nothing. His sharp brown eyes see through any lie, and his passionate determination drives every objective that he sets for the team. He prides himself on a strong team built on the basis of empowerment and trust… trust that he has the right people making the right call at the right time. 

Yet, here… here is indisputable proof that you made the wrong call at the wrong time. 

Fucking hell, maybe you should start packing up your desk. Why on earth would Toto see fit to keep you on the team? You can just picture him in his posh office, reading the report with a pensive expression before his handsome face twists into a disappointed frown. Disappointed with you, disappointed with himself for hiring you…. 

You can see it so clearly in your mind’s eye, and you open your office chat program before you can rethink it. Clicking on a new chat window, you search for his executive assistant before typing out the message. 

Hello - is Mr. Wolff in today? I would like to come by his office 

Your heart jumps to your throat as a return message types out. 

Good afternoon, you’re in luck. Yes, he is! He actually just asked to speak with you, so you have good timing 😉

Nothing about that reassures you. Working a swallow past the lump in your throat, you type out a quick confirmation and rise from your chair. As you walk through the factory and past familiar offices, you can’t help the maudlin thought that maybe this is the last time you’ll walk these hallowed halls. You tug at the drape of your corporate branded shirt where it’s tucked into your slacks, checking that you’re still presentable. 

You offer a small smile to his assistant as you step into the executive suite. After a short greeting, you’re informed that he’s expecting you so you don’t need to knock. Anxiety pits in your stomach as you step up to the door, rapping gently against the glass anyway. You don’t wait for a response before opening the opaque door. 

Toto’s office is a study of clean, bright light and modern lines. It fits his effortlessly stylish appearance, dressed as he is in one of his countless tailored white corporate shirts and black trousers. His thick hair - those dark locks that tempt your fingers more than they should - holds a neat tousle that looks equal parts purposeful and careless. His face is the picture of concentration as he focuses on his laptop, eyes sharp behind black, thick-framed glasses. 

Fuck. Why today of all days did he have to wear his glasses? You tramp down the thought as he glances up at you, and you scramble to summon a smile. “Good afternoon, boss.” 

He blinks back at you as his face softens to a purposefully less severe look. “Good afternoon - and it’s Toto, please.” 

You nod hurriedly. “Toto, yes… I-I wanted to follow-up on the post-race report.” 

“Yes,” his gaze darts back to his laptop. “There’s a lot of good information here for our next debrief. Especially for areas of improvement.” 

You steel your voice. “Exactly.” Squaring your shoulders, you stand ready to face the music. “Yes, that’s… that’s why I wanted to see you.” 

He quirks a surprised brow - and you know from team debriefs, it takes a lot to surprise him. His accented voice holds the faintest touch of incredulity. “You wanted to see me?” 

“Yes, sir - er, Toto.” You wet your top lip, heart hammering as you step further into his office. “The temperature readouts, the camber angle on the setup - that was my poor call, that was my error in translating the data. And I couldn’t… well, I… I wanted to apologize.” 

Toto stares back, his dark eyes piercing through you. Sweat gathers under your arms as your heart thunders, but you refuse to back down - to let him see you squirm. This is your fault, and you’re going to bear the full brunt of his rebuke. An unbidden curl of heat licks down your spine at the thought. 

He leans back in his chair in open assessment. “You wanted to apologize?” 

Again, you nod. “Yes, I… it’s all done in the past, I realize. A-and I can’t change it… and an apology without follow-through is just empty words-.” 

“Is that what this is, then?” He tilts his head and rises to his feet, his lean, toned figure dominating the space. “Following through…?” 

“I… well, I didn’t want…,” you draw a sharp inhale. “I didn’t want you to think that I wasn’t aware, that I don’t understand the gravity of my mistake.” 

“Do you, though?” He blinks as some puzzle piece on his face slides into place. “You’re here. You’re confessing. It’s clear that you think you deserve punishment.” His deep voice rushes a shiver down your spine. He darts his gaze down to the desktop before fixing you with a hard look. “So, tell me why I shouldn’t fire you.” 

Your mouth goes dry. His words shouldn’t surprise you. The sport demands perfection, and you have failed. Why should you be granted a second chance? You struggle to summon your voice. “F-fire me…?” 

Shrugging a nonchalant shoulder, he rests a hand in his trousers pocket. “Why not? I have everything I need to do it.” He crosses around his desk, a predator on the move as he holds your gaze behind his damnable glasses. “Between your confession and the post-race report, it’s nothing to have you terminated.” 

You can’t deny that he’s right, and despite the sick feeling rotting in your gut, you reluctantly nod. “I can understand your position.” You say, shaking your head feebly. “I-I cost the team valuable points. I can’t say why I did it… and trying would only be making excuses at this point. I…,” your words trail off as his forward advance continues. He stands taller than you, and your heart leaps to your throat as your head tilts back. His dark chocolate eyes hold you like a spell, and a new scent catches in the air. Notes of luxurious sandalwood, black tea and leather stir heat in your blood as you struggle to keep from leaning in. No man has a right to smell so damn good at work. 

You blink back to yourself, cheeks flaming and desperately hoping that he can’t see the trajectory of your thoughts - especially considering that you haven’t managed to salvage your job yet. A spark of curiosity catches in his flinty eyes, and you swear they darken. The air charges as your body becomes hyper-aware of this capable, intimidating man standing before you. 

He commands your attention as he speaks. “Do I understand you right? You come here offering no root cause of your inexcusable action? No reassurances that it won’t happen again?” His voice drops to a low register that melts your spine. “No pitiful pleas that I should spare you?” 

Oh, fuck. Arousal blooms in your core, and you want this man to do anything - everything - but spare you. How would his hand feel around your throat? How would those thick syllables sound growled in your ear? How would those lean hips fit between your legs? 

Heat grows beneath your clothing, burning your skin as you exist in this impossible moment. His words hang in the air, and he waits for you to respond. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to get your runaway body under control. Slowly, you shake your head. “N-no… I have no pleas - pitiful or otherwise. Somehow….” You draw a trembling breath, watching his eyes turn molten as they roam freely across your face. He’s so close - how the fuck did that happpen? - and fuck, fuck. “Somehow…,” you find your voice again, thready under the heavy weight of tension. “Somehow, you don’t seem like the kind of man who would respond well to that.” 

A ravenous, appreciative hunger flashes across his face, and it speaks to the demanding heat seeping between your thighs. His cologne laces the air, fogging your senses as all you see is him - as all you want is this man to take you apart with exacting prowess, to unleash the full force of his forbidden reprimand. He takes a step forward, looming deliciously over you, and more heat rushes through you to curl deep in your core. He wets his upper lip, and you track the movement before he speaks. “But if I asked you to beg,” his voice is a deep, velvety purr. “Would you beg just for me?” 

You nearly melt to a puddle on the floor as your thighs clench. “Yes, sir.” 

“Toto.” The heat of his breath hovers so tantalizingly close. “Please.” 

“Toto,” your voice is little more than a breath. “... Please.” 

The word makes him blink, and he draws a sharp breath. He exhales just as suddenly, tearing his gaze from you to glance around his office as if just remembering where you both are. Even you feel air rush into your lungs, free from whatever hypnotizing spell you had fallen under. Your heart races as your overheated body tries to cool down despite the dissatisfied ache thrumming in your core.

Fucking shit… you’d had fantasies about fucking your boss before, but never did you think that you’d ever actually beg him to fuck you. Let alone in such a context. 

Your cheeks burn with embarrassed shame, and you hang your head, refusing to even risk looking at him. God, he can’t know how desperate you are, how pathetic you are for even… giving the impression that you would fuck him just to keep your job. Because, fuck, that’s not it at all. 

His voice comes after a deep exhale, his words gentle. “You see that logo on your chest?” 

You blink down at your corporate blouse, focusing on the black, three-pointed star set against the white fabric. Slowly, you nod. “I-I do… yes.” 

“It represents over 128 years of legacy. Of belief.” He speaks with mesmerizing ease. “Of a drive to dominate the three elemental forces on Earth - land, air, and sea. A lofty goal that one could argue was always doomed to fail by pitting humanity’s supremacy over the forces of nature - but ego can be a strong driver. It helped form our founders' ambitions, it influenced their dreams, it supported the legacy that we have now inherited. We are simply custodians - our time with it is temporary, but the brand endures. That is our common banner, our common purpose.” 

You force an awkward swallow, letting his words sink in. It’s a strain to see the full logo on your shirt from this angle, but the discomfort is no more than you deserve. 

He draws another breath. “Big egos fail, and most that cannot self-reflect fail. But you set your ego aside in coming here today, in admitting to your human nature - that inner-monologue to say ‘it’s my fault’ - but it’s just a pressure release.” 

His hand appears in your field of vision, and your breath catches. He hovers his fingers just beneath your chin, pausing from taking that last step to touch you. A new stab of tender want cuts through you as you study his long, lean fingers. How soft is his skin to the touch? What would it take for him to just touch you? His hand holds its position with clear implication, and you slowly lift your head. He follows your movement, but his fingers always remain just respectfully out of reach. 

When your eyes meet his, you want to drown in those chocolate depths. You don’t know what to do with yourself now, but how could you possibly leave his office without learning the shape and taste of his kiss? 

The corner of his mouth lifts as he drops his hand back to his side. “All humans have good moments and bad moments,” he says softly, supportively. “Next time, take the time you need to recalibrate and recondition yourself - to uncover the problem of what has actually gone wrong. Rushing into the emotional, overexcited response is… well….” His smile widens in a strangely self-conscious, embarrassed moment. 

You can’t help your smile in return as your heart clenches in your chest. God, there’s so much about this man… you don’t even know where to start. At length, you work a swallow down your throat as you nod. “Yes, sir… er, Toto.” 

His parting smile and the pleased gleam in his eyes stays with you as you return to your desk. And every day at your desk after that.

[russell-63]

Toto's mum must've had good hair genes, as male pattern baldness is passed down the maternal line

My grandma's 85 and she only has a few grey hairs, so I can believe Toto's hair isn't dyed up ahaha

Genes are a funny thing

So true, genes are the best thing ever, especially when you try to think how it can be passed through the family 👀

Maybe he simply got good genes and combined with the fact that a study confirmed that stress gives you grey hair, it must be very strong 😂