#to swear and get angry at his race engineer

[beabnormal24]

Can I just say?

Yes, Carlos does perhaps open the radio a lot and- to do what?

To complain if someone is doing what he thinks might be a move against the rules (like everyone else).

To discuss strategies (like everyone else).

To give his opinion and ask the team for a change in strategies (like some other people).

To sing with his race engineer after a victory (like some other people).

To complain when the outcome of a decision is not right (as he did or did not expect, but still, like everyone else).

To say that he’s alright after a nasty crash (like everyone else).

He does use the radio a lot, but he uses it for the right motifs, so yes- Sky Italia, he doesn’t open the radio for other reasons than the one written right here, which makes a big difference.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Where's The Trophy? He Just Comes Running Over To Me | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: She ended it — he said she was too much. But now every time he wins, he looks for her.

A/N: Here's a little drabble for you guys. Inspiration is still on the down low but MAX WON IN SUZUKA GUYS and this lil idea struck.

MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

It was all over the internet. The photos of him standing on the second step of the podium in Melbourne, jaw tight, eyes scanning the crowd with this distant, searching look. He should've been proud—second place with a car that was fighting him every step of the way—but it was like he was waiting for something. Or someone.

People on Twitter noticed. Reddit too. The way he didn’t smile properly, the way he glanced toward the sidelines right before the champagne came out. There were theories. Some people even guessed right. He was looking for her.

Max hadn’t been himself for a while. And maybe that wasn’t fair to say, because he was still fast. Still pushing the Red Bull harder than anyone else could’ve. But the car was holding him back this season. Everyone knew it. It wasn’t just bad luck or a weird setup. It was an actual issue. Aero, balance, whatever the hell the engineers were arguing about behind closed doors. Max could drive like hell, but if the car wasn’t ready, it just wasn’t.

Still, it didn’t stop people from whispering about him. And it didn’t stop her from wondering, in quiet moments, if he was okay.

It had been almost six months since they broke up.

Not that the anniversary needed marking.

It happened just before his fourth championship.

The fight had been coming for weeks—tension simmering beneath every conversation, every missed call, every cancelled dinner. She gave him space, tried not to take it personally when he snapped or forgot her birthday or ghosted her texts for two straight days because he was in sim sessions and meetings.

She really tried.

But he pushed. And pushed. And then, one night, he said something he couldn't take back.

It was late. Past midnight. The apartment in Monaco was dead silent except for the sound of Max’s voice echoing from the kitchen, clipped and sharp.

"You don't get it. You never have."

She was standing by the window, arms crossed, the city lights painting her face in cool blue. "Don’t turn this into that. I’ve done nothing but try to understand."

He walked past her, tossing his phone onto the counter with a thud. “You think trying means texting me after every quali like that’s supposed to fix it? I don’t need a cheerleader. I need someone who doesn’t make everything harder by hovering all the time. You're just too much!”

The words came out fast, angry. He froze as soon as he said them.

“I didn’t mean—”

She blinked at him. Just once. Then picked up her bag from the back of the chair. “Yeah. You did.”

Max moved toward her quickly, regret all over his face. “No, I didn’t. I swear. I’m—fuck, I’m tired, I’m under so much pressure, I—”

“I gave you space,” she said, voice quiet but shaking. “I let you push me away. I made excuses for you. I convinced myself this was just temporary. But this?”

He reached out, catching her wrist. “Please don’t go. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I love you.”

She looked at him, heart breaking and already halfway out the door. “I love you too. But I can’t do this anymore. I need space to think.”

She left. No big scene. Just keys on the counter and a cab at the curb.

The last time they spoke was the night of his fourth championship. She watched the race from her couch, pride and heartbreak mixing in her chest like poison. When he crossed the line, the tears came fast. It was supposed to be a moment they shared.

She sent him a message. Just one.

Her: congrats on the title. you deserved it.

He replied five minutes later.

Max: Please call me. I need to talk to you.

Max: I’m so sorry. I think about you every day.

Max: I fucked up. Please don’t shut me out forever.

Max: I know I don’t deserve it, but if there’s any chance at all… please.

She didn’t answer right away. It took her hours to even look at her phone again. And when she finally did, she typed out something simple.

Her: I’m proud of you. I really am. I know it was a stressful time. But what you said… it stuck. I just need some space. I hope you understand.

She didn’t text back after that. Not for months.

Then came the 2025 season.

It started off okay. Not great. Not Max levels of dominance. The car was twitchy, unstable in corners, and the engineers were playing catch-up from day one.

He still dragged it to second place in Australia. It was a miracle drive. But when he stood on the podium, he wasn’t smiling the way he used to.

Then China happened. P4. Not a disaster, but it hurt. Everyone could see he was wringing every last drop out of that machine and it still wasn’t enough. But he wasn’t throwing tantrums or being cold with the press. He just looked… tired.

That was when Lando started texting her.

Lando: okay hear me out

Lando: come to japan

Her: lol what?

Lando: serious. Quadrant’s first launch post-rebrand is in Suzuka and it’s a big deal and I want you there. you always said you’d come if we did something huge. You promised

Lando: don’t be mean i’m sensitive

Her: I don’t think that counts as a promise lol

Her: lando.

Lando: Please. I’ll keep you away from him. swear on my life. you won’t even smell a red bull. max won’t know. just come support your favourite british gamer boy.

Her: I’m not sure it’s a good idea.

Lando: It’s for me not for him. come on. just this one time.

Lando: I’ll buy you japanese snacks and let you win mario kart. i’m begging.

Her: you never let anyone win mario kart.

Lando: but for you. I’ll throw the race.

Her: …

Her: fine. one weekend.

Lando: YES. you’re the best. he won’t even know. it’s gonna be chill. just quadrant stuff. you’ll have fun.

Suzuka was buzzing. She had an amazing time with the Quadrant crew, watching all the behind-the-scenes of photoshoots and going out for ramen with Lando. But she couldn’t avoid the paddock. Not when Saturday’s quali brought a surprise. Max was on pole.

She watched it all from the shadows, tucked behind a wall of McLaren gear and camera rigs, staying low-key like she promised. But when he stepped out of the car, helmet tucked under his arm, grinning wide like it was 2023 again, her heart did this dumb little flip.

God, she missed him.

Race day came. And Max? He dominated.

He drove like a man possessed. Fast. Precise. Every lap smoother than the last. The Red Bull finally looked decent again—maybe not perfect, but close enough in his hands.

And when he crossed the finish line, hands raised, engine screaming, she didn’t mean to move. But her feet took her to the barricades at parc fermé before her brain caught up.

She stayed hidden, sandwiched between McLaren crew and camera guys.

Max was all celebration—yelling over the radio, hugging his engineers, trading high fives and slaps on the back. The joy on his face was infectious, the kind of smile she hadn’t seen in ages. He placed his helmet gently on the stand, grabbed a water bottle from the pit wall, and turned slightly—ready to take a sip—when he spotted her.

He froze.

The bottle slipped right out of his hand, hitting the concrete with a loud thud as he stared.

Then he ran.

No hesitation, no second-guessing. Just sprinted straight toward her and pulled her into a hug so tight it knocked the breath from her lungs.

She was too stunned to speak, too overwhelmed to do anything but hug him back. Her fingers curled into the back of his suit, and she held on as the flashes of cameras popped around them like fireworks.

She glanced up, catching Lando a few steps away trying to subtly signal if she needed help—if he should pull Max off her. But she shook her head, just barely.

Max wasn’t letting go.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured into her hair, over and over again, voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m sorry. I missed you. I’m so sorry.”

She leaned back just enough to cradle his face in her hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks as she looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time in months.

“Congratulations Max” She whispered, watching him calm down a little.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her like he was afraid she'd disappear.

"I didn’t know you were here," he said finally, voice rough.

She nodded. "Wasn’t planned. Lando guilt-tripped me."

He gave a breathy laugh. Then his face sobered. "You saw the whole thing?"

She nodded again.

Max stepped closer. "I meant what I said. About being sorry. I think about it every day."

"Max—"

"Just let me say this," he interrupted, voice low. "I was angry. At the team. At the car. At myself. And I used you like a punching bag and took you for granted. That was on me."

She looked at him for a long second before smiling widely.

"Go celebrate," she whispered against his shoulder. "You earned it. I’ll meet you in your driver’s room later ok?."

He pulled back just enough to look at her. Hope flickered in his eyes. "Yeah?"

You nodded. "We’ll talk. After."

He didn’t push for more. Just touched their foreheads briefly before turning back towards the staff ushering him to the cooldown room.

And this time, as Max stepped onto the podium, standing tall as the Dutch Anthem played in the background, as he sprayed Champagne on Lando and Oscar, he didn’t need to search the crowd.

He already knew she was there.

[satellite-evans]

all I need

Pairing: Lando Norris x driver!reader

Summary: Lando gets furiuos when you get fined for swearing after your crash.

Word count: 2.9k+

Warnings: fluff, swearing, injuries, angry lando

Request : Hi could I please request a lando x reader fic where the reader is a driver and she gets in a big crash and the team radio is like asking if she is okay and shes like answers after a bit and is in pain because she just CRASHED and then she accidentally swears on radio and she gets fined and the media is going crazy and like lando is just being a good protective boyfriend and is defending her in interviews and stuff? Thanks!! xoxo - anon 🍟

A/N:

Hi love, thank you so much for sending in a request and trusting me enough to write your idea!! I hope I did it justice xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

One moment, everything is fine—you’re fighting for position, pushing the car to its absolute limit, heart pounding with adrenaline as you navigate the treacherous corners. The next, it all goes horribly wrong.

The rear tires lose grip. A sharp twitch, then a full spin. Time slows, but your mind races. Your hands react on instinct, desperately trying to correct, but it’s too late. The world outside the cockpit blurs in a sickening whirl of colors—track, barriers, sky. Then nothing but gut-wrenching weightlessness as the car lifts off the ground.

The impact is catastrophic. Metal shrieks against metal, carbon fiber shatters like glass. The force slams through your body, rattling bones, squeezing air from your lungs. Pain flares—sharp, immediate—radiating from your ribs, your shoulders, your skull as the cockpit jolts to a brutal stop. Static crackles in your helmet.

For a moment, everything is eerily still. Your pulse roars in your ears, drowning out the stunned gasps from the crowd, the commentary scrambling to make sense of what just happened. Your breath is ragged, shallow. The world tilts nauseatingly around you.

Then, the radio buzzes to life.

"Y/N, Y/N, are you okay?!" David's voice is urgent, bordering on frantic. There’s a tightness to it you’ve never heard before, and that alone terrifies you more than the crash itself.

You try to respond, but pain flares when you shift. A groan escapes before you can stop it. Your fingers fumble for the radio button, and when you finally manage to press it, your voice comes out weak, breathless.

"Fuck—yeah, I think so." A cough, a wince. "That hurt."

Across the track, in his car, Lando watches it all unfold in real-time. His stomach drops, breath catching as he sees your car crumple against the barriers. His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, heart hammering painfully against his ribs. The images flash across the big screens, slow-motion replays dissecting the crash from every angle. He can’t tear his eyes away.

Is she okay? Is she responding?!" His voice is laced with panic, the desperation evident.

His race engineer hesitates. "We're waiting on confirmation, Lando. Focus on the race."

But how the hell is he supposed to do that? The car, the track, the championship—all of it fades. Right now, none of it matters except you.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. "Please—can you keep me updated? I need to know if she's okay." His voice wavers just slightly, the emotion threatening to spill over.

A pause. Then, softer, "We will, Lando. Just focus for now."

He exhales sharply, forcing himself to keep driving, but his eyes keep flicking to the screens around the circuit, searching for any sign of movement from you. His heart pounds as he waits—praying to hear your voice again.

A beat of silence stretches after your message. Then, Race Control’s voice cuts through.

"Y/N, reminder that all radio transmissions are broadcasted live. Watch the language."

Despite everything, a strained, breathy laugh escapes you. "Yeah, yeah, noted. Ow."

The medical car is already pulling up, orange lights flashing, marshals swarming the wreckage. You can hear them shouting, their voices urgent but professional. Someone taps on the side of your cockpit, checking for a response. Your fingers twitch, slow and uncoordinated, but you give them a thumbs-up.

The crowd, stunned into silence, exhales as one. The commentators try to fill the dead air with reassurances, but the tension is thick. On social media, the crash is already going viral—clips looping endlessly, speculation running rampant.

The straps of your harness dig into your bruised shoulders as the adrenaline begins to wear off, replaced by a dull, spreading ache that makes every breath feel like a struggle. The world around you is a cacophony of noise—sirens wailing, the frantic chatter of the marshals, the dull roar of the crowd beyond the barriers—but it all feels distant, muffled by the ringing in your ears.

"Try not to move too much," one of the medical staff instructs gently, his gloved hands already working to unbuckle you from the mangled remains of your car. "Can you feel everything?"

You give a small, shaky nod. "Yeah," you breathe, wincing as you shift slightly. "Just sore. Really sore."

The relief on his face is immediate, but the tension in the air remains. They move carefully, extracting you from the cockpit as gingerly as possible. As soon as you're free, your knees threaten to buckle, but strong arms catch you before you hit the ground.

"You’re alright, we’ve got you," another voice reassures, steadying you as they guide you toward the waiting medical car. The flash of cameras in the distance, the low hum of anxious murmurs from the pit lane—it all feels surreal.

The moment the checkered flag waves, Lando doesn’t care about anything else. Not the debrief, not the podium celebrations—none of it matters. His car screeches to a halt in parc fermé, barely lined up properly, but he’s already halfway out before the engine even fully shuts down. His hands rip off his steering wheel, then his helmet, tossing it aside as he breaks into a full sprint toward the medical center.

His lungs burn, but he doesn’t slow down. The only thing driving him forward is the sheer panic gripping his chest. His mind replays the crash on an agonizing loop—the way your car crumpled, how long it took for you to respond, the thought of losing you was eating him alive. He pushes past team personnel, ignoring their calls, shoving the medical center doors open with enough force to make them slam against the walls.

"Where is she?" His voice is sharp, almost desperate.

A nurse barely has time to react before he spots you. Sitting on the edge of the examination bed, bruised and battered, your race suit scuffed with streaks of dirt and dried blood. Your arm is wrapped around your ribs, and there’s a gash just below your glove, crimson seeping through the fabric. Your right knee is swollen, and every inhale looks like it stings.

But you’re alive.

Lando exhales a shuddering breath, his entire body sagging with relief. He crosses the room in seconds, reaching you like you might disappear if he doesn’t move fast enough. Without hesitation, he takes your hand, gripping it tightly like an anchor. His fingers ghost over your bruised knuckles, his touch impossibly gentle.

"Jesus, Y/N…" His voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of the fear still clinging to him.

You manage a small, tired smile despite the pain. "I’m fine. Trust me, it’s not as bad as it looks."

His jaw clenches, eyes scanning you like he doesn’t quite believe you. "Not as bad as it looks? You scared the hell out of me. Don’t do that again. Ever."

The intensity of his words makes your chest tighten—not just from the bruises, but from the raw emotion behind them. You squeeze his hand, grounding him.

Later, after the doctors clear you—bruised ribs, mild concussion, but nothing broken—you limp out of the medical center, Lando’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist. Every step sends a dull ache through your body, but at least you’re standing.

David intercepts you, shifting awkwardly on his feet. "So, uh… don’t shoot the messenger, but you’re getting a fine for the team radio."

You blink. "You’re kidding, right?"

Before David can even answer, Lando scoffs, disbelief flashing across his face. "She just survived a high-speed crash, and they’re fining her for swearing? Seriously?"

David sighs, handing over the paperwork with an apologetic shrug. "Yeah… FIA wasn’t too happy. Regulations and all."

You stare at the notice for a beat before letting out a tired, incredulous laugh. "Yeah, okay. Next time I crash at 200 mph, I’ll be sure to say ‘gosh darn it’ instead."

Lando shakes his head, jaw tight with frustration. "Unbelievable."

But instead of dwelling on it, he just pulls you in closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The warmth of his embrace eases some of the lingering tension in your body. "Don’t worry about it, love. If they want to fine you for being human, let them. You’re still the toughest person I know."

You smile, leaning into him, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. Because at the end of the day, a fine means nothing when you still have Lando by your side.

And, as expected, the media goes absolutely wild.

"Formula 1 Driver Y/N Y/L/N Fined After Shocking Radio Message Post-Crash!"

"Did Y/N Deserve Her FIA Penalty? Fans Debate Over Radio Outburst!"

"Y/N’s Crash Sparks Controversy: Was the Fine Justified?"

The headlines flood every social platform within minutes. Slow-motion replays of the crash loop endlessly on TV screens, side-by-side with grainy images of you wincing as you climbed out of the wreckage. Every angle is analyzed, every expression dissected.

Your post-race hospital visit is barely over when reporters start circling like vultures, bombarding you with questions before you even have the strength to face them, but Lando was having none of it.

Seated in front of the media, still in his race suit, Lando’s jaw is tight, hands clenched on the table as microphones are shoved toward him.

"Lando, there's been a lot of discussion about Y/N’s penalty for language over the team radio. Do you think the FIA was justified in issuing the fine?"

He scoffs, jaw tightening. "Are we seriously focusing on a fine when she just survived a massive crash?" His voice is sharp, edged with barely restrained anger. "She was in pain. She was shaken up. And she swore—who wouldn’t? It's ridiculous."

The journalists shift uncomfortably, but another one presses on. "Rules are rules, though. FIA has strict guidelines about profanity on public transmissions. Do you think it sets a bad precedent if they don’t enforce them?"

Lando lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Mate, if your first thought after seeing a crash like that is to talk about a penalty, maybe rethink your priorities."

Another journalist jumps in. "But don’t you think it’s important to maintain professionalism on the radio? A lot of young fans look up to drivers."

Lando rolls his eyes. "Right, because what’s really damaging to young fans isn’t the fact that someone just had a life-threatening accident, but the fact that she said ‘fuck’ while trying to breathe properly again." He leans forward, voice lower but no less cutting. "If we’re talking role models, maybe start by making sure the sport actually supports its drivers instead of fining them for reacting like a human being."

His words are already making waves, clips spreading across social media.

And while you’re still exhausted, still aching from the crash, there’s something about seeing him so openly, fiercely in your corner that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Even after the official interviews, the media frenzy doesn’t stop. Paparazzi crowd outside the paddock, desperate for a statement. Team members act as buffers, but there’s only so much they can do.

As you slowly make your way out of the motorhome, Lando’s arm firmly around your waist, cameras flash, voices overlapping as reporters shout over each other.

"Y/N, do you think the FIA’s decision was fair?"

"Do you regret your words on the radio?"

"Lando, how did it feel watching the crash happen live?"

He tenses beside you. "How do you think it felt?" His voice is sharp, protective. "I watched someone I love crash at full speed. So no, I don’t really give a damn about some radio penalty right now."

You squeeze his hand in silent gratitude. He doesn’t have to be this involved, but he is. Always.

Another journalist turns to you, voice softer but no less intrusive. "Y/N, how are you feeling after the accident?"

You exhale, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the lingering pain. "Sore, obviously. But I’m okay."

"Will you be racing in the next Grand Prix?"

Lando answers before you can. "She’s focusing on recovery first. That’s the priority."

It’s not a direct confirmation, but it’s enough to hold off the speculation—at least for now.

The chaos of the day finally starts to feel like a distant memory as you curl up on the couch in Lando’s apartment. An ice pack rests gently on your ribs, offering some comfort against the bruising, but it’s Lando’s presence that truly calms you. His arm drapes protectively around you, pulling you in close like he never wants to let go, his warmth surrounding you in a way that makes you feel safe. His thumb moves in slow, soothing circles on your arm, the rhythm gentle and steady.

It’s such a contrast to the frantic energy of the day—the flashing cameras, the endless questions, the tension in the air—but now, in this moment, all of that feels like it belongs to another world. This is where you’re grounded.

You sigh, resting your head against his shoulder, letting the quietness of the room wrap around you like a soft blanket. But there’s something still heavy in the pit of your stomach, a lingering feeling that something was unsettled. You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes tracing the faint lines of worry still etched across his face, the tension that’s only now starting to ease from his features.

"You didn’t have to go that hard for me," you murmur, your voice soft, though you know the words don’t quite do justice to what you’re feeling. You had been overwhelmed by everything that happened, but he—he had been beside you every step of the way, his every move showing how deeply he cared.

He scoffs, shaking his head slowly like the idea is completely foreign to him. "Of course I did. It’s bullshit," he mutters, his voice laced with frustration that hasn’t quite gone away. "You should be getting support, not fined for a stupid word." The words come out with a little more heat than he intends, but it’s the underlying softness in his voice, the way he’s speaking to you like he wants to protect you from the world’s unfairness, that makes your heart flutter.

You chuckle softly, a tired sound that makes his grip on you tighten just a fraction, like he’s afraid you might slip away. "Guess I owe you, huh?" you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Lando’s response is immediate—he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. His hands shift, cradling you with a tenderness that almost feels too gentle, like you’re something precious he’s afraid to break. "Just don’t scare me like that again," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath, as though the thought of you being hurt again is more than he can bear. "And we’ll call it even."

You smile up at him, heart full of warmth for this man who always seems to put your well-being before his own. But you can’t promise him that. You know how the sport works, how unpredictable it is. You’ll never be able to give him that guarantee.

But there’s something you can promise him, something more important. You squeeze his hand, the simple act grounding you both in this moment. Your voice is steady as you look up into his eyes, locking your gaze with his. "No matter what happens," you say, the words firm but soft, a promise from the deepest part of you, "you’ll always have me. I’ll always have you."

His expression softens in a way that makes you think he’s heard every unspoken word in your statement, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The air between you feels full—full of shared understanding, full of the love you have for each other, full of the promise that no matter the challenges, no matter the risks, you’ll face it all side by side.

For a long moment, Lando is quiet, his thumb still brushing over your skin in slow, absentminded strokes. But then his breath catches slightly, and when you glance up, you see it—the way his eyes shimmer with unshed tears. His jaw tenses as if he’s trying to hold it all back, but the emotion is too heavy, too raw.

"I thought I lost you," he admits, his voice breaking just enough to reveal the fear he’s been holding in. "When everything was happening, and I couldn’t reach you..." He trails off, shaking his head as if trying to push the memory away, but his grip on you tightens like he never wants to let go again. "I don’t know what I would’ve done if—"

"Hey," you interrupt softly, your hand moving to cup his face, your thumb brushing against the dampness on his cheek. "I’m here. I’m okay. And I’m not going anywhere."

That seems to break whatever wall he was trying to hold up. Lando lets out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping against yours as he closes his eyes. "I just... I can’t lose you," he confesses, the words raw and vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache. "Not you."

You press a soft kiss to his lips, hoping it conveys everything words can’t. "You won’t," you promise against his mouth, your voice unwavering. "I’m right here."

He nods slightly, like he’s trying to believe it, and when he pulls you into his arms again, it’s with a desperation that speaks to how close he felt to losing you. But in this moment, with his heart laid bare and your arms wrapped tightly around each other, there’s nothing else that matters.

Lando kisses you gently on the forehead, his lips lingering there for just a second longer. "That’s all I need," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Then, his arms pull you even closer, his warmth radiating through your bones.

[missnxthingg]

could you do a lando norris x reader smut with that damn sucker at the austrian grand prix after he DNFed and maybe the reader gets turned on by his frustration and anger.

YOU'RE HOT WHEN YOU'RE ANGRY

Pairing: Lando Norris x Girlfriend!Reader Warnings: Smut & swearing Words: 1.8K (a shorty, compared to my other works) Author's note: Thank you so much for being so quick with the request. Loved doing this because angry Lando is absolutely hot. Also, found this template for the cover pic and absolutely loved it. It's so different.

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After the crash, Lando was pissed, to say the least. So far, things have been looking good for him this season. At the Austrian Grand Prix, the 11th race of the season, he was the only driver to finish among the points in the grid. But after a streak of almost wins, he crashed his car into Max Verstappen’s at the final laps, having to retire from the race just as he was starting to feel the victory taste between his lips.

He was fuming when he turned off the car in the pits, throwing daggers with his eyes at everyone that crossed him that day. Having to watch the finishing of the race from the garage was frustrating, and the last drop to make him lose it this week. So many almosts, and luck was never in Lando’s favour.

Y/N was gutted for her boyfriend. She had joined him in this triple header because she knew he was feeling very overwhelmed by the season, and it had only got worse after his bitter P2 at the Spanish Grand Prix. That day in Austria, she had been watching it from the garage and was one of the first people Lando met after the DNF. He quickly pecked her lips to find some comfort, but was so angry that didn’t want to be around her to affect her somehow.

Knowing he needs his space when he’s frustrated, Y/N stayed behind and watched Lando do his job. He was talking to his engineers, trying to at least help Oscar with the best outcome of the race, but he was angry, and his face showed. Jaw tense, fire in his eyes, no bubbly smiles. And somehow, that turned her on.

Usually, after bad races like this, she takes her time showering him with love and support through the whole night after the poor result. But Y/N was needy, and seeing him with the droplets of sweat on his forehead, disappointed look on his face and his suit hanging low on his hips were doing things to her. Well, to the point where her panties were soaking wet just by looking at him.

She tried hiding it while they were on track, but Lando noticed she was behaving weird, trying to keep more quiet as they were still surrounded by a lot of more people. He frowned when she tried her best to escape him after the post race media pen, and found it weird again when she changed her behaviour once they were in his driver's room.

He had sneaked away from the crowd a minute before her. Lando closed his eyes, breathing deep, trying to assimilate and calm from what had happened. He was only taken out of his trance when his girlfriend snaked her arms around his waist and started pressing kisses to his jaw. He opened the first genuine smile that day when he finally felt her right there with him.

“Hi, baby”, he said, making Y/N smile to finally have his attention. “I love you so much”

“Always nice to hear that after hours seeing your cranky face”, she said. “I love you more”.

“Probably impossible”, he winked, making her giggle. Then he pecked her lips, feeling easier to have her around, even though he still didn't understand her behaviour from earlier. 

“You good?”, she asked, and Lando sighed.

“I will be”, he assured, holding her a little tighter. “You make me better”.

Y/N smiled at his words and locked their lips together in a sweet kiss. But soon they turned things around into a more steamy make out, that had her palming his cock through his fireproofs. He moaned at the contact, but stop the kiss to see what that was about.

“You were literally avoiding me a few minutes ago, and now you're doing this?”

“I was avoiding you because I was horny, you muppet. Would've come undone right in front of everyone if I didn’t ignore you”, she smirked, making him smile. “But God, you look so hot when you're angry”.

“So you’re taking advantage of my misery?”, he provoked with a smirk, but didn't last long with his boyish behaviour when she started massaging his balls. “Oh, baby, this feels so good”.

“Let me take care of you, my love”, she pecked his lips again, making him smile in response. “Want to turn this day around for you”

Y/N gently pulled him to sit on his couch and kneeled in front of him. Then she took off his fireproofs, leaving him in his underwear between those tiny four walls. But before she could jump into giving him pleasure, he dug his digits on the skin of her waist, pulling her into his lap. She straddled his laps and sunk into him as they made out, trying to make it as silent as possible.

“Need you”, he whined, feeling that his boxers were too thick for his liking. Lando wanted to feel his girl more than anything.

“Let me make you feel good, baby”.

Y/N trailed kisses down his torso, her lips feeling like silk against his skin. Lando felt them burning deliciously through him and urged to feel her touch more and more. When his girl finally pulled his underwear down and wrapped her hands around his base, Norris lost it, throwing his head back in pleasure.

She licked him from up and down, but not doing much to get his relief. Lando was whining and groaning in frustration, but Y/N was taking her time with him.

“Fuck”, he moaned. “Please do something, angel. I need you”.

Y/N decided to grant his wish, popping the tip of his cock inside her mouth. Lando grunted with the move, and moaned louder when she started taking all of his length in her mouth. He could feel him hitting the back of her throat turning him into a mess.

“Baby, your mouth feels so good”, he held her hair away from her face and started thrusting a little into her throat. “Won't last long with you making me feel like this, fucking hell”.

Y/N stood quiet, completely focused on giving him pleasure. But desperate for some relief, she started  clenching her tights, needing some sort of friction between her legs. Lando noticed, and he most definitely didn’t want to leave his girl wanting him just as much as he wanted her.

“Baby, if you want me to continue, you're gonna have to stop”, he groaned, but she didn’t stop, only taking him further into her mouth. “Please, Y/N. Wanna feel your pussy around me”.

Those words had convinced her, who took his cock out of her mouth with a pop. Lando smiled with her move, pulling her by the arms to make her sit on his lap again. Then she kissed him once again, feeling him hard against her legs, and turning her on even more, if it was possible.

“Wanna cum inside you”, he admitted, letting his hand wrap around her throat. “Can I, baby?”

“Only if you bring back that angriness you were showing earlier in the garage”, she smirked. “It was fucking hot”.

“You want rough, uhm?”, Lando smirked once again, adding more pressure to her throat. “Ask for it, angel”.

“Please, Lan. I need you”, she whined, not really able to properly form sentences at his sudden domination. 

Y/N started to grind against his crotch, feeling some relief from her neediness. But most definitely wasn’t enough. So Lando switched their positions, pressing her against the couch and kissing her once again, as if his life depended on it. 

She was wearing a skirt, and Lando easily found access by pulling her tongue to the side. His fingers ran through her folds, making her moan on his mouth, shivering with the contact on her pussy. It felt even better when he started pumping two fingers inside her.

“Oh, Lando”, she whimpered. “So good, baby”.

“You like it, pretty girl?”, he smirked. “Wanna cum for me, uhm? I want you to cum on my fingers”

“Yes, please. Make me cum. I wanna cum, Lan”.

Y/N had been so far gone for Lando through the whole day that she came undone for him in seconds. But only his fingers weren't enough. She wanted to feel his frustration as a whole, pinning her down on the couch and fucking her senseless. 

“Baby, you’re so needy today”, he smirked, gripping on his cock and brushing the tip on her folds. Both of them moaned with the contact, loving to be this intimate with each other once again. “I'm gonna fill you up so good”

“Please, I need it so bad”, she cried.

When Lando finally put it inside her, Y/N immediately threw her arms and legs around him, wrapping herself onto him, needing to be as close as possible to her boyfriend. Together, they setted a firm pace that had them both in sync at giving each other pleasure. He held her by the throat and kissed her dearly as their hips kept meeting over and over again.

Lando transferred all his anger and frustrations onto his movements, loving that Y/N gave him the opportunity to feel better like that. At the end of the day, he would always win if he was with her. He knew that as he kissed her, feeling her pussy starting to clench around his cock.

“Gonna cum again, baby?” Lando asked, and she hummed, trying to nod, but being kept from moving by his hand on her throat. “Hang on, I'm almost there too. Wanna cum together?”

“Yes”.

“Then be a good girl and wait”, he asked, now picking the pace a little bit up, chasing for his high. Lando quickly found it, feeling his veins thicken downstairs and her nails digging on his back. “Fuck, baby, so tight for me. Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, Lan. Make me cum”

Lando lowered one of his hands to her clit and rubbed it until she came undone for him. Less than a second later, he filled her up with his own cum, finally letting his weight collide over her body. 

Y/N wrapped her arms around Lando and kissed his temples, trying to catch her breathing once again. He relaxed under her touches and pressed kisses to her collarbones as they laid in silence.

“I love you so much”, he said. “Thank you for this. For being my biggest supporter”

“I love you too. And I'll be here for you through the bad and good days”, she assured. “And will suck your cock every time you look pretty when throwing a tantrum”.

They giggled with her statement, sinking into each other, wanting nothing more than to just stay cuddled together, even though they knew they should get going. After all, they had a flight to England to catch.

“So… round two at the plane?”

Lando's taglist - @celestialams @lizaschronicles @kapsylia @igotnorrrizz @hiireadstuff @bishhhitsaurion @bborra @sltwins @riccdannyf1 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @ctrlyomomma @alltoomaples @ellen3101 @carmenita122 @lqvesoph @poppyflower-22 @logischeroktopus @saturnbloom77 @formulaal @taisferrari-blog @eclipsedcherry @readingbringsjoy @kenzieyeballs @alilcloudy @eringaitskill @Honeyhatty12 @dreamercrowd @demig0d0fapollo @beyond-the-ashes @ijustgomessitupx @laiba26 @marialovesf1 @katieschry1 @loveofmylife12 @diaa-20 @likedbygaslyy @notturloverr @c-losur3brizzy-xogorgrussell @loveofmylife12 @morketheduck @kravitzwhoree @darkacademicvibes @jenna123456789 @crispymcniall @phantomxoxonoobmaster6931 @ohlahlaa @c0rpsecore @rafegirly @darleneslane @annalisenelson @nataliambc @amorydsmt @slytherinholland @hstylesmermaid @harrysdimples05

⤿ add yourself to the taglist!

[verstappenf1lecccc]

All the Miles Between Us

Fernando Alonso x Wife!Reader -

A Life in Five Decades

hi babes this is my favourite work I’ve done I am absolutely sorry for the heartbreak hehe!!!

Youth (Ages 22–30)

Barcelona, 2005

You were scribbling notes in a corner of the paddock, trying to finish your article on tire degradation, when a shadow fell over your notebook.

“Do tires always get that much attention?” a Spanish accent teased.

You looked up, annoyed. “Only when the car’s too fast to blame anything else.”

Fernando grinned, lowering his sunglasses. “Ah. So you’re one of those journalists.”

“I’m not a journalist,” you replied. “Just an intern. So don’t waste your charm on me.”

“Too late,” he said, already leaning against the railing like he had all day. “What’s your name?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to need something to call you when I win on Sunday.”

You rolled your eyes but smirked. “We’ll see.”

He did win that Sunday. And when he stood on the top step of the podium, champagne in hand, he winked right at your press box.

The next morning, there was a single flower taped to your locker.

It was worth it. – Fernando

⸻

Paris, 2006

It wasn’t fast. You kept it slow. Careful.

You didn’t want to be another name in a long list of weekend flings. And to his credit, Fernando never once treated you like one.

He wrote to you. Real letters. Called when he could, texted when he couldn’t. You still remember one from Istanbul:

Today the car felt like shit but your voice felt like home. I miss you more than I miss sleep. Love you already, I think. Don’t tell me I said that.

⸻

Oviedo, 2007 – The First Fight

The first time you shouted at him was in the kitchen of his family’s house.

“You never stop,” you snapped, slamming a drawer shut. “You don’t eat, you don’t rest, and when you’re not on track you’re still thinking about it!”

“It’s my job!” he fired back. “It’s what I was born to do!”

“And what about us?” Your voice cracked. “Were you born to destroy this, too?”

Silence. Long and awful.

Then, softly, “Do you think I don’t love you?”

“I think you love racing more.”

He walked out that night.

Came back the next morning with a bruised heart and a bouquet of gardenias.

He knelt at your door. “I didn’t sleep. I can’t sleep if we’re not okay.”

You let him in. You always would.

⸻

The Proposal – Oviedo, 2009

It was winter. Snow dusted the rooftops. You’d spent the day trying to assemble Ikea furniture while he read instructions out loud in a horrible British accent.

“I swear I’ll propose before I figure this out,” he grumbled, upside down under a bookshelf.

“God help us both,” you muttered, laughing.

That night, you were in pajamas, wine in hand, fire crackling in the hearth. He looked over at you, completely unguarded.

“You want to marry me?” he asked suddenly, softly.

You blinked. “Is that a serious question?”

He got up, walked over, and slipped his grandmother’s gold chain into your palm. “This is all I have on me. But I swear I’ll give you everything else. Please. Say yes.”

You were already crying when you whispered, “Always, Fernando.”

⸻

The Wedding – Asturias, 2010

The ceremony was on a hill, the wind catching your veil like it had a life of its own. Fernando looked at you like he’d never seen the sun before.

Your vows were whispered but felt louder than any engine.

“I promise to never let you go to sleep angry,” you said.

“And I promise to make you laugh when you least want to,” he added.

You both cried during the first dance. He held your waist like you were made of something ancient and holy.

“You’re too good for me,” he murmured.

“No. I’m just the one who stayed.”

That night, you lay tangled in white sheets, his fingers tracing the lines on your collarbone.

“I’ll spend every day proving I deserve this,” he whispered. “Even the hard ones.”

⸻

The Miscarriage – Rome, 2011

You were nine weeks in. You hadn’t told him yet. You were going to surprise him in person bought a tiny onesie that said papa’s lucky charm and everything.

Then the cramps started. The blood came. And you knew.

You didn’t cry at first. Just stared at the ceiling while the world turned inside out.

When he called from the hotel, you said, “You should come home.”

He knew.

He arrived the next morning, eyes red from the flight, his jacket still smelling like rain.

You collapsed in his arms.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you sobbed. “And now it’s just gone.”

Fernando sank to his knees in front of you, pressing his forehead to your stomach.

“I already loved them,” he whispered. “Even if I never got to meet them.”

That night, he built a fire and held you close, rubbing your back while you shook with silent grief.

“We’ll try again,” he whispered. “When you’re ready. And even if it never happens, we’ll still have us. Always.”

You cried yourself to sleep with your hand over his heart.

⸻

Monaco Crash – 2013

You were watching live, laughing at a silly commentator’s remark when his car veered, slammed the barrier.

Your scream startled everyone in the room.

The headset fell from your ears. Your body moved before your brain could.

You were at the medical center before they could stop you, face pale and hands trembling.

He saw you through the glass, smiled weakly. “You’re more dramatic than the crash, mi vida.”

You shoved the curtain aside, tears in your eyes. “I thought you were dead, Fernando!”

He pulled you close, wincing. “Takes more than a wall to take me away from you.”

“Don’t joke,” you choked out.

“I’m not. I saw your face when they pulled me out… and all I thought was, ‘thank God, I’m still hers.’”

⸻

Final Moments of Youth – Austria, 2015

You were on a hiking trail, breathless from the altitude and the laughter. He had his arm around your shoulders, cheeks flushed.

“I think this is it,” he said, stopping to stare at the valley below.

“What?”

“The moment I stop chasing speed. I’m tired and for the first time, I think I want a slower life.”

You looked up at him, heart softening.

“You sure?”

He nodded. “I’ve been fast long enough. I want to learn how to be still with you.”

You kissed him. He kissed you back like he was anchoring himself to the ground.

⸻

The Middle Years (Ages 30–50)

⸻

Oviedo, 2016 — Slow Living Begins

Your house on the hill became a sanctuary. No roaring engines. No flights every weekend. Just wildflowers and books stacked in uneven towers.

Fernando gardened badly. You teased him relentlessly about the crooked tomato vines and his “tragically overwatered basil.”

“You’re just jealous my plants love me more,” he said with dirt on his cheeks, offering you a squashed-looking tomato like it was a diamond.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” you smirked.

He grinned. “So you do think I’m pretty.”

You rolled your eyes. “I married you, didn’t I?”

Evenings became your favorite time. You’d sit on the porch with mugs of tea, listening to the wind and letting your legs touch under the table.

“You know,” he said one night, his voice low, “this is the happiest I’ve ever been. No trophies. No pressure. Just you.”

You rested your head on his shoulder. “Then you finally understand what I’ve been trying to give you all these years.”

⸻

Barcelona, 2017 — The First Baby

The second time you got pregnant, you were terrified.

Fernando kissed your stomach every night like a prayer. “You’re not alone this time,” he whispered.

He went with you to every appointment. Held your hand when you cried during the heartbeat scan.

At twenty-three weeks, you woke him up at 3 a.m. in a panic.

“I had a dream the baby didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice shaking. “I felt so empty, Nando, I couldn’t breathe-”

He sat up immediately, pulling you into his lap.

“Feel this?” he said, placing your hand over your belly. “That’s life, cariño. And this…” He pressed your palm to his chest. “That’s love. I swear on both we’re going to be okay.”

Your daughter, Lucía, was born on a foggy autumn morning in October.

He cried so hard when he first held her you thought he might drop her.

“She’s got your nose,” he sobbed.

“And your stubborn brow,” you said, brushing her downy hair. “We’re doomed.”

⸻

Marbella, 2020 — The Second Baby & Pandemic Isolation

Your second child, Mateo, came during the quiet panic of the pandemic.

You gave birth wearing a mask. Fernando wasn’t allowed in the room for the first hour.

When he finally held him, he whispered, “You came into chaos and still brought peace.”

Those months were strange. Locked indoors with two small children, restless hands, and headlines full of dread.

One day you snapped, tears streaking your face after three straight nights without sleep.

“I don’t even know who I am anymore!” you yelled, cradling a crying Mateo while Lucía smeared crayon across the walls.

Fernando took the baby gently, whispered, “You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I’m falling apart.”

“So fall,” he said. “I’ll catch you.”

⸻

Oviedo, 2022 — The Cancer Scare

You found the lump in the shower. Firm. Small. But undeniably there.

You didn’t tell Fernando for a week. He was already overwhelmed his mother’s health was declining, the world still uncertain.

When you finally sat him down, you said it fast “I found something in my breast. I have a scan tomorrow.”

The way the color drained from his face nearly broke you.

He reached for you instantly, thumb trembling as he stroked your cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t want you to panic until I knew.”

“But you were already panicking,” he said softly. “Weren’t you?”

You nodded.

He pulled you into his chest and held you for so long you lost track of time. The night felt like a never-ending breath you couldn’t release.

At the hospital, his grip never left yours. The waiting room. The ultrasound. The biopsy. Each click of the machine felt like thunder.

When the doctor finally said it was benign a fibroadenoma, not cancer Fernando laughed and cried at the same time. His head bowed in relief, tears soaking into your shirt.

That night, he held your scarred breast in his hands and kissed it.

“This body… it’s given me everything,” he whispered. “You. Our children. Our life. I’ll never take a single piece of it for granted again.”

You wept into the crook of his neck. The way he looked at you never changed. Not through aging. Not through scars. Not through fear.

Only deeper. Only fuller. Only more.

⸻

Asturias, 2023 — Losing Your Father

He died suddenly. A heart attack in his sleep.

Fernando drove you six hours overnight so you could say goodbye at dawn.

At the funeral, you didn’t speak for three days.

He cooked for you, sat beside you without pushing, held your hand even when you wouldn’t meet his eyes.

On the third night, you finally spoke.

“I didn’t even say ‘I love you’ the last time we spoke. I told him I was too busy to call.”

Fernando pulled you close, your grief soaking into his shirt.

“You were busy. Loving me. Raising our kids. Being the person he was so proud of.”

You sobbed into his chest, the pain blooming like wildfire.

He stayed up with you all night, listening to stories about your dad. Never said a word. Just listened.

⸻

Oviedo, 2028 — The Anniversary

Lucía was fourteen. Mateo was eleven. Your house was loud with hormones and burnt toast.

You’d forgotten it was your anniversary until you came home and found the entire garden lit with string lights, your favorite dinner steaming on the table.

Fernando stood in a button-up shirt that didn’t match his pants, holding a wrinkled card.

“I panicked. The kids helped. Lucía picked the flowers. Mateo made dessert so eat at your own risk.”

You laughed until you cried.

Over dinner, you held his hand and whispered, “You’re still my favorite thing in the world.”

He kissed your knuckles. “I’ve had so many lives… but the only one I ever wanted was the one where I’m yours.”

⸻

The End (Ages 50–70)

⸻

Oviedo, 2040 — The Quiet Years

The house grew quieter with each passing year. Lucía left for university first,political science, all fire and fight like her father. Mateo followed soon after, gentler, more like you, always calling just to hear your voice.

You and Fernando got used to cooking for two. Walking the same forest path behind the house each morning. Picking out tomatoes at the market like it was a grand adventure. Reading in bed with your feet tangled together under the blanket.

“This is the good part,” you whispered one morning, watching the sun spill golden over his lined face. “No rush. No races. Just you.”

Fernando chuckled. “I liked winning. But this—” He reached to brush your hair back. “This is better.”

⸻

Barcelona, 2046 — The Diagnosis

It started with fatigue.

You thought it was just age. Then the headaches came. The weight loss. The vision blurs.

They found the tumor in June. Glioblastoma. Terminal.

You were fifty-nine.

You waited until you knew for sure before you told Fernando. You practiced the words in the mirror a hundred times. Still, nothing prepared you for the way he crumpled in the hospital hallway, clutching the edge of a plastic chair like it might save him.

“No,” he said. “No, no, no don’t say it. We still have time. We always have time.”

You held his face and made him look at you. “We have time to love, Nando. But not forever. And that’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he sobbed, voice breaking. “It’s not okay.”

You kissed him. “We were never promised forever. But we earned every second.”

⸻

Oviedo, 2047 — Preparing for Goodbye

The house changed again.

He moved the bed to the sunroom so you could see the trees sway while you rested. He played your favorite records on quiet mornings Piano Concerto No. 2, Springsteen, Fleetwood Mac. You talked about everything and nothing.

You asked him to write to you again. Like he did when you were twenty.

He filled six notebooks.

“I never knew how much I still had to say to you,” he whispered one day, holding your hand like it was made of porcelain. “Even now.”

You cried together, often. But you also laughed about how bad his cooking still was, how Lucía inherited your temper, how Mateo cried at commercials.

You made him promise something, one night when the pain was bad.

“When it’s time… I want one last dance,” you said, voice raw but soft. “Just you and me. Like before.”

“Of course,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your knuckles. “Name the song, mi amor.”

You smiled. “Infinity Jaymes Young.”

His voice caught. “That’s our song.”

“It always was.”

⸻

October, 2048 — The Final Dance

You knew it was time. The doctors said days, maybe a week. You didn’t want machines. You just wanted your family.

Lucía and Mateo flew in. They curled beside you in bed like they were little again. Fernando never left your side. Not once.

On a soft October evening, with the windows open and golden light pouring in, he helped you out of bed. Your body trembled. He held you up.

And then he played the song.

“Baby this love I’ll never let it die…”

You danced.

Slow. Barely moving. His arms around you. Your head on his shoulder. Your breath shallow.

“You gave me the best life,” you whispered against his neck. “I wouldn’t trade a second.”

He cried freely, holding you tighter. “I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready.”

You smiled, even through the tears. “I’ll wait for you. Wherever the next place is, I’ll be there.”

“Promise?”

You kissed his lips. “I promise.”

⸻

A Week Later

You passed away in your sleep, in the home you built together.

Fernando stayed beside you until the sun rose. He kissed your forehead and whispered the last words you ever said to him: “I’ll wait for you.”

⸻

Years Later — After You Were Gone

He kept your books on the shelf.

Still made tea for two, sometimes forgetting.

Still wrote you letters even when there was no one to read them.

Your children came often. Brought your grandkids. Told stories you’d once told them.

Lucía once asked him, “Do you still miss her, after all these years?”

He smiled, eyes soft with memory. “Every day. But I know she’s just ahead of me. Not gone. Just waiting.”

⸻

The Reunion

There’s a dream Fernando has often.

He’s young again. You’re waiting for him beneath a streetlamp in Florence, wearing the dress you wore the night you told him you loved him for the first time.

Music floats in from an open café window. He reaches for your hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks.

You smile.

“Always.”

And you do.

Dancing with him forever

[lazysoulwriter]

monaco madness - pedro pascal.

Pedro had always known you were obsessed with Formula 1. The kind of obsessed where Sunday plans revolved around race schedules, where you angry muttered driver names in your sleep, and where he once caught you watching an onboard camera video from 2008 just for fun.

So, when he suggested going to Monaco for the Grand Prix, it wasn’t just because of the glitz, the yachts, or the allure of Monte Carlo. It was because he loved seeing you in your element.

What he hadn't expected was to get completely sucked into it himself.

-

From the moment you stepped onto the circuit, decked out in Ferrari red, you were practically vibrating with excitement. The roaring sound of engines in the background made your eyes light up in a way that had Pedro smiling like an idiot.

“You’re going to explode,” he teased, tightening his grip on your waist as the two of you made your way to your seats.

“I might.” You turned to him, grinning, adjusting your sunglasses. “Do you even understand what’s about to happen?”

Pedro scoffed. “I understand that cars go fast.”

You snorted. “Wow, expert analysis. Maybe they should hire you for commentary.”

“I’d do great,” he said smugly. “I’d just point at the screen and go, ‘Look at that one. He’s winning.’”

You rolled your eyes, looping your arms around his neck. “You are so lucky you’re pretty.”

“I am pretty,” he agreed, leaning down to steal a quick kiss before you could pull away.

“Pedro!” you scolded, laughing against his lips. “We don’t have time for this! The race is about to start!”

Pedro groaned dramatically but let you go, watching as you practically bounced in your seat.

The cars lined up, the lights went out, and the moment the engines roared to life, you grabbed his hand without even thinking. Pedro barely had time to process the chaos before you were on your feet, screaming alongside thousands of other Ferrari fans.

“GO, GO, GO!”

Pedro had never seen you like this. Eyes wide, face glowing, shouting in frustration when someone overtook a Ferrari like they had personally offended you.

“Are you serious? That’s a penalty!” you cried, throwing your hands up.

Pedro leaned in, amused. “I have no idea what that means, but I love how angry you are.”

Before you could reply, a Ferrari made a daring overtake, nearly brushing the wall. The entire grandstand erupted, and Pedro felt something shift inside him. A thrill ran up his spine, and suddenly, he got it. The speed, the tension, the sheer insanity of it all. His fingers gripped the railing, and before he could stop himself, he was shouting,

“OH, SHIT! THAT WAS INSANE! FORZA FERRARI!”

You whipped your head toward him, stunned. “Wait. Are you—Are you into it now?”

Pedro ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “I think I just saw God.”

You burst into laughter, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him full on the mouth. “Welcome to the dark side, tifoso.”

For the rest of the race, Pedro was in it. He booed strategy calls, cursed at pit stops that took too long, and even found himself gripping your thigh when things got too tense. Every time Ferrari made a move, you both jumped out of your seats, yelling like lunatics.

At one point, he turned to you, slightly out of breath. “I swear to God, if we don’t win, I’m—”

“You’re what?” you challenged, grinning.

Pedro narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know yet, but it won’t be pretty.”

You laughed, pulling him down for another quick kiss. “You’re so dramatic.”

He smiled against your lips. “And yet you love me.”

When the checkered flag finally waved, Pedro collapsed into his seat, exhaling like he’d just competed in the race himself. You giggled, straddling his lap, running your fingers through his hair.

“So?” you asked, tilting your head. “Worth it?”

Pedro smirked, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “I’m never missing a race again.”

You grinned. “That’s my baby.”

And just like that, Monaco had gained another die-hard Ferrari fan.

---

requested! loved thissss.

[revelboo]

Could we perchance get more Ironhide?

I love your writing btw, and can’t help myself from checking your blog every so often(every single day) for updates:) I live for this kinda stuff

Thank you!

Hold Me Down Pt 2

Ironhide x Reader

• Engine roaring, he accelerates and feels your head smack back against the headrest, getting flattened back into the driver’s seat. And there goes your calm, screaming your head off as he takes a turn too sharply. “I’d put your seatbelt on, darlin.’” He says, struggling not to crack up as you claw for it and fumble until you get it clicked in. Having a complete mental breakdown inside him.

• Feeling your heart racing, you dig your fingers into your thighs, afraid to touch the wheel as it freely spins and turns. This has to be one of those freaky self driving cars. Or it’s possessed by a demon just to punish you for your sins. As it’s deep laughter rumbles around you, you’re betting on the latter. “Please, I don’t want to die.” You moan as you get slung around when it turns again.

• Regretting your life choices, yet? Because this is the most fun he’s had in a long while. Listening to your caterwauling and begging, like music. Up until the blue lights flicker behind him with the angry woop of a siren. “Frag me,” he snarls, spotting the human cop car speeding after him. Because nope. He’s not getting impounded today as much as his little thief deserves to get thrown in jail for a timeout.

• Head craning to see the cop on demon van’s bumper, you almost start bawling as it accelerates again to leave the cop in the dust. And you’re thankful for the seatbelt as you get knocked around when he swerves down a side road. Risking whiplash as the tires scream around a curve and your head bangs against the side window.

• Fragging cop. Fragging human in his driver’s seat, too as you slump forward and he has to cinch down the seatbelt to keep your limp form off the wheel. Because now he’s well and truly fragged himself. He’d planned on just scaring you straight and dumping you on a side street babbling about possessed vans and too scared to try anything like that again. Thanks to that cop, everything’s gone sideways. And guilt won’t let him just dump you on the side of the road out here in the desert sun. Running through every swear he knows until he’s repeating himself, he gives up. Starts heading back to the Ark, hating himself and you, because he just saddled himself with a little thief without meaning to.

Previous

Next

[sturniololuvz]

Story idea: so reader is walking with the Sturniolos (they are siblings) and then they stop for a bit to go to the gas station but reader doesn’t want to go in so she sits out side the gas station and waits. Then this creepy guy in an old beat up truck comes out of nowhere and like forced her to get in but then the triplets come back out and help protect her. Hope that’s a good idea🫶🏼

okayyyy

“Wrong Day, Wrong Girl”

Sturniolos x sister

Y/N leaned against the wall outside the gas station, scrolling mindlessly on her phone while her brothers went inside to grab snacks and drinks.

She had told them she’d wait outside—she didn’t feel like walking in just to stand around while they debated over what chips to get.

It was a quiet evening, the sky just starting to darken, the parking lot mostly empty.

At least, until he showed up.

An old, beat-up truck rolled into the lot, the engine sputtering like it could barely keep running. Y/N didn’t think much of it at first—just another person stopping for gas.

But then the driver’s door creaked open, and a man stepped out.

And he was staring at her.

Y/N’s stomach twisted uncomfortably as he started walking toward her, his boots scuffing against the pavement. He looked to be in his late forties, maybe early fifties, with greasy hair and a scruffy beard.

“You waiting for someone, sweetheart?” His voice was rough, and there was something in the way he said it that made her skin crawl.

Y/N straightened, gripping her phone a little tighter. “Uh, yeah. My brothers. They’re inside.”

The man hummed, his eyes scanning her up and down in a way that made her want to shrink into herself. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out here all alone.”

She forced a tight smile. “I’m fine.”

He took another step closer. “Nah, I think you’d be safer with me.”

Y/N’s pulse spiked. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but before she could react, the man reached out—grabbing her wrist.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Let’s get in the truck—”

“HEY!”

The gas station doors slammed open.

Chris was out first, his face twisted in pure rage.

Nick was right behind him, his eyes locked on the man’s grip on Y/N.

Matt, still holding a bottle of water, froze for half a second before dropping it and storming forward.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Chris snapped, already closing the distance between them.

The man’s hand instantly released Y/N’s wrist as he turned to face the three very angry triplets now surrounding him.

“She with you?” he asked, raising his hands like he hadn’t just tried to force her into his truck.

Nick’s jaw tightened. “That’s our sister you just grabbed, you sick fuck.”

Matt took a step closer, his fists clenched. “Touch her again, and I swear to God—”

Chris shoved past them, getting right in the guy’s face. “You think it’s okay to put your hands on a girl? Huh?”

The man’s eyes darted between them, and suddenly, he didn’t look so confident anymore. “Look, I didn’t know—”

“Didn’t know what?” Nick snapped. “That she wasn’t alone? That she has three brothers who’ll beat your ass?”

Chris let out a dark chuckle, but there was nothing funny about it. “Get in your truck. Drive the fuck away. And don’t ever look at her again.”

The man hesitated.

Matt’s nostrils flared. “Now.”

That was enough to send the creep stumbling backward, muttering something under his breath as he hurried back to his truck. The second the engine sputtered back to life, he peeled out of the parking lot, disappearing down the road.

Chris was still breathing heavily, his fists clenched at his sides.

Nick turned to Y/N first. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, though her heart was still racing. “Yeah… yeah, I’m okay now.”

Matt gently took her wrist, his expression darkening when he saw the faint red mark. “That fucking asshole.”

Chris finally exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. “I swear, if we had come out a second later—”

Nick looked down at her, his expression softer now. “You sure you’re okay?”

Y/N nodded again, feeling the initial fear start to fade now that she was surrounded by them. “I am now.”

Matt sighed,

[maxlarens]

okay i’m feeling especially crazy about this concept but imagine like reader having her pr relationship going on and being pissed at george and during qualifying or free practice or even a race, george is halfway through telling her something (maybe telling her something about pace, or what max had been complaining about on the track) and she just goes “no radio!” and cuts him off. i just KNOW george would be so offended cause why would you do that?? i’m supposed to help you why would you do that

ugh yes eve. i love when they're messy it's too good too perfect. okay let's say free practice because i imagine that they have like clear cut rules about arguing during quali especially. and during races they keep it to arguing about race strategy only no petty disagreements allowed😭 but free practice is a free for all and reader takes full advantage of that.

like please they've just had a weird fight/argument where nothing has actually been said, but george is bothered by her pr boyfriend hanging around hospitality and she's annoyed having to pretend she likes her pr boyfriend. and when she gets in the car they're not making eye contact or doing any of their standard pre track rituals. so everyone can tell somethings up😭

and hmm okay, not gonna write a full drabble but here's a little bit of something. not exactly exactly what u were saying because i didn't want to just repeat it. hope u like it tho🥰

The car is shit. The car is so shit.

The wheel is pulling whenever you take a corner and you feel like you're on a roller coaster with the way it's rattling. At this point, it feels like the floor might just drop out from under you. Land on the track and cause a red flag.

You wouldn't be surprised, honestly. It might even be helpful, might stop the rest of the grid from getting valuable practice time in⏤

You veer into the gravel as you take a corner, swear loudly to yourself and force the car back onto asphalt. It takes far more effort than it should, you're fighting the car. It shouldn't be like this. It should glide. It should be smooth. It has been smooth.

You're not sure what's going on.

The garage need to know... George needs to know.

Ugh. George.

Plainly, you're annoyed at him.

George and his loaded looks and pointed comments about safety and that head of prince curls and a line of straight white teeth⏤ okay, you're not supposed to be letting your thoughts go there⏤ it's just difficult to stop them, even if he's being a total arse about your not-boyfriend. Who the fuck is George to say that you're not allowed personal guests? You're the driver! He's your engineer.

Derek can go wherever he pleases as far as you're concerned. Just as long as it's not too close to you.

The car pulls. You swear.

The radio crackles, startling you just as you get the car off gravel.

"Verstappen says you were impeding."

You laugh, sharp, short, humourless at the sound of George's clipped voice, at the irony of you impeding anyone but yourself right now, "Impeding. Ha! Good one."

"It was through turn⏤"

"The car's a piece of shit," you bite, cutting him off, "I can't get it out of the gravel, never mind stop myself from impeding Verstappen."

"Keep that off the radio," he scolds.

You roll your eyes, wrangle a turn like you're wrangling a wild bull, then snap,

"Okay! No radio!", and lean forward, flick the switch to turn the radio firmly off.

It's stiff, unused. There's no rule per se that says you can't turn the radio off whenever you'd like to. But it's frowned upon. You're blind if there's an emergency, a red flag, if they want you into the pits where you're heading anyway. George will be angry. Spewing.

Good.

Exactly how you want him.

i need to make one of those radio graphics that u make for them omg. anyway thank u for this eve!! ur mind!!!!

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

The Lioness

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem!reader

Warning: 1940-1950, slight misogyny, Tom is the perfect husband, fluff, swearing

Summary: To be a woman after the Second World War...

Tom was home early for once. The body shop had been slow today—no new cars or engines to repair.

He was just pulling his work clothes from the washing machine to hang up when he heard the front door open and slam shut.

He raised an eyebrow but shrugged. Bad day at work, maybe, he thought.

But then he heard her angrily toss her keys into the crystal bowl by the door, followed by the loud crash of glass.

“Shit!” she shouted.

Tom sprang into action. Laundry could wait—his wife needed him.

He bolted down from the bathroom and stopped in the foyer, taking in the sight of shattered glass strewn across the floor.

“Don’t move, darlin’. I’ll get the broom.”

He turned and walked into the kitchen to grab the broom, dustpan, and garbage bin before heading back to the entrance.

One look at his wife told him this was more than just a bad day. It was shit. The unshed tears in her eyes were proof enough.

“I got your favorite flowers on my way home,” he mumbled as he carefully swept up the shards. “Nearly nicked my thumb cuttin’ the stems. You gotta show me again how to do it right.”

A small chuckle escaped her lips, making his own lift slightly.

“You shouldn’t have,” she whispered.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “I love you, and I wanted to show you. Also bought everything for dinner. I waited for you. Ya know, ‘cause I keep burnin’ the kitchen down without your supervision.”

More giggles escaped her lips.

He finished cleaning, then grinned as he tossed the awful crystal bowl into the bin.

“You hatin’ it that much?”

She rolled her eyes. “It was from me mom. You know how she gets when we don’t put her stuff up.” He knew all too well. One ugly dust catcher less in their house.

Tom grinned down at her. He set the broom and dustpan aside before stepping closer. His strong, left arm wrapped gently around her waist, and he pressed his nose to her forehead, pulling her into his chest.

“What happened?” he asked simply, holding her closer. Letting her know she was safe and she could cry her heart out to him.

He felt her body tremble. At first, he thought she was cold, but then he felt her fists balled up against his chest—warm, tense. She was furious.

“They’re letting me go,” she whispered, her voice hollow.

Tom stiffened at her words. Letting her go? She was the hardest-working person in that damn office.

“Why, darlin’?”

She let out an angry huff—cute, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. He needed to listen.

“Because I’m married,” she gritted out.

Tom frowned, more confused than ever. “I don’t see the problem. I’m married, and no one bats an eye. What’s so different between the two of us?”

He loosened his hold just enough to look down at her. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and his chest ached at the sight.

“You aren’t expected to care for our future children,” she whispered, gaze dropping to the floor.

Tom took a deep breath, his mind racing. The whole situation made no damn sense.

“But I will be their father,” he mumbled. Then, suddenly, it clicked.

“Bastards,” he scoffed, looking down at her. He gently hooked a finger underneath her chin and lifted her face to look at him. “They want you gone so you stay home and be a good little housewife?”

She nodded.

Tom’s jaw clenched. He knew plenty of women chose to stay home and care for the house and kids. But then there were women like his wife—like his sister Lois—who wanted to work, to contribute, to build something of their own. And now, they were just forcing her out?

Over his dead body. “Not gonna happen while there’s air in my lungs. I’ll go to your office myself and fight for your job.”

But she shook her head. “Don’t. Maybe it’s an opportunity,” she whispered.

He raised a brow. “Oh?”

She nodded. “I was already looking for another job and found one. The head of the office is a woman. And honestly? I hate that job anyway,” she murmured, cuddling closer to him.

He chuckled softly, holding her closer to his chest and wrapping his other arm around her shoulder. He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

“You’re too precious for this world, sweetheart,” he mumbled against her hair, breathing in the sweet scent of her soap.

The tranquillity of the moment was interrupted by the low growl of her stomach.

“The lion woke up,” he whispered teasingly, kissing her forehead before looking down at her.

She grinned. “It’s not sleeping tonight.”

He laughed softly, knowing she’d caught onto his little jab.

“Come on, my darling. Let’s feed it before it wakes the goddamn jungle,” he murmured, pulling her along to the kitchen—ready to once again learn to cook from his brilliant wife.

Here is my TAG LIST if you want to stay updated! 

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[honeybadger16]

Charles Leclerc! Boyfriend Headcanons

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader 

Warnings: sexual themes, swearing, Charles being a simp for his GF

Word Count: .6k

a/n: Im thirsting over this photo so hard. I want them around my throa-

Charles is such boyfriend material 

the first date would include a tour around Monaco with Charles showing you his favorite spots growing up 

Extremely attentive to your mood and feelings

would actively listen and get angry with you when you come home and vent about the stupid people at your job 

“yeah fuck her” 

if you get a period he’ll get you ten different kinds of chocolates and all the types of pad or tampons the store has 

fusses over you

“you need to stay in bed!”

“Charles I’m just on my period not dying” 

“shh you need all the rest you can get” 

when he’s away for races he’ll text you good morning and night every.single.time.

sends you photos of what reminds him of you 

this included the pink tulips in his mom’s garden, the baby deer he spotted on his run, and the delicious strawberry gelato he got with Arthur

his entire camera roll is photos of you off guard 

to you, the photos should never see the light of day, but Charles could stare at them all day

expect all the pet names in the world with him 

“Mon amour, Mon Chéri, princess, my love, etc.”

speaking of princesses, expect him to treat you like an actual princess

likes to tie your high heels before you go out, so he can sneak a few kisses on your body

when he had a rough day he likes to sit at the piano and play for a bit

you usually sit by him resting your head on his shoulder as he pours out his emotions through his self-written songs 

you would encourage him to release his music on his platforms, giving him the courage to share his creativity with the world

at home dates are a must 

these dates would include binge-watching 2000s romcom movies and eating sugary and fat foods Charles’ nutritionist would not approve of

you would also convince him to let you do skincare on him (face masks, moisturizers, toners, etc.) 

he secretly loves the attention you give him and looks forward to stay-in date nights

this man is so dramatic

would get offended if you watched an episode of a show without him 

“I’m so hurt mon amour how could you do this to me.”

fighting is inevitable for any couple, and yours would most likely stem from the stress of racing and the effects it has on Charles 

Sometimes when Ferrari’s strategy or engineering goes to shit, Charles will come home in a bad mood 

This will cause him to respond in a curt and rude manner

After a few hours have passed he will come and apologize to you, kissing you all over your face asking you to forgive him

he loves when you use flavored lip balm, it gives him an excuse to kiss you more as he tries to guess the flavor

his favorite color on you is red, especially when shopping for lingerie

the first time you wore red underwear for him, he nearly came in his pants 

his mom would approve of the two of you seeing how happy you make Charles 

this man is whipped

he’s constantly heart eyes towards you 

will buy you all the nicest perfumes, jewelry, and shoes 

got you a necklace with the initial C and wears a matching bracelet with the initial of your first name 

loves when you wear his name on your shirt during racing weekend 

people would know that you’re dating regardless of the shirt because he’s attached to you in the paddock

whether it’s holding your hand or wrapping his arm around your waist he loves feeling you next to him

always looks for you first in the crowd when he stands on the podium 

considers you his rock and would do anything for you 

[unknown-art-room1]

Starlight Express Headcannons

I don't have many at the moment, but I can try to share what I got, though most will be character related. I'm not gonna go over every character, but the ones I've drawn so far: Greaseball, Caboose, Electra, Dinah, Pearl, Rusty, Hydra, Flattop, and Dustin.

Let's start off with this, I don't think most of the names are names, but actually nicknames. I don't have much to go off of but I think all the characters have human names that are just puns. The coaches are a great example of this; Dinah, Carrie, Ashley, Buffy and etc. The only reason I am saying this, is because of Rusty. He tells others to call him Rusty even if it is mean, it fits but it's not his name. I don't know what the others would be called but it's kinda fun to speculate.

Greaseball

This next one I got no evidence for, but I believe the trains are based on real people. Control has them as toys, but if he was gifted the toy by someone I believe that train is based on that person. Rusty is supposedly his dad's old train so Rusty looks like his dad, Momma/Poppa is based on his grandparents (they kinda act like grandparents in my mind), Pearl would be based on his mom, etc. If he has a train he bought himself, then they're based on someone else he knows or has seen. I really wouldn't be surprised if Control saw a drag queen and thought they looked really cool and that's where Electra's form came from.

Less of a headcannon and more of a theory... But I think the trains actually have a Toy Story/Harry and His Bucket Full Of Dinosaurs vibes. The musical is a dream, but for a dream the kid honestly talks to them and interacts with them more how you might with real people. He talks to them directly, they listen, as he has control over them in a sense. We see this throughout the performance as he threatens to put them in the box if they don't behave. But, he only has control over them when they're the main focus. When they aren't the main focus and towards the end, the trains can act as they want, they tell him to "shut up". I fully believe the dream was only the start of several adventures to come for this kid and his toys.

This one is silly, but I think the engines have different sneezes. Steamers whistle, diesel their horns blow, and the electrics just sound like their computer programme is crashing.

Greaseball, apart from being Southern and an absolute simp I can see them having an interest in engine repair and modification. Look they can't spell, they can only do the more physical based activities well so they might not have had any "schooling" in a sense. Instead they has a more hands on approach, learning things from physically experience. So, before they became a racer I can see them taking an interest in engines, could also explain why they were called Greaseball. Always covered in grease.

Caboose

This one is more for the male version of Greaseball just because he's got the deeper voice, but I could see him doing an Elvis or Johnny Bravo impression to make Dinah laugh.

I've only seen clips, but I think Greaseball is touch adverse to a degree. Whenever it comes to them touching others, they are usually the one who initiates the touch. But if he is being touched by others, they usually watches them as they do it. Caboose put a hand on his shoulder, he turns his head and watches as he does it before looking away. The only person he doesn't really do this with is Dinah. Yes, he usually initiates the touch with her but it's more of an offer. Flexes their muscles, puts their hand out for her to hold while they roll away, he either looks after she touches or before she does, never as it happens. Hell, the whole neck rub thing before they race, they don't let anyone touch them but Dinah.

You can't tell me, if they get angry you wouldn't hear their engine rev. I swear, it's like with every angry huff, it's just the engine revving more and more.

Unlike most of the others, who would be made of plastic or metal as they're toys, I like to think CB is actually made of wood. I don't know how to explain it, but sometimes the actor makes him look wooden in photos which is both creepy and confusing. I don't know how he does it, but the idea of CB being wooden leads to a few behavioural habits. Either he moves about on purpose like a doll to creep others out, just staring at you unblinking or even moves about like a puppet being moved... Or the other idea he tries to bite like he's a literal nutcracker. If given the chance he will bite as a warning or for fun and you'll never know if it's meant to hurt until it's too late.

He can float... This one is kinda self explanatory, but he's wooden so he floats on the water until he becomes water logged.

This one is more silly, but I feel like Caboose would identify as whatever gender is most useful to them or just to do it for a laugh. So, they are now known as the Gender Jester.

Electra

I actually have a few for Electra, so I'm gonna start off with my personal favourite, their mohawks are wigs that connect via magnets. They're electric, they can control others movements via electricity, so holding a wig to their head should be easy... Unless they crash and their system is on the Fritz.

Apart from being a racer and a diva, they secretly are a gamer in their free time. Spending as much time as possible by their computer or whatever counsel they are using. Wearing very relaxed clothes, like a hoodie and joggie bottoms.

Dinah

Everyone says she stress bakes/cooks which I can agree with, but I would also say if she is stressed about someone for whatever reason, she stress bakes/cooks for them. Oh? Rusty is getting stressed about how much work he has to do around the railyard? Okay, time to make him his favourite stew to cheer him up! Pearl is anxious about being new here? Sugar cookies with glitter!

Pearl

This one, I'm not sure if you guys will agree with this one... But I swear she is secretly scary. She gets possessive about Greaseball, she talks about getting revenge after being dumped (especially the revival version), and I swear in one version she does also bully Rusty? I think she's only nice to those she likes, anyone else I can see her being mean to or willing to fight them if given the right motivation.

Dinah started the whole spelling thing for her work. Why? Well some of the people who need to buy food might not know how to say the name of the food, it's just easier to spell it. Especially if it is a kid who is ordering food. A habit she picked up, and kept when not wanting to say certain words around others, or if the word is more negative.

She fell for Greaseball first, they fell harder, I will die on this hill... Unless you give me a really cute alternative.

I only have one for Pearl so far, but it's because she is a new train. She's the new toy for Control, she's got a name, a slight personality but apart from that she doesn't have much else going on for her. The coaches introduce themselves to her first and kinda adopt her into their group. Pearl doesn't know anything about the railyard, only about her friends and her interests that Control gave her. I honestly believe she is more like a child. Not in age or physical form, but her curiosity, she doesn't know how the social hierarchy and norms of the trains are. So, what she likes or what she does she doesn't see it as wrong, just new and confusing.

Take her liking Rusty or teaming up with Greaseball. The other coaches judge her for liking Rusty at first, but she doesn't care. When she teams up with Greaseball, she says "it's only fun". Yes, she was confused about her feelings at the time between GB and Rusty, but she just wants to race. At the time she knows teaming up with Rusty isn't accepted by the others, so Greaseball asking her to race with them? Why wouldn't she say yes? I'm not saying what she did was right, with how she hurt Dinah, but I don't think she did it to be malicious.

Rusty

Hydra

This one is just really me agreeing that Rusty has a whistle stim. But, I also believe the whistle he has also reflects his other emotions, same thing for when he steams. High pitched happy whistle, defeated/deflated it goes from high to low pitched, silly it kinda sounds like he is going "wa, was, waa", angry is both a loud high pitched whistle but he is actively streaming... And in love/flustered soft steam and quiet whistle every time he sighs.

Next to Momma/Poppa, he is the designated train for dealing with the Freights when they misbehave or need to be maintained. That is if they'll listen, doesn't always work if they don't respect him, but he is basically the sibling left in charge of his unruly family.

Flattop

Anything water based they love. Aquariums, ice drinks, water sports/activities, etc. They absolutely love it, they would definitely be the one to start a water fight on a hot day.

When hanging around with Porter, Lumber and Slick, their favourite thing to do together isn't dancing or working. It's a steam bath. Water, coals, maybe logs and some scented oils. Yeah, it's something the four of them can all agree on and have a secret spot where they do this to relax.

The only way you could make them stay still, put a water wheel in front of them. It has both water, and something that spins... Just be careful they don't try to climb it and balance on top of it as it moves, we don't want another accident.

Dustin

He likes football. Not American Football, European football. Either he gets involved or he loves to watch it. If he gets involved, sometimes he can get a bit physical bit if he gets too competitive. If he just watches he is worse, in this case he can watch and judge, and if he sees something that he doesn't agree with... Let's just say he can get a bit... Passionate. Needing to be dragged away before he starts a fight.

Flattop acts tough, and chaotic, but give him a chance and he's a real softie. He would kind of be like that fun uncle, he really loves to annoy you but if you were ever in trouble he is the first on the case to come to your rescue.

He's a lightweight when it comes to drinking. That's it.

He's the sweetest, we all agree with that. I feel as if the coaches would love him. Big friendly guy who is shy? They would dote on him! He has his special interest, which he will defend but he never tries to do anything that would annoy the others. You can't tell me they wouldn't love him.

Despite how shy, and anxious he gets he would go out of his way to make sure you are okay. Something scary happens? He goes to the train that's furthest away or alone to keep them company until everyone knows it's okay again.

Dustin is an ambrivert. He is shy around others, but put him with his close friend or he is sharing his interests and he comes out of his shell completely.

[adventuringblind]

Sunrise

Oscar Piastri x Autistic!Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: The fans and media get to Oscar’s girlfriend in a way he’ll never forgive

Warnings: SUICIDE AND SH depictions, toxic media, death threats, lack of communication, anxiety, Oscar is a mess.

Notes: …. We’re not talking about my patterns alright. I swear I’m in therapy.

Masterlist

Oscar is not normally an irrational person. He prides himself on his calm and collected state. Something that his neurodivergent counterpart loves because it makes him easy to read. Everything is clear to her with him.

He adores his girlfriend. Plans to eventually marry her one day. He doesn’t care that her body isn’t the ‘standard’ for beauty because he finds her stunning. He doesn’t care that she has deep passions for her interests and could talk for hours about it because he loves listening.

So why is it his fans don’t get that same thing? Why do the vultures have to attack her for doing nothing wrong?

He ponders these questions as he sits in the hospital waiting room. Fingers crossed he got to her in time.

~

She’d turned off all her notifications on social media. She had to. For some reason now that Oscar and McLaren are on track and fighting again, people are seeming to notice her more often.

Gone are the days of sneaking off into the quiet corners. Numbered are the days she’ll be able to spend with him at this rate.

The death threats started a month ago. To many things she’d rather not think about. The name calling is flat out unnecessary and something she doesn’t understand.

She knows logically nothing can come if it. But the nagging at her brain won’t stop for some reason. She hates it, being empathetic. She just feels so extremely that she can’t decipher if the words hurt her or if she’s angry and why she feels this way. It’s to much for her mind to process.

So she turns everything off. No social media for her.

She’d simply told Oscar the hate was to much and she needs a break from the internet. Which isn’t a lie, but she didn’t want him to worry about her and start doing poorly because of it.

Instead curled up underneath her blankets with music and switched off the world.

~

Oscar is feeling alright with fifth in Hungary. Not exactly where he wants to be, but it’s still considerably better then where he was previously.

As is routine, he gets into the garage as quickly as he can. The one thing he managed to negotiate for with his PR team: the he gets to check in on his girlfriend before he does media duties.

He peers inside. It’s mostly empty due to the incoming podium celebration. But there is no sign of her. Nothing is the garage or his driver room or Lando’s room, or the bathroom.

His heart thuds in his chest. This is routine, and she always sticks to her routine. If she’s not here then something must be terribly wrong. Oscar pulls out his phone to see he has a text from her and the weight on him lessens just a tad.

‘Sorry I won’t be there for the end of the race! I was feeling incredibly sick so I went back to the hotel room! I love you so much! 🧡🖤’

And suddenly that weight is back. If she left then something is clearly wrong. She’s stayed through blurry vision from migraines, endured hours of overstimulation for him, even dealt with his fans pushing her around. Yet she always stayed. If something caused her to leave then it’s definitely something to worry about.

He ended up missing the podium celebration. His PR manager is looking for him. But he could care less and heads straight for Zak.

He gives a brief summary of what’s going on and defines is as an emergency. That word was what made Zak let him go as long as he promised to keep everyone posted.

Then he ran.

~

Race weekends have come to be one of her favorite things. The consistent hum of car engines stimulates her brain in a way that she loves.

What she doesn’t love is the fans. She wonders for a moment if all the WAG’s have this kind of hate. So she sets off to go find Lily and ask. She’s become close with her over the course of this year. She’s also passionate about things and it’s fun to listen to her get excited over her interests. Something the female can relate to well.

When she neared the Williams hospitality, she saw Lily and waved her over only to be stopped in her tracks by a few fans in McLaren gear. She instantly took notices of the very blatant disregard for personal space and the negative energy they carried with them.

Then they out in some fake smiles and handed her an envelope, walking away without a word.

She was left confused and stunned. But also curious. The envelope in her hands had some weight to it and she can’t help but wonder what’s inside.

She doesn’t hesitate to open it. Her eyes scanning over the contents. Every second she looks at it makes her feel sick to her stomach.

Someone had been stalking them. Not just her and Oscar, but Lando as well. Addresses, pictures, personal information, even images from intimate moments where they are very clearly without clothes.

She could see the possibility of her and maybe Oscar being stalked if these are the same fans who have been harassing her for a couple months now. But Lando as well makes her feel dirty and upset in a way.

It’s to much. She feels to much. It’s overwhelming.

She stuffs everything back inside and finally gets to Lily. A brief excuse leaves her lips that she’s going back to the hotel cause she’s feeling sick. She takes note of Lily’s instant concern and the female does her best to fight back every emotion. It’s utterly draining. She has no energy to sort out her feelings and other peoples feelings when she can’t understand any of them anyway.

Lily lets her go on the condition she texts her when she gets back to the hotel.

She agrees. She'll be messaging everyone when she gets there.

~

Oscar gets into his car and fumbles around for the keys.

He left them with his stuff. His stuff that he doesn't have. Now he's going to have to run all the way back.

He gets out and heads straight to the McLaren garage. Ignoring the strange looks.

He even tries pulling his phone out to call her. Straight to voicemail. Twenty times.

Halfway there, he runs into Lando. The Brit is winded and carrying Oscar's things.

"I'm driving."

~

She can't believe she's actually going to do this. It's not that she's never thought about it before. Feeling alien on your own planet will do that to you. But she feels like she has no other choice.

It's too much. The fans want her dead, and they are willing to do horrible things to get it.

She can't handle it. The feelings of all of it are overwhelming. She can't tell where her emotions end and someone else's start. The letter written to her only points out further.

The last few months have been beyond her limit. She doesn't feel safe in her own skin. Everyone is telling her she'll never be enough. That she is not meant for this life.

She'd thought about her friends as she wrote those damn notes. The blank looks when she says something lnnapropriat for the conversation. The times she's had meltdowns and they had to deal with her.

She thinks about Oscar, too. His note is three pages long. It's intimate, and she hopes he can understand it. Words she's written countless times the last months to make sure he understands her decision.

She lays it out where she knows he'll see it and then locks herself in the bathroom. The bathtub is filled with ice-cold water and not filled all the way to the top. Just enough to make things easy.

Is she really doing this because those damn fans are going to leak everything about their lives tonight if she doesn't? Certainly a factor in her decision. It seems the logical solution if she's to fix the problem. She hates herself for this; that she can't just be what everyone wants.

That thought brings the first cut.

She didn't bother taking off her clothes. She hates the feeling. They cling to her skin and it makes her want to peel her skin off.

The second cut is for her clothing.

Then the third.

And a fourth.

The fifth makes her dizzy.

The sixth causes her vision to dance.

The seventh and eighth she can't even register.

Everything is numb by nine and ten.

Then nothing.

~

Oscar and Lando take three steps at a time.

Apparently, Lando had run into Lily and found out what had happened. The Brit also felt his stomach drop with the feeling something is wrong.

Oscar sprints down the hall when they make it to the right floor. Fumbles around with his key card. Then, finally, he gets the door open.

He scans the room. There is paper stacked neatly on the table. An envelop almost thrown to the side.

He looks at the note addressed to him, and he chokes. Lando is searching for any sign of life but the Aussie can't see past the fact that there are fans asking her to kill herself. And that she felt the need to say yes because now they have stalkers.

He'll think about it later. Right now, Lando is screaming for him.

He barrels to where the voice comes from. Again, he chokes. This time on frantic tears.

Lando is looking like he might pass out, but the Brit is staying strong for his teammate and friend. He tries to get Oscar to help him.

She may be passed out, but the Aussie registers Lando saying she has a pulse. That she's still breathing even if it's shallow.

They work together to drag her out of the water. Her make it so that when they set her down, she immediately is sliding on the tile. They wrap her arm in wash rags. The only thing they can find to slow the bleeding. But the cuts are too deep. It doesn't slow.

So they call an ambulance.

Oscar doesn't register much after that. Listening to Lando instruct him on what to do, including breathing. Riding with her to the hospital. Watching her be taken away. Meeting Lando in the waiting room.

Now he has nothing to do but wait and look through everything he missed.

Her socials are where she's being threatened, sure. But it's the contents of the envelope that got Oscar angry. Way past the point of livid.

"Lan, I- what the hell." He shows everything to his teammate, and terror stretches across his face.

And then she was left with a ticking clock and an ultimatum. Disappear or have all this and more released to the public. What better way to disappear than to do it permanently.

It breaks him. He can't breathe past the thought of not having her around. He can't live knowing she left because the world is suck a cruel place. And he feels utterly selfish for wishing her to stay with him through it.

Somehow, he ended up on the floor, sobbing dramatically into Lando's sweatshirt.

But then others start to appear. It's not just the two of them because there are so many people that care for her.

Max shows up first with a certain Monegasque in tow, followed by Alex and Lily, the latter of which looks about as broken as him. Then George and Lewis appear, followed by Logan.

They explain what happened. Everyone is shocked, and there are no words between them for a few minutes as everyone processes.

"I don't understand why someone would do this." Pipes Max. He knows about death threats fairly well, but this is a new level of extreme.

"We could say something. Make a statement about it and start a suicide awareness campaign." Lewis suggests.

Oscar knows a campaign probably won't do much against whoever sent this, but a statement might. He wants to say everything on his mind.

And that's exactly what he did. His PR team be damned because this takes precedence.

~

She wasn't expecting to wake up. She wasn't supposed to wake up. So how is she awake?

She cracks her eyes open just a tad to assess her surroundings. Her arm is bandaged and she's underneath some of the worst textures to come in contact with.

The thing that catches her eye is the brown locks of a specific Australian. She moves her hand to them and runs her fingers gently along his scalp.

he shifts around a bit before relaxing into the feeling. At least she could give him this before she ruins his and Lando's life.

She's not sure how long they go on like this until Oscar sits up and yawns. He blinks a few times and adjusts himself to the florescent lights.

She's not sure she's ever seen Oscar cry before. Once at a really sad movie, but even that was just slight. Now he's crying tears for her. The sound makes her tear ducts spring into action as well.

"Please, don't ever do that again." He rasps. His voice crackles with the sound of sobs.

She doesn't say anything. She can't say anything. So instead, Oscar crawls into the bed with her. He just cradles her body into his.

"I'm sorry." Is all she manages to say. And after a few more breathes she continues. "I didn't want to be the reason you and Lando lose your jobs. Or be the cause of your stress. And then everything felt like it was too much, and I just wanted it to stop." She feels pathetic.

"I promise that I will never be upset with you for something like this. The fans pushed and pushed and then drove you into a corner. But in the future, you have to come to me. I can't help if you don't communicate with me."

"What about racing? And Lando? And all your personal information?" The weight she'd had before has made a sudden return.

"Should be taken care of. We beat them to the punch and made a statement about how someone close to McLaren had been threatened and the person responsible would be posting personal information." Oscar explains. She feels better knowing they didn't say it was her name. "I also said I would be taking a break from socials for personal reasons... and also said something about how much I love you."

~

The news came out eventually. It's not every day that F1 driver's campaign for mental health. But they've all been incredibly helpful. She is on the road to recovery and Oscar intends on being with her through every step of the way.

[bellewintersroe]

Daniel Ricciardo x HornerDaughter! Reader - smut.

Part 11 omfg I am so excited to write this chapter! Let’s hope it doesn’t flop… You can find my masterlist for F1 here which contains the other 10 parts to this story- be warned a lot of it is heavy on the smut.

After a heavy night of partying in Belgium and some teasing on both parts, Daniel had had enough and is bold enough to make a move. Sick of their semi separation, he’s desperate to reunite, and they do, maybe not so smoothly as he would have liked but it’s the end result which counts, and Daniel wants nothing more than to have his girl back in his arms… Warning: 18+ heavy mentions of smut, oral, graphic descriptions of rough sex, choking, spanking etc. Swearing (obviously) and arguments. Daniel is as angry as Daniel Ricciardo can seemingly get. I am FERAL for this man…

No matter who was on the top or bottom, you knew there was going to be a celebration after a Grand Prix. Whether certain people joined in or not, you were bound to find a good handful of racers making the most of their evening off.

Y/n found herself surrounded by plenty of partygoers as she joined the Red Bull team and pretty much every other team for a celebration in a buzzing club. She swore she’d steer away from alcohol, especially with everything going on with Daniel, but she couldn’t help herself. After two drinks, the rest went down way too easily.

Daniel. He was here tonight, celebrating with everybody. The AlphaTauri car might’ve been a tractor, and Daniel had faced some difficult obstacles since racing, but he was doing great considering all of those factors.

She could feel her eyes gaze over to him every now and then, and the more intoxicated she became the more she couldn’t stop, nor control herself. She wanted him, not even just in a sexual way, she just wanted to be in his vicinity, stand next to him, talk to him- act how they used to do. Her heart yearned at the thought of how close they used to be. Why couldn’t they have that back? Daniel, of course felt the same way. He just couldn’t bare to look in her direction, when he did, his jaw tightened seeing all the other men eyeing her up. He couldn’t torture himself like that, not purposefully, anyway. You see, she had come up with the dumb idea that talking to the mechanics of Red Bull would make Daniel jealous. It did- but it didn’t mean it was right to do. It was incredibly immature and toxic, but part of her wanted to see exactly what he was missing out on. She always socialised with these people, but Daniel knew it was different tonight. Her hand was resting on Jay’s shoulder as she seemed to laugh borderline non stop, apart from when she was swigging down a vodka cranberry. Daniel physically rolled his eyes, temper spurred on with the alcohol as he continued to drink a stupid amount, like he was in his 20s again. “Have you see the video of somebody of not being able to get the side jack off the car, he goes flying, has that ever happened to you?” She was entertained, half distracted as she talked to the many mechanics and engineers around. “Oh yeah, yeah! Thank god it wasn’t me!” Jay knocked her arm, swaying in an intoxicated amusement. “So- so-“ Ollie, one of the younger mechanics leaned over the table. “-Be honest, have you ever got with any of the drivers?” I snickered at his question, my eyes finding the one man I certainly had ‘got with’. Daniel was between a group of his friends at the bar, chatting away, it was as though it was his instinct to turn and look directly at her the second her eyes were on him. Her lips tugged up as she remained focused on the Australian whilst shaking her head. “No.” She glanced back to Ollie. “No, I haven’t. Some F2 guys though.” When she glanced back to Daniel his jaw was tight and he was watching her in a way she’d never seen. He looked hungry, jealous, Daniel never looked so dark, until now. He looked so attractive, beautiful, but there was something about the way he was stood and stared at her that told her he was still bothered. Of course he was, he was the one that said he loved her. Deciding to give up this small game of cat and mouse she was playing, she just continued to enjoy the conversations with everybody, choosing not to go up and dance with a group of intoxicated man. A sensation of guilt had washed over her, so when she returned from the toilets to wash her hands clean of anything mean she’d been intending on, she pulled up at the bar, glancing down to see a tanned, veiny arm pressed up to the bar next to her.

He let out a small mutter of her name, one only she could hear. Her back stiffened and she looked up to him with a daring smirk. Daniel thought he’d forgotten how to breathe for a second, until he took a hold of her wrist, gently, so she could break free if she wanted. “Can we leave?” He was pissed though, there was no room for a smirk in the dispute they were about to have.

“Now?!” Her heart fluttered at the question, she was already stepping away from the bar, “yeah.” Daniel responded bluntly as she nodded, following directly after him with the weirdest feeling in her tummy. There was a tension between them, and his grip on her wrist got unconsciously tighter when she began giggling and speaking to people mid being pulled out to a car.

“You okay?” She innocently spoke, trying to distract herself from the fact she was actually alone with him. She brushed her hair, found some gum, reapplied her lipgloss. You’d think she was going to the club, not leaving.

“Yeah, just…” he let out an inward sigh, annoyance filling his bones. “We’ll talk when we’re back.”

You see, her filter wasn’t exactly great when she was drunk, nobody’s was- but that mixed with Daniel’s already annoyance, was a bad combination. “Talk about what?” She shuffled in her seat, knees pulled up onto the seats, tucked up slightly besides her as Daniel glanced down, noticing the slight pink lace of her underwear showing through. “Put your seatbelt on.” He shook the improper thoughts away, grinding his teeth together and jittering his leg uncontrollably. Daniel hated being like this, the rage that he could usually contain was spilling out purely from the fact he’d had one too many drinks.

Worst of all, she gave him a funny stare, taken aback by the command. He was starting straight forwards, hand jiggling on his leg. She’d never seen him so wound up, ever. After a second of reacting to his comment, she sat back, plugging her seatbelt in silently. “Talk about what, Daniel?” She tried again after a moments silence. The screen between the driver and them was closed, but it still wasn’t ideal, not for him anyway.

He inhaled deeply, turning his face to stare at the space between them. One of her hands rested on the middle seat, he wanted to reach out and take it. His emotions were so twisted, he couldn’t figure where one started and the other stopped. “Just-” he cut himself off again and she was growing frustrated with the lack of answers.

“Just what? I would’ve stayed out if I knew this was the case.” He winced at the harsh tone of her words, maybe he shouldn’t have dragged her out, maybe she really didn’t feel the same as he did anymore… He inhaled this time, scratching at the back of his neck. The conversation fell flat and both of them stared out of either side of their windows, drearily thanking the driver before returning through a back door into their hotel. “What do you want to talk about?” She tried again, striding to catch up to him.

“Just this-” he pointed between them, “what was happening in there, the way you kept looking at me when you were-”

“You were the one that was looking at me!” She cut him off, the two of them continued walking into the hotel lobby. “When you were flirting with all those men, look, I don’t play childish games like that.” His tone was firm, firmer than she’d ever heard Daniel be. She didn’t like it, it was hurtful and she felt kinda bad over how upset he was. However, nor did she like his accusations…

“Flirting, I was just talking with them.” She spat out quietly whilst they waited for a lift. Daniel scoffed at her words and she could really feel her rage beginning to grow. When they got in the lift she jittered her leg, he pressed the button to his room and she in objection, pushed the buttons to hers.

“I’m not a fucking idiot, that was fuckin’ immature in there and you know it.” Daniel pointed out as he remained silent, swallowing harshly as the lift began moving upwards. Not fast enough, again, it was awkward, tense. Her breathing was fast and heavy, and she knew she was going to explode. Finally, the lift slowed to his floor. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?” She inhaled sharply. “No.” He lowered his tone, staring right back at her now. “Thanks for dragging me back for nothing.” She scoffed as Daniel gulped, stepping out the now open doors. She watched him with sadness, the same aching feeling filling her when he began leaving. It was in the split of a second that Daniel decided he couldn’t just leave her there, he smacked his hand over the door, preventing it from closing as she raised her head, her sad little face making Daniels heart ache.

“Just come speak to me, properly. Please.” He couldn’t look at her, she followed slowly back to his room, he pushed the door open for her as she awkwardly walked in first. Her eyes fell to the floor as she stole a glance at Daniel locking the door. He looked so good, yet so bothered. His brow was tense and she’d never seen him look so miserable before.

“Look, just speak to me normally, we can’t keep going on doing this.” He stepped in front of her now, forcing her to tilt her head up to look at him once more. Their eye contact made her weak, it made her want to cry. “I just… I don’t know how to act around you anymore, you really upset me and I was just- just immature to want to get back at you, I know, but at some point I was just speaking to them. I didn’t purposefully sit with those men just to annoy you.” “I know.” He sighed out, the two of them stood in the hallway practically face to face. She glanced around his room slightly, double bed, tidy, larger and nicer than her own. A couch was sprawled in front of a large window, the lights from outside glowing through and creating an orange hum to the room. There was a side lamp on, nothing else. Her head dropped again, and she swallowed in tension, hating the fact she began to warm to the fact she was here with him, alone…

“Sorry.” She swallowed as he felt something soften deep inside of him. “It’s fine.” Daniel hushed as she began fidgeting under his gaze. Recognising he could’ve been slightly intimidating, he stepped back, glancing around the large room.

“Max um…” she began causing him to turn around again as her stomach did backflips with anxiety. “Max figured out what was happening, kinda.” She winced as Daniel sighed. “I know.”

“I told him as well.” She blurted out as Daniel froze, waiting for her to continue but nothing else came out. “Told him what?”

“We weren’t doing whatever, anymore.” She awkwardly spoke as Daniel’s body slumped whilst sitting down on the bed. She took the drooping of his shoulders the wrong way, her anxieties (and alcohol) telling her that he was ashamed. Ashamed of her, of their secret little affair.

“Is it so bad, Daniel? I mean, would it be? People knowing about us? Because I don’t-” she took a deep breath, “I don’t care about people finding out, I was never ashamed of you.” His head snapped up at this now, face contorting in confusion.

“Ashamed?! You think I was ashamed?” She held her thumb up to her lips worriedly, watching him sit up much straighter now. With a gentle nod he let out a quick exhale, dropping his head.

“I was never ashamed, god y/n, it was just your dad, I-”

“Oh, Daniel why?!” She raised her voice in annoyance. “Because it would be inappropriate!”

“Why?” She blinked, stepping closer, breathing increased as did her frustration. Daniel didn’t stand, he didn’t want to look down on her, it felt cruel. “Why?!” She repeated when he didn’t reply, his mouth opened but nothing came out. Daniel asked himself that too, why was it inappropriate? They were both consenting adults, they both clearly had the very same intentions, they’d only met each other a year prior. The more Daniel pushed this ‘inappropriate’ narrative the weirder she began to feel, a sense of rejection filling her.

“Inappropriate.” She borderline laughed to herself. He felt ridiculed, caught out on his own lie. “Do you really think that?” She eyed him up and down now, his jaw tensed and he responded with a quick, “no.” Her teeth found her bottom lip, sucking it in as she began gnawing nervously. Something shifted in the air, and when she sighed out, the anger escaped her body with her breath. “Okay… what now then?” She cleared her throat.

“What now?” Daniel gulped again, glancing at her up and down. She nodded, holding eye contact with the Australian who scanned over her features. The gentle knot in her brow softened when Daniel stood up, her chin lifting as he reached out, taking hold of her face and moving in for a kiss that was bruising with want. Both their heart beat in a simultaneous rhythm, unbeknown to the two of them. Fuck, Daniel couldn’t not. He loved her, he needed her. Their lips moulded together for the first time in what felt like centuries, hands grabbing at one another as she moaned in shock, spurring Daniel on to tug her closer with a stumble. He held her upright, hands snatching at her waist closer to his. His finger tips dug into her flesh, keeping her close as he stepped further back.

“C’mere, c’mere.” He cooed, melting her on the spot as they tumbled onto the bed, knees either side of him. How they got in this position so quickly she’d never comprehend, but that didn’t matter. All she cared about was the feeling of his lips on hers, his hand smoothing down her skirt, snatching at the material, pulling her face closer into his- she enjoyed the idea he had an animalistic need for her. Their separation had been tough, god knows how either coped so well without one another, but they were sure making up for lost time now.

His hand slipped over the buttons of her cargo skirt, slipping her easily out as they momentarily broke the kiss so she could strip herself free. Daniel was opened mouth and red in the cheeks, panting as he looked her up and down. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen and before she went to climb back onto him, he caught her again.

“These too, baby.” He was quick to mutter, fingers snapping at the band of her thongs. She smirked back to him, tugging them down with his aid before discarding them to one side. Daniel fell to his knees in front of the bed, kissing over her stomach and lower abdomen before throwing her leg over his shoulder.

His lips and tongue worked in ways she could comprehend as he ate her out, slurping up her wetness like he hadn’t eaten his last meal. Fuck, the pleasure was dizzying, and when his hand slightly slapped against her ass she let out a louder moan, signalling her want for the rough sensation.

Daniel hummed out a chuckle against her pussy, squeezing over her cheek, rubbing the sore part before bringing his hand down once more and spanking her. Her hips jumped, deeper into his mouth as he moaned at the delightful sensation of her pussy throbbing on his tongue.

“I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum.” She whined, head tilting back and body becoming rigid. She could barely stand straight as his arms began shaking, holding her upright as her orgasm crashed over her. “Oh my god, oh fuck.” She rolled her hips into his mouth as he swiped his tongue from her hole up to her clit, “I could do this all fucking day.” He commented lowly as she moaned in response. She was aching in the best way, pussy so sensitive as his actions didn’t slow. “Da-Daniel.” A light tap on his head slowly broke him off as he pressed one more kiss to her stomach. He swore he was hard as a fucking rock, the slight of her glistening pussy in front of her sending him wild.

“I fucking need you, baby. I need you so bad.” He then admitted, practically lifting her up and dropping her back onto the bed. She let out a whimper in protest when he began pulling his cock out. He was still fully clothed, eager to fill her up. “I wanna suck you off first.” She bluntly admitted as he wiped the back of his mouth, wet from before. Daniel moved down, kissing her deeply once again, her lips so soft and warm as he curled his fingers through her wetness.

The breath that escaped her lips was heavenly as he pulled back to watch her face, but she brought him back in by biting his bottom lip. Daniel strained out a moan, feeling himself beginning to leak with precum. “Please.” She then whispered again, kissing close to his earlobe as Daniel shuddered at the contact.

Who was he to deny such a thing? He stripped his shirt off when he leant back, hers following suit, tits bouncing when they were freed. Daniel could see her pierced, peaked nipples all fucking night long, it drove him insane. The perky swell of them, the way they bounced whenever she’d walk. Hold fuck, Daniel felt a pressure in his abdomen like no other. He could’ve came at the fucking sight of her tonight. He was worried he’d blow his load too quickly when she began sucking. There was no teasing, she went right to it, wet lips suctioning around his aching member as she licked the precum clean off his tip. Her hands and fingers danced over his balls, fingers occasionally reaching lower which Daniel didn’t know was an accident or not.

His groans were uncontrollable, his fingers tightened in her hair, eyes rolling back from the wet vacuum her mouth had formed. He had to focus really fucking hard on not cumming down her throat there and then. Only when she broke off and let out a slight, “ah.” Daniel came back to reality.

“You okay?” His grip immediately loosened as she giggled, climbing over his lap so his cock was directly facing her chest. “Yeah.” As she pushed her tits together Daniel instinctively eased his cock between them. “Ah fuck.” He choked out, his darkest fantasies coming to light as her tits squeezed over his large cock. It just about worked, her tits were the perfect size, just allowing him to slip back and fourth between the valley of her chest.

“Daniel.” She whined as he snatched her by the chin, forcing her to face him as she smirked at the dominance he showed. “I like it when you’re like this.” She muttered as he panted out, throwing his hips forwards. “Spit on my cock, fuck y/n.” He moaned as she did exactly what she was told, lubricating his cock further as he easily glided between her tits, letting out an actual moan, one that made her legs close tightly together.

“Fuck, keep looking at me.” He growled, pushing his hips, harder, faster, unable to get enough of the new sensation. “Fuck my mouth.” She gasped out, holding eye contact as Daniel felt himself loosing complete control. His cock messily slipped from her breasts, up to her lips again as he stood on the bed, her knelt before him, shuffling back so she was pressed against the head of the bed.

“Fuck, tap me if you wanna stop.” Daniel blurted, lost by the warmth of her mouth. She hummed sexily, the vibrations running all over his cock as he pumped into her mouth, slowly at first. She whined, pulling him by the ass into her as he snapped his hips into her once again. She tugged on his pants and underwear, freeing his ass as he held either side of her head, pumping his hips carefully into her.

He was holding back, she could tell so broke free from his cock. “Don’t hold back Daniel, I want you to use me.” Her words caught him off guard, twisting something deep inside of him.

“Fuck, are you sure?” But she was back on his cock before he had time to answer, he couldn’t cope. He knew there was little to no control left in him as he began fucking his cock into her throat. She could take him so deep without choking now, he closed his eyes and began thrusting into her warmth, overwhelmed by the sensation as he replayed her words over and over again in his mind. Use me, use me, use me. Something in Daniel snapped as he began fucking her face harsher, faster. Now, he watched for any sign of distress or the slightest movement for him to stop, but she was almost smiling around his cock, pulling him in harder as he rocked back and fourth into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as he uncontrollably panted and moaned. Daniel was never too vocal in bed, but this was something else.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He pulled out quickly, the sensation creeping up on him a little too quickly. “Cum in my mouth, please.” Her plead was desperate as she wrapped herself around him, it not taking him more than four pumps before he was spilling into her mouth, his limbs shaking as he let out the loudest groan, not afraid to show her how good he was feeling.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The Australian whined as she slowly sucked him, coercing him through the orgasm. Some of his cum dribbled down onto her lap and the bed below, forming a mess that Daniel felt proud of. He was slowly milking himself in her mouth, sighing in disbelief as he pulled off, giving her time to catch her breath back.

“Good girl, fuck, good girl.” He praised, still groaning from his high as he kissed her lips, not seeming to care the fact she’d just swallowed his cum. Seeing her all fucked out made him want to keep going, his erection didn’t falter once.

She stood up to clean herself up in the bathroom, Daniel frowning slightly. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, I thought you were… done.” She glanced up and down him, noticing he really wasn’t ‘done’ at all. “Are you?” Daniel questioned as a smirk arose on her face, smiling before plonking herself back down into the bed with him.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Daniel hushed out, kissing her once more as he rolled on top of her body. “Me too.” She gently spoke, sliding her fingers through his hair as he pressed his lips to her cheek, then her temple. “Glad you came back with me.” He muttered, more muffled this time as she could feel him lining up his sensitive cock against her aching hole.

“Needed you for so long.” She inhaled sharply as he pulled off to watch her reaction as he slid into her tightness. They both let out a simultaneous groan, the friction being something both of them so desperately yearned for. “Daniel.” She whined out his name, pushing his hips further into her own, legs spreading wider so Daniel could nuzzle in perfectly. The pleasure that spread through both of them was too much to cope with. Her eyes rolled back in her head as Daniel fucked his sensitive cock inside of her, enjoying each gasp that escaped her mouth when he did. She felt like he was in control, just what she wanted. His lips came down to attach to her neck, kissing and sucking as he stroked his hand over the smooth of her skin there.

A nudge of her hand send Daniel’s hand wrapping around her throat as she offered him a teasing smile. His hand squeezed and he felt his cock twitch. “Fuck.” Daniel groaned, other hand moving up to fist around her hair. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” The Aussie moaned, dropping his forehead against hers before giving her a bruising kiss. “Yeah.” She nodded, voice hoarse from his hand wrapped around there.

“You want it harder, baby?” He questioned, pushing his sweaty body up slightly, fist pinning her down to the bed by her hair. “Yeah.” She whined again, rolling her naked hips against his, pussy wrapping tighter around his cock. Daniel couldn’t control himself, nor could he stop the painfully loud squeaking of the mattress that must’ve been echoing to every single room that surrounded them. He didn’t give a shit, neither did she. Their sex was rough, careless, but full of emotion. When Daniel had hitched her up on the sofa, opening up the windows, he purposefully nuzzled his body as closely to hers as possible.

“What if people hear?” She sighed, rolling herself back onto his cock. Daniel’s teeth tightened at her slow movements. “They will.” He inched his cock deeper inside of her.

“Fuck, Daniel. Pull my hair again.” She hungrily spoke, turning over her shoulder to eye him up as he listened immediately. “Want you to fuck me so good.” She then spoke as his eyes fluttered shut, an exhale leaving his lips as he focused on anything but cumming deep inside her.

“Give it to me Daniel, please.” She begged. “Want you to hit me.” She wiggled her bum as his fingers tightened around her flesh, lifting and then falling to spank on the flesh below. The sensation of pain mixed in with pleasure left a pornographic sound to escape her lips.

Daniel did it again, and again, and again, before he couldn’t control himself anymore. His hips were snapping harder, faster into hers, the view of the city outside becoming overwhelming as she bit down into a pillow to avoid herself letting out the screams of pleasure she needed to.

“Daniel, Daniel.” She moaned out her name, he groaned in response. “Cum inside me, fuck, please give it to me. I’ve missed it so bad.” Fuck. How could he last when she was speaking like that?

“Fuck-” he could only choke out, the pace becoming bruising as he let go of her hair, snatching at both her hips to force back into his own. She was pleading, begging him through his orgasm, and as he felt himself growing nearer she let out a low cry of, “I love you, Daniel…” In that moment he’d never felt better. His orgasm washed over him, cum filling up her tightened little pussy as her words were thick on his mind. Shuddering and twitching, he carefully rode her through his orgasm, tensing every muscle in his body as he did so.

His body collapsed on hers, large hands engulfing hers, lips kissing the back of her shoulder. “Fuck… I love you too…” Finally…

————————————————————————

@dinodumbass @mccall-muffin @allabouthappiness @benbarneslut @ricciardhoe-3 @headinthecloudssblog @f1wintermoon13 @hrlzy @topguncultleader

[chussyracing]

What has been happening in the world of motorsports lately?

Williams has a new sponsor to become Atlassian Williams Racing

They also became the first team to launch their 2025 car officially (since then we also saw 2025 McLaren hiding in one-off testing camo livery and Haas during a private filming day at Silverstone yesterday)

Tina Hausmann is returning for her second season in F1 Academy with Aston Martin

Nina Gademan will be driving for Prema (after it was already announced she will be repping Alpine)

Allwyn scored a new partnership with F1 as a part of LVMH group and they also signed with McLaren the next day (fun fact the founder of the KKCG Group that Allwyn is part of is 3rd richest Czech guy so all hate is sent his way from my side <3 I hope he trips and dies with his 8 billion in his pocket)

Aston Martin became (as far as I am aware) the first F1 team with an official beauty brand partnership in Elemis

Kinda fits with Carlos Sainz shooting an ad for L’Oreal Paris

Mercedes fired up their 2025 engine

Eni partnered with Alpine (again) and there are rumours they could get a partnership with MSC Cruises too and maybe Valvoline

The Ferrari/UniCredit event in Milan will take place on 6th March

And F1 introduced the entertainment for tomorrow’s season launch at O2:

Host will be Jack Whitehall (comedian and actor I never heard about)

Feature by Kane Brown (also never heard about)

Bryan Tyler’s Are We Dreaming (the composer of the F1 theme song, I do know him)

Take That (british band)

Mgk (“award-winning multi-platinum recording artist”??? so I guess a musician?)

There are RUMOURS that Checo, Guanyu and Val are all on Cadillac’s list of potential drivers (besides Colton Herta)

Cupra Kiro took a similar route to Alpine and are now co-owned by an investor group including Idris Elba

Max also became the brand ambassador of AlphaTauri

After MBS said they could just cut off radio communication altogether if drivers don’t stop swearing, he also said they will have multiple race directors

FIA now announced they will have one race director (Rui Marques) but he will have a deputy race director in Claire Dubbelman (so where is the truth)

THEY MASSACRED MY BEAUTIFUL GIRL, Monaco will have a title sponsor for the first time ever in history, it will be Formula 1 TAG Heuer Grand Prix de Monaco (wtf)

Congo wants to stop the talks of Rwanda with F1 due to a conflict in the area (F1 answered something along the lines… we are looking at it)

There are many more team kit / race suits / helmet drops for 2025

Franco has a good chance of driving for Alpine this season if anyone was still in doubt but Vowles say that he will then return to Williams

Third year in row now, rumours about Seb returning to F1 appear

F3 will be using 100% sustainable fuel already this year

Max broke a new F1 record and led the champioinship for 1000 days in row now (who was the last person to lead a championship before him you ask? Yeah. Charles. Smh. Ferrari give him the car or so I swear)

Szafnauer is apparently working on a project to bring 12th team to the grid (so this must be what Andretti was hinting at) – btw there are rumours F1 is very much interested in the team being a Chinese manufacturer

The new Hulu show Downforce with Daniel Ricciardo included will not be happening

Rafael Villagomez will stay with VAR in F2 for this year

and Victor Martins got confirmed for ART in F2 so F2 grid is complete

and Charles randomly dropped two new pieces when he woke up at 11am today: MC24 and SIN24

Now for pure gossip from my comms:

Gabriel Bortoleto made good choices under Fernando Alonso’s management and apparently has an exit clause from Sauber if there is a better offer for him and he also has “first buy” option from McLaren

A lot of people online were angry at Hungarian’s newspaper investigation into driver pays for this year (let me mention two interesting parts)

Yuki is criminally underrated with the same rumoured pay as Kimi Antonelli (despite being in his 5th year with the team), apparently it is due the Japanese personal sponsors not bringing as much money as the team would like from him

And Charles’ pay compared to Lewis’ (first of all lewis is 7 times wdc so idk if anyone expected them being paid the same??? But there are actually many other reasons like Ferrari sponsoring Charles’ junior career including a prestigious seat in Prema Racing in 2017 in F2 or Arthur running in FP1 in AD 2024 which reportedly took about a million out of Charles’ pay)

They have “multiple sources” saying Kimi Antonelli totalled 3 cars during his testing to be prepared for F1 which is the main reason Toto hired Val as a reserve driver, in fear of something like that happening in Kimi’s rookie season

Ferrari said no to Newey because he wanted a share in the team and with it also decision rights, on the other hand, Aston didn’t mind that – but now that Newey is a shareholder he apparently doesn’t agree with Lance staying in the team

Haas has Ollie for two years with + 1 option but Ferrari has first-buy rights on him

[f1-unpopularopinions]

I already want this season to be done with. Yeah yeah Norris will lose the championship by less than 7 points and the fan base will be angry at Piastri for Hungary to which Piastri will react to about as nonchalantly as to the whole Alpine contract fiasco. Done and dusted.

I'm far more excited for next year because it is going to be absolute chaos. There's most likely gonna be at least 4 rookies (Bearman, Antonelli, Doohan and Lawson) with possibilities for even more depending on Audi and how badly the Redbull family is gonna implode. The regulations are changing in 2026 so no team is gonna give two flying fucks about next year's cars because they are so focused on 2026. Almost every team is in shambles already and it's gonna be even worse next year

The Redbull family right now has too many drivers but at this speed they aren't gonna have enough by the time the season ends. Riccardo and Perez just aren't performing, Verstappen is threatening retirement in every other interview and at this speed FIA is gonna issue Tsunoda a permanent race ban for swearing on the radio (/j). Meanwhile all their important personnel are jumping the ship while they still can.

Leclerc is gonna show Hamilton the ways of catholic guilt and Ferrari disasterclass and we are gonna have our next multi worldchampion failing to bring glory back to Maranello.

The Mclarens are gonna tear each other to pieces if they truly start back on equal footing and the car manages to perform.

Russell is stuck babysitting a teenager driving a fucking Mercedes while Wolff tries to court Verstappen right in front of his eyes.

Stroll is gonna drive around in a car with Newey influences and zero spacial awareness. Alonso's El Plan for his 3rd championship still doesn't work.

Gasly and Doohan are gonna make up half of Alpine's staff by themselves while the other half is striking again. The team's gonna have more owners than engineers.

Ocon is either punting Bearman off the track at every opportunity or teaching him to be the next 6-foot-something track terror.

Audi. I don't even know what's gonna happen with Audi. Either Hulkenberg is also stuck on babysitting duty in a car that barely moves or Bottas is telling him how to reconnect with nature during the 5 minute pit stops when the wheel nuts stop working again. Either way I feel like alcohol is gonna be involved.

Genuinely think that Williams guys are gonna be the happiest next year because the expectations are gonna be so low that getting to the points is pleasant surprise and neither of them need worry about their appendixes. Until of course one of them throws a house party that's too loud and pisses off the other because apparently Albon and Sainz live right next to each other in the same building.

Chaos I tell you. And I can't wait!

Send us your unpopular F1 opinions!