#we WILL change these tyres

[slythereen]

charles is being very assertive on the radio today like this man has given up on playing nice

[charles-leclerc-official]

have u seen this? https://www.tumblr.com/schumi-honey/761119372069748736?source=share our boys in red have been hitting it out the park this year!

Ferrari have been consistently pulling off the fastest pit stops all season. Thank you pit crew you are supporting the red car beautifully <3

And this is also great because anyone who says Ferrari have bad pit stops is factually wrong.

Also RIP Sauber

[da-riya]

The worst thing about driving is that at any moment your tyre can just pop and you're suddenly in front of someone's house

[6ebe]

When it’s 8:30 am and you’ve been awake for 3 hours already and spent 1.5 of those hours doing sport 🤔

[coco-loco-nut]

Revelations

pairing: Daniel x reader

summary: Daniel casually mentions his wife after 11 YEARS OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP. Danny Ric comeback. 2025 season, he is back on rbr

request are open pookie masterlist part 2

—————————

Being an engineer for Red Bull was something else. You have been with them since you graduated college, and truthfully you never want to leave, the team is your family, having been with them for 11 years.

You met your husband through your job, both starting at the ripe old age of 23, and despite the potential HR violations, Christian Horner practically set the two of you up on a date after being oblivious about each other’s crushes. Thus began Red Bull’s best kept secret.

“Happy 10 years, Danny,” you kiss your husband, him watching you analyze data. Christian made him promise to never use you as a mole, and the two of you very quickly agreed. Even when he was on Renault and McLaren, work talk was kept quiet. Daniel had a great season last year and was brought back to Red Bull Racing, Christian promoted you to be his race engineer, knowing Daniel would listen to you.

“Happy 10 years, my love,” he hugs you tight. Your children are home in Australia with their grandparents for the weekend.

“Good morning, Ricciardos. Happy wedding anniversary,” Christian greets you, sitting for the pre-race meeting. Christian celebrates your wedding anniversary almost as much as you do, but he is a part of the family. He officiated your wedding at this track 10 years ago today, and he is the godfather of your eldest.

“Good morning, I printed out some data sheets so we can determine strategy. I noticed some unusual tyre degradation, while it could be from the unusually high track temperatures yesterday, it is something we should plan for today,” you start, passing out the papers. Daniel will never not be able to admire you. Sometimes he misses what people say because he stares at you, the exact reason Christian helped get you two together.

“Let’s grab some coffee then go on a track walk,” Daniel holds his hand out to you after the strategy meeting, you happily take it. After your lap around the track, you meet with the other engineers while Daniel warms up and does media. As you are watching the F2 race for valuable data, someone from PR comes over to you.

“Watch this clip,” she says and you oblige.

Daniel, you seem in better spirits than usual, care to share?

I don’t know mate, I am usually a pretty happy person.

Here I was thinking that maybe you finally had a girlfriend

Nah, I don’t think my wife would be happy about that… I wasn’t really supposed to say that. If you are watching, sorry! I’ll make it up to you, love.

Well, I hope there isn’t a couch in your future. Good luck today.

Thanks, but she’s put up with me for 11 years, I doubt there will be a couch in the future.

“Oh, he might have the couch tonight,” you laugh a little, honestly surprised it took 11 years for him to accidentally say something.

“Looking back at all the photos, he is wearing a wedding ring, how did we not see that?” You hear one of the Mercedes drivers say outside the garage.

“You saw the video?” Daniel asks as you playfully glare at him.

“I did. I have a winning strategy for you, so maybe you can move off the couch tonight. Lose and you stay there longer,” you tease. Being his race engineer helps so much because you can subtly say things and no one picks it up, and any interactions between you seem normal.

“Yes, Mrs. Ricciardo,” he smiles and goes to get changed for the race.

Last car in, good luck Daniel

I don’t need luck, I have you guiding my race

Ok, Daniel, whatever you say

The strategy works out well, and planning for the hotter heat was a smart move. Christian hasn’t told you not to race with Max, so you push Daniel for the overtake.

“Come on, honey badger,” you whisper. Daniel has had the better strategy and better pacing, all day so he easily overtakes and keeps the lead through the final five laps.

Okay Daniel, last lap, Verstappen behind, keep the pace.

Does this mean I’m off the couch?

Focus.

Sorry.

And that’s P1, P1 very good, Daniel. Red Bull 1-2. You are officially off of the couch.

LET’S GO! Thank you team! I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Thanks for the brilliant strategy, and for letting me off the couch. Best wife ever.

Mhmm. Happy 10 years. Parc Ferme is clear for you, pull in so the team can celebrate.

Let’s just say that F1 TV streaming your radio broke the internet, and the drivers when they all got out of their cars and into the garages. You followed the team to wear Daniel was parking and the team pushed you to the front. Daniel celebrated there with the team, taking his helmet off and kissing you. The team wolf whistles around you.

“Go to the podium, we will celebrate with you there,” you push him in the direction of where he needs to go. Unknowingly to Daniel, Red Bull chooses you to represent them for the Constructors Trophy.

“Mate, how did you keep that a secret?” Oscar asks Daniel in the debrief room.

“It wasn’t much of a secret. Everyone in Red Bull knows most of the relationship,” Max says and Daniel nods along.

“Honestly, I don’t know how people didn’t know,” Daniel laughs. The FIA tells them to start heading out to the Podium and Daniel searches the crowd for you when he steps out, but can’t find you. He’s shocked but extremely delighted when you step out and stand beside Oscar for the Constructors trophy. The mischievous glint in his eye is a loud warning that you will be sprayed with champagne. You happily stand through the national anthems, clap when Daniel is handed the trophy, and beam with joy as you are handed the second trophy. Soon enough you are presented with champagne and the go ahead to spray it is given.

“Max!” you squeal and hide behind him as you both spray Daniel.

“Quit hiding my wife!” Daniel laughs and in a split second, your cover is gone as Max moves to spray Oscar. You and Daniel both pour the champagne in each other’s mouth.

“Ew, that’s almost as bad as if you guys were to kiss,” Max laughs. Daniel gives you a devilish smile, pulling you close to him and capturing you lips with his.

“The kids are going to be so grossed out,” you laugh and Oscar looks almost horrified.

“THE KIDS?!”

[konstantintreplev]

IRISH SUPREMACY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (best actor x 2, best supporting actor x 2, best supporting actress, banshees everywhere, AN IRISH LANGUAGE FILM IN BEST INTL FILM MAKING HISTORY, a northern irish short film getting nominated too!!!!)

on the other hand... the andrea RISEborough thing actually fucking worked oh my god

[annagrzinskys]

i hit a pothole REALLY hard coming home tonight i hope i don't get a flat

[chachavroomvroom]

2023’s Top Ten Chaotic Moments of the F1 Season (in no particular order)

The De Vries ➡️ Ricciardo ➡️ Lawson ➡️ Ricciardo musical chairs

The Mclaren boys getting their laptimes deleted live on camera post Qatar Quali under the befuddled eyes of George Russell 🧍‍♂️

George’s T-pose, Estie’s slayful catwalk and Charles’ soulful longing look in the F1 intro 💃

Charles’ triple threat of DNF/DNS/DSQ in one season 🥲

Several broken trophies this year (starting with the one Lando sent to the shadow realms with his champagne pop) 🍾

Max smacking that RBR sticker on Charles, shaking him around and then turning to the camera like 😀

Mika Häkkinen’s gift of prophecy: the man said McLaren would suddenly become competitive and we laughed at him 👁️

The stressed pairs of Merc/Ferrari guys being summoned to the stewards about the planks in Austin and showing up with the power of a piece of paper and a vape 💨

So many inter-teams padel dates?? 🎾

Perez’s Japan run: crashed, changed wing, got a penalty, crashed again, changed wing again, retired, unretired, served his penalty and retired again 🪦

Honourable mentions 🥈 :

Carlos illegitimate child rumour one hot afternoon on f1twt

Dany Ric sniped by that flying tyre in lap 1 of Brazil despite not being involved in the accident

Vegas Hunger Games opening ceremony

Seb’s bee corner

1644 mood collaborative insta post after joint DSQ in COTA

A lot of James Vowles thirst on the TL

Charles Leclerc, known non-believer, plans a pilgrimage to Lourdes to get rid of his curse

Lance falling off wet stairs

Nando being a tik tok celebrity

Dishonourable mentions :

Qatar heat

Vegas drain cover

Piastri being a punching bag on wheels for other drivers for a few races straight

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Butter

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: None

Summary: What if Joel doesn't forget to buy himself a cake for his birthday? But by the time he remembers, all the bakeries in his neighbourhood are closed - except yours.

Warnings: No outbreak AU, pure fluff, mentions of baking and food, meet cute, some sexual tension but very mild stuff compared to my other fics, single dad!Joel being a sexy menace, reader has a nickname related to her job, reader has an accent similar to Joel, very lightly edited, not my best work, but I'm in my writing for fun era 💁🏻‍♀️

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: It's here! This was an exercise in speed writing, and just putting words to paper without overthinking anything. I really enjoyed writing this sweet little piece, this is dedicated to @psychedelic-ink who has been the biggest cheerleader for this idea since day one. Happy birthday to our favourite single dad who never lived through a cordyceps outbreak ❤️

September 26, 2003 was supposed to be a good day.

It’s Friday, after all. Not that the weekend is relevant to you anymore, with Saturdays and Sundays being the busiest days for business. But you have a date for once tonight, and you’re determined to enjoy it.

If you can get the goddamn security shutter to close, that is.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pull futilely at the bottom of the metal shutter with both hands, but it refuses to budge. You lament the sweat seeping through the fabric of the nice dress you changed into, the hem reaching almost indecent heights on the back of your thighs where it’s climbed up. And you don’t have to look at your reflection to know that stress has already smudged the edges of the eyeliner you hurriedly painted on as soon as you got the last customer out the door.

You can be forgiven for not noticing the wash of yellow headlights over the windows of the shop front and the sound of rolling tyres as a truck pulls up on the curb outside the bakery, until a gravelly voice pipes up behind you alongside hurried footsteps.

‘Ma’am, please tell me you’re still open.’

You tap on the ‘Closed’ sign through the window without turning around, determined to wrangle the shutter into submission. ‘Bad luck buddy, come back tomorrow. We open at nine sharp.’

‘No I can’t, I’m so sorry, but I need a cake now.’

Curiosity turns your head, and over your shoulder, you find a broad-shouldered man in a dark tshirt and casual jeans standing a respectful four paces away. Under eyebrows sloping downwards in a pleading angle that matches the slant of his moustache, his warm and imploring eyes are on you.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I really need to go,’ you say. ‘Can you give me a hand?’

‘Look, I’ll do you one better. I’ll fix the shutter for you for free - if you sell me a cake.’

You purse your lips, the prospect of saving on what looks like an inevitable repair bill tempting. ‘You can fix it?’

‘I’m a contractor,’ he replies, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a battered looking wallet. ‘Here’s my card, if you think I’m bluffin’.’

Miller & Associates is printed in bold across the top, and underneath, is presumably his name and cell number. Glancing up at him, you say, ‘Look, Mr. Miller, I really want to help, but I’m late for a date, and I’m all sold out of cakes today -’

‘I’ll take anything you got. Cupcakes, cookies, whatever you have left,’ he cuts in, then apologises in quick succession, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I’m sorry to be so pushy - I’m not, usually - but I promised my daughter I’d bring something home, and by the time I remembered, this is the only place I could think of. Please.’

You feel the exact moment your resolve crack, and then fold like a goddamn lawn chair. What can you say, this contractor really knows how to work those puppy eyes, and you can never say no to a man who refuses to let their kid down. 

Especially when the man looks like this.

Shooting off a text to your date to push back your dinner plans, you nod towards the door. ‘Alright. C’mon in, Mr. Miller.’

‘Nice place you got here,’ he remarks politely, hovering by the entrance as the fluorescent lights flicker on, his manners impeccably southern. 

‘You don’t have to flatter me, I’ve already let you in,’ you joke, lips quirking at the way he flusters. ‘But I appreciate it. You been here before?’

When he smiles, you notice the corners of his eyes crinkle charmingly. ‘No, but I know I’ll be comin’ back.’

‘I wasn’t lying when I said I was out of ready-made cakes,’ you tell him, holding the door open to the kitchen so he can come in after you. ‘But I have some cake layers in the fridge so I can put together something fairly quickly.’

He ducks his head in a manner that tells you he’s not used to demanding things, and protests, ‘I don’t want to put you out. I meant it, if you just have some cupcakes or somethin’ -’

‘Listen, you promised your daughter a cake, didn’t you?’ you interrupt.

He shrugs. ‘Well, yeah I did -’

‘I’m guessin’ it’s for a birthday?’

He nods sheepishly. ‘It is.’

‘Well, as a baker, ‘mfraid I can’t let a cakeless birthday happen on my watch, Mr. Miller,’ you insist, opening the fridge door with a flourish. ‘Let’s see what we have here. Cake for three, I assume?’

‘Two, actually.’

Hopefully you’re as discreet as you think you are when your eyes drop to his left hand - his fourth finger is conspicuously ringless.

Interesting.

You hum, considering the mismatched options in your inventory. ‘It’s gonna be a bit of a Frankenstein’s monster of a cake, if you don’t mind. How does chocolate and vanilla layers with cookies and cream frosting sound?’

‘Sounds perfect,’ he answers without skipping a beat. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

You shake your head, hands full of cake rounds wrapped in cling film as you nudge the fridge close. ‘Please, call me Bri, Mr. Miller.’

‘And you can call me Joel,’ he says in return. ‘Is Bri short for somethin’?’

Laying the cakes on the work surface, you reply, ‘Yeah, Bri for brioche, like the bread. It's a silly nickname.’

The single dad surprises you with a low whistle. ‘Can’t say I saw that comin’.’

You grin. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Joel.’

You don’t often have an audience while baking, and you find yourself talking Joel through the steps while you prep everything for assembly.

Swirling a spatula through the tub of buttercream you made earlier that day, you explain, ‘I just need to whip up some of this frosting so that it’s nice and soft for putting the cake together. You wanna help me break up some Oreos so we can make it cookies and cream?’

‘I’m all yours, chef,’ he says, one corner of his mouth curling into a teasing smile that has no business warming the apples of your cheek as it does. ‘Just tell me what to do.’

While your Kitchenaid whirrs to life, whipping air into the buttercream, Joel wields a rolling pin, smashing a generous helping of Oreos into crumbs in a Ziplock bag. The almost exaggerated care with which he moves speaks to inexperience in the kitchen, and you muse that either his kid makes up for it in that department, or they live off takeout.

Eventually, he picks up the bag and looks at you in a question. ‘I think I’m done?’

You smile and tap the lip of the mixing bowl. ‘That’s perfect. Why don’t you tip in the crumbs straight in here?’

Before you can step back to allow him space, Joel’s taken two strides towards you, and his arm brushes your shoulder when he lifts the bag and tilts the contents into the frosting. He’s warm and solid, and damnit, he smells good - like sawdust and sweat.

The thought comes to you unbidden - what a man.

There’s a lull, and only when you feel the weight of eyes on you do you realise that you missed his question.

‘Did you say somethin'?’ you squeak, embarrassed.

‘I said, is this ok?’ he repeats, nodding at the mixing bowl.

You nearly stumble over your words. ‘Yes, yes it’s perfect.’

He watches you closely, a touch of concern in his brown eyes. ‘You ok there, honey?’

‘Yup,’ you chirp, far too cheerfully. ‘Just need to mix it all up now -’

If you had your wits about you, you would stir in the crumbs first and set the machine on low. But this man somehow stole said wits by sheer proximity to you, and you accidentally start the Kitchenaid on high, an indignant yelp escaping you when Oreo dust flies aggressively out of the bowl along with a splatter of white buttercream that lands squarely on the front of your dark knit dress.

‘Oh shit!’ you cry out, frantically turning off the mixer. ‘Shit shit shit!’

Over your panicked mantra, Joel is calmness itself. ‘Hang on, honey, I gotcha.’

He makes a beeline towards the sink, grabbing a tea towel and wets it under the tap with a bit of dishwashing liquid. It all screams competent single dad, and you find yourself staring at his unfairly large hand, mapped with thick veins, holding out the damp towel for you to take.

‘Thanks,’ you stutter self-consciously, the tips of your ears hot while swiping at the stain. ‘That was a rookie mistake. I promise I’m actually a good baker.’

He gives you a wink to put you at ease. ‘Don’t worry, I believe you.’

Starting over, the mixer hums as it gently incorporates the Oreos until the buttercream is a speckled grey and doubled in volume. ‘Looks like it’s ready. You wanna taste, Joel?’

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘D’ya have a spoon or somethin’ for me?’

‘You can use your fingers,’ you reply, and it's too late to take it back.

You feel the back of your neck heating up when he shoots you a meaningful look, just a touch of mischief in the tilt of his lips. 

‘Can I, now?’ he teases.

You try a nonchalant shrug that probably comes off as painfully awkward. ‘This batch is just for you, I won’t tell the health inspector if you don’t.’

Joel chuckles, his strong shoulders quaking. And so you watch, shamelessly, as he raises his right hand, index and middle fingers at the ready, before diving into the metal bowl, scooping up a generous dollop of buttercream. There’s a peek of his pink tongue when his plush lips part, and then he sucks his fingers into his mouth with a gratuitously loud moan, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

When he turns to you with a pained expression on his face, maintaining eye contact all the while licking an errant streak of frosting off the side of his middle finger, you gape at him for a whole five seconds before you manage to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Good?’ you barely manage to squeak.

‘You betcha, honey,’ he declares, then adds, ‘Mind if I double dip?’

He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know it, but a hot flush runs through your body and you swallow thickly. ‘You can do whatever you want, cowboy.’

You don’t think you’re imagining the wicked glint in his answering stare - you’re getting yourself into trouble, and don’t you know it. 

Clearing your throat, you attempt to thwart your mind's dangerous descent into the gutter by changing the subject. ‘So, I can do somethin’ really snazzy that I think your daughter would like - do you know what a piñata cake is?’

He shakes his head. ‘Sounds dangerous.’

‘Hardly,’ you chuckle. ‘It’s a cake filled with sprinkles, so when you cut into it, it’s a sprinkles surprise!’

He lets out a playful sigh of relief. ‘As long as there’s no whackin’ involved, it’s good by me.’

You gesture at him to follow you across the room. ‘And here’s the fun part - you get to choose the sprinkles.’

Joel whistles at the reveal of your compulsively organised sprinkles cabinet, each shelf sorted by colour, shape and size. He quips, ‘Is this what the inside of your brain looks like, honey?’

You grin. ‘Pretty much. What’s your daughter’s name?’

‘Sarah.’

‘What colour does Sarah like?’

‘Any and all shades of pink.’

‘I can work with that.’

Now that everything is ready and waiting on the work surface, you pull out a lazy Susan and plonk a cake board on top of it, dusting your hands dramatically. ‘Alright, Joel. Ready for the magic to happen?’

Making himself comfortable next to you, he leans on his elbows, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the way his tshirt stretches and strains over his back. ‘Go ahead, I’m ready to be impressed, honey.’

Filling a piping bag full of the cookies and cream buttercream, you ask, ‘You wanna get your hands dirty?’

He raises his palms in surrender. ‘I’ll leave it to you, I don’t want to make you any more late for your date.’

You’re used to working with much bigger cakes, so this one doesn’t take you long. With a cookie cutter, you carve out a small circle from each cake round, then you stack and fill the layers with buttercream. After loading the shaft in the middle with all manner of pink sprinkles, you stopper the top with the cake cut-outs.

‘How old is Sarah turning today?’ you ask conversationally while you spin the cake around, smoothing on the crumb coat.

Joel looks up, surprised. ‘Oh, it’s my birthday today, not hers. ‘

‘Wait, what?’ you cry, throwing your hands up. ‘I made this cake with Sarah in mind - it will literally be vomiting pink sprinkles!’

‘I’m a girl dad. I like pink,’ shrugs Joel easily.

You huff, using an icing smoother to make sure the buttercream is even all over the cake. ‘I would pop the cake into the freezer to firm up before adding a final layer of frosting if I had the time, but this will have to do.’

‘It looks great,’ Joel assures you as you put the finishing touches to the cake, with buttercream swirls all around the top and a final baptism of sprinkles.

‘There, all done. Lemme box it up for you and this bad boy is ready to go.’

‘Amazin’, thank you so much,’ he grins. ‘Please, lemme do the washin’ up while you’re at it.’

‘Oh, Joel, you can’t,’ you protest, but he’s already grabbed the mixing bowl and all the bits and bobs stained with buttercream. ‘You’re the birthday boy!’

‘Least I can do,’ he shoots back over his shoulder, already halfway to the sink.

‘Well no, you promised to fix the security shutter for me, remember?’ you call after him.

‘Damn, I was hopin’ you’d forgotten about that.’

Joel cleans up with a practised air, humming under his breath as he waits for the water to heat up and the soap to lather. You watch him from the corner of your eye while you secure the cake inside the box, throwing in a birthday candle for good measure. You’ve just tied a nice ribbon around the cardboard box when he puts away everything in the drying rack and wipes his hands dry.

‘Didn’t expect you to be good at that,’ you tease, moving towards the door.

‘Sexist much?’ he jokes, no real bite in his retort. Then by way of explanation, he tells you, ‘I work late, so Sarah usually cooks and I wash up afterwards.’

‘Sounds like you guys make a good team.’

Joel helps with the lights and locks the door, and you stand to one side when he grabs the security shutter and forces it into submission by brute force. You can’t help but stare when the bottom of his tshirt rides up, revealing a soft sliver of belly underneath, his biceps bulging and back rippling as the shutter is finally forced shut in a metallic ripple.

You give him a smile. ‘Well, happy birthday, Joel.’

‘Thanks again for the cake.’ He looks around, as if looking for your car, but the sidewalk is empty except for his truck. ‘How are you gettin’ to your date?’

‘I was just gonna call a taxi.’

‘No, you ain’t,’ he nods towards his ride. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

‘Oh, no, it’s late, and you should be getting back to Sarah -’

‘I spoiled your date, so please, let me,’ he insists, holding the door open on the passenger side. Hop in.’

Joel takes the cake off your hands and puts it in the backseat carefully, putting the seat belt over it while you climb in. Glancing over your shoulder, you see toolboxes and newspapers on the floor, and it smells like paint and wood dust.

‘Sorry it’s a bit messy, occupational hazard,’ he apologises as he straps himself in. ‘So, where are we goin’?’

‘Do you know the steakhouse on Third Street?’

‘Vaguely,’ he replies, pulling smoothly away from the curb. ‘It sounds fancy.’

‘You been?’

‘Nope, I barely have time to go anywhere nowadays. It seems like I’m only ever in bed, or at work, or in my truck.’

You turn to smile at him, admiring the way his his thick fingers around the top of the steering wheel, making it look so small. ‘I feel you. Small business owner, am I right?’

‘I hear ya,’ he shoots you a smile. ‘So - what’s the deal with tonight? First date?’

‘Fourth, actually.’

He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Fourth date? You know what happens on a fourth date, honey.’

‘I don’t, actually. Tell me, what happens on a fourth date?’

He blows out his cheeks, and admits, ‘Honestly, I can’t tell ya. I haven’t been on a fourth date since 1991.’

You burst into laughter at his unexpected answer. ‘You’re such a dork, Joel Miller.’

When the truck rumbles to a stop outside the steakhouse ten minutes later, he looks at his watch and announces, ‘Here we are, only fifteen minutes late.’ Squinting through the windshield, he points at a man smoking outside, an impatient frown on his face. ‘That him?’

‘Yeah, that’s him,’ you nod, but you stay put in your seat, in no hurry to make a move.

Joel nods, tapping his tidily trimmed nails on the steering wheel. ‘So I’ll swing ‘round tomorrow after work with my toolbelt? ‘Round six thirty?’

‘A toolbelt? What a sight to look forward to,’ you rib, slowly reaching for the seatbelt and unbuckling it.

‘Hell yeah, it’s got a special clip for my Nokia and all,’ he adds mischievously.

'You must fend off the ladies by the dozen,' you tease.

'Daily,' he answers without skipping a beat.

You probably shouldn’t have, especially not with the guy who you’re supposed to be on a date with glaring daggers at you through the windshield. But there’s something cackling in the air between you and this man you just met not an hour ago, and the way the streetlight filters through the window, backlighting his messy curls and scraggly beard, that has you throwing caution to the proverbial wind.

Impulsively, you lean across the gear shift, your left hand finding purchase on his knee before pressing your lips to the side of his whiskered jaw, your kiss fitting right into that little heart-shaped patch on his beard. 

You’re not sure who’s more taken aback, but you don’t have time to find out. 

‘Happy birthday, Joel Miller.’

He smiles after you as you hop out of his truck.

You’ve just sold your last cupcake of the day when the bell over the bakery door rings. And sure enough, it’s Joel Miller crossing the threshold, right on the dot at six thirty.

‘Hey, Bri,’ he waves, hovering half-in and half-out of the shop, a slight awkwardness having set in overnight.

But it's ok, you're happy to pick up where you left off. Putting your hands on your waist and a cheeky grin, you quip, ‘Wow, you weren’t kidding about that toolbelt, huh?’

Your chest swells as you watch him thaw with an easy smile, and he banters back, ‘I’m a man of my word, honey. You ok with me gettin’ to work now?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’ll be cleanin’ up back in the kitchen, I’ll join you when I’m done.’

Joel shoots you a thumbs up. ‘Great. I’ll grab the ladder and get right to it.’

When you emerge fifteen minutes later, he’s on the fourth rung of the ladder, tinkering the rolling mechanism with a screwdriver and a studious frown on his brow. He looks like he’s wearing the same thing as yesterday - you can believe that he’s a man who buys the same tshirt in bulk - and he smiles at you when you duck out of the shop.

‘Did Sarah like the cake?’ you ask in casual conversation.

‘She went nuts over the piñata surprise,’ he replies. ‘And the cake was delicious, there were hardly any crumbs left when we were done with it. She says we’re definitely ordering a cake from you for her birthday.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

‘How was your evening?’ he asks, glancing down at you from his perch. ‘Did you find out what happens on a fourth date?’

You let out a dry laugh. ‘Yeah, I did, actually. He dumped me.’

Joel freezes, a scowl darkening his countenance. ‘Oh shit, what? Why?’

You shrug, leaning your weight on the ladder as you look at the ground. ‘I mean, I did show up an hour late in some other guy’s truck. And I guess probably shouldn’t have kissed you on the cheek right in front of him.’

You startle when Joel’s fingers slip under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. ‘It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.’

‘Honestly, you don’t look that sorry, Joel Miller,’ you joke.

He cocks his head to one side. ‘Well, I can't lie, I think you deserve better than him.’

‘Do you now?’ you prompt. ‘Who do you have in mind?’

Joel peers at you from under long lashes with a half-smile that's almost shy. He dodges your question, and says instead, ‘I didn't mean to ruin your night, let me make it up to you, honey.’

‘How?’

Deftly, he climbs down the ladder, landing squarely on two booted feet, his presence comforting as he looms over you, his eyes warm. ‘Can I buy you dinner?’

‘Like - a date kind of dinner?’

‘Yeah, like a date,’ he nods.

You can’t help the dig. ‘And you were just sayin' you haven’t been on a date since...?’

He flashes you a smirk, and you shiver when his hand brushes your waist. ‘Since 1991. Tough sell, I know - but I thought I’d give it a shot.’

Running a finger along his sharp jawline, softened by the endearingly untidy beard, you have to bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from giving away too wide a grin. ‘Why, I think I have a good feelin’ about you, Joel Miller.’

Catching your wrist in his fingers, he presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles, the rough graze of his stubble chasing goosebumps across your skin as his eyes smile at you. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then, honey.’

More notes: I hope you enjoyed this sweet little oneshot 🥰 I really leaned into the fluff and I have no regrets. Comments/reblogs/asks are much appreciated as always! I don't have plans for a second part right now, but a smutty follow-up is always a possibility...

The adorable dividers are by @firefly-graphics 👩🏻‍🍳

[leclercsbunny]

maybe if you loved me ♡ c. sainz

part six ♡ masterlist

f1chai sainz and ricciardo allegedly got into a scuffle, sky news report. the two have come up on recent news due to their involvement with yn, as both drivers have been closely linked with the spanish socialite. the f1 management is reportedly investigating this matter, and are adamant to deal out swift and just penalties for both drivers involved. neither teams have expressed their side regarding this matter.

username i would pay good money to see them fist fight

username and nobody caught it on their camera ?? LAMEEEE

username see i would have screamed world star‼️

username hmmm arguing who's the daddy

username will forever be astounded of yn, bagging these men in the same breath

username yikes

username penalty for ocon!!

username don't let these men back on track fia (10392)

username so... private school fighting? pointing at eachother and then screaming?! 🤔🤔🤔

username "sainz and ricciardo had to be separated by several staff in a fit of blind rage."

username "the australian driver emerged with an upset expression, a bruising prominent on his jaw and a crimson eyebrow. the spaniard later on followed suit, an expression of annoyance evident, armed with a busted lip and a limp to his gait."

username so a fight FIGHT. they were scrapping to scrap 😳😳

username oh i know they were just swinging wildly

username ten bucks daniel would have laid carlos on his ass

username disagree. have you seen carlos's hands? he's punching to knock some sense into daniel

username yeah but daniel has the force of justice behind his blows

username not if he's the father. screwing your mate's ex girl while they're on the rocks?

username what do you mean on the rocks?? he cheated on her publicly. then they broke up. then partied like his life depended on it? 🙄🤨

f1chai daniel ricciardo adds fuel to the fire by posting a shady instagram story amid the controversy surrounding him today. several news outlet reports that the australian pilot have been fined a sum of 5,000 euros for recklessly behaving and have been reprimanded alongside sainz. to waive the penalty, the pair were urged to make ammends, and publicly acknowledge their wrongs for disrupting the peaceful atmosphere present in f1. his response is as follows; "i won't apologize."

username ATEEEEEEEEE

username stop playing with him 😳😳😳

username yeah that will tell them🤦🏻‍♀️😂

username they keep letting these men buy their way into being a decent human being... they'll cash out everytime !!

username i love when men are shady

username DANIEL WE ARE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU

username what if they used chairs ?? would that be atleast 10k ??

username that's spare change for these men 😭😭😭 who assigned these amount?

username it's a minor misdemeanor, it's already blown out of proportition🤭

username yeah but that's like what?? one tyre and a steering wheel ?? 😭😭😭

username so close !! steering wheels could go up to six figures 😂😂

username i stand corrected

username daniel: ... so can i pay in advance to throw hands? 🤔😂

f1chai both sainz and ricciardo have declined to elaborate regarding their public spat, and have expressed very little about their issue. no direct apologies were addressed to eachother nor was there any indication they regretted they came to blows. new reports claim that the reason of them being tight-lipped had everything to do with the paternity of yn's alleged baby, and although at odds with eachother, both sainz and ricciardo are adamant on maintaining her privacy at this delicate moment.

username enemies 4 life

username awww yn's boys🥲🥲

username the boys you speak of would push eachother on the track if given the opportunity🥰

username yeah boys‼️

username daniel probably talked maaaaad smack

username only reasonable explanation

username not necessarily, i would have been throwing hands regardless. like wym you've been comforting MY girl?!

username they broke up though

username on a break** this has been yn and carlos' dance since forever

username man shut up. yn deserves better than a man who has a very fickle sense of loyalty.

username he has some serious issues

username ALLEGEDLY okay ALLEGEDLY daniel took a swipe at matteo's parentage and said something along the lines of "you're gonna fuck up another kid's childhood just because you can't keep it in your pants?" non verbatim 😳😳

username YOOOOOOO

username that's WILD to even comprehend, imagine hearing it directly.

username ngl i would have been throwing hands with daniel aswell

username nicki type of line

username who's matteo's mom anyways 😭😭

username i know we're all mad at him but look at him 😩

username yn this isn't you‼️

username look away we can do this!!

[theemporium]

[2.3k] when your boyfriend achieves a podium at his home race, it’s only right that you give him the reward he deserves. even if you only have fifteen minutes to do so. (smut)

part two

.

He had barely stepped off the podium before you were dragging him into his driver’s room.

Silverstone was always an important race, regardless of the racer. It was a historic track and an iconic race to drive in. It was one of those races—alongside Monaco—that every driver dreamed of winning, of standing on the podium and looking down at the cheering crowds. 

And for Lando Norris, it was also his home race. 

After the struggles the car had been putting him through all season, seeing his smiling face as he climbed off the car behind the number two sign made your heart swell on Saturday after qualifying. Watching him run towards his team, cheering and celebrating and slapping him on the back. 

For the first time in a long time, he felt hopeful this season. 

Then Sunday came along and it had been full of nerves and butterflies and silent prayers that your boy would do well, that the team wouldn’t screw him over. 

Truthfully, your faith wavered after the safety car pit stop that put Lando’s car on hards. You stood by his team and his parents, practically watching the release of the safety car between your fingers as you watched your boyfriend be squished between the Red Bull and the Mercedes, both on soft tyres. 

And then the fucking unbelievable happened. 

Your stomach flipped as you watched your boyfriend fend off the seven-time world champion. Your nails were digging into your palms as each corner came and went, and before you even realised it, the checkered flag was waving and Lando Norris crossed the line in P2. 

P2 in his own home race when even McLaren themselves doubted they would be able to pull it off. 

The roars of the crowd was surreal, the way they clapped and chanted as he walked out onto the podium. The way he lifted the trophy over his head, a massive grin split across his face. The way he hit the bottom of the champagne bottle off the podium, soaking himself and his fellow drivers until champagne was dripping off their bodies. 

You don’t think you had ever been as attracted to your boyfriend as you were in that moment, in that snapshot of seeing him be the happiest he had been in months. 

Lando, like the rest of the drivers, had around fifteen minutes to freshen up before they were whisked away to their media duties. 

You weren’t going to waste a single second of it. 

“Baby,” Lando laughed as you tugged him into his driver’s room, the door locked quickly behind you before you turned around to him. “What’s up—mphm.”

Your lips were against his before he could even finish his question. But talking was the last thing on his mind as his hands fell to your waist, bunching the fabric of your dress in his fists as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Congratulations, baby,” you murmured in between rushed kisses, your nails scratching along the back of his neck in the way that made him shiver. “You did so fucking well.” 

“Yeah?” He grinned in such a way that you didn’t know if your heart was going to beat out of your chest or if you were going to clench your thighs together in hopes it did something. “Feeling proud?” 

“So proud,” you mumbled before pulling him closer, but Lando just chuckled slightly.

“Baby, I gotta get changed for media,” he told you, squeezing your hips to exaggerate his point. “Someone is gonna come knocking in ten minutes—”

“So we have ten minutes?” you interrupted, your eyebrows raised in questioning.

“I mean, technically—” he started but that was more than enough. 

“We can do a lot in ten minutes,” you said to him, your eyes wide and eager and he felt something in his stomach clench. 

“Yeah?” he rasped. 

“Yeah, baby,” you grinned before you leaned forwards, your lips meeting his in a slower, meaningful kiss. “Let me show you how proud I am.” 

Lando gulped, only nodding his head in response. 

“Words, Lando. I need words.” 

“Fuck, please,” he all but whined as he ducked his head back down to meet your lips again. 

The grip he had on your hips was desperate, fuelled with a newfound need to have you. Ten minutes was more than enough time, plus the media team could always talk to the other drivers first. He wanted you, he needed you and he was going to have you—consequences be damned. 

The noise he let out was almost like a whimper, need and want so clear in his voice as the heel of your palm stroked along his length through his thick face suit. 

“Baby—“ Lando wheezed out, his eyes clenching shut as you began to undo the zipper of his suit. 

“Gonna give you want, pretty boy,” you murmured, your lips falling down to the skin peaking through his race suit as you finally began to start shrugging it off his shoulders. You leaned closer, kissing down his jaw and the column of his neck as your hands worked on getting him undressed. “Gonna make you feel good.” 

“You always do,” he breathed out, his voice a little shaky as he helped you pull his arms out, pushing the race suit until it was pooling at his knees. But before he could even try removing it the rest of the way, a hand on his chest stopped him. 

He watched you, his eyes focused on you like a hawk as your fingers traced along the waistband of his boxers. He reached for you, reached for the skirt of your dress but you swatted his hands away before he could even make a move. He opened his mouth, a small pout on his lips but he quickly fell quiet as he watched you sink to your knees. 

“Baby—”

“Be a good boy and stay quiet for me, yeah?” you asked, looking up at him with such an innocent expression that he could’ve blown his load there and then. 

“Promise,” he murmured, his heart beating against his ribs. “Gonna be your good boy.”

And you just smiled. A simple fucking smile and Lando knew that regardless of what you did, he wasn’t going to last long at all. 

His back was pressed against the thin wall of his driver’s room, his hands tightened into fists in his hand as he watched you. The way your nails traced along the length of him over his boxers, the way your eyes lit up as his cock jumped at the simple act. The way you leaned forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his clothed length as your hands wrapped around his thick thighs, watching the way he squirmed under your touch.

“Please,” he whined.

But you didn’t listen, your nails lightly raking up and down his thighs as his legs shook with a strong desire he had never felt before. He needed you. He needed to be inside you. He didn’t think he needed anything more than he needed you right now.

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers, slowly tugging the material down his legs until it was pooled at his knees with the rest of his race suit. He let out a soft hiss as the cool air hit him, the tip of his cock already leaking a small bead of precum. 

But before he could even get used to the cool sensation, you were leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, letting it lay heavy on your tongue.

“Shit,” Lando whined, his hips bucking on instinct and it was your hands pushing him back against the wall that made his eyes snap back open. He looked down at you, the tip of his cock in your mouth and your wide eyes staring at him, and he was starting to wish this was how every race ended. 

You bobbed your head further along the length of him, your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock as the tip brushed against the back of your throat before you pulled back. You pulled back until his tip was brushing against your lips, a thin line of salvia connecting them both as your hand moved to replace your mouth.

“You know what I want?” you asked, your voice a little raspy and low and it only made the blood rush to his cock. “You know all I thought about when you were up there?”

“What?” Because he knew, no matter what you asked, he would give you. He would give you anything you asked when you were on your knees in front of him with your hand wrapped around his cock.

“You,” it was as simple as that, if it weren’t for the fact you were reaching for his hands, slowly prying his fists open and guiding them towards you. “You taking out all that extra energy…on me.”

His stomach coiled in desire. “Baby—”

“Please, Lando,” you whispered, your tongue darting out to collect some precum leaking from his tip. “Just need to feel you inside me.”

And who was Lando to deny you? Who was he to not give you what you so desperately wanted and desired?

There was a voice in the back of his head that tried to remind him where he was. The same voice that was reminding him he had duties to uphold, he had journalists to talk to, he had a podium to celebrate with his team. The same voice that was reminding him that the locks on the driver rooms aren’t absolutely secure, that a hearty shove would be enough to get past it.

And yet, that voice in the back of his head was the last thing he was focused on.

Not when his pretty girlfriend was on her knees in front of him. Not when he had his fingers tangled in her hair as he guided her head up and down his cock. Not when his hips were thrusting, the debauched and needy sounds you were making as his cock hit the back of your throat echoing through the small room.

Not when Lando wanted to stay in this moment forever.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he reached closer and closer to the edge. “Feel so fucking good for me, so fucking good for me, baby.”

You moaned, the noise muffled and garbled but he felt the vibrations along the length of him all the same. You pushed your hands under his fireproofs, your nails scratching down his toned torso as his abs clenched softly under your touch.

“Like you were fucking made for me,” he muttered out, his voice a little breathy and whiny as he found himself clenching his eyes shut. “Shit, baby—”

His head fell back against the wall with a soft thump as he came, his cock still deep down your throat as he spilled inside your mouth. The noises he let out were pathetic and needy as his hips bucked up as your tongue teased the tip of his cock. He slumped back against the wall, his chest rising and falling with heavy pants and little white dots blurring his vision.

He let out a soft whimper as you finally pulled away from him, pressing a chaste kiss against the head of his cock before you began to pull his boxers back up. He let out a noise of aversion, trying to bat your hands away and instead pull you closer to him which he allowed.

“Lando—” you started but you didn’t get far before he had both hands on your cheeks, pulling your face to his so he could kiss you. He didn’t even care if he could taste himself on your tongue, he just needed to kiss you.

“I love you,” he sighed wistfully against your lips in between kisses.

“I love you too,” you murmured before pulling away, a hand on his chest to stop him from trying to kiss you again. “You need to go.”

He looked like a kicked puppy. “Why?”

“You have media, Lando,” you murmured with a soft smile, looking at your boyfriend’s flushed cheeks and glazed eyes. You almost felt bad that you would have to send him out like that. 

“Fuck the media,” he grumbled as he tried to lean down again, but you stopped him once again.

“Your team will kill you,” you snorted, shaking your head. “Go. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Lando let out a huff. “You give me the best goddamn blowjob of my life and expect me to just go about my life like everything is normal.”

You patted his chest. “You’ll survive.”

He sighed dramatically. “Barely.”

“Tell you what,” you said as you watched your boyfriend scamper around the cramped room to make himself look somewhat presentable before he headed out towards the media pen. “If you go out and be a good boy and do all your media duties, I’ll let you do whatever you want tonight.”

Lando paused, glancing up at you. “Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want,” you murmured, leaning to kiss him one last time before he left. “But only if you’re on your best behaviour.”

“Deal,” he blurted out quickly, a giddy smile spread across his face and something almost like mischief shining in his eyes. 

“That’s my boy,” you said with a fond smile. “My winner.”

Lando snorted. “I was P2, baby.”

“Like a winner to me, anyways,” you shrugged before you leaned down to playfully smack his ass as he walked past. “I’ve got my eyes on you, Norris.”

He flashed you a cheeky smile. “Keep ‘em up here, darling.” 

And you could only laugh when he barrelled back into his driver’s room two hours later, grinning like a cheshire cat as he did so.

“A deal is a deal, baby, gotta pay up now.”

So you did.

.

[ghettogirly]

Hey, hope you're doing fine. Can I request something when Armando has to watch over the reader because she knows something about the cartel , she sees things you should have not seen , wrong place , wrong time for her. Even though they always argue, she knows that he always protects her. She does the same for him.

Kinda relates to a 'pieces of her ' on Netflix 😭 when they were in that hotel room

Him and I - g easy

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐇 (𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐂)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: Miyah has a past that not even she knows about. Thinking her life was all normal, she is suddenly thrown into a whirlwind when an intruder breaks into her house. Are we prepared for her journey of not only finding herself but the answers to her past?

-> format: story.

-> theme: angst.

-> warning: mentions of violence, use of the n-word, mature language, themes of break-ins.

-> authors note: so i have turned this into a series!! i really want to write the pieces of her plot because i loved that show, but in a different type of way! thank you for requesting this! my update schedule is going to slightly change guys due to me getting more of an intense workload from my sixth form so i hope you all understand! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝💕.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟏: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐈𝐍.

Trash clinked across the floor as a gust of wind swept it by. Desolate and quiet, only a couple cars were parked in the large space. A dark no

Heels were heard clacking off the floor as a brown skinned girl walked over to her car, clutching her purse with one hand while the other was angled in the direction of her mercedes benz. Opening the car door, she climbed into her seat.

Plopping the chanel bag that wrapped around her arm onto the passenger seat, the woman clicked her tongue while turning on the ignition. Settling into the seat, sighing as she recollected the hectic day that occurred.

“I really need to get home.”

Pressing onto the gas pedal while putting the gear stick into reverse, Miyah pulled out of the car park from her work place onto the highway. Flicking the headlights on, she started to drive down the road. The hum of the tyres mixed with the slow jam of the radio, lowly playing throughout the vehicle. Pink LED lights illuminated the interior of the car contrasting with the midnight black sky, coating the exterior as it hung over the trees and the wildlife surrounding the road.

The small screen of the navigation shone brightly in the woman’s face as she glanced down at it.

“15 minutes.”

Driving down the road, Miyah nodded her head to the slow beat of the rnb song playing through her sound system. Tapping her index finger onto the wheel she drove down the highway, content with her life currently. Life was hectic but she was satisfied.

Pulling into her gated residence, Miyah rolled down her window to enter the code into the pad. Once confirmed, she parked up her car at the front of her door before slipping out, grabbing her purse.

Opening her door, the hallway and living room was automatically irradiated by the modern lights that hung off her ceilings. Cylindrical pillars stood at every sharp corner, contrasting a classic element with the modern theme of her white and black marble interior.

Slipping off her heels, Miyah sighed in relief. “I really need to go to sleep.”

Shaking her head, she ascended up her stairs into her bedroom. A queen sized bed layered with fluffy comforts and duvets were placed in the middle of the woman’s bedroom. The colour scheme being white and grey , matching with the fluffy, white, circular carpet that was under it. Walking over to the bed, she placed her bag by her cabinet before flopping down on the bed.

“Why did i even become a lawyer again?”

That was a good question.

Why did she become a lawyer?

When thinking about society and the world today, you would think that the law reached everyone. Helped victims by putting away those who made their life hell but, we are wrong. Everyday, domestic abuse cases go silent, the justice system not caring enough for those who get abused in the relationships. Mainly women but also men becoming apart of the statistic of abuse victims, which could’ve been prevented if someone would’ve just listened. Child abuse cases go unheard until the severity of the abuse ends up in a death, which could’ve been prevented if someone would’ve just listened. Even random spree attacks which could’ve been prevented if someone would’ve just listened and understood that persons mental health.

I wanted to be the one to change this. To be able to keep law on track with the fast pace of the ever changing world. To be able to stand up for people who looked like me and those who were me.

And also for you mom.

Changing into her silk pyjamas, Miyah sat on her bed cross legged with her ipad on a stand. Parting her honey brown hair into 6 boxes with a rat tail comb, she braided two plaits in each section, ready to go to bed. Slipping her black bonnet on top of the loose braids, wanting to protect her curls from future breakage.

The girl pulled down her light, turning it off before getting underneath the covers. Closing her iPad, she sunk her head into the silk pillows that happily embraced her, closing her eyes.

It was pitch black in Miyah’s room. Not a shred of light peeked through her curtains. Stirring, she sat up. Glancing over at her alarm clock, the red bold numbers stating 3:32am. Sighing, she got out of bed, putting on her fluffy slippers.

Walking down the stairs she flicked the kitchen lights on, changing the settings to dim, not wanting to fully wake herself up. Grabbing a glass, she filled it up with water before taking a sip. Sighing, Miyah popped the now used glass, back into the sink before heading towards the stairs.

Something stopped her.

A rustle was heard from the living room next door. Slowly crawling into the kitchen, Miyah slightly opened the drawer for the utensils before grabbing a sharp knife. Peeking around the counter a black figure appeared before her.

“Who are-“

Wasting no time, the figure quickly punched Miyah causing her to stumble back. Throwing another punch to her chest, the figure then raised their fist, angling it towards a certain direction before throwing another. It was pretty clear they were male. Adrenaline ran through Miyah’s glands which secreted them into her bloodstream, activating her fight or flight.

Dodging the fist that was coming her way, she ducked and kicked the male in his balls before quickly running up the stairs. Loud banging was heard from within the room due to the stomps coming from the woman. just before reaching her bedroom a hand grabbed her ankles, brutally dropping her down on the marble floor.

“Fuck!! Get off me!”

The mystery man then swiftly got on top of Miyah, wrapping his rough hands around her neck before harshly gripping it. Pain and frustration overcoming the poor girl

“Stop..”

Pressing down onto her neck mired the man added more pressure, forcing less and less oxygen to not enter the girls body. Miyah’s muscles started to become frail as less oxygen was reaching the muscles, building more lactic acid causing them to become tired.

Slowly, her life began to slip away.

Her mind flashed to a deserted beach. The blue crystalline waves crashed against each other, slowly overlapping one another. The sky transitioned from a purple to orange ombré as the sun was setting, the orange rays shining onto the brownskin girl that stood there in the middle of the beach. Her curls waved in the wind due to the gentle breeze coming from the west.

A gentle tap was felt on Miyah’s shoulder, causing her turn around.

“It’s not your time.” The figure said before disappearing.

Suddenly, she was back in the present. Still feeling the man strangling her, a surge of strength powered suddenly came through.

Grabbing the nearest plant pot, she cracked it over the intruders head causing him to stumble back in pain. Gasping for air, Miyah panted heavily.

Yet, the man was still not done. Stomping over to her, he attempted to kick Miyah who was on the floor, out of breath. “Nigga, what- the fuck- is your issue?”

Quickly sliding out of the way, Miyah grabbed the man’s leg causing him to fall onto the floor, before grabbing a picture frame off the wall and violently smashing it off the intruders head, knocking the consciousness out of him.

“That’s what you get bitch.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @thedarkworldofhananerea @shurisgf @milliumizoomi @armandosbabymama @tyneshaaa @dyttomori @5tarlan7 @deadpool15 @yeahnohoneybye @believeinthefireflies95 @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @sarcasticbitchsblog

[grnherbs]

I don't want to set the world on fire.

eighteen plus, mdni.

this is a corrupt cop!leon story which will have dark themes such as abduction, yandere, smut (noncon, dubcon), stockholm syndrome, violence & manipulation but content warnings will be on every chapter. i plan for this to be a multi part story but we'll see how it goes !!

wc: 1.2k

cw: kidnapping, corrupt cop, yandere, violence (hitting), spitting, crying, personality change?, concussion, talk of minor injuries, handcuffs, pet names, delusional leon, fear, dacryphilia (kinda?),

you begin to learn new things about your best friend that you never thought would conceivably be true as you try to navigate his personality when he returns as a cop from raccoon city.

“stop wriggling, you're not getting out of those cuffs” he eyes you up in the rearview mirror, his ashy blonde hair falling in front of his eyes before running a leather gloved hand to push it back into place as you continue to move around, the cold metal gripping your wrists as you bite your lip in frustration and he takes a right at the traffic lights, the old tyre's of the cop car screeching slightly as he pulls away.

“please officer kennedy… leon, you know me, i don’t usually do these things, my record is clean, my parents can’t know about this please” you plead with him but he just turns his head back to the road, gripping the steering wheel, pulling out into the junction turning left, shaking his head at your whining.

“you know better than this, i’m really ashamed of you sweetheart, i really thought you were a nice girl, and nice girls don’t do what you’ve done this evening” he berates you and a blush of humiliation settles on your cheeks, looking down at your lap as your childhood friend and neighbour scolds you, a tear falling from your eye.

“please, c’mon i’ll do anything, you can’t tell my parents. you know they’ll kill me” you start to sob and he tuts at you, you continue to stare at your legs, tears still falling as he drives along the rough unfamiliar terrain and pulls into a… driveway? It was dark and you couldn’t even see any street lights, regardless of the blurry tears in your eyes.

“leon, w-where are we? weren’t we going to the station?” you question as he pulls up and turns off the engine, hands settling still on the steering wheel, the leather squeaking as he grips it, ignoring your questioning. the silence was deafening, before getting out the car, slamming the door behind him, causing you to jump and leaving you alone in the vehicle, shaking slightly, where were you?

a few moments go by as he opens the car door by your side, hand reaches in to grip your arm roughly causing you to gasp out and screech quietly “ouch!! leon” you squeal before he places his free arm around your mouth, no chance of allowing sound to leave it.

you begin to panic and scratch at his arms as he dragged you along by your waist, kicking out, what was he doing? whose house was this? It looked abandoned, the plants growing up the walls, yellowed panels lined the outside and the little grass you could see was even overgrown or dead.

he grips you tighter now, as you try to escape his solid, non moving grasp, barely audible squeaks leaving your lips and he practically growls “shut. up. you're only going to make this worse” he says sharply at you and your eyes widen at this, the soft cop who’d been your neighbour for the last decade, the soft blonde boy you’d grown up with, disappearing immediately and the panic truly settles in as a cold shiver whips through your body.

the last thing you remember before the hit to the head had been the bruising grip he had on you and the world fades to black.

drip.

drip..

drip…

the cold hit of water on your cheek had your eyes open quickly, taking in a gasp as you looked around yourself, hugging your arms immediately to your chest, breathing heavily. the cold stone floor was a shock to your system and the damp mouldy puddle growing by your head was still being dripped into from a wet patch on the ceiling. the room around you was dusty, a singular dirty and yellowed light fixture and hardly lit bulb hanging from the flimsy looking, almost makeshift ceiling, barely worth having as it dimly lit the room.

you rub your eyes, touch the shallow forming bump which had begun to grow on your forehead, before hearing the jingle of a cold chain attached to your wrist and that's exactly when you notice the other one on your ankle on the opposing side, another sharp breath leaving your body when reality begins to settle in. looking up and scanning your surroundings once more, you see nothing save for a window at the very top of the room, with bars across it, a stairway that was entirely out of reach. and a metal fold up chair in the middle of the room.

thats when you saw the feet perched either side of it, the individual leaning over the back of it where he was sat the wrong way round. “there you are darling, been waiting for you to open your pretty eyes, you know.. you make the most adorable noises when you’re sleeping” he chuckles dryly to himself, the silver in his hand catching the light, which you came to realise was a knife, he was twisting quietly in his hand, watching your eyes adjust.

you gulped and his dark eyes met yours through messy hair, looking through you “what’s the matter baby? cat got your tongue?” he tilts his head to take you in fully. you refuse to break eye contact with him until the throbbing in your head returns once more, rubbing it and breathing through the nausea it was making you feel.

“afraid you might have a minor concussion sweetheart, you just wouldn’t… stop wriggling away from me, so i had to put you to sleep” he gets up, pushing the chair away, knife in hand, and he kneels before you, hand coming out to stroke your cheek and you move your head back but he grips your jaw roughly making you look at him. “silly girl, huh? it’s just me baby, just your lee…” you felt sick to your stomach as he repeats the nickname and a single tear fell from your face as he said this.

he pulls you in for a tight hug which you settle into for a second, his hand gently stroking your hair and you feel the wave of confidence as your free leg comes up to kick his shin, but he’s quicker than you are, gripping your leg as his fist comes into contact with your cheek almost instinctively, causing you to fall to the side and he stands.

“you fucking stupid bitch!” he shouts at you through gritted teeth, leaning over to spit on your face, backing up and holding the knife out to you. “fine, you wanna act like a stupid bitch, we’ll see how pliant you are after a few cold lonely nights down here”. He tuts as he moves away, foot on the bottom step, taking one last look at the sight and shaking his head “keep crying all you want, it only makes me hard.”

and you pout out at him, a shallow gasp at his cruelty, his footsteps disappearing up the stairs and the light turning off, bolting the door shut and your breath picks up in the darkness surrounding you, a sting settling on your wounded cheek, wiping off the spit he had laid on you. the cold picked up in the barren of the basement, you rock yourself gently as you settle in for a night alone. the sound of his familiar car engine pulling out of the drive meant you were truly alone and you fell into sleep once more, trying to ignore the nausea settling into your stomach.

[grogumaximus]

Newey details major F1 trait shared by Vettel and Verstappen

"I think with all the drivers I've been lucky enough to work with over the year, their feedback is vital," he says.

"Very often, different drivers will be more sensitive to different areas.

"For example, Sebastian Vettel and Max have one thing in common, in that they are both very sensitive to the tyres.

"Other drivers, like Mark Webber for instance, were very sensitive to aerodynamic changes, and Max is as well.

"With the driveability of the engine, some drivers are more sensitive than others, so you get different bits of feedback from different drivers and then piece it all together.

"Theoretically, you could argue that with all the sensors on the car, and all the simulation tools we have to derive from the sensors, then we shouldn't need the feedback of a human.

"But, the human feedback is vital as the human is the controller, the sensitivity and feeling and ability to express that is key.

"It is not a machine-driven vehicle."

[blamemma]

"Today wasn't good. Not much to say...We didn't change much, but it was just a lot harder for us to honestly get the most out of the tyres, nothing productive to say...We were really confident yesterday, that's why we didn't change much, this morning on the medium we were okay, then we put on the soft and we were nowhere, but we thought in quali we'd get it sorted, and we didn't, that wasn't fun."

- Daniel Ricciardo speaks to Lawrence Barretto after qualifying P16 in Singapore

[f1smutwriter]

Hi tis me again

I feel awkward with all the request. I'm just obsessed with f1 rn.

Pierre learning to do your acrylic nails so he can spend more time with you during the f1 season.

This guy's love language is acts of service and quality time

Chilling in the hotel in pajamas drinking wine and sushi getting your nails done by pierre gloating about your man on socials like "your bf could never but here's what mine does." Maybe he gets teased about ut by the other drivers but who cares he bagged a bad bitch and he's in love.

Almond shape but otherwise what ever is fine.

| 𝐌𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐧 (𝐩𝐠𝟏𝟎)

𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Pierre the perfect boyfriend anyone could ask for. He adores his girlfriend and treats her like the princess she is. So he learned to do nails just for his princess

Warnings: nothing just some tea and cursing

Notes: Gosh these Pierre fics you request gosh I love them. Like these are my favorite things to write when the guy just does something to spend time with you. This is my first time doing the Instagram thing on tumblr but I do them all the time on Wattpad so if you don’t like it just let me know and I’ll change it for you girl. Hope you love it!

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

“Ma chérie you ready” he called out for me as I come out of the bathroom with a smile. “Hi handsome” I smiled kissing his lips softly as I sit down on the bed so he can paint my toes. “I learned this cool new thing. Best thing ever” he smiled as he rubbed my feet softly making me sigh feeling more relaxed.

“Handsome I don’t know why you do this, you don’t have to” I whispered softly making her chuckle softly. “Mon cœur I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to” he smiled softly kissing my leg making me shiver softly. “I get to spend more time with you, plus I want to pamper my girl” He smiled making me blush from his words.

“Why do you have to be so perfect all the time” I mumbled before he snorts causing me to laugh with him. “You know what sounds amazing right now” I whispered softly as he looks up at me. “Why are you whispering” he laughed making me kick him softly. “Sushi and wine” I groaned softly craving both of them. “Want me to order us sushi and wine” he asked softly making me nod frantically. He goes over to the phone and orders room service.

“Coming in about 30 minutes” he said softly making me squeal. “thank you baby” I whispered kissing him feeling him grab my waist to kiss me back softly. “Gosh you have no idea how in love I am with you” he whispered kissing my neck softly. “Let’s get back to your nails before I take you right here right now” he said sitting me down on my chair while he paints my nails.

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡

yourusername

Liked by pierregasly, and 1,000,000 others

yourusername: get you man who does all this for you, and his excuse to do all this was. “Amour I need to pamper you”

Tagged: pierregasly

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charles_leclerc: this needed to stay in the drafts

yourusername: someone is mad I took their man

charles_leclerc: mad your always second place 🤷‍♀️

yourusername: really because last time I checked I’m first place babes 😙

pierregasly: my pretty girl I love you ❤️

yourusername: I love you more handsome

User: Charles hate to break it to you but your second

charles_leclerc: I know :(

alexandrasaintmleux: oh for Charles to do this for me

yourusername: you don’t need Charles babe you have me 😉

charles_leclerc: back up bitch or we fight

yourusername: I’m slashing all your tyres

carlossainz55: NO please don’t we need to win

yourusername: oh well bye bye Ferrari

lilymhe: the fact I’ve been stalking your page

yourusername: babe stalk my page all you want

alexalbon: not only are you stealing my girl but Charles girl to

yourusername: I’m after all the wags my master plan

lilymhe: tbh I’d let her take me

alexalbon: 😣

maxverstappen1: he’s lowkey whipped for you

yourusername: yes he is and guess what I love it

pierregasly: I am she gives good head 💁‍♂️

yourusername: 😧

pierregasly: it had to be said Mon amour I’m sorry

User: I want a guy to treat me like this

User: me to they make me feel so single

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡

“Mon amour you posted me” Pierre asked shaking his head making me giggle. “Yes I had to baby, had to show everyone who my man was” I smiled before he grabbed me putting me on his lap. He started kissing my neck softly, feeling myself let out a small whimper. “I love you so much you have no idea baby” he whispered softly in my ear making me blush. “I love you more handsome” I smile before he kissed my head softly. “I love you the most princess” He whispered going back to kissing my neck.

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡

Pierre just got on the paddock now walking towards his garage to look at the car, but he got stopped by one of his best friends. “Bro painting her nails and all of that your whipped mate” Charles snorted before laughing at him. “Why am I whipped because I love my girl” He smiled at Charles before Charles shakes his head.

“I do it because I don’t spend time with her I’m always away, so it gives us some time together” Pierre explained making Charles let out a small smile. “It’s nice to see you like this man, all in love and everything” Charles commented as Pierre feels his cheeks get red. “Me in love what about you and Alex I see how you guys are with each other” Pierre laughed softly now making Charles blush a bit. “Look at us two blushing fools” Charles snorted making them both laugh out.

“Who would have thought” Pierre laughed softly as they both walk down the paddock.

“Who would have thought” Charles smiled softly

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

Notes: I’m sorry this was short but I kinda was running out of things to say. I hope you guys liked it, and please send more requests I beg you.