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AM!Fernando Alonso x wife reader. While all the drivers have their annual dj nee together, they have their own diner with the Strolls. Just what I know since him and Lance are not there. Maybe they had kid(s) (you decide) And Lance being their fav uncle. Spending time, banter, sweet. Anything. Thanks!! :))

I’m sorry this is out rather late!! I’m on vacay so hehe

A Night with the Strolls

The annual driver’s DJ night was in full swing, but Fernando had decided to take a different route this year. Instead of joining the usual crowd for the glitzy and glamorous event, he and his wife had a more intimate plan—dinner with the Stroll family. Lance, being a close friend and mentor to Fernando, was like family, and his wife had grown just as fond of him over the years. The kids, their two young children—Mateo, 6, and Isabella, 4—were more than excited to be spending the evening with Uncle Lance.

The evening was filled with laughter and playful banter as the children chased Lance around the house, calling him their personal jungle gym. Lance, with his larger-than-life personality, was their favorite playmate. His laughter was contagious, and they clung to him as though he was the most important person in their world.

“I think I’ve earned the title of ‘Best Uncle’ tonight,” Lance said with a grin, lifting Mateo into the air and giving him an exaggerated spin.

Fernando, watching from the couch with his wife beside him, couldn’t help but smile. “They’ll want you to take them on a road trip next, you know,” he teased, a proud glint in his eyes as his son clung to Lance’s neck.

“Why not? I’ll just kidnap them and take them away for a few days. They’ll love it,” Lance joked, raising both kids high and making airplane sounds.

Fernando’s wife, sitting quietly next to him, couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace as she watched the scene unfold. The laughter of their children, the light-hearted teasing between Lance and Fernando, and the warmth of the Strolls’ family felt like a dream. She had never imagined a life like this. Coming from a broken home, where love had often felt uncertain and fleeting, she never thought she would find herself in the kind of family that Fernando had created. But here she was, surrounded by the kind of warmth and stability she had always longed for.

She turned to Fernando, her heart full. “Look at them,” she said softly, her voice filled with quiet admiration. “They’re so happy. I never thought I would find a family like this.”

Fernando smiled, his gaze never leaving her as he leaned closer. “You gave me everything I never knew I needed. I’m the lucky one.”

As the evening progressed, they shared moments of quiet connection. The kids ran around, laughing and playing, while Fernando and his wife enjoyed the peace and comfort of each other’s company. At one point, Fernando leaned in closer to his wife, his hand finding hers on the table. Their fingers intertwined naturally, as though they had always belonged there.

“Do you ever think about how we ended up here?” Fernando asked, his voice low, almost as if speaking to himself.

She looked at him, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I think about it all the time,” she replied. “I never imagined I could be this happy, this… whole. When I was younger, love always seemed so fleeting, like something that couldn’t last. But now, with you, it’s different. I feel safe. I feel like I’ve found my home.”

Fernando’s gaze softened as he took a breath, pulling her hand closer to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand, a gesture of love so simple yet so profound. “I was lost, you know. In all the glitz and glamor of racing, the fame, the attention… none of it felt real. None of it meant anything until I found you. You made me feel like I finally had a place, a purpose. When I met you, I finally felt like I was home.”

Her heart melted at his words. She had always known he was a passionate and driven man, but hearing him speak so vulnerably touched her in a way that no victory on the racetrack ever could. “You are my home too, Fernando,” she whispered. “You and our children. There’s nowhere else I would rather be.”

The connection between them was palpable, a silent understanding that, despite the world around them, this was their safe space, their place of love and trust. He leaned in then, brushing his lips gently against hers in a kiss that felt like a promise. Soft, tender, yet full of all the love he held for her.

They pulled away, but Fernando’s hand lingered on her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her jawline. “You are everything to me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than I could ever ask for. I will always choose you. Always.”

Her eyes shimmered with love as she gazed at him, feeling the depth of his devotion in every word. “And I will always choose you,” she said, her voice steady but full of affection. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Fernando.”

As the evening wore on, the kids grew tired, and Lance’s playful energy began to wind down. They all gathered around the table, enjoying a quiet meal together. Mateo had managed to convince Lance to tell them a new story, a tale of knights and dragons, and even Isabella, usually quiet during dinner, listened with wide-eyed wonder.

Fernando’s wife watched them, taking in the sight of the Stroll family. Lance, ever the jokester, had always been there for Fernando, and it was clear to her how much Lance admired his friend, not just as a teammate, but as a role model, a father figure.

Fernando had often told her that he had always been close to Lance, but she hadn’t realized just how deep their bond ran. Lance saw Fernando as more than just a colleague. He saw him as a mentor, a guide, someone who had been like a brother to him. When they were younger, Lance had looked up to Fernando—admired his success, his drive, and his unwavering loyalty to those he loved. Over time, that admiration had blossomed into a deep friendship, and now, it was clear that Lance adored Fernando like a father.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, man,” Lance had said more than once. “You’ve taught me more than just racing—you’ve taught me what it means to be a man of integrity, to be a good person.”

Fernando had always brushed it off with a laugh, but deep down, he knew how much Lance’s words meant. He had always tried to be a good role model, not just for his kids, but for the people in his life. And seeing Lance with his children—how the kids gravitated toward him, how he genuinely loved them like they were his own—touched him more than he could ever express.

Later, when the kids had been tucked into bed, and the house was quiet, Fernando and his wife took a moment to sit outside on the patio. The stars above them seemed to twinkle in the soft night sky, and a light breeze stirred the air. Fernando pulled her into his arms, wrapping his jacket around her as she nestled closer.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft and full of love, “I’d like to have another child. A third one. What do you think?”

Her gaze met his, and she felt a mix of love and uncertainty. “I would love that, Fernando, but I’m not sure I can go through it all again. After… everything we’ve been through. I’m scared.”

Fernando’s expression softened as he kissed the top of her head, his arms tightening around her in a protective embrace. “You don’t have to be scared. Whatever we decide, I’m here with you. And no matter how many children we have, we’ll have everything we need because we have each other. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her heart swelled at his words. She had always known Fernando was a strong man—on the track, in the spotlight, and in their home—but it was moments like this, when his vulnerability shone through, that made her love him even more.

“I love you so much, Fernando,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. “You make me feel safe. You make me feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

His lips brushed against her forehead, a soft kiss that spoke of love, of promises made, and of the beautiful life they had created together. “And I will always love you, mi amor. You are my everything.”

As the night continued, Fernando and his wife held each other close, their hearts full of love, their bond stronger than ever. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their family and the quiet of the night, they both knew that no matter what the future held, as long as they had each other, they were home.

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Sooooo could I please request a long one shot with Charles x reader I just really fell in love with this pic I mean look at him😍.. I want something by really angsty like maybe reader has made him jealous or he’s giving the reader the silent treatment I want angst and fluff and a happy ending please

A Dance of Jealousy

The club was alive with the pulse of music, the dance floor buzzing with energy as bodies swayed to the beat, flashing lights illuminating the faces of those who sought both pleasure and escape. But for you, the world seemed to fade away, your mind fixated on the sight in front of you—the sight of Vanessa, a woman you barely knew, sitting on Charles’s lap, laughing as if the two of them shared some intimate joke. The very sight of it churned something deep in your stomach, a feeling of jealousy mixed with something far more painful—rejection.

You thought you had a place in his life, even if that place wasn’t clearly defined. But in that moment, watching her cling to him in that bold, confident way, something shifted. The flicker of your heartache turned into a cold, gnawing emptiness. You couldn’t sit there, watch them, and do nothing. So, you left.

As you pushed your way through the crowd, heading to the dance floor, your heart hammered in your chest. The music throbbed in your ears, its rhythm steady and loud as if trying to drown out the bitterness seeping into your thoughts. You moved as though the music controlled your body, the deep, repetitive bass matching the pulse of your emotions as you danced harder and faster. The energy of the crowd around you was a temporary escape from the knot tightening in your chest, but then, Max appeared.

Maximilian VERSTAPPEN —a mafia leader with more power than most could ever dream of—had been making his interest in you known for weeks. He was smooth, charming, and manipulative in ways you couldn’t entirely ignore, even though you never let him get too close. But tonight, in your state of heightened emotions, you couldn’t find the strength to push him away.

Before you could protest, he was pulling you into a dance, his hands at your waist, guiding your movements as though he owned you. His touch was too familiar, too intimate, and you felt your body betray you as you let yourself go, your frustration manifesting in a frantic, almost reckless performance. Max’s eyes never left you, his grin widening as he felt your resistance crumble, but then, just when you thought it was enough, his hand slid lower, dangerously so, and his lips brushed against your ear.

Your stomach turned in protest. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t how you wanted to feel, yet the pressure of everything—the jealousy, the feeling of being replaced, of being dismissed—made it hard to resist. The touch of another man, the blatant disregard for your boundaries, was too much. The last straw was Max’s lips at your neck, a move that felt invasive, crossing a line you weren’t prepared to let anyone cross.

That was when Charles arrived.

His presence, like a thunderstorm rolling in on a clear day, swept over the dance floor. His eyes, dark and stormy, locked onto you. His jaw clenched, and in one fluid movement, he shoved Max aside. Max staggered back, confusion and shock in his eyes, but Charles didn’t even spare him another glance. All his focus was on you.

“I take my eyes off you for one second,” Charles’s voice was low, rough with anger. “And you fall into another man’s arms?”

You didn’t have the courage to respond. How could you? The anger in his voice matched the fury in your chest, but it was different—this was the anger of someone who claimed ownership, someone who wasn’t accustomed to being crossed. His gaze pierced you, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

Charles’s hand was like iron as he gripped your arm, pulling you through the crowd without a word. You stumbled behind him, the weight of his fury settling heavily on your shoulders. People watched, some whispering, others frozen, unsure whether they should intervene.

You were too dazed to care, caught in the tight coil of your emotions. All you wanted was to escape, to find some corner of peace. But Charles wasn’t done. Not yet.

The ride to the car was a blur. He was silent, his jaw clenched as he led you to the backseat of his car with such intensity that you barely noticed the cold night air until you were seated inside. The door slammed shut, and then, the engine roared to life. You tried to speak, but no words came out.

Charles didn’t look at you. Not once. His eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. It felt like hours had passed, and yet not a word had been spoken. His silence was suffocating.

Was he mad at you? You knew he was. But the longer he stayed quiet, the harder it became to breathe. Silence was something you feared more than anything else. It felt like abandonment, like being invisible. Growing up, silence had always meant something was wrong—something was about to happen, something bad. A shift in the atmosphere, a tension in the air that signaled the worst.

And now, in the suffocating silence of the car, you were left to stew in your own thoughts, each one darker than the last.

You didn’t realize it then, but your childhood had left a mark. You had grown up in a household where arguments were common, but what truly haunted you was the silence that followed. The long stretches of nothingness that felt like a punishment. No words, no reassurance. Just the suffocating stillness before everything fell apart.

You had always feared being ignored. It made you feel small, invisible, like you were nothing. It had made you strive for approval from others, trying desperately to avoid the loneliness that followed silence like a shadow.

But now, with Charles beside you, ignoring you with such intensity, the weight of that childhood fear crushed you. Had you done something wrong? Was he angry at you? You could feel the tears welling up, a sharp knot in your throat that you couldn’t swallow down.

And then, he accelerated. The car surged forward, the tires screeching as Charles drove faster and faster, the city lights blurring past you in a haze of fear. You gripped the seat, your heart racing, the anxiety gnawing at you. You couldn’t breathe. The speed, the silence, the tension—it all felt like too much.

“Charles, please,” you gasped, trying to steady yourself. “Slow down.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even glance at you. It only made the fear build higher, until your breath became shallow, and your hands started shaking. The silence between you two was deafening, suffocating.

And then, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You broke. Tears started streaming down your face, hot and desperate, your chest heaving with each sob. “Please… I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “I didn’t mean to…”

Finally, Charles’s grip on the wheel tightened even further, his eyes darkening with a mix of guilt and anger. He swerved the car off the main road and onto a deserted street, the engine growling in the silence as he slammed the brakes, the car screeching to a halt.

The tension in the car snapped, and for the first time, Charles turned his gaze to you—really looked at you. His eyes softened, the anger receding, but the hurt lingered.

“Don’t cry,” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly. His rough hands reached for you, cupping your face gently, brushing the tears from your cheeks. His touch was surprisingly tender, like he was trying to pull you back from the edge. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

“I’m scared of being ignored,” you whispered through your sobs, your voice trembling. “Of being invisible. It reminds me of… of my childhood. The silence. When people stopped talking to me, I felt like I was nothing.”

Charles’s expression softened with understanding. His thumb brushed over your skin again, his gaze unwavering. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know it hurt you like that.” His voice dropped to a whisper, the rawness of his emotion evident in every word. “I just… I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

You felt a mix of relief and uncertainty. You had never expected Charles to be so open, so vulnerable. It was as if the storm had passed and the silence between you no longer felt like an accusation.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back, reaching for his hand, pulling it to your chest. “I’m not leaving you, Charles. I just… I didn’t know you’d be so mad. I didn’t know I meant so much to you.”

Charles stared at you, his face etched with a blend of frustration and longing. Finally, he let out a deep sigh, rubbing his thumb across your hand in slow, deliberate motions. “I’m jealous, okay? Of Max. Of anyone who dares to touch you. You’re mine, and I’ve been too damn stupid to admit it.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. The intensity of his confession hit you in waves, and suddenly, everything you’d feared seemed to dissolve. He wasn’t angry at you—he was angry because he cared so damn much.

“Charles…” you whispered, the words thick in your throat. “I’m yours, too.”

The car’s engine purred quietly now, the sharp screech of tires and the rush of speed replaced by a lingering tension in the air. The night’s events still felt like a storm, too raw, too overwhelming, but in the silence that surrounded you both now, something had shifted. It wasn’t just the apology—it was more than that. Charles had peeled back a layer of his guarded exterior, something you had never seen before.

The car’s engine idled in the silence, the world outside completely still. It felt like time had stopped. You and Charles were left in the aftermath of the storm, the tension still hanging between you like a thick fog.

But it wasn’t just anger that had brought you here. It was the fear—the kind of fear you couldn’t escape, no matter how hard you tried to swallow it down. Fear of being ignored, of feeling invisible again. It had haunted you your whole life, and it was the one thing that made your chest tighten the most.

Charles, sensing the depth of your emotions, softened slightly, though his features were still tight with tension. He looked at you, his jaw still clenched, but now, his gaze was filled with something else—understanding. Slowly, he reached over, his rough hand brushing against yours.

“I’m not going to ignore you,” he said, his voice low and sincere, his eyes never leaving yours.

You flinched, your body trembling at the words, and a fresh wave of tears filled your eyes. You could feel the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. “I don’t want to be ignored,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’ve felt invisible for so long… like I don’t matter. I just… I don’t want that with you, Charles. I don’t want to feel like I’m nothing.”

Charles’s eyes softened, and for the first time that night, you saw the vulnerability in him. The walls he had built around himself seemed to crack just a little. He reached up, cupping your face in his large hands, gently brushing away the tears that continued to fall.

“I didn’t realize it hurt you like that,” he murmured, his voice a soft contradiction to the fierce man you had known all this time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

But then, something inside you broke. It was like all the pent-up emotions—years of insecurity and loneliness—came rushing out in a flood. You couldn’t stop yourself now. You needed him to understand.

“Growing up,” you began, your voice trembling, “it was always like that. The silence. The moments when everything stopped, and I was left alone in it. I would do something wrong, or I wouldn’t say the right thing, and then… nothing. No words. No love. Just cold silence.”

Charles’s expression hardened as he took in your words. “I didn’t know,” he said softly, his voice cracking with the weight of what you had just shared.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the floodgates open as everything you had buried deep inside poured out. “It was always the silence that terrified me. The idea of not mattering enough to even be noticed. I thought… I thought that if I wasn’t perfect, if I wasn’t seen, then I didn’t exist. That no one would care. I’ve always been terrified of that.” Your voice broke, and the tears kept coming, but this time, they felt different. They felt like a release.

Charles didn’t say anything at first. He just held you, his arms wrapping around you tightly, pulling you against his chest, as though he could shield you from the pain of your past. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his tone filled with regret. “I’ll never ignore you, not like that. You’re not invisible to me. You matter. You always have.”

You buried your face against his shirt, your fingers gripping the fabric as if you could anchor yourself to him. “Please… promise me you won’t ignore me. Promise me you won’t leave me alone like that.”

He pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes, his expression fierce, but there was tenderness in the way he held you. “I swear,” he said firmly. “I won’t ever let you feel like that again. Not with me. You’re not invisible, not to me.”

You exhaled, the weight of the fear lifting just a little. His words, his touch, his presence—it all reassured you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

But then, something shifted in his gaze. A darkness settled over him as he looked at you, his jaw tight once more. “And Max,” he growled, the fury from earlier resurfacing in his eyes. “He’ll never touch you again. I’ll make sure of that.”

You flinched, instinctively pulling away from the intensity in his voice. “Charles… please don’t hurt him,” you whispered. “I just wanted to escape, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I shouldn’t have danced with him.”

Charles’s face softened, but his grip on you didn’t loosen. “It’s not your fault. Max crossed a line, and he won’t get away with it. He made a mistake, thinking he could have you. And now he’s going to regret it.”

The possessiveness in his voice was clear, and although it sent a thrill through you, a part of you still felt uneasy about the extreme lengths he was willing to go to. But then you remembered—this was Charles. A man who had built his life on power and control. And no one, not even Max, would take what was his.

“You don’t need to do anything,” you whispered, reaching up to touch his face gently. “I just want us to be okay. I want to feel like I belong… with you.”

Charles stared at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before his lips parted, his voice thick with emotion. “You do belong with me,” he said quietly. “You’ve always belonged with me. And I’m not going to let anything take you away from me.”

The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, and it sent a jolt through you. You knew that Charles would do anything to keep you close, to protect you, but this—this was different. It was raw, real, and terrifying in its intensity. You had never expected this side of him.

But it felt right. It felt like you were finally seen. Finally understood.

As the silence settled again, this time it was different. There were no unspoken fears between you now. There was only understanding, and the promise of something more.

Charles let out a slow breath, his gaze softening as he leaned forward, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll make sure you never feel invisible again,” he said, his voice quiet but unwavering. “You’re mine. And no one—no one—will take you from me.”

In that moment, everything in you calmed. The storm had passed, and now, in his arms, you felt safe. You weren’t invisible anymore. You had a place. You had a home, and it was with Charles.

And as the car sat quietly in the night, you realized that you weren’t afraid anymore. Not of the silence, not of the fear, and not of the future. Because with him, you knew you were finally where you belonged.

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From p:

Toto Wolff with fem!reader. They have been together long enough for him to propose to her. With Jack's help of course. The boy has come to love her since you're always paying attention to him and just being there. She had a good relationship with Susie and always had girl night with her and other WAGs. Toto couldn't imagine not having her in his life. Event leading to their wedding day. The usual stuff; fitting dress/suit, prep, bridesmaid/grooms. With the grid (she's their grid mom to everyone) If you want to separate both parts, do it. I don't mind. Fluff/suggestive. Thanks!!!

The Proposal

It was the little moments with you that made Toto Wolff fall deeper and deeper in love. The soft touch of your hand against his when you walked side by side through the paddock, the way you’d laugh at his dry jokes, and the comfort he found in the way you effortlessly interacted with the people who were closest to him—especially his son, Jack. These moments, though small to the world, were the ones that made his heart swell. He had never imagined that someone would slip so naturally into his life, into his world, and make it better.

The relationship had started slowly, at first as just a friendship. You had been working with the team as a liaison for sponsors, a role that often had you spending time with both Toto and Susie at events. Your first conversation with Toto had been a brief discussion over some minor logistics, but something clicked. You had an effortless way of connecting with people, especially with him, and before long, you were meeting for coffee after long days at the track, discussing everything from racing to your shared love of obscure books. It wasn’t long before the conversations moved to something deeper—your personal lives, your dreams, your frustrations.

And somewhere between those late-night talks, long walks in the quiet of the evening, and shared glances, something shifted. It wasn’t fireworks or grand gestures. It was quiet, like the soft hum of something inevitable, something you both knew but didn’t have to say. Until one night, when Toto, looking at you with an intensity in his eyes that made your heart race, kissed you. It was gentle at first, his lips brushing against yours as if testing the waters, but when you kissed him back, everything changed. The world around you disappeared, leaving only him, only you.

It didn’t take long for you both to realize you had become inseparable. It wasn’t just about love—it was about the way your hearts had intertwined without either of you trying. You were the calm in his chaos, the one who could make him laugh even on the hardest days. You knew how to give Jack the attention he craved, not as a stepmother or a replacement, but as someone who cared deeply for him and wanted to be part of his life. Toto had watched with admiration as you built a relationship with his son, one that was filled with understanding and patience. The way Jack looked at you—like you were someone he could trust, someone who truly understood him—only made Toto fall deeper in love with you.

And then there was Susie. Susie had always been the center of their world, the one who held everything together. It wasn’t just a friendship that formed between you and her; it was a bond, a connection of two women who had both seen the highs and lows of life and understood each other completely. Your girls’ nights were something Susie looked forward to as much as you did. Whether it was a quiet evening at home or an impromptu getaway, your presence in their lives felt like a breath of fresh air. Toto had noticed, and he couldn’t help but be grateful.

Now, after years of being together, Toto found himself thinking of the future, thinking of you as the woman who would be by his side for the rest of his life. He couldn’t imagine a day without you, a world where you weren’t there to share the good and the bad. The thought of marrying you filled him with a warmth he hadn’t known was possible. And so, with Jack’s eager help, he set his plan into motion.

The ring was perfect, something he had spent months searching for—something as beautiful as you. It was an antique, a vintage piece that had been passed down through a family, its center stone a rich, deep blue sapphire, surrounded by diamonds. He had felt it was the perfect representation of you—unique, rare, and breathtaking.

Before he could even think about the proposal itself, there was one thing he needed to do. It had been on his mind ever since he realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you: he needed to ask your father for his blessing.

Toto had always respected you, but this was different. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to show you how much he valued your family, how much he cherished the bond the two of you had built. So, one evening, he drove out to your father’s house. It was a quiet, modest place, nestled on the outskirts of town, and Toto felt the weight of the moment as he approached the door.

Your father greeted him warmly, but Toto could sense the underlying tension. It wasn’t that your father didn’t like him—he respected Toto. But there was a certain protectiveness he had over you, as any father would. They sat in the living room, and Toto, despite his calm demeanor, found himself nervous.

“Toto,” your father began, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve been a part of our lives for a while now. And I’ve seen how you look after my daughter. You’re good to her. But you know, a father’s concern never really goes away.”

Toto nodded, understanding the depth of your father’s words. “I love her,” he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. “I can’t imagine my life without her. I want to take care of her, to be there for her in every way possible.”

The silence stretched between them for a moment before your father stood, walked over, and placed a hand on Toto’s shoulder. “Then I give you my blessing,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Make her happy, Toto. That’s all I ask.”

Toto’s heart swelled in that moment, knowing he had just been given one of the greatest gifts of all—the blessing of the man who had been there for you your entire life. With a grateful nod, Toto stood, shook your father’s hand, and made his way home. The next step was clear: he would ask you to marry him.

The night of the proposal came soon after. He had planned it all—an intimate evening on the lakeside, just the two of you. The sun was setting, casting a soft golden glow on the water as you walked side by side, hand in hand, oblivious to the excitement bubbling inside Toto’s chest. Jack was hidden nearby, a big grin on his face, ready to join in when the moment came.

“Toto,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “What’s going on? You seem…different tonight.”

He turned to you, his eyes full of affection. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I’ve spent so much of my life racing, chasing after things I thought I needed. But what I’ve realized is that the only thing I truly need is you. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

He dropped to one knee, his eyes never leaving yours, and in that moment, everything else faded away. Jack appeared from behind a tree, holding the ring in a small box, his grin widening as he saw your surprised expression.

“Will you marry me?” Toto asked, his voice full of love and anticipation.

You blinked, your heart hammering in your chest. “Yes,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. “Yes, of course.”

Jack rushed forward, his arms wrapping around both of you in an embrace that felt like the culmination of years of love, of family, of shared moments.

The Wedding

Wedding planning was a whirlwind of excitement, stress, and joy. You worked with Susie, of course, and the two of you had countless girls’ nights where you would go over details, laugh, and just enjoy each other’s company. Your relationship with her had become even more important as the wedding drew near. She was your confidante, your sounding board, your partner in crime.

The dress fitting was one of those moments you would never forget. When you first stepped into the bridal shop, the world seemed to pause. The gown—simple, elegant, but still breathtaking—was everything you had imagined. It hugged your body perfectly, the lace overlay and satin fabric giving you an ethereal quality. Susie and your bridesmaids stood around you, their eyes wide as they saw you in it.

“You look absolutely stunning,” Susie whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

As you turned to the mirror, you couldn’t help but smile. This was the dress, the one you would wear when you married Toto. It was almost surreal, the reality of it all settling in. Your heart fluttered as you thought about the man who would be waiting for you at the altar.

The day of the wedding was filled with love and laughter, as you and Toto prepared for the big moment. Jack stood by Toto’s side as his best man, both of them looking handsome in their suits. Your bridesmaids surrounded you as you stood at the altar, your heart racing as you saw Toto waiting for you, a proud smile on his face.

The ceremony was intimate, full of love and joy. You both exchanged vows, your voices trembling as you promised to be there for each other, to cherish each moment together. When the moment came, Toto placed the ring on your finger, his hands steady despite the emotions swirling between you.

The reception was a celebration of everything you had built together—family, love, and the promise of forever. Toto held you close as you danced, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I love you. I will love you for the rest of my life.”

And as the night continued, filled with laughter and the warm glow of friendship and family, you knew that your love story had only just begun. The life you had built together was a masterpiece, one you would cherish for all your days.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

heyy now that the seasons over i was just going and rereading old fics, i just wanted to ask if there would still be a part 2 to your lewis story? would love to read it <33

hello angel!! it’s been out for ages it’s titled the secret kiss on my masterlist it’s part two for the lewis fic :)) my fics aren’t getting reached to many users so I understand why people think it’s not out :)

[verstappenf1lecccc]

if you go I go

Dr. Oscar Piastri had always been a man of few words, his life dominated by the cold precision of surgery and the quiet solitude that came with being the best in his field. Yet, when he met you, everything changed. You were the light to his dark, the calm in his storm. You filled the silence of his world with laughter, joy, and warmth. To Oscar, you were everything—the pulse that kept him going, the reason he woke up every morning. He loved you more than words could express.

The two of you had been married for two years, and it was your wedding anniversary. Oscar was known for being meticulous, but even he couldn’t keep up with the chaos of the day. As much as he wanted to surprise you, he had been so focused on work and the pressures of his surgical career that he’d forgotten to plan. You, being the loving and understanding wife, had taken it upon yourself to surprise him with a gift—a token of your love for him.

It was early in the afternoon when you decided to go out. You had picked out a sleek, beautiful wristwatch for him, something to mark the special occasion, and you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he opened it. He had always worn the same old, worn-out watch, and you knew he’d love the new one.

But fate had other plans. As you were driving home, a car ran a red light, crashing into your vehicle with a terrifying force. The impact was deafening. The world around you spun out of control as the car flipped, the screech of metal on metal and the shattering of glass echoed in your ears. You tried to scream, but the pain—sharp, sudden, and all-consuming—cut off your breath. Your head collided violently with the steering wheel, and the world went dark.

Oscar’s day was just beginning to take a turn when his phone rang. At first, he thought it was another case, a consultation, or an update. But when he saw the name of the hospital flash on the screen, a chill ran down his spine. The voice on the other end was calm, clinical—but Oscar could hear the faint tremor, the underlying urgency that spoke volumes. His heart sank when he heard your name. He didn’t need to hear the details; the panic that gripped him in that moment told him everything he needed to know.

Without hesitation, he rushed to the hospital. The drive was a blur, his heart pounding in his chest, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t even remember the route he took, but all that mattered was getting to you. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.

When he arrived, the first thing he saw was the stretcher—the one carrying you, the love of his life. The sight of you, so pale, so still, sent a wave of panic crashing through him. He wasn’t sure if he could breathe, or if his legs would even hold him up. The world around him felt like it was collapsing. His perfect, peaceful world had been torn apart in a split second, and all he could do was watch as they wheeled you past him, unconscious and battered. The stretcher was stained with blood, and Oscar’s heart clenched, his thoughts spiraling into an abyss.

“Oscar, we need you in the OR,” a nurse called out, snapping him out of his trance.

Oscar nodded, but his eyes never left you. He followed the team as they rushed you into a trauma room. The fear in his chest was suffocating, but he forced himself to push it down. He couldn’t break down. Not here. Not now.

Once inside, the beeping of monitors filled the room, a steady rhythm that seemed to mock him with its mechanical nature. He was no longer the detached surgeon—the one who had learned to separate himself from his emotions. As he looked at you, barely recognizable from the blood and bruises, all the walls he’d carefully built around his heart began to crumble.

Your breathing was labored. A blood-soaked bandage was wrapped around your head, but it wasn’t enough to stop the bleeding. You had fractured ribs and internal injuries, but it was the internal hemorrhage that worried him the most. A small tear in one of your arteries had gone unnoticed earlier, and now it was slowly, quietly, tearing you apart from the inside.

Oscar could feel his hands trembling as he worked quickly to assess the damage, each moment more desperate than the last. His mind was a mess, but he had to keep it together. He had to save you.

But seeing you like this—the woman who had been his sunshine, his reason for waking up every day—made him feel more helpless than he’d ever been. His wife, his world, was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His professional mask was shattering, piece by piece, as his panic threatened to overwhelm him.

He was a doctor. He had saved countless lives. But you? You were different. You were his. The thought of losing you was unbearable.

And then, in the sterile chaos of the trauma room, when he couldn’t keep his emotions in check anymore, the words escaped him, a whispered confession that broke the silence.

“I don’t want you to die,” Oscar muttered, his voice rough with emotion. His hands shook as he held the scalpel, his mind racing with terror. “I can’t lose you. You’re all that I have…”

There was no response from you, only the steady hum of the machines and the frantic activity around him. But Oscar couldn’t stop. He worked tirelessly, desperately, knowing every second was a battle for your life.

The next few hours were a blur, but in the depths of his mind, he couldn’t shake the haunting thought that he was about to lose everything.

Somehow, against all odds, you made it through. The surgery had stopped the bleeding, and though the road to recovery would be long and uncertain, you were alive. But for Oscar, the terror of nearly losing you didn’t go away so easily. The fear still clung to him, gnawing at him in the quiet moments, in the spaces between breaths.

Months had passed since that day, but the memories never fully left him. They lingered, haunting him in the dark corners of his mind. And on one particularly restless night, the memories came crashing down with full force.

Oscar awoke suddenly, drenched in cold sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. The nightmare had been so vivid, so real, that he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had lost you all over again. In the dream, you were gone, your blood spilling out in front of him, his hands unable to stop it. He had been too late, and in the horror of that realization, his world had turned to ash. No colors, no joy, just a hollow, aching void.

He sat up in bed, gasping for breath, his chest tight, his hands trembling. His pulse was erratic, and the cold sweat clung to him like a second skin. The nightmare felt like a cruel replay of his deepest fear, and it made him feel helpless, powerless, and empty in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since the day you were injured.

His heart was heavy, and despite his desperate attempts to calm himself, he couldn’t escape the feelings of loss and dread that had consumed him. He slowly slid out of bed, careful not to wake you, and stumbled down the hallway to the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch. His body shook as the sobs he’d been holding back for months finally broke free.

He was a doctor. He was supposed to be strong, unshakable. But right now, in the silence of his home, with the memory of that nightmare still fresh, Oscar felt completely shattered.

You awoke to the cold emptiness of your bed. The space beside you was vacant, and a chill swept through your chest as you noticed Oscar was gone. Panic stirred in your heart. You knew something wasn’t right. As you slipped out of bed, your bare feet padded softly across the floor, the house eerily quiet, save for the soft sniffling you could hear coming from the living room.

When you found him, the sight of him—slumped on the couch, his face buried in his hands—broke you. Oscar, the stoic, the composed, was in pieces, vulnerable in a way you had never seen before.

His body trembled as he cried, a raw, heartbreaking sound that shattered your heart. You knelt beside him, your hands gently touching his shoulders.

“Oscar…” you whispered, your voice filled with concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

He looked up at you, his eyes bloodshot, his face streaked with tears. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to feel it all—the fear, the grief, the terror of losing you again.

“I’m so scared,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I saw you… I saw you die, and I couldn’t do anything. I don’t know how to live in a world where I’ve lost you. I don’t know how to breathe without you.” His hands gripped your shirt as though he were afraid you would slip away again.

You pulled him close, wrapping your arms around him, holding him tightly against you.

“I’m here, Oscar,” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m right here. And I’m never leaving you. You won’t lose me, I promise. We’ll face this together, always.”

Oscar let out a shaky breath, his body relaxing slightly in your arms. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured. “I was so scared… I thought I was going to lose you forever.”

“You don’t deserve this pain, Oscar,” you whispered, your fingers gently stroking his hair as he clung to you, the warmth of his body pressing against yours like a lifeline. “But you do deserve me, and I’m not going anywhere. You’ll never lose me. I promise.”

He pulled back slightly, looking up at you, his eyes raw and red from crying. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his professional armor was gone. There was no mask of calm detachment, no wall of control. There was only Oscar—the vulnerable, terrified man who had almost lost the love of his life and couldn’t bear the thought of living without you.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Oscar said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re the only thing that makes sense in this chaotic world. Every day I wake up and I see you beside me, and it’s like the world is okay again. But when I lost you… I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Everything went dark. I couldn’t stop it… and I still can’t shake that fear.”

You gently cupped his face, guiding his eyes back to yours. His hands trembled against your skin as if he were afraid to let go of you, to face the world without you by his side.

“You don’t have to fight this fear alone,” you whispered, your voice filled with tenderness. “I’m here, Oscar. I’ll always be here. You can lean on me. We’re stronger together. We’ll always find a way through the dark, no matter how much it hurts.”

Oscar’s lips parted, his gaze softening as he searched your face, looking for reassurance in the depths of your eyes. For a brief moment, the frantic anxiety that had consumed him faded, replaced by the quiet comfort of your presence. He took a shaky breath, his hands finding yours, holding them with an almost desperate intensity.

“I thought… I thought if I lost you, everything would shatter,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “But then I realized something. I don’t have to face this alone. We face it together. You’re not just my wife. You’re my strength, my heart, my reason to keep going. And I’ll never let that go. I’ll never let you go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you leaned in, kissing him gently on the forehead. “And I’ll never let you go, Oscar. You’re my heart, too. Without you, I wouldn’t be whole. We’re a team, always. Together, we’re unbreakable.”

A moment of silence passed, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. But in that silence, there was a peace—an understanding that neither of you could imagine life without the other. The fear, the pain, and the scars of that near-loss would always be a part of you both. But it wasn’t the end. Not now. Not ever.

Oscar closed his eyes for a moment, his face buried in your neck as he finally allowed himself to rest, to let go of the suffocating anxiety that had gripped him so tightly for months. He felt the warmth of your arms around him, the steady beat of your heart, and for the first time in so long, he let himself breathe.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but full of emotion. “I love you more than I’ll ever be able to say. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice soft but unwavering. “Always. And I’ll never give up on you. We’re in this together.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke, content to just hold each other, to let the quiet calm of the moment fill the empty spaces where fear and grief had once lived. Slowly, the tension began to leave Oscar’s body, his breathing evening out as he finally allowed himself to relax in your embrace.

The nightmares that had haunted him for months didn’t vanish overnight. But in your arms, he found something he had lost: hope. The kind of hope that only love could give. He knew the road ahead would still be hard, that the scars would never fully fade. But as long as you were by his side, he could face anything.

Oscar gently pulled away, his eyes searching yours with a softness that only you could bring out of him. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, fragile but real.

“I’m so glad you’re still here,” he murmured, his hands holding yours. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You smiled, your heart full of love. “You never have to find out. I’m not going anywhere, Oscar. Not now, not ever.”

And as you both sat there, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace, you realized just how deep your love ran. It had been tested, scarred, and nearly shattered, but through it all, you had come out the other side stronger, more united than ever.

Because without each other, neither of you would have survived.

But with each other, you were unstoppable.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Could you please write something with Fernando and you’re Ayrton Sennas daughter but you where only three when he died. Growing up you didn’t have much to do with Formula 1 until Alain took you to an Price ceremony in the early 2000s where you met an young Fernando you’re pretty sure there is still a picture somewhere. If someone would have told you you would end up marrying an F1 driver let alone that you would have a son you would have told them you’re crazy but the universe had other plans for you and so by the time Fernando finally retires you have a three year old which loves cars over everything with unruly curly hair and an crooked smile and as it is the last race you decide too take him with you too Abu Dhabi he deserves too see his Dad drive atleast once live and so he ends up sitting in the dark green Aston Martin grinning from ear too ear gripping the steering wheel before Fernando picks him up again you’re heart arches you love them so much without Fernando you probably wouldn’t have seen the positive side of everyone all the joy and celebrations and you’re thankful for that.❤️

Racing Through Timeline

this fic made me emotional idk why hope yalls enjoy it

Life has a strange way of unfolding, often in ways that are impossible to predict. You were just three years old when your father, the legendary Ayrton Senna, tragically passed away at Imola. That day, the racing world lost a giant, and so did you—a little girl who would never truly know the father whose name was spoken with reverence, whose legacy became a symbol of passion, talent, and greatness. Ayrton Senna wasn’t just a driver; he was a legend, a man who lived for the thrill of the race, and yet, for you, he was merely a memory—a faint echo in the stories your mother would tell, in the photos, the videos, and the occasional piece of memorabilia. Your father’s world was a place you could never fully grasp, and it wasn’t until later that you began to understand the depth of his impact on the sport and the hearts of those who followed him.

In those early years, Formula 1 felt like a foreign, distant world. The roaring engines, the bright lights, the high-speed cars racing across tracks—it all seemed so far removed from your small, quiet life. Your mother, though always gentle with you, would speak of your father in hushed tones, always reverent, always holding a certain sadness in her voice. She would tell you stories about his passion for racing—how he would approach the track like an artist, crafting perfect lines, how he could feel the rhythm of the car in a way no one else could. But to you, these were just stories, tales from a past you couldn’t truly touch, and as the years passed, the pain of losing him became something you could only feel in the gaps between your mother’s words and the quiet spaces in your life.

But life, as it does, sometimes finds a way to bring the past crashing back into the present. It was Alain Prost, your father’s fiercest rival, who became the person who helped bridge the gap between the man you never knew and the world of racing you would one day come to embrace. Alain wasn’t just a figure from your father’s past—he became a quiet protector, someone who, over the years, guided you through the complexities of your own grief. His affection for you was not loud or extravagant, but steady and unwavering, always there when you needed him. He never pushed you into the racing world, but he always made sure you knew the importance of your father’s legacy.

It was Alain who invited you to a Prize Ceremony in the early 2000s, a grand affair that would forever change the course of your life. You were still a teenager then, unsure of what you were stepping into, but Alain insisted you needed to witness the respect and admiration that your father had earned, to see for yourself the impact he had made on the sport. It was there, in that glittering, surreal world, that you first met Fernando Alonso.

He was young then, still climbing the ranks of Formula 1, but there was something magnetic about him. He spoke about racing with the same fire in his eyes that your father had, the same passion and drive that had defined your father’s career. It wasn’t just his talent that caught your attention; it was the energy he exuded when he talked about the sport. You could feel the same intensity, the same love for the track that you had heard about in your mother’s stories, and for the first time in years, you felt a connection to your father’s world. Fernando didn’t know it then, but his energy, his joy, his spirit, ignited something inside you—a spark that would soon become a fire.

As time passed, you lived your life, far removed from the high-speed, adrenaline-filled world of Formula 1. You followed your own dreams, built your own life, and found a quiet peace in the simplicity of it all. But life, as it often does, has a way of bringing you full circle. Fernando had risen to the top of the sport. He was no longer just a rising star but a champion, someone whose name was known by millions. And then, unexpectedly, your paths crossed again.

When you saw Fernando again, you were both older, different in ways you hadn’t expected. Yet, the connection between you was undeniable. He was no longer just a racer you admired from afar—he was someone who saw you for who you were, who understood the delicate balance between your father’s legacy and your desire to create a life of your own. Your shared passion for racing and the quiet bond between you grew into something far deeper than either of you anticipated. Over time, you found yourself drawn closer to Fernando, not just as a racer, but as a man who was grounded, steady, and full of life. And before you knew it, you had fallen in love with him—not just for his passion for the sport, but for his kindness, his love for life, and the way he made you feel alive in ways you hadn’t felt in years.

Fernando’s proposal was simple, yet profoundly meaningful. One quiet evening, you were sitting on the balcony of your home, the soft hum of the world outside a gentle backdrop. Fernando, ever thoughtful, looked at you with those same eyes that had first captured your attention years ago. He didn’t need grand gestures. There were no cameras, no grand stage—just the two of you. In that moment, he held out a small, simple ring and asked you to marry him. It wasn’t the fireworks of a big public proposal, but it was perfect. It was real, it was intimate, and it was everything you needed. Your heart soared as you realized that this life, the life you’d always dreamed of, was finally falling into place.

The years that followed were filled with quiet moments of joy and profound love. Despite his demanding career, Fernando was always there for you—his presence a steady rock in your life. When you were expecting your son, Fernando became even more attentive, staying by your side through every milestone of your pregnancy. The late-night conversations, the small touches, the way he would softly whisper to your belly, telling your unborn child how much he loved them—it was the kind of love that you had always imagined, but never truly believed you would experience.

When your son was born, it felt like the world had finally aligned. He was the perfect combination of both you and Fernando—a perfect little human, with eyes that shone with the same mischievous sparkle as his father’s. You would spend quiet afternoons watching Fernando hold him, cradling him in his arms as though he was the most precious thing in the world. Those soft moments—when Fernando would softly kiss your son’s forehead, or when he would lay next to you, both of you wrapped in the warmth of your family—were the kind of moments that made every sacrifice, every challenge, worthwhile.

Yet as time moved on, a new chapter began to loom on the horizon—Fernando’s last race. As the years passed, you had known this moment would eventually arrive. The talk of retirement had been subtle, but it was clear. Fernando had achieved everything he had set out to do. But even then, it wasn’t an easy decision. He had dedicated his life to the sport, and stepping away was not something he could do lightly. But then came the moment that changed everything: you kissed him, as you always did, before a race—your touch soft, your love palpable. It was just another pre-race ritual, another tender gesture between two people who had shared so much together. But as you pulled back from that kiss, something shifted in Fernando. A realization took root in him. He knew, at that moment, that his heart was ready to retire. He had made his mark, and now, he was ready to build the next chapter of his life with you and your son. That kiss, that moment, was the milestone that allowed him to finally walk away from the track he had loved so much.

When Fernando’s last race arrived, the emotions were overwhelming—not just for him, but for you too. As you stood in the stands, watching him in his final race, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of pride, sadness, and nostalgia. Every lap felt like a piece of his soul was being left behind on that track. You remembered your father’s legacy—how you had wished you could have been there for his last race. But now, you were witnessing Fernando’s final lap. There was something incredibly emotional about seeing him finish, knowing that this would be the last time you would see him race at the highest level.

You watched him cross the finish line, and it was as though time stood still. The roar of the crowd, the flashing lights, the cheers—it was all distant. All you could focus on was Fernando’s face, the quiet reflection in his eyes, the understanding that this was the end of one era and the beginning of another. You could feel your heart swell with both love and a deep sense of loss. You had witnessed something monumental, not just as his wife, but as someone who had walked alongside him through the highs and lows of his career.

As you held your son in your arms, the tears welled up. You thought of your father’s own last race and wished, just once, you could have been there to see it. But now, as you looked at your husband, your son nestled between the two of you, you realized that you had witnessed something even more precious—a man who had lived his dream, who had dedicated everything to the sport he loved, and who now stood beside his family, ready for the next chapter. You smiled through your tears, knowing that the legacy of racing would always be a part of your life, but that this was just the beginning of something even more beautiful. Fernando was no longer just a racer; he was your partner, the father of your child, and the man who would shape the future in ways that racing never could.

As the sun set on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the racetrack, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. You had always known that the world of racing was unpredictable, filled with highs and lows, victories and losses. But now, looking at Fernando, you realized that what truly mattered was not the wins or the trophies. It was the quiet moments like this, the ones spent together, the ones that would shape the family you were building.

Fernando gently kissed the top of your son’s head, his eyes soft with love. “He’s going to grow up knowing what it means to chase your dreams, just like his mom and dad,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

You nodded, feeling a swell of pride. “He’s already learning from the best,” you whispered.

As the three of you stood there, the world of racing slipping away in the background, you knew that this was only the beginning. The track may have been where Fernando had earned his name, but now it was at home, in your hearts, where the real legacy would live on.

And as your son grew, you hoped he would always carry the lessons of passion, perseverance, and love. You and Fernando would teach him to dream big, to face challenges head-on, and to never forget the importance of family. The racing world might have given Fernando his start, but it was his love for you and your son that would propel him forward in ways the racetrack never could. The future was unwritten, and together, you were ready to write it.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

I’ve never been this emotional over a F1 season.

i am just so overwhelmed i will miss this season goodbye Kmag goodbye Zhou goodbye Bottas goodbye Franco goodbye Checo

sainz and ferrari and lewis in merc is going to end me

goodbye 2024 season you were traumatic and scary but at the end you were beautiful

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Toto Wolff with wife reader. Feat their son, Jack. She had some sort of trouble breathing but didn't want to alarm Toto or anyone else. Because they're busy preparing for the races. Even other drivers & WAGs ask her if she's alright. Ask me if you want more insight. Thanks!! :)) With prompts :

1)"My chest really... hurts..."

2)"I can't really breathe -"

3)"Don't you dare pass out on me."

4)"Careful you don't fall - gotcha!"

You can choose how many you want to use.

You can choose how many you want to use

Ps : from p✌🏻

“Breathless”

i will always write p’s requests first! hope you like it p

The sun had barely risen over the Silverstone circuit, casting a golden glow across the track as cars roared to life in the distance. It was race day, the culmination of months of tireless effort, strategies, and sacrifices. Every member of the Mercedes team, from the engineers to the drivers to the WAGs, was on edge. But it was a different kind of nervousness for you, the wife of Toto Wolff.

Toto was deep in his preparations, leading the team as always, focused and composed. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders as the team’s success and his drivers’ performance depended on the decisions made in those crucial final moments before the race. But you… you were struggling, and he had no idea.

As the day progressed, the increasing pressure of the crowd and the weight of the upcoming race only made it harder for you to breathe. It started off small—just a bit of tightness in your chest—but over time it became harder to ignore. The subtle discomfort bloomed into something much worse, sharp pangs slicing through your ribcage, leaving you gasping for air. You found it harder to breathe, each inhale feeling like you were suffocating, but you refused to let it show. You couldn’t. Not now. Not when Toto had so much to focus on. He couldn’t know.

You sat quietly in the hospitality area, surrounded by the other wives and girlfriends of the drivers, but you barely heard their chatter over the pounding in your ears. You could feel their concerned glances on you, but you forced a smile, clutching your chest and taking slow, shallow breaths, praying it would pass. The last thing you wanted was to be a distraction.

As you sipped your water, Jack, your young son, came over to you, his little face full of concern.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Jack asked, his innocent voice bringing warmth to your heart, even though your chest burned with every passing second.

You forced a smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Jack seemed to buy it, but the others weren’t so easily fooled.

One of the other drivers’ wives, Sophie, leaned in, her face etched with worry. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked gently. “You don’t look well.”

You nodded quickly, trying to mask the pain behind a veil of reassurance. “I’m fine, just… just a bit lightheaded. Nothing to worry about.”

But Sophie didn’t seem convinced. She glanced at you, and you could tell she wanted to say more, but she was interrupted by the loud rumble of an engine firing up on the track.

The tightness in your chest worsened, and you pressed a hand to your ribs, trying to steady your breathing. But it felt impossible. You were suffocating, and the air just wasn’t enough.

You stood up abruptly, trying to mask your discomfort by pretending to stretch. But it only made things worse. Your vision blurred, the edges of the world fading as you tried to push through it. Your breaths became shallow, faster, more frantic. A cold sweat broke out on your forehead, and you stumbled forward, nearly collapsing into the arms of another WAG, who immediately caught you.

“Okay, that’s it,” Sophie said, her voice now filled with urgency. “You’re not fine. Let me get help.”

You shook your head weakly, panic rising in your chest, but you couldn’t argue anymore. Everything was spiraling out of control.

Meanwhile, Toto was deep in a team meeting, his mind on the race, on the strategy, on the stakes ahead. He was so close to achieving his dream for the season, but in the back of his mind, he always made sure to check in on you. Even now, he felt a strange unease tug at him, but he brushed it off. The day was too important.

But then, the call came.

“Toto, it’s your wife. You need to come now,” Sophie said, her voice thick with panic.

His heart stopped, a sinking feeling dropping to the pit of his stomach. He bolted from the room, his legs carrying him faster than he ever thought possible. He had no idea what was happening, but the tone in Sophie’s voice was enough to make his blood run cold.

When he arrived at the hospitality suite, the sight of you, pale and struggling for air, made his chest tighten in an instant. You were leaning against a table, breathing erratically, your hand clutching at your ribs as though you were trying to hold yourself together.

“Toto,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “I’m sorry… I didn’t want to worry you…”

Toto’s face went ashen, his eyes wide with fear. “Don’t you dare pass out on me,” he growled, kneeling beside you, gripping your shoulders with a desperation you’d never seen from him before. “Please… just breathe, breathe with me.”

You gasped for air, but it was no use. Your chest constricted even more, the pain unbearable. A cold sweat drenched your skin, and you felt like you were slipping away. You couldn’t breathe.

Toto’s voice broke through the fog of panic, his hands shaking as he pressed you against his chest. “Stay with me, love. Stay with me. I can’t lose you.”

The next few moments were a blur. Paramedics rushed in, lifting you onto a stretcher and into the ambulance, Toto never leaving your side. He was frantic now, a man out of control, his mind racing with fear as he clutched your hand, whispering reassurances he didn’t believe himself. He was terrified.

In the ambulance, the oxygen mask was placed over your face, but the damage had been done. Your heart, strained under the pressure, had given out. You had suffered a heart attack—an event that felt so sudden, so unexpected. The pain, the tightness, the feeling of being trapped in your own body—it all made sense now. But the fear in Toto’s eyes, the way he cried quietly while holding your hand, that was something you couldn’t have prepared for.

“I need you, please,” Toto muttered, his voice raw with emotion. “I can’t do this without you.”

You fought for consciousness, focusing on the steady rise and fall of the oxygen as it filled your lungs. Slowly, the tightness eased, and you managed to open your eyes. The first thing you saw was Toto, his face streaked with tears, his expression torn apart with anguish. And then you saw Jack, standing beside him, his little hands clutching his father’s pant leg, looking up at you with eyes wide in fear.

You squeezed Toto’s hand weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m okay… I’m here.”

Toto’s entire body shuddered as he breathed in, the relief on his face immediate, but his hands remained tight around yours. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, tears welling up in your own eyes now. “I didn’t want you to worry. I just… I didn’t want to be a distraction. Not today.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice low and full of emotion. “You are my world, you are my priority. Everything else can wait. Don’t you ever try to protect me from your pain again. I can’t lose you.”

Toto’s words, raw and vulnerable, tore through you. You had been so determined to stay strong for him, for Jack, for the team. But now, in this moment, you realized that the only thing that mattered was the people you loved.

And you were going to fight for them.

Fight for your life. Because Toto Wolff couldn’t lose his family.

And neither could you.

@pear-1206

[verstappenf1lecccc]

can crofty please stop it. it’s been 3 years since then. stop bringing it up it’s annoying and unnecessary.

also them commenting on the max and George thing the British media bias is disturbing and disgusting I swear they will kiss his ass and hate max for life

[verstappenf1lecccc]

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK I AM SO HAPPY AND IN SHOCK

[verstappenf1lecccc]

i stand with VERSTAPPEN’s rights and wrongs but honestly I don’t believe RUSSEL one bit.

He looks two faced and has been proven to be one. can’t wait till this plays out

[verstappenf1lecccc]

A Chance at Glory

The Canadian Grand Prix was shaping up to be one of the most unpredictable races of the season. The track was damp with intermittent rain, conditions were rapidly changing, and every team was struggling to make sense of the best tire strategy. The Ferrari garage was in chaos, the radio crackling with urgent updates as Charles Leclerc hurtled down the track, desperately trying to maintain control of his car.

“Charles, box this lap, box this lap!” the voice of his race engineer cut through the noise in his helmet, and Charles’ grip tightened on the steering wheel. He could feel the car slipping and sliding beneath him, and it was becoming harder to keep it on track. The tires were shot.

“Copy,” Charles muttered, heart pounding. His fingers gripped the wheel as if it were the only thing holding him together, but deep down, his frustration was mounting. He had been telling the team for laps now that the tires were gone—that he needed to pit. Yet every time, they insisted that he stay out, that the strategy was clear. “It’s not clear,” he thought bitterly, swerving slightly as the car threatened to slide out from under him.

“Charles, stay out! We’re confident the rain will ease off soon, just stay out!” the voice came again, more insistent now.

But this time, the voice didn’t have the same effect. A cold rage rose in his chest, the kind that made him want to tear the radio from his helmet and scream at the team. They weren’t listening. He had tried, over and over, to tell them that his tires wouldn’t last. Now, the car was barely holding itself together, and yet they were ignoring him, focusing only on the strategy, as if the race were a game of numbers and not a matter of life and death.

He glanced at his rearview mirror, and that’s when it hit him: the pit entrance was coming up, and if he stayed on the current path, he would pass it by. He could see the pit wall up ahead, and for the first time, a feeling of defiance surged through him. He was done. He was going to make the call himself. His safety, his race, and his career—those were his decisions. If the team wouldn’t listen, he would take matters into his own hands.

Without waiting for further instructions, he leaned into the steering wheel. “I’m coming in. I’m done,” he thought, his fingers already dialing in the turn.

“Charles! Do not come in! There’s no one at the pit!” came the frantic voice over the radio, but Charles had already made up his mind. The pit lane was straight ahead. There was no turning back now.

With the hum of the Ferrari engine echoing in his ears, he slammed the car into the pit lane. His heart raced as the tires screeched against the wet asphalt. The red Ferrari was alone in the pit lane—no crew, no mechanics, no tire changers. Nothing but the cold, empty silence of an unused space.

The pit crew had abandoned him.

For a brief moment, a sickening knot twisted in his stomach. He had done it. He had made the decision to pit, but now, the full weight of it hit him. There was no one here to change his tires. What now? The frustration was unbearable. The thought of wasting all this time, of being left stranded in the pit, made him feel more alone than ever.

But then—just as panic threatened to swallow him whole—he saw her.

At first, he wasn’t sure if it was real. A figure stood at the far side of the garage, almost hidden in the shadows. Her eyes were wide, and her posture was stiff with hesitation, as if she didn’t belong. But then he noticed the red mechanic’s overalls, the way she watched the other cars with an intensity that betrayed her nerves. She had always been quiet, the kind of mechanic that blended into the background, often overlooked by the others.

Charles had seen her before, but he’d never paid much attention. Now, as the seconds ticked by and no one else was coming to his aid, he realized there was no other option.

He slowed the car to a crawl, the tires protesting against the wet tarmac, and shouted out of the window, his voice strained but urgent.

“Hey!” he called, hoping against hope. “I need help! Now!”

She froze. For a second, he wondered if she had even heard him, but then her eyes met his. A flicker of recognition crossed her face, quickly followed by an overwhelming wave of panic. She wasn’t sure if she could do it. She wasn’t sure if she was good enough. But Charles knew one thing: she was the only person there. And right now, he needed someone who would act.

“You’ve got this,” he said, his voice softer now, encouraging. “I trust you. Please, help me.”

For the first time, she met his gaze with a glimmer of determination. The car was running out of time, but she wasn’t going to let him down. No more hesitation.

With a deep breath, she sprinted toward the car, her heart pounding in her chest. Her hands trembled as she reached for the tire changers, her mind racing. She had seen the mechanics do it thousands of times—each precise movement, each wrench twist, the timing, the choreography. But this was different. This was Charles Leclerc. This was the moment she had been waiting for, and it was happening now. She could do this.

Charles kept his eyes on her as she moved. Her hands were fast, precise—almost too fast. She worked as if she were racing against the clock, as if the world would end if she didn’t get it right. With a deft motion, she yanked the first tire off, sliding the new one into place before moving to the next. No one had told her how to do this alone. No one had trained her for this moment. But her instinct kicked in. She was quick. Like Guido from Cars, she darted under the car and back out, racing against time with the skill and precision of someone far more experienced.

Charles could hardly believe his eyes. The tire changers were moving faster than any mechanic he had ever seen. She was a blur of motion, each turn of the wrench seeming to bend time. The seconds felt like hours, but she never faltered. Her heart pounded with fear, but she kept her eyes focused, her hands steady. Just a little longer, she thought, as the third tire clicked into place.

“Done,” she said breathlessly, giving him a quick thumbs-up as the last tire was secured.

Charles didn’t wait a moment longer. He slammed the throttle, and the Ferrari shot out of the pit, the tires fresh and ready for the remaining laps. The radio crackled again, but he didn’t listen. He was focused—focused on getting back into the race. He couldn’t afford to lose any more time.

The final laps were a blur of determination and raw drive. The rain had eased off, and the conditions were improving. But Charles didn’t care about the weather anymore. He had his tires. And more importantly, he had the knowledge that the team wasn’t what had saved him

The final laps felt like they were happening in slow motion for Charles. Every corner, every straight, was taken with laser focus as he moved back up the grid. His car gripped the track with renewed energy, and the fresh tires made all the difference. As the laps counted down, he felt a sense of calm settle over him, a quiet confidence that had been missing for most of the race.

In the end, Charles crossed the line in third place, a surprising yet triumphant finish considering the odds. The team’s radio crackled with praise and disbelief. “Charles, great job! We didn’t expect that, but you made it work!”

But as the car rolled to a stop in the pits after the race, his first thought wasn’t about the points or the position. It was about her—the young mechanic who had come through for him when no one else had. The realization hit him like a wave: She saved my race.

The crowd outside the Ferrari garage was already buzzing with excitement as Charles climbed out of the car, his helmet still on, his body sore from the intense laps. He waved to the fans, but his mind was elsewhere. He glanced around the garage, searching for her. His eyes locked onto her figure by the back of the garage, her head down as she watched the team celebrate. She was standing just a little apart from everyone else, as if she still couldn’t quite believe what had happened.

He walked over to her, and she looked up, startled. There was no hesitation this time, no nervousness. He was just there, and he had to thank her.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quiet but full of gratitude. “You saved me today. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked like she might faint. “I—I didn’t think I could do it,” she stammered. “I mean, I didn’t expect you to—”

“I meant it,” Charles interrupted gently. “You were incredible. Faster than anyone in the garage. You gave me a chance when no one else would.”

She flushed, a bright pink color staining her cheeks as she looked down at her feet. Charles could feel his heart soften at the sight. She was clearly embarrassed, but it was also clear how much this moment meant to her. After all, how many people in the paddock had the chance to prove themselves when it mattered most?

“I—thank you,” she said, still shy, but the words were filled with a sincerity that made his heart swell.

Charles smiled. It wasn’t the polished, charming smile he often wore for the cameras. This was different. This was real. “You’ve been waiting for a chance, haven’t you?” he asked.

She nodded, her hands wringing nervously at the sleeves of her overalls. “I—I always wanted to be part of a pit crew, but I never thought… I mean, no one ever noticed me.”

He tilted his head, studying her with a mix of admiration and understanding. “Well, now we know. And I think you just earned yourself a new nickname.”

Her eyes flickered up in surprise. “A nickname?”

“Yeah,” he said with a wink. “The pit lane miracle worker.”

She laughed, the sound small but genuine, and it made something inside him lighten. There was a quiet spark in her eyes now—something more than just shyness, something stronger.

“Don’t worry,” he continued, his voice teasing. “Next time, I’ll make sure they don’t forget you. Maybe next race, you’ll be the one calling the shots for the rest of us.”

Her cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink. “I—well, I wouldn’t mind that,” she replied, looking at him with an expression that could only be described as hopeful.

Before he could say anything more, one of the senior mechanics called her over, but not before she glanced at Charles with a small, shy smile.

“Good job today,” she said, as she quickly turned to join the others.

Charles watched her go, his smile lingering. Maybe the race hadn’t gone the way the team had planned, but in the end, it had been the unexpected moments—the ones where he took a chance—that had made all the difference.

As he made his way to the media pen, his thoughts kept drifting back to her. The pit lane miracle worker. It had a nice ring to it.

That night, in the quiet of his hotel room, Charles found himself grinning at the thought of her again. It wasn’t just the race result that had been special—it was the quiet, shy mechanic who had, in the end, been the one to change the course of his day. The next time he saw her, he’d make sure to tell her how much she meant to him. And maybe, just maybe, he’d even ask her for a coffee.

After all, sometimes a little bit of fate, and a lot of courage, could go a long way.

And as he settled in for the night, he couldn’t help but think that, just maybe, he was looking forward to what came next—both on and off the track.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

you’ve lost me forever

mafia osc?? super angst?? with pregnant reader??

Oscar was a force of nature, the kind of man who commanded respect with a single glance, whose reputation struck fear into the hearts of even the most hardened criminals. He was the head of the notorious Orsini Mafia, a ruthless empire built on blood and fear. But beneath the icy exterior of the mafia boss, there was one weakness—you. His pregnant wife, the woman who had somehow become the soft center of his hard world.

When Oscar had met you, he had never believed anyone could break through his cold, calculating demeanor. But you did, effortlessly, with a smile, with kindness, and a love so pure it seemed almost unreal in the world he lived in. And when you told him you were carrying his child, the love he never thought he could feel bloomed, filling his heart with a tenderness that no one else could see.

But in his world, peace was fleeting, and enemies never stopped lurking in the shadows. The Vellini gang, desperate to exact revenge for a betrayal Oscar had orchestrated, knew the one thing that would destroy him. So, they did the unthinkable—they kidnapped you, his precious wife.

They didn’t care about your life, but they knew they could make you suffer to make Oscar pay for his sins. They dragged you through the streets, shackled and bruised, forcing you to witness the terror they planned to inflict upon him. They told you it was simple: In exchange for your release, Oscar would surrender. But they knew Oscar would never bow to anyone—not even for you.

They kept you in a dark, damp basement, chained to a wall, your swollen belly the target of their cruelty. They starved you, beat you, and used every method they knew to break you, to get Oscar to surrender. But despite the pain, despite the constant fear for your life and your baby’s, you never once begged. You held on to the thought of Oscar, the love he had shown you, and the life that was growing inside you. You didn’t know if you’d survive this, but you couldn’t break. You couldn’t let them win.

But soon, the stress, the lack of nourishment, and the cruelty took its toll. Your body, already fragile from the pregnancy, started to deteriorate. You felt the life inside you flicker, slipping away like sand through your fingers. You could feel your strength fading with every passing hour. The pain in your chest was unbearable, and the last thing you wanted was for Oscar to lose his child because of this nightmare.

Back in the city, Oscar was on a warpath. When he heard of your abduction, his entire world shattered. The mafia king became a desperate, broken man, hunting for you with a fury that scared even his own men. He tortured every informant, destroyed every obstacle in his way. He cared about nothing but getting you back—alive and safe. And he would tear apart the world to find you.

Days turned into weeks, and Oscar’s desperation grew. He wasn’t sleeping, he wasn’t eating. His every breath was consumed with the thought of you. He had promised to protect you. He had sworn on his soul that he would keep you safe. But now, in this moment of terror, he realized just how far he had failed.

And then, one fateful night, the gods of vengeance gave him a break.

Oscar burst into the abandoned warehouse where the Vellinis were hiding you, his fury knowing no bounds. His men cleared the building with ruthless precision, but his eyes were locked on the door at the back, where he knew you were being kept. His heart raced, his pulse hammering in his ears. His world came to a standstill the moment he laid eyes on you—pale, bruised, barely conscious, but still alive.

“You’re safe now,” Oscar whispered, his voice hoarse as he gently scooped you into his arms. The sight of you, broken and fragile, nearly brought him to his knees.

You looked up at him, your eyes clouded with pain and confusion, your lips trembling. “Oscar…” you whispered, your voice so faint he could barely hear it. “I… I’m so sorry… I couldn’t—”

He pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you. “Don’t apologize, tesoro,” he murmured, his eyes wet with unshed tears. “You’ve done nothing wrong. This is on me. I’ll make it right.”

Carefully, he carried you to his car, whispering soothing words in your ear, telling you over and over that you were safe now, that he would never leave you again. His heart was shattered at the sight of you, but there was a quiet determination in his soul. He would fix this. He would make sure nothing else would ever harm you.

The next few days were the hardest of Oscar’s life. He stayed by your side, watching over you as you healed. Your body was frail, your skin pale, and your spirit broken. He spent every waking moment tending to you, doing everything he could to bring you back from the edge. He forced you to eat, holding the spoon to your lips when you refused. He bathed you, brushing the damp hair from your face, and comforted you when the nightmares of your captivity haunted your dreams.

The days that followed Oscar’s rescue of you were nothing like he had imagined. The sight of you, battered and broken, had torn him apart, and he could barely breathe knowing what you had endured at the hands of the Vellinis. He thought he could fix it all. He thought that with time, care, and his relentless love, you would heal. But reality was harsher than he could ever have anticipated.

Oscar stayed by your side day and night, his hands constantly hovering over you, as if afraid that the slightest distance would break the fragile thread that kept you tethered to this world. He forced you to eat, gave you water when you could barely lift your head, whispered sweet words, and vowed revenge on those who had taken you. But there was one thing he couldn’t control—the life inside you, the baby you had lost.

It had been days since the rescue. Every breath you took seemed to be a battle, your strength was fading. The bruises and cuts were healing, but there was an emptiness in your eyes that nothing seemed to fill. Your body had been through too much. The stress of the kidnapping, the starvation, and the brutal beatings had taken their toll. The baby—his baby—was gone.

Oscar had tried everything to keep you alive, to keep the hope of your child alive. But when the doctors confirmed what he had already feared, it was a crushing blow. The life that had once thrived inside you had slipped away, leaving behind only an aching void.

The loss was too much. You couldn’t handle it. And in your grief, the rage you’d kept buried finally exploded.

“You promised me, Oscar!” Your voice was barely a whisper, but the anger in your eyes burned like fire. “You promised me you’d protect us. You promised me I’d never have to fear, that I’d never be harmed again. But look at me! Look at what’s left of me. Look at what you’ve done!”

Oscar stood frozen, his heart breaking at the sight of you, a shell of the woman he had once loved so fiercely. He wanted to say something, to make it right, to tell you that this wasn’t his fault. But how could he, when you were right? How could he when he had failed you in the most unforgivable way? The mafia boss, the ruthless man who had always been untouchable, was now nothing more than a broken man standing at the precipice of his own despair.

“I didn’t ask for this life,” you continued, your voice shaking with tears. “I didn’t ask for you to drag me into this world. I didn’t ask for any of it. I didn’t ask to be your wife and carry your child, only for you to leave us both to die.”

Oscar’s chest tightened at your words, his breath catching in his throat. Every accusation felt like a knife to his soul. He had no defense. No words of comfort to offer. You were right to hate him. You were right to blame him. He had promised to protect you and failed.

The silence between you was thick, oppressive. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, each beat heavy with guilt. “I never wanted this,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. “I never wanted to hurt you,I—”

“You did,” you whispered, cutting him off. “You hurt me more than I could ever explain. And now… our baby’s gone. Gone because of you.”

His breath hitched. He had never felt this powerless in his life. This was worse than any enemy, worse than any bullet. To see you like this, to know that you blamed him, to see the raw anger in your eyes—it broke him in a way he could never have anticipated. He wanted to tell you that it wasn’t his fault, that it was the Vellinis, that they had taken everything from you, from both of you. But the truth was: he was the one who had let you down.

He stepped closer, wanting to hold you, wanting to do something, anything to ease your pain. But when you flinched away from him, a deep ache settled in his chest. You didn’t want him near you. You didn’t want his touch.

“Just go, Oscar. I need you to leave,” you said quietly, your words a final blow that cut through him like a sword.

“Baby, please,” he whispered, voice raw with emotion. “Please don’t say that.”

But you didn’t look at him. You simply turned your back, your body trembling with emotion as you curled into yourself, shutting him out entirely.

Oscar stood there, feeling the weight of his failure pressing down on him. His mind screamed for him to do something, anything to fix it, but there was no fixing this. There was no redemption here. Not for him, and certainly not for you.

For the first time in his life, Oscar realized there was nothing he could do to save you. Nothing he could do to save himself. You had lost the child you both had dreamed of, and no matter how much he loved you, no matter how many apologies he offered, it could never bring that baby back.

Slowly, he turned and walked toward the door. But just before he stepped out, he looked back one last time, taking in the woman he had loved so fiercely, the woman he had failed.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. But there was no reply.

And so, he left—quietly, silently, knowing the one truth that had shattered his soul: You would never forgive him.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Sparks Fly✨

clomo requested this!! here is a soft angst to fluff fic

The day in Milan had been nothing short of enchanting. From the moment you bumped into Charles, it felt like the universe had conspired to make everything fall perfectly into place. You had been strolling through the vibrant streets, laughing together like old friends, discovering hidden cafes tucked in quiet corners, and marveling at the beauty of the city that seemed to pale in comparison to how alive you both felt in each other’s company.

You couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him, the way his easy smile and warm eyes made everything seem brighter, even as the late afternoon sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink. His hand brushed yours occasionally, sending sparks through your body every time. There was an undeniable chemistry between you two, and you both were fully aware of it, though neither of you spoke of it directly.

But then, something shifted as the evening began to draw near. You noticed the subtle change in his demeanor—how his easygoing nature seemed to edge toward something more guarded, more… distant. You couldn’t quite place it, but it made your chest tighten. Was he pulling away? Or were you imagining it?

Despite the lingering tension, Charles insisted on walking you back to your hotel, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remained unreadable.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” he asked, his tone casual, but the slight hesitation in his words caught you off guard.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice trailing off. “I’ll see you.”

He pulled you into a brief, but lingering hug, his arms tight around your shoulders, as if he was holding on for a moment longer than necessary. When he pulled away, his eyes lingered on you, his gaze softer than before, but there was still something unspoken hanging between you.

As you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the situation than you had understood.

The night came and the city transformed into a glittering maze of lights, music, and dancing. You found yourself at a club with friends, the bass vibrating through your body, the atmosphere thick with energy. But something was different now. You couldn’t shake the feeling of his absence, of the tension that had built between you two. It was as if every part of you was magnetized to him, even when he wasn’t around.

That’s when you saw him. Charles was standing in the middle of the crowded dance floor, laughing with a stunning woman, her hand resting casually on his arm as she gazed up at him with a flirtatious smile. He was clearly enjoying her company—too much for your liking, if you were being honest with yourself. Your stomach churned with jealousy, the knot tightening in your chest. He looked… happy. Too happy.

And that was the tipping point.

You didn’t know what you were doing, but it was as if your body was acting on its own, driven by something deep inside you. You made your way through the crowd, your eyes never leaving Charles as you approached a man nearby. He was good-looking, with dark eyes and a confident swagger, and as soon as you caught his eye, you felt a spark. He gave you a cocky smile, and before you could think twice, you were grinding against him, your body moving to the rhythm of the music.

You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck, the proximity of his body fueling the need to push Charles’s attention, even though you knew it wasn’t the best idea. You didn’t know why you did it—maybe it was the surge of jealousy, maybe it was just the heat of the moment—but the way you could feel Charles’s eyes on you from across the room made your pulse quicken. You stole a glance toward him. His gaze was locked on you, his jaw clenched as his brows furrowed in what you could only assume was irritation. His stance was tense, his lips tight, and you knew right then you had hit a nerve.

It was almost too easy, the way he seemed to watch you, his eyes darkening with what could only be jealousy. It made you feel powerful. But then, before you could make sense of it all, his body was suddenly in front of you, pushing through the crowd with an intensity that left no room for doubt.

“Hey,” Charles said, his voice sharp, almost angry, but there was a flicker of something else—something deeper. His hand found your wrist, pulling you away from the man you’d been dancing with. The club’s pulsing lights were dim compared to the fire in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breath, but the heat between you two was suffocating. “What do you mean?” You shrugged, trying to play it off, but your voice betrayed you. “It’s just dancing.”

“Is that what you call it?” Charles growled, his grip tightening slightly, a possessive edge creeping into his voice. “Because it doesn’t look like just dancing to me.”

His words stung, but you couldn’t help the feeling that stirred inside you. There was something magnetic in the way he looked at you now, something raw.

“Why are you so bothered?” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady, but it came out sharper than you expected. “You were fine with that woman earlier.”

Charles’s eyes flared with frustration. “It’s different,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. “I’m not the one trying to make someone jealous.”

You blinked, taken aback by the honesty in his tone. And for the first time all day, you saw the walls he had built, the guardedness that had always been there, now cracking under the weight of your interaction.

Before you could respond, Charles stepped closer, closing the distance between you two, his breath warm against your ear. “I don’t want anyone else,” he murmured, his voice thick with something that felt like desperation. “I’ve spent all day with you. Don’t you get it? I don’t want her, or anyone else. I just want you.”

His words hung in the air, a confession, raw and real. The tension that had been building throughout the day, the jealousy, the uncertainty—it all spilled out in that moment.

And before you could even process everything, he kissed you, his lips crashing against yours with a passion that made everything else fade away. The anger, the jealousy—it was replaced by something much more intense, more real. His hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as if he needed to make sure you were still there, still with him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your lips, his voice softening. “I didn’t mean to push you. I just—” He trailed off, looking at you with such sincerity that your heart ached. “I’m not good at this. But I don’t want to lose you.”

You stared at him, feeling the weight of his words, the shift in his demeanor. The intensity that had burned through you all day was still there, but now, it was soft, almost tender.

“Then don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “Don’t lose me.”

Charles’s face softened, and for the first time, you saw that vulnerability he had kept hidden behind his confident, charming façade. “I won’t,” he promised, pulling you close again, his lips lingering against yours as if he never wanted to let go.

In that moment, everything felt right, the world fading into the background as the two of you stood there in the center of the chaos, lost in each other.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

The Secret Kiss

It was a bright, bustling day at Silverstone Circuit, the sound of engines roaring in the distance echoing through the air, carrying with it the undeniable energy of an F1 race weekend. The crowd’s excitement buzzed like a swarm of bees as thousands filled the stands, waving British flags, all cheering for their home hero, Lewis Hamilton.

But for Y/N, today was more than just another race. It had been months since she and Lewis had begun their secret relationship—months of stolen moments, late-night conversations, and quiet dates away from the public eye. She had never sought the fame that came with being linked to a driver of his caliber, and he respected that more than anything. So, they kept their love quiet, protected by the privacy of their own world.

However, today was different. She stood in the team’s garage, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, dressed in the Mercedes gear she’d been gifted on one of their many quiet weekends together. It was a subtle gesture—enough to blend in, yet still make her presence known to the team. She wasn’t part of the media circus, the fans, or the spotlight. Her role in this world was that of a silent supporter, standing by Lewis in the shadows, away from the cameras.

The race was nearing its end, and Lewis had been on fire all weekend. Every lap, every corner, he seemed to gain momentum, feeding off the energy of his home crowd. It was as if the weight of everyone’s hopes and expectations had somehow fused with his determination, creating the perfect storm.

And now, as the final lap began, Y/N stood in the garage, hands pressed firmly against the railing, eyes trained on the screen. Lewis was in the lead—his heart and soul, fully invested in the race. The pit crew buzzed around, getting ready for any last-minute adjustments, but Y/N couldn’t pull her gaze away.

Her heart raced as the final few corners of the track came into view. The roar of the crowd outside was deafening, but in the garage, it was almost too quiet, save for the occasional call over the radio and the soft hum of the engine.

The countdown had begun.

“Come on, Lewis,” she whispered under her breath, her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the metal railing.

And then, the moment everyone had been waiting for finally arrived.

“Lewis Hamilton wins the British Grand Prix!”

The roar from the crowd outside the garage was nothing short of thunderous, vibrating through the walls and floor. Y/N’s chest swelled with pride and relief, her heart bursting with excitement. She could see the elation on the faces of the Mercedes team as they began to celebrate.

But what caught her off guard was the sudden sensation of a pair of arms wrapping around her waist. The smell of Lewis’s cologne was familiar, comforting—like home. Before she could even turn to look at him, his lips were on hers, soft and full of the joy he was feeling.

The kiss was brief, but it was everything. A moment where the whole world seemed to pause, just for them. Y/N melted into him, her hands coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, matching her own.

“You did it,” she whispered against his lips, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, his breath still ragged from the intensity of the race. His eyes sparkled with the excitement of victory. “We did it,” he corrected, his smile wide and sincere.

“But we can’t be seen,” she whispered, glancing around quickly to make sure no one had noticed them. The garage was buzzing with activity as the team celebrated, but no one had seen the intimate exchange.

“I don’t care,” he replied, his voice low and steady, eyes locking with hers. “I just wanted to kiss you, Y/N. I’ve been wanting to do this all day.”

Her heart fluttered. There was something about the way he looked at her, as though she were the only person in the room. She knew it wasn’t just the race that had him so euphoric—it was her. She felt the same way.

“Your team’s waiting,” she said, glancing over at the crew members, now cheering for their victorious driver.

“Let them wait,” he said, taking a step back only to pull her closer again. “I’ll be right there. But first, you have to know how much I appreciate you—how much I love having you by my side.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, a wave of emotion flooding over her. They had never spoken so openly about their feelings before, always careful to keep their love under wraps. But in that moment, surrounded by the hum of the team, the roaring crowd, and the quiet camaraderie they shared, there was no denying the depth of what they had.

“I love you too,” she whispered, so softly only he could hear it.

His lips curved into a tender smile. “You’re all I ever wanted, Y/N. Win or lose, this—us—it’s the only thing that matters.”

Before she could respond, his arm was around her shoulders, guiding her toward the pit lane where the team was waiting to congratulate him. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she walked with him, hands brushing together, the secret they shared more intimate than any trophy or victory could ever be.

As they emerged into the light of the pit lane, the cheers of the crowd washed over them, but in the midst of it all, it was as if they were alone in their own world. Lewis turned to her, his eyes soft with adoration. Then, without warning, he kissed her again—this time a quick but meaningful peck on her lips before he turned to face his team.

She smiled, keeping her distance, but there was no mistaking the love between them.

For now, they would stay hidden, and the world would think nothing more of it than a driver celebrating his win. But Y/N knew the truth and so did Lewis.

No matter how much the world saw or didn’t see, they would always have each other.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

“When You Fall Apart”

oscar x wife reader will forever have my heart 💗 especially protective osc

The morning light poured softly through the curtains, and the house felt too quiet. The children were playing, their laughter echoing through the halls, oblivious to the storm of exhaustion and illness brewing within their mother. You sat at the kitchen table, the mug of cold coffee untouched in front of you, your hands trembling as you forced yourself to keep moving. Breakfast needed to be made, the laundry folded, the house cleaned — there was always something that needed doing.

You had barely noticed how bad you were feeling. The constant cycle of feeding, cleaning, and tending to your kids had consumed every ounce of energy you had left. You hadn’t had a moment to think about yourself, and you certainly hadn’t told Oscar. He was away at a race, doing what he loved, and you didn’t want to worry him. After all, you were supposed to be strong — for him, for the kids. He couldn’t know you were falling apart.

But your body was protesting. You hadn’t been sleeping, hadn’t been eating right. The aches in your muscles had become constant, the dizziness unrelenting. You felt a fever creeping up, but you told yourself it wasn’t important. You didn’t need rest. The kids needed you, and Oscar would be home soon enough.

By the time Oscar finally returned, things had spiraled out of control. He was greeted by the kids’ excited chatter, but his smile faltered when he noticed the way you were standing in the hallway, pale, your movements slow and deliberate. There were bags under your eyes, and your usual warmth was dimmed by the exhaustion written all over your face. But it wasn’t just that. Oscar’s eyes narrowed slightly as he took you in. Your clothes hung loosely, the fabric sagging in places where it used to fit just right. He could see it clearly now: you had lost weight. A lot of it. The hollowed-out look in your cheeks, the way your clothes seemed to swallow you—he couldn’t ignore it.

“Hey, babe,” Oscar called, his voice light, but there was concern creeping into his tone. He put down his bag and stepped closer. “You okay?”

You forced a smile, waving him off. “Yeah, just tired. You know how it is.”

But Oscar wasn’t convinced. He took in the way your shoulders slumped, how you swayed slightly on your feet. Before you could protest, he reached out, his hand brushing against your forehead. His brow furrowed immediately, his fingers pressing gently against your skin.

“You’re burning up,” he said softly, his voice a little more strained now. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you mumbled, your words barely audible as you tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you.

Oscar looked at you, his eyes dark with concern and something deeper — frustration, maybe guilt. He had been away, living his dream, while you had been here, taking on everything alone. He should’ve called, checked in more often. You had never once complained, always putting the kids and him first. But now, as he watched you tremble in front of him, he could see how much you’d been neglecting yourself. And now, with the physical evidence of your weight loss staring him in the face, the guilt hit harder. He hadn’t seen you this way when he left. His chest tightened.

“You should have told me,” he repeated, his voice now softer but no less urgent. “You’ve been doing everything for the kids while I’ve been away. Let me take care of you for once.”

But you didn’t feel worthy of his care, not when there were still so many things to do. The house was a mess, the kids needed dinner, there was laundry to fold. The list of things to do was endless, and you couldn’t let go.

“I’m fine, Oscar. Really,” you tried again, your voice weak.

“No, you’re not.” He wasn’t having it. Oscar’s hands were on your shoulders now, his touch firm but gentle. “You’re not fine, and I’m not letting you get worse. You’re going to rest, and I’m going to take care of everything else.”

His words were a command, but there was no harshness in them — only love and concern. The way he looked at you, the warmth in his eyes, it made you want to crumble, to finally let go of the weight you had been carrying for so long.

Oscar guided you to the couch, tucking a blanket around you. The kids, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, were quieter now, their bright faces filled with curiosity as they asked questions. But Oscar simply smiled at them and told them everything was okay. They would have to share him for a while, but he promised he’d make it up to them.

For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to close your eyes. The ache in your body, the pressure on your chest, it all started to ebb away just a little. Oscar was here, and he was going to make sure you were okay.

Later that night, after the kids had been tucked into bed, Oscar came back to you. He sat down beside you on the couch, his hand finding yours in the quiet darkness. His fingers laced with yours, a simple, intimate gesture, but it felt like the world.

“You should’ve told me, love,” he whispered, his thumb gently rubbing over the back of your hand. “I can’t do this without you, you know. You’re my world.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you fought them back, embarrassed at how easily you broke in front of him. But Oscar simply pulled you into his arms, holding you close. His warmth enveloped you, and you realized just how much you had needed this — his embrace, his tenderness, his love.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Oscar kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there. “Don’t apologize. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. Just let me take care of you.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but this time, it wasn’t from pain or exhaustion. It was from the overwhelming relief of knowing you didn’t have to carry it all by yourself anymore.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Oscar’s voice was soft, a promise wrapped in tenderness. “I love you too. And I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe it.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

hi love! can you write a dark lando (maybe mafia, up to u) smutty fic with a sweet innocent reader who is redbulls first driver. corruption kink is appreciated but you dont have to if you dont want to. thanks love!

A Dangerous Game

i do not know how to write smut at all. this is my first and perhaps only attempt.

The night was thick with tension, the kind of weight that clung to the air when power and danger were at play.

The city, glittering under the veil of neon lights, was a world you weren’t supposed to be a part of. But here you were, Red Bull’s prized driver, standing at the edge of something much darker than any race track.

Lando Norris had always been a mystery to you. On the surface, he was the charming young driver with an infectious smile, the one who could win over anyone with a few words. But beneath that veneer, there was something else—a cold, calculating edge that hinted at a life of secrets and blood.

You knew what he was capable of, but you had never imagined that you would be swept into his world.

It started innocently enough.

A brief encounter at a race afterparty, a whispered conversation between the two of you when your paths crossed. It was easy to forget that this man wasn’t like the others.

That his charm wasn’t just a tool—it was a weapon.

But even as you felt yourself drawn to him, something inside of you screamed to be cautious.

The mafia world wasn’t one that let go of people easily.

The music throbbed in the background as you found yourself at the center of attention, the Red Bull team celebrating a victory.

Lando was there too, his presence inescapable. He leaned against the bar, his eyes never straying too far from you.

You could feel them on you, the intensity of his gaze sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.

Finally, he approached.

“Can I buy you a drink?” His voice was smooth, almost too smooth, and his lips curled into a devilish smile that sent a surge of heat straight to your core.

You hesitated, a strange tension building in your chest. “What’s the catch?”

Lando chuckled, stepping closer. “No catch. I just like making deals with the right people.”

His eyes darkened, the playful façade slipping for a moment as his gaze swept over you. “And I think you’re someone who understands the value of a deal.”

You didn’t want to admit it, but the words he spoke tugged at something inside you.

You were a driver, someone who thrived on risk, someone who knew how to navigate danger.

But Lando, with his half-smile and dangerous aura, was a risk unlike any other.

“Alright,” you finally said, stepping forward.

“One drink.”

The moment your fingers brushed the glass he handed you, you could feel the shift in the air.

It wasn’t just the alcohol; it was the unspoken promise in his eyes.

As the night wore on, the conversation became less about racing and more about…everything else.

Lando’s words were layered with something darker, more compelling.

You knew you were walking a fine line, but you couldn’t pull away.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said low, his lips brushing against your ear as you leaned into the bar, close enough that his breath sent tingles down your neck.

“You’re wondering how deep this rabbit hole goes.

But I can assure you, once you’re in, there’s no way out.”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say. The words hung between you like a challenge, a promise, and a warning all at once.

His fingers grazed your wrist, just enough to send a spark of heat through your body. “I’ve seen what you can do on the track. But here, it’s a different kind of race.”

You met his gaze, searching for any hint of vulnerability, but there was none.

Lando was a man who thrived on control, and he was determined to pull you into his world, whether you were ready or not.

The next few weeks blurred into a haze of late-night meetings and whispered conversations. Every time you saw Lando, the pull between you grew stronger.

The way his hands would brush against yours, the fleeting moments when his eyes would darken with unspoken intent—it was impossible to ignore.

But the deeper you got into his world, the more you understood the danger that came with it. His connections, the dark web of deals and threats that kept him in power, were not things to take lightly.

And yet, you couldn’t seem to pull away.

One evening, as you entered a discreet underground club—a place you’d never imagine stepping into—you found Lando waiting for you in a private booth.

The dim lighting only accentuated the tension in the room. His gaze was fixed on you, not a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

The mafia life was something you couldn’t understand fully, but you knew one thing: it was intoxicating.

“You look out of place here,” he murmured, eyes scanning your outfit—a little too innocent for this kind of crowd.

“Maybe I like being out of place,” you shot back, heart pounding as you took a seat across from him.

Lando’s lips twitched into a smile. “Careful, sweetheart. You keep playing with fire, and one day, you’ll get burned.”

The air between you crackled with something primal. Something dangerous. But you didn’t care. You wanted to play this game.

And Lando? He was a master at it.

That night, you found yourself alone with him in one of the back rooms, the heavy scent of danger lingering in the air.

He didn’t need to say a word to make it clear what he wanted. Lando was a man who took what he wanted—no questions, no hesitation. And as his lips found yours, you felt your resolve shatter.

You had always been in control on the track, always aware of the stakes. But with Lando, the game had changed. You were no longer the one in control. You were the prey, and he was the predator.

His touch was possessive, hungry, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

Every brush of his fingers sent sparks through your body, igniting something inside you that you had never felt before.

As Red Bull’s first driver, you were used to the limelight, the pressure, the expectations. But tonight… tonight felt different.

Tonight, you were following Lando Norris, the man whose reputation for coldness and ruthlessness ran as deep as the shadows he kept.

“You’ve been so innocent, so pure. I think it’s time I corrupted you. Show you what the real world is like… where power and desire rule everything.”

You shivered, feeling both a sense of dread and excitement stir within you. His words were like a drug, dangerous but irresistible.

You tried to remind yourself that you were Red Bull’s first driver, that you had goals, a future. But every time Lando looked at you, those thoughts seemed to fade, replaced by a hunger you couldn’t explain.

your legs weak beneath you as if your body knew exactly where this was going.

The soft click of your heels echoed in the empty space as you trailed behind him, your heart pounding with anticipation.

He led you into a private elevator that descended deep into the heart of the city.

It was quiet, too quiet. And in that silence, Lando’s gaze never left you, his eyes intense, watching you like a hawk.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a lavish, dimly lit room that looked like something out of a nightmare. Velvet curtains lined the walls, and candles flickered on every surface, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch toward you. A heavy scent of expensive cologne mixed with something darker in the air.

You froze. “Lando… what is this?”

“This is where you’ll learn what it means to belong to me,” he said softly, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “No more pretending, sweetheart. You’ve been playing the innocent driver for too long. It’s time for you to understand who really holds the power here.”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his hand snaking around your waist, pulling you close. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the tension in the air thick enough to suffocate you. His other hand cupped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

Lando’s lips hovered just above yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re mine now,” he whispered. “And tonight, I’m going to make sure you understand exactly what that means.”

His lips crashed against yours, hungry, desperate, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time.

His kiss was nothing like the innocent ones you were used to. It was rough, demanding, his tongue probing your mouth with an authority that made your knees weak. His hands roamed over your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, and before you could protest, he was lifting you up effortlessly, carrying you.

Later, as you lay next to him in the dim glow of the room, you realized something you hadn’t expected. You were no longer just the innocent driver from Red Bull. You had crossed a line, and now, there was no turning back.

Lando’s world was your world now. And it was darker, more dangerous, and more thrilling than anything you had ever known.

But there was a price. And sooner or later, you would pay it.