Latest Posts by pear-1206 - Page 2

Agree 💯

Formula 1 has become to women what Football is to men, and I think that’s beautiful.

Couldn't get to see him at KL due to me couldn't go💔😭😭😭 But thank you Lewis for years with us. Gonna miss you so much!!! Please visit us again!!!! ❤️👋🏻 Wish you luck🤞🏻

Lewis arriving at the farewell event in KL 🫶🏾

Truly amazing!!! Feeling blessed for this year and what a performance for all!!! See you next year!! 💪🏻🤛🏻✌🏻

and with that, the 2024 season comes to an end

Today marks the last day of Lewis with Mercedes, Carlos with Ferrari, Estie Bestie with Alpine (which has been let go earlier🥺), KMag & Nico at HAAS, VB & Zhou with Sauber. Franco and Liam stepped up and exceeded our expectations.💔💔💔 Remember that we lost both Logie and Danny Ric 😭😭😭 With the incoming rookies like Ollie, Kimi, Jack and Gabriel next season. One last seat at VCARB will complete the '25 grid. They've left their marks, memories and legacy within the F1 world which give inspiration to all of us. Everyone had a dream and maybe they've relished it for us. Maybe one day we'll be there. One day💪🏻From not knowing anything to knowing almost everything about F1. Become obsessed with it🥹🥹🥺 I thank you for everything. Thank you for brightening my day. Thank you for cheering me up when I had a bad day. Thank you for giving me a heart attack whenever I was to watch 😆😆 Thank you for the passion. Thank you for the effort. Thank you for the memories. Thank you for being my friends. Thank you everyone. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being there🤩🤩 It's been the best 1st season and hopefully for more in the future. I'm gonna cherish and kept close to my heart forever. Drama, silly season, shocking news, lots of penalty, community service.🤭 What a season. What a year. Finish it off on top. 👏🏻👏🏻 Bittersweet feeling but nonetheless happy for all of them. They deserve it. Good luck on your next adventure!! Gonna miss you guys so much!!! :)) ❤️❤️💕

Ps: as of now I haven't managed to watch it yet. I have one last exam. And I'm gonna treat this as my gift 😆😆. So no spoiler at the moment‼️‼️After that, I'm gonna cry for a very long time 😭. So, see you again!!! ✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻

🥺

𝐸𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 || 𝑆𝑃11

A𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡: 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑧 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡

W𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 ℎ𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑦-𝑜𝑛𝑒

𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡: 𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @pear-1206

It was Mexico, one of the most anticipated races of the season for you. Not because it was your favorite but rather because it was a race that would finally be in your city. You hadn't wanted to go when the date finally rolled around, having had your heart broken by someone you had dated for a few months. But your friends had promised it would be fun and that they would stay with you. But perusal they hadn't and instead leaving you to try to get a chance at a drivers autograph. As you walked through the paddock, you forced smiles with everyone your eyes had shifted pasted. You suddenly felt strangely insecure. Were all these people judging you? Your clothes? Your hair?

You had spent a considerable amount of time making sure you were happy with your appearance today and had felt extremely confident, but now you weren't so sure of yourself. Stopping, you looked around, hoping to find a glimpse of your friends. Instead, what you found made your heart beat faster, and a blush creeped up your neck. Your eyes had connected with one of the red bull drivers, Checo, to be exact. It felt as though suddenly everything melted away. Something about him had felt so familiar, and you know maybe that was just the fact that you had seen him online how many times, or maybe it was the delusion talking.

You blinked, and suddenly, he was walking over to you. "You're a redbull fan?" He asked with a smile. "Huh?" You asked before he smiled, nodding down at your chest. Well, at the RedBull jacket that was covering it. "Oh yea, I-I am," you smiled, fumbling over your words.

Checo had been immediately drawn to the girl standing in the paddock, looking around as if she were lost, and when he saw the RedBull Jacket, he felt a sense of pride. Even if you weren't a fan just of him, you were a fan of his team, and that meant something. "Always nice to meet fans, I'm Checo." He smiled, putting out his hand to shake.

You gave him your hand, saying your name before you smiled. "I know who you are, big fan." You had added." His eyes widened in disbelief. "Seriously?" He whispered.

He had doubts there were people who even supported him much these days, much less a girl like you. With those soft eyes, that gentle smile and flowy hair. You giggled in response, and God that sound, he wished there was a way he could record it and put it on repeat in his head for bad days.

"Of course I am, You're a talented driver, Checo," you had told him. He had heard the words so many times they had lost meaning before, but when you said it. God, it suddenly meant the entire world. Th-Thank you. " He fumbled over his words, making him internally facepalm. "You're welcome," you smiled.

Suddenly, an idea came to him as he loomed down at the passes around your neck. "Would you like a tour around the garage?" He asked, and you smiled. "That would be wonderful, but I have to find my friends before the race starts," you softly declined. "But maybe another time?" You had added after immediately regretting the offer. His smile had faltered for a second. "Yea, yea, that's good," He said, feeling embarrassed. You turned to walk away but stopped for a second.

"Oh, checo?" He looked at you. "It was enchanting to meet you," you said before disappearing into the crowd. "You too," He whispered under his breath, looking down at his phone.

A few hours after the race, you were walking through the paddock with your friends to the exit when suddenly you felt someone run up next to you. You turned to see Max, and he said your name, asking if it were you. You nodded, and he smiled. "I noticed Checo talking to you earlier, and I don't feel I'd be a good friend if I didn't at least try," He sighed. "Is there a possibility of getting your number for him? He doesn't even know I'm asking, but please?" He pleads, and you chuckled.

You dug in your purse, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen. Quickly writing down your number and handing it to him. "Tell him I'll be waiting for that call," you smiled, and Max nodded before bidding his farewells to the group and running away. You had chuckled to yourself. There was no way that had actually happened.

Two years later:

You walked down the aisle, the white dress fitting against your skin as if it were made for you. You look up at the man standing by the altar and suddenly realize this was your life. This wasn't just some delusion or some fantasy. You were marrying this man. You would be his wife, and he would be your husband. Tears welled in your eyes as the normal wedding procedures happened.

It was when he said his vows that you broke down crying. "I am forever wonderstruck by you mi amore, and like you said to me that first day we met, I'll forever wonder if you know just how Enchanted I was to meet you"

Toto Wolff with wife reader. Dancing under the snow at the paddock, under the light. The most romantic thing I think 🤔 Fluff /suggestive. Thanks!!! :))

Snow was not in the weather forecast for today—not that Formula 1 ever cared much about what was forecasted. Magical and slightly chaotic, just like this sport we’d made our life around.

I shivered, pulling my coat tighter around me, my breath puffing out in little clouds as the snow began to fall gently over the paddock. The race weekend had been chaotic, as usual, but now, with the last of the media cleared out and the floodlights casting a golden glow over the white flurry, there was peace.

Well, mostly peace.

Toto was standing a few feet away, talking to one of the engineers with his usual intensity. His broad shoulders were covered in a thick coat, and his breath came out in steady little clouds, punctuating whatever point he was making. I wasn’t listening to the conversation, but knowing Toto, it was probably about data sets, tire degradation, or, heaven forbid, his drivers.

I let out a small, dramatic sigh. The man could charm a room full of sponsors, negotiate with ruthless board members, and occasionally intimidate race stewards, but sometimes, he forgot I existed when there was work to be done.

“Excuse me,” I called out, tapping my foot for added effect. “Do you think you might wrap up your TED Talk on tire temperatures? Your wife is freezing to death.”

Toto turned toward me, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Freezing to death? Really? You’re standing next to a heater.”

“Details,” I shot back, pointing up at the snow that was now falling more steadily. “Are you really going to let me perish in this winter wonderland without at least a hot chocolate or a blanket?”

He murmured something to the engineer—an apology, probably—and strode over to me. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Of course I’m dramatic,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself for effect. “You married me, didn’t you?”

Toto chuckled, and the sound warmed me more than the heater ever could. He reached out to brush a few snowflakes from my hair, his touch lingering against my cheek. “Alright, let’s get you inside before you start a rebellion.”

I planted my feet firmly on the ground. “Actually, I have a better idea.”

His eyebrows arched in that way that always made him look simultaneously intrigued and wary. “What now?”

I stepped back and spread my arms, spinning once under the snow. “Dance with me.”

Toto blinked. “Here? In the paddock?”

“No, in Narnia,” I quipped, gesturing at the softly falling snow and the lights above. “Yes, here. Come on, Toto, be romantic.”

He sighed, but I could see the corners of his mouth twitching. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“Hopefully not before I get my dance.”

With a shake of his head, Toto closed the distance between us, his hands finding their place on my waist as if this were something we did every day. The snow fell around us like confetti, and the golden glow of the paddock lights turned everything into a scene straight out of a holiday movie.

“You know,” I said as we swayed gently to a tune that only I could hear, “if someone walks by right now, they’re going to think the stress of the season has finally gotten to you.”

Toto smirked. “Let them think it. I have nothing to prove.”

“Except that you can dance,” I teased, stepping on his foot—purely by accident, of course.

“Careful,” he warned, though his grin widened. “I might let go and leave you to your dramatic demise in the snow.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” he said, but his hold only tightened, pulling me closer. His touch was warm and steady, and for a moment, I forgot about the snow, the paddock, and even my poor, freezing toes. It was just us, dancing in the quiet magic of the moment.

“Well,” I said after a pause, my voice softer now, “this is officially the most romantic thing you’ve ever done.”

“More romantic than flying you to Vienna for our anniversary?” he asked, his brow lifting in mock offense.

“Yes,” I said firmly. “That had champagne and a five-course meal, sure, but did it have snow falling in the paddock? Did it have impromptu dancing?”

Toto chuckled, and the sound rumbled through me like the coziest fireplace crackle. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are, in love with me anyway.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “You’re lucky I am.”

“I’m lucky?” I scoffed, though my cheeks warmed at his touch. “I’m not the one married to a six-foot-something genius with perfect hair.”

Toto laughed outright at that, the sound echoing through the paddock. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Good,” I said, grinning. “Because after this, you owe me hot chocolate. And a foot massage.”

He twirled me suddenly, catching me off guard and making me laugh as the snow swirled around us. “Anything else, Your Majesty?”

“Just this,” I said, resting my head against his chest as we settled back into an easy sway. “Just us.”

For a while, we danced in silence, the snow falling softly, the world around us forgotten. It was, perhaps, the most perfect moment we’d ever stolen together.

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

Reblog because Zhou deserves more attention and appreciation!!! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻❤️❤️❤️

Simply lovely Zhou. Gutted for VB💔

Sauber's Saviour

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairing: Zhou Guanyu x reader (gender not specified)

Warnings: Just fluff and possibly one small moment of poorly translated Mandarin so I'm so sorry if it doesn't make sense!

Notes: Guanyu deserves some appreciation all the time but especially after that race! Sorry its short but if any of you have any requests for him then I'll happily take them! Written or smau! And idk whether it's Stake or Sauber so haha.

Summary: 22 of 24 races in the 2024 have gone by and Stake/Sauber still have a grand total of 0 points. By the time Qatar rolls around, will their luck be any different?

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

You're on the edge of your seat as the final lap comes. P8. To many people that's nothing, in fact it's a bad result. But to you, Guanyu, and everyone in the Sauber garage around you, it's amazing. 3 points. Many would be devastated with that amount but for a team that so far this season only has 0, its amazing. It shows that the work so many have put into the tena really has paid off in one way or another.

You watch with bated breath as Max winds around turn 16, not long to go. You don't even focus on Max crossing the finish line necessarily, you just stare at your boyfriend's name. The graphic of the checkered flag appears next to the drivers just ahead of him as they each cross the finish line.

Russell, Gasly, Sainz. Your breath halts as your boyfriend's biggest inspiration crosses the line, checkered flag appearing next to Fernando's name. And it appears to happen in slow motion as the checkered flag graphic appears on the end of your boyfriends name. No one overtakes him in the last second, he remains P8! You let out a deep breath.

He's done it. You can hardly hear the congratulatory claps from the commentators at your boyfriends expense as everyone in the garage shoots up and cheers, sounds of happiness filling your ears. You're hugged by goodness knows who but you can't really find it in you to care, everyone is enveloping everyone else in warm embraces, one happy affair (and those who aren't are running outside to the pitfall to watch your boyfriend as he zooms past).

You hear Andrea's voice over the team radio and you put on your headphones to hear Guanyu's presumably happy response. Your grin widens at his adrenaline fueled response, carrying profanity, happiness and sheer passion, something that everyone else feels in the garage.

It feels like an eternity until your boyfriend comes back to the garage but when he does, the garage erupts again. He gladly takes the pats on the back from engineers, and various other Sauber staff but his eyes search for a moment, only to look onto yours. You grin, joyfully grinning just seeing him and you walk towards him as he continues to walk to the back of the garage in your direction. You aren't sure who meets who first but it doesn't matter as you crush him in an elated hug. "You did it!"

He nods at your muffled words, your head half hidden in his shoulder. You pull away slightly and Guanyu wastes no time before meeting your lips in a kiss. You both ignore the wolf whistles and claps from the ladish engineers a focus on pouring all of your happiness into the embrace. The kiss is filled with teeth from the both of your grins, emotion and tears that you didn't know you were shedding. You pull away slightly and cradle his face in-between your hands. "I know I always say this but I'm so proud of you. My driver of the day." You smile even more as you come to another realisation. "And everyone else's too!" Guanyu just chuckles, eyes crinkling at the side as he hugs you once again, muffling a small "I love you. Thank you" Before he kisses your temple.

You smile at him once more and you didn't know it was possible but he returns your grin with one of his own, ten times bigger than yours. It doesn't take long for him to be ushered away to go and see the rest of the team in the hospitality but you just watch with joy as away walks your boyfriend. A driver not on the podium, but with reaction far better than one in the top 3 today. A reaction that everyone knows he desrves and knows he needs especially with his lack of seat next year.

But now he's proved a statement. That regardless of people not wanting to give him a drive for the future, he's a damn good driver and deserves to be here just as much as the others, if not more. A media person guides you all into the foyer of the motor home to properly celebrate with the team principal, big sponsors and all the major people within the team.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

"Do you think that's enough of a message?"the both of you lie in the lavish Hotel room, your back resting against Guanyu's. You hum, a wordless question, asking him to continue. "That I'm not the worst driver." You nod, snuggling into his warmth more. "Of course, everyone knows that the Sauber is..." You both chuckle slightly as you struggle to find a word. "Tedious." "Yes, tedious at times. But you proved that you can get results even out of the worst car. And everyone realises it. Heck even Crofty and Jenson were cheering you on in the commentary box." You pull away and sit up, turning around to face your boyfriend. "And goodness knows people realised that with the driver of the day vote. You probably even converted some Norris and Sainz girls today." Guanyu chuckles and gives you a soft smile. Making you pause. The light from the skyline outside illuminates half of his face. Casting a shadow on his lips and.maiing his eyes all but glisten. You swallow and shake yourself out of your state of asmiration, instead adopting a serious tone.. "No, I'm being honest, I might have to start fending them off with a stick. I can't have anyone else going after my boyfriend, especially not with how successful he is." Guanyu looks down, cheeks warming before pulling you back to his chest. You sqeal slightly and gently tap his chest. "Hey!" He just laughs and kisses your scalp, one hand running up and down your arm as the other lies around your waist.

"Thank you." You furrow your brows at his vulnerable tone. "For everything. For supporting me even when I'm always coming last. It's just- I love you so much." You shake your head, rolling your eyes, catching the 'Man from Shanghai' off guard. Here he was, starting to pour his heart out and you're acting like thi- "You don't always come last silly. Look at today. You came far from last." Guanyu exhales and rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean." You smile at him slightly and relax against his body. The both of you finding a calm rhythm, things on the edge of falling asleep. You lay your head on your boyfriends chest and focus on the soft beat of his heart under his sleep shirt.

Guanyu rubs a hand up and down your back as he feels your breathing soften. After such an incredible day, he's glad to end it like this. Wrapped up with you in his arms, both of you basking in the post points joy. Finally some calm after the storm. Don't get him wrong, he's ever so grateful and happy for the multitude of people coming up to him and congratulating him. But this, this silence is what he loves to bask in. It's a point where he's most content. Just the two of you, it makes him feel like he can do anything (like going and scoring points in an absolute tractor). Guanyu, shuffles slightly, he feels his own eyes flutter to a close, nearing the familiar embrace of sleep.

"Wait!" He startles awake as you shoot up. "We haven't told sweetcorn yet!" He groans "亲爱的..." And as much as Guanyu wants to be a little bit annoyed at you stopping the both of you from entering into a nice, long sleep, he can't help but bask in the tender moment as you steal his phone to facetime his mother, babysitting your cat all the way in England. It really is times like this when Guanyu is the most happy; you caring about him, his family and 'your child' of course (he's very adamant on calling sweetcorn your child, contrary to many believing that you push the title). Which is why he happily sinks back into the pillows as he hears you dial his mother, easy smile on his face ad he lets the events of today wash over him, your voice coaxing him into a happy slumber.

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

Mick🫂❤️Simi

🥺🥺

“what my dad was to Sebastian, he is for me”

“you remind me a lot of your dad”

Burns!!!! 🔥🔥🔥

how many championships has verstappen won again? ah right

See, I did said that he's slaying that outfit🤌🏻🤌🏻✨

Woof woof woof

@thereoncewasagirlnamedjane I agree 💯 with you!!!!! Btw in love this❤️

when reality sets back in

summary: You used to dream of marrying James when you were younger. Today, he's come to offer his congratulations.

pairing: james norrington x f!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst and mutual pining; arranged marriage (but not between reader and james) please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: 42. a kiss to celebrate an engagement

a/n: before tumblr ate all of ren's asks i remember her sending in this prompt and requesting that it hurt. i don't remember which character it was supposed to be for but i think i accomplished that.

masterlist | read on ao3

As soon as you stepped outside and the noise of the banquet hall faded into the background, you felt like you could breathe again.

It was a lovely evening, pleasantly warm for London at this time of year. A soothing breeze caught in the fabric of your skirts and made them billow. You stepped away from the terrace doors, moving into the shadows closer to the balustrade, out of sight of anyone just wandering past.

Leaning against the cool stone, you let out a long sigh.

Ignoring the city’s usual stench, the city was quite beautiful in the light of the setting sun.  The river sparkled in the low light, and lanterns were being lit in the streets below, making them flicker with a warm orangey glow.

"I don’t recall the last time I’ve seen you quite this satisfied."

You’d have flinched had it been any other voice behind you. With this one, though, you smiled. "James."

He looked taken aback for a second when you turned to face him, meeting your eyes for just a moment before lowering his head. "Milady."

Your heart fluttered a little when you laughed, an old familiar reaction. "Really? After all this time, Commodore?"

It was almost hidden in the shadows around his face, but you knew him well enough to tell he was hiding a smile of his own. "It’s only proper we start at some point, don’t you think?"

You hummed noncommittally, taking your time looking at him. It had been so long since you saw him last, and yet you felt like it had been mere moments. "I didn’t know you were back in the country."

"Well, I couldn’t have missed your engagement, now, could I?"

Of course. That was the entire reason for the elaborate feast tonight, after all; you’d finally agreed to the match your parents had been gently pushing you to make for ages.

It wasn’t that your future husband wasn’t a good man. He was gentler than most, tall and handsome, and willing to let you keep a good portion of your independence even in marriage as long as you honoured his name and reputation in public. In time, you were sure you’d grow to love him, even.

You’d live out the rest of your days comfortable and reasonably happy.

Still, your hand wanted to reach towards the man you’d always secretly hoped would ask for it first. Wanted to trace the frown line between his brows, the stubble on his chin he missed while shaving, the sharp line of his jaw. He met your gaze with something unspoken in his eyes, like he could see exactly what it was you were craving.

But James Norrington had never once crossed a line with you like that, and you weren’t about to embarrass yourself with an action as improper as that. You clutched your hands in front of you and turned towards the view once more.

"I suppose not," you said quietly, your smile frozen in place now.

He cleared his throat as he stepped up besides you. "Besides, I’m being summoned to Court."

"Nothing bad, I hope?"

"Don’t worry about me." There was a weary quality to his voice you were unfamiliar with. Perhaps, you thought, it had been too long after all.

"You know me," you said with forced lightness, because for the first time, you thought he might not. "I always do."

James lowered his head again, and you weren’t sure what thoughts clouded his mind too much to register the open concern on your face. For a while, you kept quiet, debating with yourself as to how to take up the conversation again.

In the end, you resigned. "How are things overseas?"

"Interesting."

"I bet," you said, words continuing to fall out of your mouth. "Everything’s always the same here. You must have the most fantastical stories."

"Perhaps." If possible, he seemed even more distant than before.

Look at me, you begged silently, even though you’d long since forsaken any right to his attention.

"Did you bring your fiancée?" you made a desperate last attempt. "You must introduce us."

You’d never met Elizabeth Swann yourself, but all of London’s society was agreed that she was both beautiful and intelligent. Someone with the right qualities, the right social standing for someone like James; someone he’d want to look at constantly.

"Ah," he said, not quite a scoff; a last ebb of emotion. "No fiancée, I’m afraid."

"What happened?"

At last, he turned towards you, looking at you as though he was letting himself see you for the first time. "It emerged that our hearts weren’t quite aligned."

Something panged painfully in your chest at those words, the ring on your finger very sharp and heavy all of a sudden. "I’m terribly sorry."

"Don’t be. It was a nice dream. Besides, today is a day of celebration, isn’t it?" he gave you a tired smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

You’d always loved James Norrington’s eyes. When you were younger, you wanted to drown in them every second of every day for the rest of your life. That had been a nice dream, too. But in real life, women like you had to make a strategic match, and your parents would never have let you leave England.

The invisible thing between you seemed to whir as he looked at you, but neither of you dared to speak it into existence, even now. It was too precious to be bound into words.

A chill went through you.

"You’re cold," James remarked, blinking. "I should leave you to return to your betrothed."

The air seemed to grow even colder. "Already?"

"I was only going to call upon you for a short while." He hesitated, then reached out for your hand. "My sincerest congratulations, Mrs Hamilton."

He pressed his lips to your knuckles reverently, holding your gaze while still keeping that damn respectful distance between your bodies. You were frozen to the spot, lost to the depth of his eyes and the things left unsaid.

"Thank you," you whispered when he finally lowered your hand once again, his thumb ghosting across your fingers before he let go and the ice returned to your bones. The chatter returned to the background.

Life went on.

You pressed your lips together as he turned to take his leave, but your heart was still pounding wildly, making you follow him, "James!"

He stopped, and you realised you’d grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, holding onto the thick brocade like you could spin it around your fingers and keep him tethered to you. Your voice was shaking. "Will I see you again?"

For a moment, you dared to hope; to dream again, for a beautiful couple of seconds.

He swallowed, his hands clenching into fists once before letting go.

"Of course, darling."

James Norrington had never lied to you before, and maybe it was because of that you knew he wasn’t telling you the truth this time; only what you desperately wanted to hear.

You let him leave, and that dream of yours cracked more and more with each step he took away from you, leaving reality covered in broken pieces.

He did not turn back.

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💛

QUENCH YOUR THIRST

Requested:WEC!Jenson Button with wife reader. She k5eep giving the fans thirst trap and showing her love to him anywhere she could, anytime. Thanks!! :))

Faceclaim: eye rodgers on instagram

Warnings: poorly thought out innuendos, poor grammar, typos

Never thought that one day I would fall for him (literally).. but I did and I glad🤭❤️

stolen glances and stormy gazes (dc14)

request by anon

✦ pairing - David Coulthard x female!reader

✦ genre - fluff, it's super long

The sun blazed over the Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya, the Spanish GP weekend bringing with it a flurry of excitement and a hint of drama. The Channel 4 studio, situated just a stone's throw away from the roaring engines and fervent fans, was abuzz with activity. Today’s broadcast was set to be a special one, with a panel that included the ever-charismatic Steve Jones, the insightful Mark Webber, the perpetually sunny Y/N, and the seasoned yet curmudgeonly David Coulthard.

As the broadcast started, the camaraderie among the presenters was palpable. Steve’s easy banter with Mark, Y/N’s radiant smile, and David’s focused demeanor created a vibrant atmosphere. But beneath the surface, a storm was brewing, and it was centered around one driver: Logan Sargeant.

"Welcome back to Channel 4’s coverage of the Spanish GP," Steve announced, his tone light and engaging. "Today, we’re diving into the ongoing debate about Logan Sargeant’s performance and treatment at Williams."

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with conviction. "Logan has been showing real potential. I think he’s been treated unfairly by the team. There’s been a lack of support and consistency that’s holding him back."

David’s jaw tightened. "I disagree. Logan’s had his chances, but performance is what matters. If he’s not delivering, it’s on him, not just the team."

The debate began as a friendly discussion but quickly escalated. Y/N leaned in, her voice tinged with frustration. "David, you’re not seeing the bigger picture here. It’s not just about raw numbers. It’s about how the team supports their drivers. Logan’s been left out to dry. His car has old part, now how can we expect him to perform with a carboard box of a car?"

David’s eyes narrowed, his gruff exterior barely concealing his irritation. "And you’re not seeing that F1 is cutthroat. It’s not a charity. If you can’t perform, you’re out. Logan needs to step up or accept the consequences."

Y/N’s face flushed with determination, her smile fading into a serious frown. "And if the support isn’t there, how can we expect him to perform at his best? It’s a two-way street, David."

Steve and Mark exchanged glances, sensing the conversation was veering into dangerously heated territory. David’s voice had taken on an edge, and Y/N’s passionate rebuttals only fueled the fire.

Mark tried to interject, his voice calm yet firm. "We should consider all aspects of the situation. It’s not just about one side or the other."

But Y/N was undeterred, her eyes locked onto David’s with an intensity that made the air around them crackle. "David, you’re so focused on the individual performance that you’re ignoring the broader context. It’s not all black and white."

David’s response was equally intense, his voice low and controlled. "And you’re romanticizing a situation that’s as harsh as it gets. It’s a tough world out there, and Logan needs to toughen up."

The atmosphere between them was electric, the debate clearly bordering on something far more personal. There was an unspoken tension that neither was willing to acknowledge, their bickering laced with a charged energy that was palpable.

Steve, sensing the imminent danger of the situation escalating further, stepped in with practiced ease. "Alright, alright, let’s take a breather here. We’ll cut to a quick ad break and come back to this. Everyone, stay tuned. This debate isn’t over yet."

As the camera cut to an ad, the studio fell into a brief, uneasy silence. Y/N and David exchanged lingering glances, each trying to process the conversation that had just transpired. The spark between them was undeniable, yet neither was willing to confront it head-on, leaving the air thick with unresolved tension.

The Spanish GP weekend was just beginning, and so was the ongoing drama between two of Channel 4’s most passionate presenters.

--

The roar of the crowd, the smell of burning rubber, and the adrenaline of race day continued as usual. The Spanish GP had unfolded with its typical thrills and spills, but the tension between Y/N and David lingered in the air, unseen by the millions of viewers who had tuned in.

As the race concluded and the coverage wrapped up, the Channel 4 team began to disperse. Y/N found herself in the media center, reviewing her notes. Her mind, however, was far from the race results.

Why does he always have to be so stubborn? she thought, her pen tapping rhythmically against her notebook. David Coulthard, of all people. The way he looks at me, it's like he’s trying to see right through me. But it's just work, right? It has to be. He couldn't possibly feel the same way.

David, meanwhile, was in a quiet corner of the paddock, sipping on a bottle of water. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, but his mind was replaying the earlier argument.

Why does she get under my skin so easily? he wondered, rubbing his temples. Y/N, with her sunshine smile and relentless optimism. She’s so passionate about everything. I can’t let her know how much I actually admire that about her. She probably thinks I’m just a grumpy old man. If only she knew how I really felt.

Y/N gathered her things and made her way towards the exit, her thoughts still tangled with the events of the day. He probably thinks I’m naive, she mused. Always arguing, never agreeing. But every time we debate, there’s something more. I can’t be imagining this. Can I?

David spotted her from across the paddock and hesitated for a moment before striding over. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Y/N, can we talk?”

She turned, surprised by his presence but masking it with a small, polite smile. “Sure, David. What’s on your mind?”

He shifted uncomfortably, searching for the right words. “I wanted to say, about earlier… I didn’t mean to come across so harshly. We both care about the sport, just in different ways.”

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding. Is he trying to apologize? “I know, David. We both get passionate about these things. It’s what makes us good at our jobs. I respect that about you.”

David’s eyes softened, and for a brief moment, his guard dropped. “It’s more than just respect, Y/N. You challenge me, push me to think differently. I… I admire that.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Did he just say he admires me? “Thank you, David. That means a lot coming from you. I… I feel the same way. You always push me to be better, to see things from a different perspective.”

A silence fell between them, charged with the weight of unspoken feelings. David looked into her eyes, willing himself to take the next step. Tell her, you idiot. Just tell her.

Y/N’s heart raced, her thoughts a whirlwind. This is it. Maybe he feels the same way. Just say it.

But before either could speak, Steve Jones appeared, breaking the moment. “There you two are! We’re heading to the team dinner. You coming?”

David and Y/N exchanged a fleeting look, their silent conversation interrupted. David nodded slowly. “Yeah, we’ll be there in a minute.”

As Steve walked away, Y/N sighed softly. “I guess we should join them.”

David nodded, a trace of frustration in his eyes. “Yeah, I guess we should.”

As they walked towards the exit, their hands brushed briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through both of them. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air, but for now, they remained just that—unspoken.

One day, David thought, glancing at Y/N. One day, I’ll find the courage.

One day, Y/N echoed silently. One day, I’ll tell him how I feel.

But today was not that day. For now, they walked side by side, their hearts full of words that only they could hear.

-

Title: The Unspoken Truths

The post-race atmosphere in the Red Bull hospitality suite was buzzing with excitement. Max Verstappen and Sergio Pérez were lounging, sharing a few laughs about the day's events. David Coulthard, usually engrossed in race discussions, seemed unusually distant, his eyes frequently drifting toward Y/N, who was chatting with Steve Jones on the other side of the room.

Max nudged Checo, a sly grin on his face. "Hey, have you noticed how David keeps looking over at Y/N? It's like he's trying to solve a puzzle."

Checo chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, he’s definitely got it bad. It’s almost painful to watch."

David, catching their words but pretending not to, tried to focus on the conversation. Yet, his gaze betrayed him, lingering on Y/N as she laughed at something Steve said.

Across the room, Steve had taken Y/N aside, his expression a mix of concern and amusement. "Y/N, we need to talk."

Y/N tilted her head, curiosity piqued. "What’s up, Steve?"

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, it's time to cut the horseshit with David. Everyone on the team has noticed the tension between you two. It’s getting old, and frankly, it’s affecting all of us."

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean? We’re just… we clash, that’s all."

Steve shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. "It’s more than that, and you know it. There’s something between you two that’s been left unsaid for too long. It’s obvious to everyone except you and David."

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and realization dawning on her. "I didn’t think it was that noticeable."

Steve chuckled, his tone gentle but firm. "Trust me, it is. And it's not just the bickering. It’s the way you look at each other when you think no one’s watching. There’s something real there, Y/N. Something worth figuring out."

Y/N sighed, her defenses slowly crumbling. "I guess I’ve been too scared to face it. I thought it was one-sided."

Steve’s eyes softened with understanding. "You’re not alone in that. But you both need to stop hiding behind your arguments and face whatever it is you’re feeling. We’re all here for you, but you’ve got to take the first step."

Back in the Red Bull suite, Max and Checo were still observing David with amused curiosity. Max leaned over, his voice low and teasing. "David, you know, staring at her like that isn’t going to solve anything."

David tore his gaze away from Y/N, looking at Max with a mixture of irritation and resignation. "I know. It's just… complicated."

Checo raised an eyebrow. "Complicated or you’re just making it complicated?"

David sighed, his tough exterior cracking. "It’s not easy, alright? We argue all the time, and I thought it was just because we’re so different."

Max’s expression softened, a rare moment of empathy shining through. "Sometimes, those arguments mean there’s something deeper. You should talk to her. Really talk to her."

David nodded, feeling a weight lifting off his shoulders. "Maybe you’re right."

-

The evening sky over Barcelona was a beautiful canvas of twilight hues, the stars beginning to peek through as the noise of the day’s race faded into a distant hum. The Red Bull hospitality suite was winding down, with only a few stragglers remaining. David Coulthard found himself on the balcony, the cool breeze doing little to calm the storm of emotions within him.

Y/N stepped out onto the balcony, her footsteps soft against the tiled floor. She paused for a moment, taking in the sight of David leaning against the railing, lost in thought. Steeling herself, she walked over and stood beside him, the tension between them palpable.

"David," she began, her voice a tentative whisper. "We need to talk."

David straightened, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that took her breath away. "Yeah, we do."

The silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Y/N took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "I’ve been avoiding this for too long. Steve… he told me to cut the horseshit. Said everyone’s noticed the tension between us."

David’s jaw tightened, his gaze never wavering. "Max and Checo said the same. They can see it too. I thought I was the only one feeling this way."

Y/N’s eyes widened, the weight of his words sinking in. "You mean… you’ve felt it too? All this time?"

David nodded, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "Every time we argue, every time we’re near each other, there’s this spark. This tension. I thought it was just me, reading too much into it."

Y/N stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking. "I thought it was one-sided. I thought you just… couldn’t stand me."

David let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "It’s not that I can’t stand you, Y/N. It’s that I can’t stand how much you get under my skin. How much I care, even when we’re arguing."

Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart aching at the raw honesty in his voice. "I care too, David. More than I wanted to admit. I was scared that if I acknowledged it, it would ruin everything."

David reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he took hers. "We’ve both been scared. Scared of what this could mean. But maybe it’s time we stop running from it."

Y/N’s eyes filled with unshed tears, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if it changes everything? What if it makes things worse?"

David gently cupped her cheek, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "Sometimes, you have to take a risk. Sometimes, the things worth having are the hardest to fight for. And I think you’re worth fighting for, Y/N."

Y/N leaned into his touch, her heart soaring at his words. "I think you’re worth fighting for too, David."

As the night deepened, the stars above them seemed to shine brighter, the world around them fading away. The tension that had once kept them apart now drew them closer, their hearts finally in sync.

David leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. "No more pretending. No more hiding."

Y/N nodded, her eyes closing as she savored the moment. "Together. We face this together."

David leaned in closer, his breath mingling with hers, their foreheads still touching as the world around them seemed to hold its breath. With a tender hesitance, he tilted his head, their lips finally meeting in a kiss that was soft and tentative at first, then deepening with the intensity of all their unspoken words. As they kissed, the night sky above them erupted in a dazzling display of fireworks, the vibrant colors reflecting the newfound clarity and passion in their hearts.

The bursts of light and sound seemed to celebrate their courage and the beginning of something beautiful, marking the end of their fears and the start of a shared journey. In each other's arms, beneath the exploding sky, they found the promise of a love worth fighting for.

Toto Wolff with sick!wife reader. She has lost her voice and has to communicate using gestures which Toto and Jack find it amusing. Despite their best, they still tease her. You do however you want. Thanks!! :))

It was no surprise that constant travel took its toll on your health. When you landed in Austin and felt the familiar scratch at the back of your throat, you brushed it off as a consequence of changing seasons. But when you woke up the next morning and found yourself unable to speak, the situation quickly shifted from mild discomfort to concern. Toto, ever the attentive husband, immediately sprang into action, calling everyone he could think of for medical advice. His brow furrowed with worry as he paced around your hotel room, phone in hand, while Jack, your son, sat on the edge of the bed with a grin that spoke of mischief.

“Mom, this is hilarious,” Jack said, eyes sparkling. “You should totally communicate with signs and gestures until your voice comes back.” You playfully ruffled his hair, finding it hard not to smile at his enthusiasm, despite your current predicament.

Soon, the three of you made your way to the paddock under the Texas sun, the warm rays dancing on the concrete as the familiar symphony of engines and chatter surrounded you. Jack trotted along beside you, his grin as wide as ever, while Toto held your hand protectively, glancing at you every few moments as if checking that you were still okay. “Are you feeling alright?” he mouthed, his eyebrows knitted with concern. You responded with a thumbs-up and an exaggerated nod, reassuring him that you were fine despite the loss of your voice.

Jack nudged your arm with that same cheeky smile. “Remember, Mom—big gestures so everyone can understand!” he announced, dramatically waving his arms like he was directing traffic. Toto chuckled, a hint of relief softening his features as he joined in the lightheartedness. You rolled your eyes playfully, tapping Jack’s nose with your index finger as if to say, Behave.

As you entered the paddock, familiar faces greeted you with waves and cheerful calls of “Good morning!” You waved back, responding with silent, animated gestures and a bright smile. Toto, sensing your need for an easier way to communicate, handed you a small notepad. “Looks like we’ll need this today,” he teased, smirking as Jack snatched it out of his hands with excitement.

“Oh, I’ll be in charge of writing what Mom says!” Jack declared, marker already poised. He looked up at you with a grin that promised mischief and you couldn’t help but laugh soundlessly, your shoulders shaking with mirth.

Throughout the day, Jack became your voice, scribbling out messages in his childlike scrawl, sometimes adding his own creative touches. “Mom says to stop calling the doctor, Dad,” one note read, written with a smirk and shown triumphantly to Toto. Toto raised an eyebrow and chuckled, shaking his head. “Outnumbered, I see,” he said, casting you a warm look that made your heart swell.

Jack, finding endless amusement in your silent communication, began mimicking your gestures with exaggerated flair, even getting Toto to get in on the act.

Despite their teasing, the love in their gestures kept you animated. Each shared laugh, every little mock argument over Jack’s interpretations, and Toto’s constant, caring glances reminded you that even when unexpected challenges arose, you had your boys beside you, making everything a little more bearable and infinitely more cherished.

As the day progressed and the Texas sun began to dip, casting a warm golden glow over the paddock, you felt a familiar tickle at the back of your throat. You paused for a moment, touching your neck with hope flickering in your chest. Jack noticed your hesitation and tilted his head. “What’s wrong, Mom? Do you need to write something?” He held up the notepad, ready for your next silent instruction.

Instead, you took a deep breath and whispered, “Jack.” The word was faint, raspy, but it was there.

Jack’s eyes widened as if you had just performed a magic trick. “Dad!” he shouted, leaping up and pulling Toto by the sleeve. “Mom talked! She said my name!”

Toto turned around so quickly that he nearly knocked over a chair. His eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of disbelief and joy. “Did you really?” he asked, his voice soft and hopeful.

You nodded, and with a small, careful smile, you whispered, “I did.”

Relief washed over Toto’s face, the tension he had been carrying all day melting away. He took your hands in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Thank goodness,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I was about to call for a specialist to fly in.”

Jack laughed, the sound high and full of energy. “See, I told you it would come back if we kept making her laugh!” He glanced at you, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Guess the signs and gestures worked, huh, Mom?”

You chuckled, the sound still scratchy but growing stronger. “I guess they did,” you replied, squeezing Jack’s hand. The three of you stood there, surrounded by the hum of the paddock and the warm glow of the setting sun. It was a simple moment, yet it held a deep sense of gratitude and love.

Toto wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered.

“I’ll try not to,” you said, your voice now a soft echo of its usual tone. Jack leaned in, sandwiching himself between you and Toto with a playful grin. “But can we keep the notepad? That was fun,” he teased, holding it up with pride.

The three of you laughed, the sound filling the space and blending with the noise of the paddock. And in that moment, you realized that no matter what challenges came your way, the bond you shared as a family would always be enough to carry you through.

Toto Wolff with wife reader. Drunk Toto falling in love again with his wife because he doesn't remember her. But his heart does. Thanks!! :))

You should have known this night was going to be long the moment the victory champagne spilled across the garage, glistening like liquid diamonds under the floodlights. The team’s celebration shifted seamlessly from the paddock to the pulsing beat of a club, where music throbbed and lights flickered in neon arcs. You watched from a plush seat as investors swarmed Toto, offering cheers and shots in congratulation. He accepted each drink with polite grace, a twinkle in his eye that spoke of pride.

But as the night rolled on, that twinkle grew a bit glassy.

"How many drinks do you think that is now?" Lewis asked, dropping into the seat next to you, his grin wide. You laughed, watching Toto across the room, his broad frame towering above most, now slightly swaying as he spoke with some sponsors.

“Enough for me to expect a very long morning tomorrow,” you said, rolling your eyes fondly.

Suddenly, a warm arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you slightly. You turned to find Toto standing there, a mischievous, tipsy grin spreading across his face.

“Lewis,” he drawled, a hint of an Austrian accent thicker than usual. “Won’t you introduce me to this stunning creature you’ve been hogging all night?”

Your jaw dropped, and Lewis’s eyes widened, flicking to you in a moment of silent shock. You bit back a laugh as the realization set in—he was so drunk, he didn’t recognize you.

Lewis smirked, catching on quickly. “Oh, Toto, of course,” he said, playing along. “This is... my friend.”

Toto turned his full attention to you, his eyes sweeping over you with admiration. “Enchanté,” he said, taking your hand and pressing a gallant kiss to your knuckles. The warmth of his lips sent a flutter through your chest, even after years of marriage.

“Nice to meet you,” you teased, eyes twinkling. “Do you make a habit of charming random women at parties?”

“Only when they’re this beautiful,” he said, his smile lopsided. He leaned in, the scent of expensive whiskey and his familiar cologne clouding your senses. “There’s something about you... it feels like I’ve known you my whole life.”

Your breath caught in your throat. There was sincerity in his tone that made your heart swell. You glanced at Lewis, who watched with a barely concealed grin, clearly entertained by the turn of events.

“Is that so?” you said, tilting your head. “Well, you should know, I’m married.”

Toto’s brows lifted, his expression caught between delight and disbelief. “Lucky man,” he murmured, eyes narrowing in playful jealousy. “Tell me, does he treat you well?”

“Very well,” you said, stepping closer, barely able to hold back your laughter. “In fact, he looks a lot like you.”

He studied you for a moment, as if the fog in his mind was straining to lift. Then, a slow smile broke across his face, softening his features. His hand came up to touch your cheek, thumb tracing a familiar path. “It’s you,” he whispered, voice low with awe, as though seeing you for the first time again.

“It’s me,” you confirmed, your voice softening.

For a second, time seemed to stop. Then, the sparkle in his eyes turned brighter, love breaking through the haze of drunkenness. “Well, in that case,” he said, pulling you flush against him, “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

You laughed, the sound swallowed by his kiss—deep, earnest, as if he really was falling for you all over again. And in that crowded club, surrounded by flashing lights and laughter, he did.

Toto Wolff with wife reader. Feat their son, Jack. I've seen teams do a fan forum for races and I would like to request one. She had been invited along with Lewis and George and of course Toto to the stage (like the one in Silverstone) and just answered fans questions. I know that sometimes they throw things (I saw one with Toto trying to catch or failing to catch something🤣🤣) And them being the cutest couple. Him giving her heart eyes, her blushing, fans teasing for kisses👀 Anything. Tag me later! Thanks!! :))

The sun cast a warm glow over the Silverstone paddock, creating a shimmering backdrop as the crowd buzzed with energy. It was an eventful day, and the atmosphere was electric. The stage, lined with banners bearing the iconic Mercedes logo, was set for a special interaction with fans. You stood at its centre alongside Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, and Toto, your husband, whose presence always stirred excitement among the fans.

“Alright, everyone,” Lewis said, a wide grin on his face as he scanned the crowd. “Let’s hear those questions!” The fans cheered in response, a sea of raised hands waving enthusiastically.

A young fan at the front raised a microphone. “This question is for Mrs. Wolff,” she began, eyes bright with anticipation. “What’s the best thing about being married to Toto?”

A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd. Toto glanced at you, a playful smirk curving his lips as the spotlight settled on you. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling a subtle blush rise to your cheeks.

“Oh, where do I start?” you teased, earning a delighted roar from the audience. “I’d say it’s the way he’s always so calm and collected—except when he’s yelling into the radio,” you added, feigning a serious look that cracked into a smile as Toto let out an exaggerated groan.

“Guilty,” he admitted, shrugging as Lewis and George chuckled beside him.

The session continued with light-hearted questions and stories. George shared an anecdote about Toto’s impeccable timing during practice, while Lewis reminisced about their first Silverstone victory together. Then, without warning, a playful shout came from the crowd.

“Catch, Toto!”

A white blur sailed through the air. Toto instinctively reached out, fingertips brushing the fabric before it tumbled past him. He broke into laughter, shaking his head as Lewis bent down and picked it up. The object was revealed to be a t-shirt, emblazoned with a large, grinning image of Toto’s face and the words “I Have It Printed Out” in bold lettering.

The crowd erupted into cheers and laughter. “That’s brilliant,” George said, turning the shirt for the audience to see. You covered your mouth to stifle your giggles, eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Looks like you’re a walking meme, Toto,” Lewis teased, nudging him lightly.

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Toto replied, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. He turned to you, holding the shirt out with an exaggerated flourish. “Do you want to keep this as a gift, darling?”

You reached for it, the crowd chanting in unison: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

The chant grew louder, blending with laughter and whoops. Toto’s eyebrows shot up, and he glanced at you with a gleam of mischief. “Well, the people have spoken,” he said.

Your blush deepened, but you couldn’t help smiling. Leaning in, you pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his cheek, the gesture met with thunderous applause and whistles. Toto’s eyes lit up, softening with unmistakable affection as he turned to face you fully, the rest of the world momentarily forgotten.

“You two are too cute,” Lewis said, placing a hand over his heart and pretending to wipe a tear.

George laughed. “No wonder they throw shirts at you, Toto. They know who the real star is.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Toto said, his voice low but warm, eyes still locked on yours.

The next question came from an older fan in the back. “Toto, do you ever feel nervous when your wife is up there with you?”

Toto’s expression softened further. “Every day,” he answered sincerely, earning a collective “aww” from the crowd. “But in the best possible way,” he added, turning to you. “She’s my strongest supporter and my fiercest critic, all in one. And seeing her out here, sharing this moment, makes it all even more special.”

For a moment, the event paused in an unplanned silence, filled with the warmth of genuine emotion. You reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly as the crowd watched, eyes glistening with admiration.

“Okay, before we all start crying here,” Lewis said, breaking the moment with a grin, “next question!”

The session continued with the same playful energy, with fans firing off questions and sharing laughs with their racing heroes. But the moment on stage between you and Toto lingered, a reminder that amidst the roar of engines and competitive spirit, there were human stories filled with love, laughter, and shared dreams. And today, under the sun and in front of thousands of fans, those stories shone as brightly as the Silverstone track itself.

@pear-1206

Don’t Judge a Book by Its Cover

Toto Wolff x Reader

Summary: a wealthy older man with a starry-eyed younger woman — it’s a tale as old as time and a scene the saleswoman has seen countless times before … or is it?

The showroom gleams under harsh fluorescent lights, every surface polished to a mirror finish. Cars, sleek and expensive, are lined up like jewels in a case. The hum of quiet conversation fills the space, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the soft clink of champagne glasses.

It’s another day at the auto show, and the saleswoman, tall and sharp-eyed, watches it all with a thin veneer of polite disinterest. She’s been here long enough to know who’s serious and who’s just here to gawk.

She spots them before they even step into her section. The man is hard to miss — tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of commanding presence that makes people step aside without even realizing it. His suit is tailored to perfection, probably costs more than her monthly salary.

And then there’s the girl — no, the woman — beside him. You’re much younger, that’s clear. You look out of place, wide-eyed and excited like a kid in a candy store, dressed in something trendy but understated, a deliberate contrast to the man’s sophistication.

The saleswoman’s eyes narrow as she watches you both approach. She’s seen this before — older man, younger woman, the kind of relationship that’s all too common in these circles. She doesn’t have to guess who’s footing the bill here.

“They’re all stunning,” you say, your voice carrying over the murmur of the crowd as you walk beside the man. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Take your time,” the man says, his voice low, accented, and rich with an authority that’s clearly second nature to him. He’s smiling at you, and there’s a warmth there that the saleswoman finds almost disarming. Almost.

She steps forward, her professional smile firmly in place, and approaches the two of you. “Good afternoon,” she says, her tone perfectly neutral, though there’s an edge to it, just enough to make her feel superior in this little interaction. “Is there anything in particular you’re interested in today?”

You look up at the man, a slight question in your eyes, as if asking for permission to speak. The saleswoman notices this, of course, and it only confirms what she already thinks.

“The Porsche 911 S/T,” you say, your voice gaining a little confidence as you look back at her. “It’s — wow, it’s incredible.”

The saleswoman allows herself a small, condescending smile. Of course, you’d go for something flashy like that. “A beautiful choice,” she says smoothly. “Though it’s not currently available for sale. It’s more of a display model for now.”

You look disappointed, but before you can say anything, the man steps in. “Is that so?” He asks, his tone polite but firm. “And when will it be available?”

“Not for a few months, I’m afraid,” she replies, keeping her smile in place even as she feels a flicker of unease at the intensity in his eyes. “But we can certainly take your information and let you know the moment it is.”

You’re distracted by another car nearby — a sleek, silver Audi R8 — and the man follows your gaze. “Excuse me for a moment,” he says to the saleswoman, already moving toward the car that has caught your attention. She watches him go, a tightness forming in her chest.

You’re bending slightly, peering into the Audi’s interior, running your fingers over the smooth leather seats. The man is right behind you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, a gesture that’s both protective and possessive.

“What do you think of this one?” He asks, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear. You smile, and it’s a real smile, the kind that makes your whole face light up.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice soft, almost reverent. “But I think I’m still in love with the Porsche.”

He chuckles, and the sound is deep, genuine. “You have good taste.”

The saleswoman doesn’t hear what you say next, but she sees the way you look up at him, like he’s the only person in the room. She almost rolls her eyes. Of course, you’re infatuated. Who wouldn’t be, with a man like that?

But there’s something else, something in the way he looks at you that makes her pause. There’s affection there, sure, but it’s more than that. It’s something deeper, more complicated.

He straightens up, leaving you to admire the Audi, and makes his way back to the saleswoman. She steels herself, ready to resume the dance of negotiation, but his next words take her by surprise.

“I want to buy the Porsche for my partner,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She blinks, momentarily thrown. “As I mentioned earlier, sir, it’s not for sale at the moment. But we can-”

“You misunderstand,” he interrupts, his eyes locking onto hers with a quiet intensity. “I’m not asking if it’s for sale. I’m telling you I want to buy it.”

The saleswoman feels a prickle of irritation, but she keeps her expression neutral. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mr …”

“Wolff,” he says, his voice steady. “Toto Wolff.”

The name rings a bell, and she stiffens slightly. Of course, she’s heard of him. Everyone in this business has. But she’s not about to let him walk all over her just because he’s some big shot.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wolff, but even for you, the car isn’t available. It’s a prototype, and it won’t be released for sale until-”

He cuts her off with a low laugh, and there’s something almost dangerous in the sound. “For me,” he says slowly, as if explaining something very simple to a child, “they’ll make it available.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but the words die in her throat. There’s a look in his eyes that makes it clear this isn’t a man who’s used to hearing the word no. And she realizes, with a sinking feeling, that he’s right. If Toto Wolff wants that car, he’s going to get it.

The saleswoman swallows hard, her professional composure beginning to crack around the edges. “I’ll need to speak with my manager,” she says finally, her voice losing some of its earlier confidence.

“Please do,” he replies smoothly, his gaze flicking back to where you’re still admiring the Audi, completely unaware of the tension playing out behind you.

She turns on her heel, making her way to the back office with quick, clipped steps. The nerve of him, she thinks, but even as she seethes, she knows what the outcome will be. No one says no to someone like Toto Wolff.

As she waits for her manager to confirm the inevitable, she casts a glance through the glass wall of the office, watching you and him from a distance. You’re laughing at something he’s said, your hand resting on his arm, and for a moment, the saleswoman feels a strange, unwelcome pang of something close to envy.

It’s not just the money or the power that he has — though there’s plenty of that — it’s the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing that matters. Like he would move mountains just to see you smile.

The manager finally appears, a mix of excitement and nerves on his face as he hurries over to speak with Toto. The saleswoman stays back, watching as they exchange words, her earlier confidence completely drained. She knows what’s coming, and sure enough, after a few minutes, the manager gestures for her to come forward.

“Mr. Wolff,” the manager says, his tone obsequious, “we’d be more than happy to arrange the purchase of the Porsche for you. It’s not something we typically do, but in your case, we can make an exception.”

Toto gives a small nod, as if this is exactly what he expected. “Good,” he says, then glances over at you, still absorbed in the Audi. “I’ll take care of the details later. For now, I’d prefer if my partner remains unaware of the purchase.”

The manager nods quickly. “Of course, of course. Discretion is our priority.”

The saleswoman feels a fresh wave of irritation as the manager all but trips over himself to please Toto. But what bothers her even more is the realization that she was wrong. This isn’t a simple sugar relationship, despite what she first thought. There’s something real here, something that makes her uncomfortable in ways she can’t quite put into words.

As Toto walks back over to you, the manager gives the saleswoman a sharp look, silently instructing her to follow his lead. She pastes on her best smile, swallowing her pride, and follows after him.

You don’t notice the shift in the atmosphere when Toto returns to your side. You’re too engrossed in the car, asking him questions about its specs and design, your enthusiasm infectious. The saleswoman watches the two of you interact, trying to reconcile the easy, genuine affection she sees with her initial assumptions.

“So,” Toto says, leaning in a little closer to you, “if you could choose any car here, which one would it be?”

You bite your lip, clearly torn, but finally, you sigh. “I know it’s silly, but I keep coming back to the Porsche. It’s just … it’s perfect.”

His smile widens, and the saleswoman feels a pang of something she refuses to name. “Then the Porsche it is,” he says softly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

You laugh, a little embarrassed. "Toto, you can't just buy it because I like it. It's not even for sale."

He chuckles, a warm, deep sound that makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room. “You’d be surprised what’s possible.”

The saleswoman shifts uncomfortably, watching as Toto brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering a moment too long to be purely casual. You smile up at him, oblivious to everything except the man in front of you.

She clears her throat, forcing herself back into the conversation. “Actually, we can make arrangements for the Porsche. If you’d like, we can finalize the details and set up delivery.”

You blink, surprised. “Really? But I thought-”

Toto smiles, squeezing your hand gently. “It’s yours, if you want it.”

Your eyes widen, and for a moment, you’re speechless. Then you throw your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest as you mumble a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

The saleswoman watches, the professional smile on her face feeling more like a grimace now. She doesn’t understand it, doesn’t understand you or him, but she knows she was wrong.

You pull back, looking up at Toto with a softness in your eyes that’s almost too much to bear. “I don’t even know what to say,” you whisper.

“Just be happy,” he murmurs back, his voice tender in a way that makes the saleswoman want to look away.

And for a moment, she does. She turns her gaze to the gleaming cars, the reflections of the showroom lights bouncing off their polished surfaces. When she looks back, you’re both still there, lost in each other, completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

The saleswoman feels a strange, hollow emptiness settle in her chest as she turns to finalize the sale, realizing that perhaps, despite everything, this wasn’t about money or power at all.

Perhaps it was just about love.

***

The estate in Oxfordshire is nothing short of palatial, its sprawling grounds stretching out in every direction, bordered by neatly trimmed hedges and ancient oaks. The driveway is long and winding, leading up to a mansion that looks like it could have been lifted straight out of a Jane Austen novel — grand, elegant, with an air of timeless sophistication.

The saleswoman sits in the passenger seat of the delivery truck, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her jacket. She’s never been nervous about a delivery before, but then again, she’s never delivered to someone like Toto Wolff before.

Beside her, the driver is humming along to a tune on the radio, completely at ease as they turn onto the estate’s private road. She glances at the rearview mirror, catching sight of the Porsche 911 S/T, pristine and gleaming, with an oversized red bow affixed to the roof. It looks absurd, she thinks, a toy fit for a princess.

It takes several minutes to reach the front of the house, the tires crunching softly over the gravel. The saleswoman feels a knot tighten in her stomach as they pull to a stop.

She’s here to oversee the delivery, to make sure everything goes smoothly, but part of her wonders if this is all a colossal waste of time. Surely, she could’ve sent someone else. But she’d insisted on coming herself—perhaps out of some twisted sense of curiosity, or maybe it was just her bruised pride.

The driver cuts the engine, and there’s a brief moment of silence before the door to the mansion opens. Toto steps out first, his movements unhurried, as if he’s in no rush at all. And then you appear beside him, your hand lightly resting on his arm as you walk out together.

“Here we go,” the driver mutters, giving her a nod before he hops out to start the unloading process.

The saleswoman takes a deep breath, composing herself before she steps out of the truck. Her heels sink slightly into the gravel as she approaches, her professional smile back in place. Toto greets her with a nod, his expression unreadable, while you give her a warm, if somewhat shy, smile.

“I hope the drive wasn’t too difficult,” Toto says, his voice smooth and polite, but there’s a hint of something more behind his words. An expectation that everything will, of course, be perfect.

“Not at all, Mr. Wolff,” the saleswoman replies quickly, her smile tightening. “It was a pleasure, really.”

You step forward, your eyes wide with excitement as you look past her to the truck. “Is it …” you ask, your voice filled with a mix of disbelief and anticipation.

The driver is already lowering the truck’s ramp, and as the Porsche comes into view, you let out a small gasp. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper, taking a step closer, your hand still clutching Toto’s arm. “I can’t believe it’s really here.”

Toto watches you with a soft smile, the kind of smile that the saleswoman has started to recognize as reserved only for you. “I told you it would be,” he says quietly, as if this moment is just as special for him as it is for you.

The saleswoman clears her throat, drawing their attention back to her. “We took extra care during the transport,” she says, trying to regain some control over the situation. “Everything is exactly as it was when it left the showroom.”

“Thank you,” Toto says, but his focus is already back on you as you approach the car, your fingers brushing over the sleek lines of the Porsche as if you’re afraid it might disappear if you touch it too firmly.

You circle the car slowly, taking it all in, and for a moment, the saleswoman feels like an intruder in this private moment. She watches as you turn back to Toto, your eyes bright with unshed tears. “I don’t even know what to say,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

He steps closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “I just want you to be happy.”

The saleswoman averts her gaze, the tenderness of the moment making her uncomfortable. She’s seen plenty of couples over the years, but there’s something about the way you and Toto interact that feels … different.

It’s not just the age difference, though that’s part of it. It’s the way he looks at you, like you’re the most precious thing in the world, and the way you look at him, like he’s your anchor in a storm.

The driver interrupts her thoughts as he finishes unloading the car. “All done here,” he says cheerfully, handing the keys over to Toto with a grin. “She’s all yours.”

Toto takes the keys with a nod of thanks, but instead of pocketing them, he holds them out to you. “Would you like to take her for a spin?”

Your eyes widen, and you laugh, a light, joyful sound that echoes in the evening air. “Now? I haven’t even driven a car like this before!”

“There’s a first time for everything,” he replies, his tone teasing yet encouraging. “And I trust you completely.”

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at the car and then back at Toto. The saleswoman can see the internal debate playing out on your face — excitement warring with nervousness. But then, with a deep breath, you take the keys from him, your fingers brushing against his as you do.

“Okay,” you say, your voice firming with determination. “Let’s do it.”

The saleswoman watches as you climb into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors and running your hands over the steering wheel like you’re trying to familiarize yourself with every inch of the car. Toto takes the passenger seat beside you, and for a brief moment, the saleswoman catches a glimpse of his hand resting on your knee, a gesture that’s both reassuring and intimate.

She’s pulled out of her thoughts when the driver nudges her, motioning toward the truck. “We should get going,” he says, glancing over at the car. “Looks like they’ve got everything under control.”

But the saleswoman doesn’t move. She’s rooted to the spot, watching as you and Toto pull away from the estate, the Porsche purring softly as it glides down the driveway. There’s something about the scene that feels almost cinematic, like she’s watching a moment that she’s not supposed to be a part of.

The car disappears around a bend in the road, and the saleswoman finally exhales, not realizing she’s been holding her breath. She turns back to the driver, who’s looking at her with mild curiosity.

“Everything okay?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

She forces a smile, pushing down the strange mix of emotions churning in her chest. “Yeah,” she says, though the word feels hollow. “Everything’s fine.”

They load back into the truck, the engine roaring to life as they begin the long drive back to the showroom. The saleswoman stares out the window, her thoughts racing, replaying the scene over and over in her mind.

She tries to tell herself that it’s just another delivery, just another rich couple flaunting their wealth. But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t shake the image of the way Toto looked at you, like you were his entire world.

The driver’s voice cuts through her thoughts as he asks, “So, you think they’re the real deal?”

She turns to look at him, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road. “I mean, a guy like him, a girl like her … you think it’s more than just the money?”

The saleswoman hesitates, her fingers curling around the edge of her seat. She wants to dismiss it, to laugh it off and say that of course it’s just about the money. But the words stick in her throat, refusing to come out.

“Yeah,” she finally says, her voice quieter than she intended. “I think it is.”

The driver nods, seemingly satisfied with her answer, and they fall into silence once more. But the saleswoman can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted, that this delivery has left her with more questions than answers.

As they drive away from the estate, the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the road. The saleswoman stares at them, lost in thought, wondering what it must feel like to be loved the way Toto loves you.

She knows she’ll never have an answer to that question, but as the truck rumbles down the road, she can’t help but think that maybe — just maybe — there’s more to life than the things she’s always taken for granted.

And for the first time in a long time, she finds herself longing for something she can’t quite put into words.

Idk why. It just stuck🤷🏻‍♀️

Tentang Dia by Melly Goeslaw feat Evan Sanders

ATTENTION

If you see this you are OBLIGATED to reblog w/ the song currently stuck in your head :)

Where can I find a man like this?? 😩

Toto Wolff with wife reader. They had a fight and just sort of made each other laugh when they were talking. Which is why they married each other in the first place. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

The slam of a door echoes through the house, not loud enough to be angry, but firm enough to leave no room for ambiguity. You exhale sharply, your arms crossed as you stand in the kitchen, staring at the countertop. The argument wasn’t supposed to spiral like this—not over something so trivial. It was about the schedule for the weekend, who was supposed to handle what, and somehow, it had escalated into a full-blown disagreement.

Toto had walked out to the living room, his long strides carrying him away from your raised voice. That alone had been enough to irritate you further. You can hear him now, somewhere in the house, moving things around, his presence as large and impossible to ignore as ever. You don’t have the energy to follow after him or continue the argument. Instead, you open a cabinet and begin tidying up the already-organized shelves, trying to distract yourself from the simmering frustration.

Minutes pass. It’s quiet, except for the soft clinking of plates as you rearrange them. You wonder if he’s sitting on the couch, brooding, or maybe pacing around as he tends to do when his emotions get the better of him. The thought of his long legs covering endless ground in the small space almost makes you smile—almost.

The sound of footsteps pulls you out of your thoughts. You don’t turn around, though. You’re not ready to engage again.

“Are you seriously reorganizing the dishes?” his voice comes from the doorway, a mixture of incredulity and amusement. It’s the first time he’s spoken since the argument ended in stalemate.

You set down a plate with a bit more force than necessary and glance over your shoulder. “Yes. It’s productive. Unlike—” You cut yourself off, not wanting to reignite the tension. “It’s fine.”

Toto leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his head tilted as he studies you. “You always do this,” he says, and there’s a warmth creeping into his voice that you don’t want to acknowledge just yet. “You get annoyed and suddenly everything in the house has to be spotless.”

“It’s better than stomping away dramatically like someone I know,” you retort, turning back to your dishes.

There’s a beat of silence, and then he chuckles—a low, rich sound that breaks through the lingering anger like sunlight cutting through clouds. “Dramatic? Me? Darling, you slammed the cupboard doors like they owed you money.”

You freeze for a moment, your hands on a glass, and then you laugh despite yourself. It’s a small, involuntary sound that you quickly smother, but he hears it. Of course he does. Toto has a way of catching even the things you try to hide.

When you finally turn to face him, he’s grinning—crooked, boyish, and entirely disarming. It’s the grin that had charmed you all those years ago, back when he was just the ambitious team principal trying to win your heart. You sigh, leaning back against the counter, your earlier frustration melting away.

“You’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head.

“And yet,” he replies, stepping closer, “you married me.”

“Regretting it now,” you quip, but your smile betrays you.

Toto closes the distance between you, his hands finding your waist. He bends slightly to meet your eyes, his gaze soft and sincere. “No, you’re not,” he murmurs. “Because you know no one else would put up with either of us.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help laughing again. He’s right, of course. That’s always been the thing about the two of you—you clash, you bicker, but at the end of the day, you understand each other in a way that no one else could. It’s infuriating and comforting all at once.

“I hate that you’re right,” you admit, resting your hands on his chest.

“Not all the time,” he says with mock solemnity. “Just most of the time.”

“You’re still sleeping on the couch tonight,” you tease, though your tone is far too soft to be threatening.

“Am I?” he challenges, his brow arching. “We’ll see about that.”

The playfulness in his voice is enough to send a flutter through your chest. It’s moments like these—when the tension dissolves into laughter, when you’re reminded of why you fell in love in the first place—that make everything else worth it. You lean into him, your forehead resting against his, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

“Truce?” he asks, his voice low and gentle.

“Truce,” you agree. “But only if you help me finish organizing the dishes.”

He groans theatrically, but there’s no real protest in it. “Fine. But if I break something, it’s your fault for making me do this.”

“You’re a grown man,” you reply, grinning. “Figure it out.”

He laughs again, and the sound fills the room, warm and familiar. As the two of you work side by side, bickering playfully over the proper placement of bowls and glasses, it strikes you how ridiculous the whole fight had been. But maybe that’s the secret to your marriage—knowing how to find each other again, even after the most ridiculous of arguments.

And as Toto leans over to kiss your temple, murmuring something about you being “far too stubborn for your own good,” you can’t help but think that, yes, this is exactly why you married him.

A Letter To Old Days.

Warnings? None, really! Mostly fluffy, with plenty of longing. Toto Wolff x Reader. One shot.

Words: 1.176.

You remember your 19 years as if it were today, when you used to accompany your younger brother to karting classes. One day, you’re sitting by the edge of the racetrack, impatient, your face resting on the palm of your hand, your eyes wandering bored over the boys zigzagging with their karts. The next, you’re there willingly, observing every movement, waiting with a silent anticipation that you don’t dare confess even to yourself.

At first, the minutes dragged; you counted your brother’s laps on the track as if they were the beats of a lazy clock. But later, each hour seemed to dissolve between muffled laughter and glances that you couldn’t decipher. You vividly remember the days when your mother insisted you go along to the practices, your presence becoming a routine.

You thought you were there out of obligation, a shadow following your younger brother like an obedient guard dog, not realizing that your own freedom was beginning to intertwine with that space.

That’s when your thoughts began to take shape on the pages of your notebook:

So, there is this boy...

Tall, dark-haired, with a smile you couldn’t decipher. He was a bit odd, too quiet for someone who dealt with speed and adrenaline. There was a shyness there, something you couldn’t quite identify at first.

Always observant, always attentive to details that escaped others. Maybe it was this quietness that caught your attention.

Back then, you weren’t good at understanding boys’ behavior. You thought he simply hadn’t noticed you in the same way. Maybe he was just another attentive instructor, too focused on his job to pay attention to the girl who was always hanging around, pretending to be disinterested.

Until your best friend, always more perceptive, said something that caught you by surprise: “You two are flirting. But in the most awkward and innocent way possible.” And suddenly, everything made sense.

The way he hesitated when talking to you, always looking for an excuse to prolong the conversations. The fleeting glances he’d throw your way while adjusting your brother’s helmet, as if he wanted to make sure you were really there. And those smiles... those restrained smiles you thought were just professional courtesy. Casual questions about university exams, musical tastes, anything that could prolong that shared moment.

And, somehow, even without fully understanding it, you started to write more about him in your notebook, as if each word could capture what you felt and the things you didn’t know how to say out loud.

By the time you realized what could have been between you, he had already left the racetrack. So, he ended up being just a few more pages in your notebook, mixed with notes on dreams and random thoughts.

He had dropped out of university, changed jobs, and moved to another country to pursue his dream of becoming a driver. And there, facing the void he had left behind, you found yourself wondering if it had all just been your imagination.

Maybe it was just a game your mind played.

And that was okay if it was. Because, in that moment, you discovered what it was like to fall in love for the first time.

You fell for him.

The first year of university passed in a blur. You threw yourself into studies and social events, not because you were particularly interested, but because it felt like the only way to silence that nagging sense of something missing. You changed majors twice, joined a few clubs, even went to a couple of parties where you pretended to have fun, but nothing really clicked.

Your friends found it odd—how you always seemed a little disconnected, a little too preoccupied. They teased you for being too serious or too grown-up. You’d smile and brush it off, but deep down, you knew they were right. You were trying to outrun something you couldn’t quite name.

Ten years had passed, and your life had taken a direction that the impatient and rebellious nineteen-year-old you once were could never have imagined. Today, you worked in international tax consulting, dealing with numbers, laws, and complex agreements that filled your days and drained your energy. But, even surrounded by folders and endless spreadsheets, motorsport still managed to find its way into your life.

Your brother, now older and even more determined, continued his journey in karting. What began as a youthful passion had turned into a dream he pursued with surprising tenacity. You found yourself frequenting the racetracks again, watching his practice sessions, now as a spectator and supporter, no longer as a reluctant guardian.

Your fiancé — or rather, your ex-fiancé — shared the same passion. He was a fascinating, elegant man, and like so many others, absolutely obsessed with motorsport. You traveled together to watch races, discussed drivers and teams, followed the transfer market with enthusiasm. In the beginning, it seemed perfect. He understood your past, your involvement in the sport through your brother.

Your best friend still kept in touch with him, the boy from your teenage years, and would occasionally update you on his life. This connection, however tenuous, was enough to stir a sense of familiarity, a bittersweet nostalgia that made your ex-fiancé uneasy. He’d raise an eyebrow whenever your friend's updates slipped into conversation, sensing a thread that seemed to pull you back to a past he couldn’t reach.

It wasn’t long before that subtle tension unraveled the engagement. You found yourself standing alone in a bridal boutique in Paris—Rosa Clará, one of those elegant places with gilded mirrors and delicate lace draped over every surface—returning the wedding dress you had once chosen with such certainty. There was an odd comfort in the transaction, as if letting go of the dress was the final step in freeing yourself from a future that no longer felt like your own.

As you handed the dress back, the shop assistant gave you a sympathetic smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. You wondered briefly if she knew the story behind every gown that was returned. The dress, so carefully chosen, now felt like a stranger in your hands—something beautiful and full of promise, yet utterly disconnected from the woman you were now.

When you realized it, you had taken a few days off work and flown back to Styria. You were sitting in Café Strauss, waiting for your friend, your eyes drifting to the door every few minutes. You had just ordered a latte and a slice of sachertorte, letting the steam from your cup calm your nerves, when someone gently asked if they could join you.

“Can I join you?” The voice was tentative, as if testing the waters.

You looked up, expecting your friend, but instead, there he was. The same intense, unwavering gaze, with a more confident smile, yet still that familiar hint of shyness.

“Oh…” You paused, a smile tugging at your lips as you gestured to the chair. “Hi, Toto.” And in that moment, you knew—your friend wasn’t going to show up anytime soon.

And you are still falling.

Inspired by this quote: not very attractive with the girls. Here: Speed Dating with Toto, Lewis, and Valtteri – Part 2! 👏 …as well as this photo: Instagram

Better than I expected ✌🏻

Toto Wolff with wife marine! biologists!reader. With their son, Jack finds it fascinating and always helps her whenever she has to talk in front of people. You do however you want. Thanks!! Can be fluff/suggestive.

Working on it as I type this :)

I'm just an old lady🙃

ao3 turns 15 today

reblog if youre older than ao3

❤️

Could you do Benedict Bridgerton with wife reader? There is a festival in the Ton and they were just enjoying themselves with their children and the Bridgerton's siblings. Fluff. Thanks!! :))

Good kind of chaos

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: The family Bridgerton having fun at the annual festival <3

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: flufffff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

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

The soft hum of excitement filled the sprawling grounds of Aubrey Hall as the annual autumn festival, hosted by none other than the Bridgertons, came alive with vibrant colors and joyful music. Booths of entertainers, games, and refreshments lined the paths, while children wove through the adults with kites and laughter. Banners of orange, crimson, and gold fluttered in the gentle breeze, matching the hues of the trees that framed the scene.

At the heart of it all stood Benedict Bridgerton, the second eldest of the infamous Bridgerton clan, his artistic gaze flickering with wonder as he soaked in the atmosphere. Beside him was you—his wife, his anchor, the woman who had turned his life into an adventure far more beautiful than any painting he could ever create.

“Thomas!” you called, laughing as your eldest son, all of seven years old, ran ahead of you with endless energy. His brown curls, much like Benedict’s, bounced with every step as he led his sister, Amelia, on a hunt for the perfect kite. “Stay where we can see you!”

Amelia, delicate and graceful despite being only five, paused just long enough to turn around and wave enthusiastically. “We will, Mama!” she promised before tugging her brother along. The two disappeared into a crowd of children eagerly awaiting their turn at the puppet show.

You turned toward Benedict with a contented sigh, adjusting the shawl wrapped loosely around your shoulders. “Do you think they’ll ever tire?” you asked, your tone teasing, though the sight of your children, wild and free, made your heart swell.

Benedict smiled warmly, his fingers brushing against yours. “If they’ve inherited even a shred of Bridgerton spirit, I’m afraid not. They’ll run until the sun sets.” He tilted his head towards the scene before you, where the other Bridgertons mingled in the festivities. “And look at that, chaos already spreading.”

Following his gaze, you saw Anthony, attempting to corral his own brood of children while simultaneously discussing the logistics of the evening’s dance with his wife, Kate. His authoritative tone didn’t quite match the image of him holding a toddler on one hip, who was pulling on his cravat.

Daphne, the picture of elegance as always, was indulging her son Augie’s request to play a ring toss game, Simon beside her with their daughter in his arms. The Duke, though quiet, wore the smallest of smiles as he watched his family revel in the simplicity of the day.

Eloise, on the other hand, seemed far more interested in a heated debate with Francesca about the importance of women’s independence while her younger sister Hycacinth was running after her brother Gregory once again.

And, of course, Colin had made his way to the refreshments table, charming a young vendor into giving him an extra serving of sugared almonds.

You smiled at the scene, feeling a wave of contentment as you leaned into Benedict’s side. “It’s a good kind of chaos,” you said softly.

“It is.” Benedict turned to you, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “A little wild, a little unmanageable, but completely our own.”

Just then, a tug on your skirt drew your attention. Your youngest child, three-year-old Eliza, stood at your feet with a pout on her face, her tiny hands gripping a tangled mess of ribbon from her kite. “Mama,” she whined, her wide eyes brimming with frustration. “It’s broken!”

You bent down to her level, taking the mess of ribbon into your hands. “Oh, my love, it’s not broken. Just a little tangled, that’s all. Shall we fix it together?”

Eliza nodded eagerly, her earlier frustration already forgotten as you worked to untangle the colorful string. Benedict knelt beside you, his large hands gently guiding Eliza’s smaller ones as they helped with the knot. “You’ll be flying it again in no time, my little artist,” he said, a teasing grin on his lips.

Eliza’s eyes lit up at the mention of the word “artist.” Like her father, she had an affinity for all things creative, often sitting beside Benedict as he sketched, mimicking his strokes with her own colorful crayons. “I want to paint kites when I’m big, Papa!” she declared.

“And I’ll be your first customer,” Benedict replied, planting a kiss on her head. You watched them, heart swelling with love, before your attention was stolen by Thomas and Amelia, who were waving frantically from across the lawn.

“Papa! Mama! Come look!” Thomas shouted, practically bouncing with excitement as he held his new kite—a magnificent creation in the shape of a dragon, painted in deep reds and greens.

Amelia, her hair tousled and cheeks pink from running, beamed up at you both. “Uncle Colin helped us choose the best one! Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Exquisite,” you said with a smile, taking in their prideful expressions. “Shall we fly it together?”

The four of you made your way to a small hill, where the children gleefully launched their kites into the sky, giggling as they raced the wind. You stood close to Benedict, who had taken Eliza onto his shoulders so she could watch her siblings, her small fingers gripping his hair as she pointed at the kites.

“Papa, higher!” she squealed, her laughter filling the air.

You glanced at Benedict, marveling at the ease with which he balanced family and love, the joy in his eyes as he watched his children. “What are you thinking?” you asked, your voice soft as you stepped closer, resting your head on his arm.

He smiled, his gaze fixed on the sky for a moment before turning to you. “I’m thinking how lucky I am,” he said, his voice low but full of warmth. “To have this—our children, our life together. Sometimes I still can’t believe it.”

You felt your chest tighten with emotion, your love for him deepening in the quiet simplicity of the moment. “I know exactly what you mean,” you whispered.

Before either of you could say more, a loud crash of laughter erupted behind you. Colin had tripped over a small table, sending a tray of pastries flying—much to the delight of the nearby children, who swarmed the fallen treats. Hyacinth and Gregory were the first to dart forward, gathering sweets in their hands as Colin scrambled to his feet, red-faced but laughing.

“Ah, a Bridgerton tradition,” Benedict mused, shaking his head in mock dismay. “A party isn’t complete without Colin making a scene.”

“I’d say it’s charming in its own way,” you teased.

Anthony, overhearing your comment as he passed by, chuckled. “Charming is one word for it.” His eyes softened as he looked toward his own children, running hand in hand with their cousins. “We certainly know how to make an impression.”

You all shared a knowing glance, the bond between the siblings unspoken yet undeniable.

As the day wore on and the sun began to dip low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you stood together as a family, watching as your children played, laughed, and loved. There was a peace in the air, a sense of belonging that had been woven together by years of joy, challenge, and the unbreakable bond of family.

Benedict wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice full of love and gratitude. “For giving me this life.”

You looked up at him, your heart full. “And thank you for filling it with such color.”

Together, you stood in the fading light, your children running wild, the sound of their laughter blending with the chatter of the Bridgertons around you. The festival was a celebration, yes—but more than that, it was a reflection of the love and joy that filled your life, with Benedict by your side.

REBLOG IF I CAN MESSAGE YOU 'HEY' AND START A FRIENDSHIP.

always gonna re-reblog

It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

🤌🏻

Fernando Alonso x wife!reader

alonsoyn_ ✓

liked by lance_stroll, astonmartinf1 and others 66.965 people

alonsoyn_ My destiny🤍😘

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fernandoalo_oficial My love, I love you so much. ❤️

alonsoyn_ It's not possible, I love you more❤️

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alonsoyn_❤️💐

landonorris I want a relationship like yours mom

carlossainz55 I also want

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user I'M DYING WITH YN RESPONSE LOL

landonorris damn mom, you humiliated us 😂

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alonsoyn_ 😑😑

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carlossainz55 rt.

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user MY GOD, I WILL END LIFE

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see all 1.689 comments

fernandoalo_oficial ✓

liked by alex_albon,nyckdevries and others 743.525 people

fernandoalo_oficial My family, I love more than anything in this world 🩷🩵

user The beauty of this family sir 😍

userbr Oi sogra,Oi sogro 😘

user what's his @? Anybody know?

user I saw a report that Nando's son doesn't like F1 and that he doesn't have social media because he doesn't really like exposure

user WHAT?????? The guy's father is literally an F1 driver and he doesn't like it??? Oh my god, if it were me, I would love it lol

fernandoalo_oficial my son doesn't have social media, because he doesn't like it, and on this subject that "he doesn't like F1" it's entirely a lie, my son studies and is quite busy, but whenever he can he goes to the paddock.

alonsoyn_ My babies, and my adorable, hot husband😍

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user draw a fan for you to eat, preferably draw me🤭

user I want you 😋

landonorris wanting is not being able to love

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alonsoyn_ You guys are awesome lol I love you🤍😂

user Yn and Nando🫦🫦🫦

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alonsoyn_ and fernandoalo_oficial

liked by zhouguanyu24,lance_stroll and 91.102 people

alonsoyn_ My true love,I love you today and always❤️‍🩹

user I want what they have 😭

user 😍

fernandoalo_oficial I love you,I love you today and always ❤️

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user The dream of all of us is to find someone who loves us like Nando loves Yn

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I'm smiling and blushing all the time!!! If my future man is not like this, we are gonna have a serious talk.

Toto Wolff with wife reader. New video for the Merc team and they rope the couple to answer questions in This or That. Which seems to be an instant hit among the internet. Feat their son, Jack. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

Unscripted Moments

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader, feat. Jack

Word count: 1.4k

Request are open

______________________________________________________________

The sun was bright over Brackley as the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzed with activity. It was a special day—media day, where the team filmed content for their social media channels and sponsors. Among the lineup of activities, one stood out as a highlight: a “This or That” video featuring the Team Principal, Toto Wolff, and his wife, Y/n. To add an extra dose of charm, their young son, Jack, would join them.

The idea had been floated around for weeks. Fans adored Toto’s serious, calculated demeanor in the paddock, but whenever he appeared with Y/n and Jack, a different side of him came to life—one full of warmth, humor, and a little bit of mischief. The media team knew this would be gold, a perfect blend of light-hearted fun and family love that would resonate deeply with fans around the world.

As the day began, Y/n and Jack arrived at the headquarters, warmly greeted by the staff. Y/n was no stranger to the world of Formula 1; she had stood by Toto’s side through every victory and defeat, offering her unwavering support. Today, however, was different. It wasn’t just about the cars, the team, or the strategy. It was about their family.

Jack, bouncing with excitement, held onto Y/n’s hand as they made their way to the set. The production crew had transformed one of the spacious lounges into a cozy, living room-like setting. There were plush sofas, soft throw pillows, and a few framed photos of the Mercedes cars in action, giving the room a personal touch.

Toto, already on set, was talking to the director when Y/n and Jack walked in. His face lit up at the sight of them. “There’s my little man!” he exclaimed, scooping Jack up in his arms. Jack giggled, his tiny arms wrapping around his father’s neck.

Y/n watched them with a smile, her heart swelling with love. Toto was always busy, always on the go, but when it came to his family, he made sure they knew they were his top priority.

“Ready for this?” Toto asked, his voice light, but with an undercurrent of playfulness. He leaned in to kiss Y/n softly, his free hand resting on the small of her back.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Y/n replied with a grin, adjusting the collar of Toto’s shirt before smoothing down Jack’s hair. “Jack’s been practicing his answers all morning.”

Jack beamed proudly. “I’m going to say ‘Airplane!’ every time,” he declared, which made both his parents laugh.

The director clapped his hands together, signaling the start of the shoot. “Alright, everyone, let’s get started. Y/n, Toto, Jack—you’re the stars today.”

The family settled into their seats, with Toto in the middle, Y/n on his right, and Jack perched comfortably on his lap. The cameras zoomed in, capturing the easy, loving dynamic between them. Toto’s arm rested casually behind Y/n, his hand occasionally brushing against her shoulder, while Jack fiddled with the buttons on Toto’s shirt, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Okay, first question,” the producer said, his voice lively. “Coffee or Tea?”

Y/n didn’t hesitate. “Tea, definitely.”

Toto shot her a mock-surprised look. “Tea? Really? I’ve been making you coffee every morning for years, and now you tell me you prefer tea?”

Y/n laughed, nudging him playfully. “You make it so well, I couldn’t break your heart by saying anything.”

Toto chuckled, shaking his head. “And all this time I thought I was being the perfect husband.”

“You are,” Y/n reassured him, leaning into his side. “Just with slightly misguided caffeine choices.”

The camera caught every bit of the banter, from Toto’s faux shock to Y/n’s playful smile. Jack, sensing the mood, contributed his own answer with a loud “Juice!” which earned a burst of laughter from everyone on set.

“Juice is a valid choice,” Toto said, ruffling his son’s hair affectionately. “But only when Mum’s not looking.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing. “Are you encouraging our son to sneak juice?”

Toto’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Only in emergencies,” he quipped, which caused Y/n to roll her eyes in mock exasperation.

The questions kept coming, and so did the laughs. “Mountains or Beach?” was next, and Y/n immediately answered, “Beach. There’s nothing like the sound of waves and the feeling of sand between your toes.”

Toto nodded thoughtfully. “True, but the mountains have their own charm. The peace, the quiet... Perfect for a getaway.”

“Perfect for escaping emails and phone calls, you mean,” Y/n teased.

“Exactly,” Toto admitted with a grin. “But honestly, I’d go anywhere as long as it’s with you two.”

The sweet comment made Y/n blush slightly, and the crew couldn’t help but let out a collective “aww.” Jack, who had been listening intently, chimed in with “Airplane!” again, sticking to his plan, which sent everyone into fits of laughter.

“Looks like Jack is sticking to his guns,” the producer said, still chuckling. “How about we change it up a bit? Dogs or Cats?”

“Dogs,” Y/n and Toto answered simultaneously, their voices merging into one. They exchanged amused looks, both remembering the countless times they’d been charmed by stray dogs during their travels.

“Especially the time we tried to bring one home from Monaco,” Y/n reminisced, her eyes sparkling.

Toto nodded. “That dog was convinced we were meant to adopt him. He followed us everywhere.”

“And he almost ended up in our suitcase,” Y/n added with a laugh.

“Jack would have loved him,” Toto said, glancing down at his son, who was now pretending to be a dog, barking softly.

“Maybe one day,” Y/n mused, resting her head on Toto’s shoulder.

The producer, sensing the perfect segue, moved on to the next question. “Formula 1 or Football?”

This one took a moment. Y/n grinned, knowing where her loyalties lay. “Formula 1, of course. How could I choose anything else when I’m married to this guy?”

Toto smiled, a bit bashful under the attention. “I’d have to agree, but,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I do enjoy a good football match. Just don’t let the drivers know.”

The cameras caught the playful exchange, the way Y/n playfully nudged Toto, the fond look in Toto’s eyes as he gazed at her. Jack, meanwhile, shouted “Cars!” in a burst of excitement, once again steering the conversation back to his favorite subject.

“You know what, Jack?” Toto said, shifting his son slightly so he was facing the camera. “One day, you’ll be in one of those cars, and I’ll be on the pit wall cheering you on.”

Jack’s eyes widened with delight at the idea. “Really, Daddy?”

“Absolutely,” Toto replied, pressing a kiss to Jack’s forehead. “But first, you have to promise Mum and me that you’ll always have your juice.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head at the promise. “That’s one way to secure his focus.”

The producer smiled, flipping to the final card. “Morning person or night owl?”

Y/n and Toto looked at each other, this time with more serious expressions, though still laced with affection. “Night owl,” Y/n said with a knowing smile.

“I’m a morning person,” Toto countered, “though I’ve learned to appreciate the night more because of you.”

Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing. “You’re sweet. But you have to admit, some of our best conversations happen late at night, after Jack’s asleep, when it’s just the two of us.”

Toto nodded in agreement, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re right. Those are the moments I cherish most. Even if it means less sleep.”

Jack, who had been listening carefully, suddenly yawned, earning another round of laughter from the crew. “Looks like someone’s not quite sure if he’s a morning person or a night owl yet,” Y/n said, wrapping her arm around Jack and drawing him close.

The session wrapped up soon after, with the family exchanging warm goodbyes with the crew. As they walked off the set, hand in hand, the cameras continued to roll, capturing those unscripted moments that showed just how close-knit the Wolff family truly was.

When the video was finally released, it was an instant hit. The internet exploded with love for the Wolff family, with fans praising their natural chemistry and the way they made every moment feel genuine and full of heart. Jack became an overnight sensation, with his “Airplane!” answer and infectious smile winning the hearts of millions.

“More Wolff family content, please!” was a common comment, along with “Jack is the real MVP!” and “Toto and Y/n are couple goals!”

🔥🥵

Toto Wolff with wife reader. He always goes to the gym or exercises in order to keep in shape. One day she wanted to do it too but instead spent the entire time there staring at him. Fluff and maybe suggestive. Thanks!! :))

In Shape and In Love

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader

______________________________________________________________

Toto Wolff was a man of unwavering discipline, a trait that had served him well in both his career and personal life. Every morning, without fail, he woke up before the sun, slipping out of bed quietly so as not to disturb you, and headed straight to the gym. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could channel his focus, clear his mind, and maintain the physical condition that had become as much a part of his identity as his role at Mercedes.

You had always admired this about him. The sight of Toto in his workout gear, muscles rippling beneath taut skin, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pushed himself to his limits, was a sight you never tired of. Yet, despite your admiration, you had never joined him in his early morning routines. Mornings for you were about lingering in the warmth of the bed, savoring the last few moments of sleep before starting your day.

But this morning was different. You had decided to accompany him, curious to experience firsthand what had kept him so committed all these years. The night before, when you’d mentioned your plan, Toto’s eyes had sparkled with surprise and amusement.

“Are you sure, Mäuschen?” he’d asked with a teasing smile, wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’ve never known you to willingly get up before sunrise.”

“I want to see what all the fuss is about,” you had replied, grinning back at him. “Besides, maybe you can teach me a thing or two.”

That morning, you found yourself in the gym, dressed in workout clothes that felt a little too new, a little too stiff. The space was quiet, save for the rhythmic clink of weights and the low hum of Toto’s breath as he moved through his routine. He was already deep into his workout when you entered, the definition of his muscles accentuated by the sheen of sweat that covered his skin. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too focused on the task at hand.

You had intended to start with some light exercises—maybe a bit of stretching or some gentle yoga. But the moment you saw him, all thoughts of working out vanished. Instead, you found yourself drawn to a bench where you could sit and watch him without interrupting. It was a sight you rarely got to see so up close: the sheer power in every movement, the way his muscles flexed with each lift, the intense focus in his eyes as he pushed himself harder and harder.

He was wearing a sleeveless shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and chest, the fabric damp with sweat. Each time he exhaled, his chest rose and fell in a way that was hypnotic. The veins in his arms were prominent, a sign of the strength he had cultivated over years of dedication.

For a while, you simply watched, completely mesmerized by the man before you. The way he moved was almost sensual, each repetition a testament to his strength and control. You felt a warmth growing within you, a subtle yet undeniable pull that had nothing to do with the exercise you had planned and everything to do with the effect Toto had on you.

“Enjoying the view?” Toto’s voice cut through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. He was standing in front of you now, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He had caught you staring, and the heat in your cheeks betrayed the thoughts you had been entertaining.

A sheepish smile spread across your face as you tried to play it cool. “I might be,” you teased, your tone light but your heart pounding in your chest.

Toto chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. He set the weights down and approached you, his gaze never leaving yours. There was a gleam in his eyes that told you he knew exactly what was going through your mind. “You know,” he murmured, reaching out to gently lift your chin so your eyes met his, “you’re supposed to be working out, not just watching me.”

“I was getting inspired,” you quipped, though your voice was softer now, betraying the effect his proximity was having on you. Your hand instinctively reached out, resting on his chest where you could feel the steady, powerful beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Toto’s smile deepened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “If this is how you want to spend our gym time,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “I’m not complaining. But I might have other ideas for how to make this morning even better.”

The suggestiveness in his tone sent a wave of heat coursing through you, and you couldn’t help the way your body responded, leaning into him slightly. “Oh?” you replied, your voice barely more than a breath. “And what might those ideas be?”

Toto’s hand slid from your chin to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “How about,” he began, his lips so close to yours that you could almost taste him, “we skip the workout and focus on a different kind of exercise?”

Your breath hitched at the implication of his words, a surge of anticipation flooding through you. “I think I could be persuaded,” you murmured, your hand moving from his chest to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer.

Toto’s eyes darkened with desire, and he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. It was as if the morning’s workout had only served to heighten his need for you, every ounce of his energy now directed towards the way he kissed you, the way his hands moved over your body, igniting every nerve with a burning need.

The gym was forgotten as the kiss deepened, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you up from the bench and against his solid frame. The feeling of his hard body pressed against yours was intoxicating, and you found yourself completely lost in the moment, in the way he made you feel so utterly desired.

“Toto,” you whispered against his lips, your voice breathless as you felt his hands slide under your shirt, his touch sending sparks of electricity through you. “Maybe we should… take this somewhere else.”

Toto pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of love and raw desire. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

You nodded, your heart racing. “I’m sure. I think we have some unfinished business at home.”

His smile was wicked, and he didn’t need to be told twice. Within moments, you were both heading back to the apartment, the anticipation between you palpable. The workout may have been cut short, but the morning was far from over. You knew that what awaited you back home would be a different kind of exercise entirely—one that you were more than willing to dive into with the man you loved.

SMAU AM!Nando with wife reader. Summer break with their kids. Thanks!! :))

summer break | fernando alonso

an: thank you for the request!!

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yourusername summer break in 🇬🇷

jensonbutton no invite?

yourusername fernandoalo_official i think this question is meant for you

fernandoalo_official 😐

carmenmmundt i miss the girls 🥲 come visit soon!!

yourusername the girls miss you too! they already bought so many bracelets for you!

f1ellyyy the twins are getting so big 😭 i remember fernando announcing their birth felt like it was just yesterday

elplannando right?? i feel old

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fernandoalo_official my girls in greece ❤️

y/nstyle “thank you fernando for the y/n content” we all say in unison

lewishamilton ❤️❤️

yourusername 😻

yourusername 🐝🪐🤍🤡👽🤖

yourusername 👗

fernandoalo_official hi girls give mom her phone back

yourusername no

f1waggss LOL

nandosaston LIVE LAUGH LOVE THE ALONSO GIRLS 🫶🏻

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