#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k!

[folkloresthings]

seb + reader are in the car and they get in a fight. reader gets out of the car, it starts raining, and seb can’t find her and starts freaking out. when she finally gets home he’s super relieved and apologizes and they make up

vaguely inspired by the all too well tv (10 min vers.) music video but less toxicity 👍

BOILING POINT. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

the space between you had never been so tense. sebastian’s hands were gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, your nails nicking at the hem of your dress. it was almost dark out, and you were headed back from a fancy dinner with some of sebastian’s colleagues.

it was your first time meeting most of sebastian’s work friends. people higher up in red bull, bosses and executives and what not. you’d been nervous, but sebastian didn’t seem to think he needed to help ease your nerves. for the most part, you spent the night in the corner of the room, cradling a wine glass and making awkward small talk. sebastian was laughing and making jokes and brushed you off any time you tried to speak to him.

“so, you’re not speaking to me now either?” you mumble, hating the silence.

“you’re being dramatic,” sebastian sighs, head falling back against the headrest as he turns another corner.

“you barely said a word to me all night!” you exclaim, sitting up. you look over at him, his eyes fixed hard and cold on the road. “it was embarrassing!”

“i was working,” he hisses, glancing over at you briefly. “i didn’t have time to talk to you, because i had to impress those people if i want to keep my job. you know, the job that pays for your dresses and holidays and—”

“stop the car.”

sebastian looks over at you, cheeks red with frustration. “what?”

“i said, stop the car.” you can feel the tears stinging your eyes, sebastian’s words pulling at the wrong heartstring. he got like this sometimes, all hot and harsh, but he was never mean. not like that.

he laughs a little, under his breath, but pulls the car over anyway. he doesn’t expect you to actually get out, only to make your point and shout at him a little more and then go home. but you click the door open as soon as the car rolls to a halt and slam the door behind you.

“y/n!” he calls, rolling down the window. “get back in the car!”

you don’t listen, arms crossed and legs moving quickly. sebastian’s used to your stubbornness, and he’s still to caught up in his anger to apologise. “fine! i’ll meet you at home.”

about halfway there, the heavens open and it begins raining heavier than sebastian had anticipated. the rain seems to clear his thinking a little bit, turning the car around with a sharp sigh. he follows the exact same road he took, but you’re nowhere to be found. he tries some other back streets, and still nothing.

panic rises in him. you’re out there, somewhere, cold and wet and sad — and it’s all his fault.

thirty minutes of looking and no avail, sebastian heads back to the house in hopes of finding you. he could have cried when he sees you there, stood at the door, drenched. you spot the car pulling in, watching as sebastian switches off the ignition and climbs out.

“you’ve got the keys,” you tell him, justifying why you were simply stood on the doorstep. your cheeks are red and blotchy, eyes swollen from where you cried the whole way home. sebastian sighs, hurrying over to unlock the door and usher you both in.

“come on, take these off,” he’s quick to help you remove your coat, your shoes, every piece of clothing that’s soaked through. fetching you some pyjamas, he helps you put those on too. when you’re sat at the end of the bed, still not speaking, hair towelled dry and mascara staining under your eyes, sebastian caves.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters, kneeling between your legs. begging for forgiveness. “i should have been better tonight. i should have kept you by my side, showed you off. i shouldn’t have said all of that stuff — i’m an idiot.”

you sniffle, letting his hands wander over you, lips pressing apologetic kisses to your thighs, your stomach, your hands.

“i’ve got the perfect woman, and i act like a fool,” he admits, reaching up to brush your hair out of your face, kissing your cheeks. “i’m so sorry, liebe. you can hit me, if you want.”

it pulls a small smile from you, one he celebrates with a kiss to your lips. swiftly and easily does he lift you from under the arms, switching positions so he’s sat on the mattress, you on his lap.

“what can i do to make it up to you?” he gives you a suggestive smirk, fingers dipping under your waistband. “give me the word and i’m yours, baby.”

you can’t help but smile, shifting a little in his lap, pulling a small groan from your boyfriend. “hm. don’t think you deserve that tonight — but some hot chocolate would be lovely.”

he groans again, this time in despair, falling back into the mattress and taking you with him. you giggle, tucking your head in his neck as he attacks you with kisses. eventually giving up, leaving you to curl up under the duvet as he drags himself to the kitchen. when your hot chocolate comes, it’s a work of art, topped with cream and marshmallows and chocolate shavings.

“only the best for my love.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #sebastian vettel blurb #sebastian vettel drabble #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader

[folkloresthings]

hello hello hello !!! i just want to say i love love LOVE your fics, esp the oscar ones… the one you posted a few hours ago 🥺 my heart 🥺

i saw your post about oscar requests and i thought it’s meant to be because i’ve been listening a lot to taylor these last few days! could i maybe request osc and “all of the girls you loved before”? 🤭 hope you’re having wonderful day sweetheart!! 💓

-@httpiastri

this song. this man. thank u @httpiastri

ALL OF THE GIRLS YOU LOVED BEFORE. ❨ oscar piastri x reader ❩

despite being young, you weren’t stupid. you knew millions of women would kill to be with your boyfriend. you knew that, before you’d met, he had girls hanging off of his arm every weekend. you knew he’d had girlfriends before, flings and flirtations. but for six whole months, he’d been yours and yours only.

he never spoke about his ex’s, just as you never spoke about yours. you didn’t need to — you were too wrapped up in your love for each other to care about anyone else. that was, of course, until you went home with him.

the australian grand prix meant meeting oscar’s family for the first time. it went perfectly, an absolute dream. his mother adored you, fawning over you every second you stayed in her home. you, too, were her biggest fan. she’d raised the man you loved, bringing him up loyal and kind and everything you had fallen for.

being in his hometown meant bumping into other people from his life, or his past. even the ones you didn’t want to.

“oh, hey! y/n, right?” the bar was loud so you could barely hear the girl over the music. you nodded, smiling, and took a sip of your drink.

“yeah, that’s me! hi!”

the girl smiles back at you, but its one that makes you uneasy. a judging sort of smile, one that takes all over your features. all of a sudden, you hate the dress you chose and the way you’ve done your hair. this girl is stunning, all tanned and beach waves.

“i’m jessica,” she tells you, assured. “i used to go to school with oscar.”

your eyes light up, loving to hear from people who knew oscar long before you did. you look around for your boyfriend, but he’s off somewhere with lando.

“he’s around here somewhere — have you bumped into him yet?” you ask, innocent and sincere.

“no, not yet. i’m dying to see him though.”

you engage in as much painful small talk as you can, your gut twisting uncomfortably as you concur that this girl knows something you don’t. you only relax when you feel a familiar hand on your waist, oscar’s lips pressing in greeting to your head.

“hi, baby,” he murmurs, eyes going a little wide when they find the other girl’s. “jessica?”

“hey, os!” she greets brightly, reaching across to hug him, awkward from where his hand never leaves your waist. “i was just talking to your new little girlfriend here. have you taken her to all of your spots yet?”

your brows furrow towards the girl and she smirks.

“oscar used to take me to all these special places around here when we were going out. i’m sure he’ll show you them, won’t you?”

“oh, you two dated?” you question, glancing between jessica and your boyfriend.

“yeah, for ages.”

“barely.”

the two speak at the same time, jessica’s cheeks going red from oscar’s answer. she was fighting a losing battle, and his grip on you was only getting tighter.

“me and y/n have our own places,” oscar states, gaze cold. “see you, jessica.”

he’s pulling you away from the scowling woman before you know it, out to the empty smoking garden and fresh air. his eyes screw shut, frustration pulling a low groan from him.

“shit, i’m so sorry. we dated for, like, a month when we were sixteen. she cheated a few times and only took interest when i started driving for F1,” he explains, breathless and panicked. “i swear, she means nothing. i can’t believe she tried to talk to you like that.”

“oscar, calm down,” you laugh fondly, taking his soft cheeks in your hands. he returns a pout, eyes all puppy dog like to make you melt. “it’s fine. i’m not bothered about her.”

“you’re not?” oscar sighs, relief shedding from him. “i thought you’d be… i don’t know, annoyed.”

“that you have a few ex—girlfriends?” if you couldn’t already be impossibly in love with him already, he was giving you a million reasons to be. “babe, all of those girls — all of the ones you loved before, they’ve made you the one i’ve fallen for.”

oscar visibly softens, and it fills you with so much emotion that you feel your chest seize. he squeezes at your waist, pulling you into a tooth—rotting kiss. you press against his soft, wine stained lips but he’s smiling too much into it that the kiss is lost in a sea of loving giggles.

“i never loved any girl the way i love you, you know,” oscar whispers, eyes raking over your love stricken face.

“not even your mum?” you smirk, poking his side.

“shut up,” oscar grins, kissing you again. “yeah, but don’t tell her that.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri drabble #oscar piastri fluff

[folkloresthings]

DID NOT KNOW YOU WRITE FOR SEB TOO!!

rbr!seb x reader who is actually so nice and sweet and innocent, but then seb is a little bitch who keeps making fun of her (all in good intentions bcz he has a crush on her) but then one day goes too far and reader starts crying and he freaks out lol (fluff + mild angst)

Sry this is long <3

sorry i LOVE this idea

SWEET OR SOUR. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

sweet as sugar — that’s what people always said when they talked about you. and since you arrived in the paddock, it was what everyone thought. you never had a bad word to say about anyone, you treated every person you came across with perfect humility and kindness.

and while, yes, you were perhaps a little green and naive, you were eager. red bull liked your enthusiasm, it made you the perfect intern.

however, you faced one problem: sebastian vettel. he was red bull’s primary driver, a very good one, and he found great satisfaction in teasing you. your innocence had attracted him the second he’d met you — a new victim for his fun. besides, you were very pretty.

“nice sweater,” he greeted you, glancing at the woollen sheep along the hem. you’d thought it was quite cute when you bought it, but the embarrassment that sebastian brought made it look like the ugliest thing ever. in truth, sebastian thought you looked adorable in it.

a few days later, you had thrown your hair quickly into two plaits for ease, keeping it out of your face. sebastian tugged on them at least seven times during the day, when you were trying to work or concentrate. it was laughable, the sight of the two of you mirroring children on a playground.

in spain, the weather was hotter than you’d expected and you had to resort to wearing the little summer dresses you had packed. sebastian spotted you the second you entered the garage. your legs on show, the dress showing off your body perfectly, sweat from the hot day beading on your forehead. his chest suddenly felt incredibly tight.

still, he’d found multiple things to tease you on during the day. forgetting a cup of coffee, spilling said coffee, not being able to reach the shelf you needed. if there was something he could make fun of you for, he’d find it.

it, and the heat, had rattled you a little. so much so that, in your briefing with christian, you’d tripped up and made a mistake in the notes. one that, if the team principal hadn’t caught it, would mean disaster for the race. thankfully, he had, and wasn’t too hard on you for it.

sebastian took a different stance.

“close one,” he hissed, when you were alone. your cheeks hadn’t cooled down yet, hurrying to double check absolutely everything before it got taken. “i’m surprised christian didn’t shout at you in front of everyone. he probably will soon, especially when you make more mistakes. you’re bound to, after all.”

his usual teasing had come at a bad time, or maybe his usual teasing had turned mean. but he didn’t go any further, freezing when he heard you sniffle. when he looked at you, spotting the hot tears spilling down your cheeks, he could have punched himself.

“fuck, no. don’t cry,” sebastian panicked, hurrying to grab a nearby napkin and force it into your hand. awkwardly, he rested a hand on your shoulder, which you quickly shoved away.

“why do you hate me?” you whispered, looking up at him. your brows furrowed, eyes wide and wet, and he sighed. “i’ve only ever been nice to you, and you go out of your way to make my life here hell. why?”

“i don’t hate you,” sebastian admits, slumping against the wall beside you. he wants nothing more than to reach out and dry your tears, to hold you close and make it all up to you. “the opposite, actually.”

it takes a moment, but it finally clicks, and your mouth falls open a little. he liked you? you’d always thought he was handsome, but his behaviour hadn’t exactly pointed to romance.

“i know i went about it wrong. like some seven year old boy who thinks being mean gets you the girl,” sebastian rubs at his eyes, straightening up when you walk over to him. “i’m sorry. i really am.”

“you’re an idiot,” you whisper, and sebastian chuckles.

“i think that’s the first mean thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses. “and i deserve a lot worse.”

he finally touches you then, palms resting on your cheeks and smoothing along your skin. you lean into them, somewhat glad of some affection.

“forgive me?” he pleads, flashing his most charming smile.

“hm. kiss me and i’ll decide.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #sebastian vettel blurb #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel drabble #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel imagine

[folkloresthings]

NORTHANGER ABBEY- fernando alonso + sharing clothes ?? thanks in advance !! love your writing so much !!

got a little smutty below the cut whoops

fernando is obsessed with seeing you in his clothes. the first time it happened was one night you were sleeping over, and after your shower in the morning you absentmindedly grabbed one of his shirts that was laying around. he had stared at you while you made some coffee, not believing what he was seeing.

“oh, shit. sorry, i should have asked.”

“mi amor…” he had sighed dreamily, hands reaching for the soft fabric that hung on your figure. “please don’t apologise. and, please, never wear anything other than this.”

from then on, you borrowed one of his shirts every time you came to his place. his favourite sight was seeing you potter around the apartment, making dinner or tidying up, wearing nothing but his shirt and some underwear.

over time, fernando got sneaky. he loved seeing you in his clothes so much that he’d let you keep a shirt or two, claiming that “it looks better on you, anyway.” when he had to go away for a race, he ‘accidentally’ left a shirt for you to keep. when you were the one leaving him, after visiting him on a race weekend, he slipped one of his tops into your bag, right at the bottom so you don’t notice until you get home.

when fernando comes home to you laid in bed, bare legs and lacy panties peeking out from under his old renault shirt, his mind goes fuzzy. he’s on you in a second, hands palming under your his shirt, grasping at the soft skin that hides below it.

“keep it on,” he commands when your fingers creep to pull the shirt off. the heat that rises in his stomach is agonising when he thinks of fucking you in his clothes, so much so that he almost cried with relief when you free his straining cock from tight trousers.

with his face buried between your thighs, he grasps tightly at the fabric bunched around your waist. his tongue works delicately at your soaked lips, sucking whenever he comes back to that swollen bud that makes you cry out his name. when your back arches in pleasure, it pulls his shirt so tightly around your chest that he can see every curve from your stomach to your breasts.

“mine, all mine,” fernando mutters over and over, kissing your shaking thighs and bruised neck, easing you through orgasm after orgasm.

you use that shirt more smartly from then on, knowing how easily it can get you what you want.

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso fluff #fernando alonso drabble #fernando alonso blurb #fernando alonso smut

[folkloresthings]

NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.

fernando alonso and falling asleep on their partner but it's nando who falls asleep

i love u sm <3 have a great day angel

for the nando podium today 🫶

SLEEPY. ❨ fernando alonso x reader ❩

never in your whole relationship with fernando had there been such an exciting race weekend. the first race back after the summer break and you couldn’t have been happier to accompany fernando to the dutch grand prix. exploring amsterdam, watching every free practice, taking an abundance of photos despite fernando’s protests.

what could you say? you were proud. two weeks spent lounging on a boat in spain, skin sun kissed and days long, you could sense fernando’s itch to get back on the track. you were the most important thing on earth to him, but racing was his element — and he looked so attractive doing it.

“good luck,” you whispered to him just before he got in the car, grasping at the front of his race suit. fernando pressed a doting kiss to your lips, admiring how you looked in the green aston martin jersey.

“see you on the other side,” he whispered back, pecking your nose sweetly before he slipped his helmet on and disappeared onto the track. like always, your blood pressure soared as he rounded each corner on the track; even more so when the rain started to pour on the dutch track.

but he crossed the finish line in P2, his seventh podium that season, and all of the love you had inside for him spilled across the aston martin garage. every engineer and worker in sight hugged you tighter than ever. arm linked in kelly’s, you watched as both boyfriends celebrated their wins. sprayed with champagne, fernando’s eyes found yours down below, and in one look you heard a million words. more clearly, just three.

he must have kissed you fifty times since getting off the podium, not caring what cameras were watching. he was ecstatic, leg bouncing in the car back to the hotel. max had invited everyone out for dinner, as it was his home race, but fernando could barely let you get ready for kissing you.

“nando, we’re going to be late if you don’t let me do my hair,” you giggle against his lips, the weight of his body on top of yours warm and comforting. he groans, slipping his chin into the crook of your neck.

“can we stay here?” he mumbles. “i’m tired. and i can think of better things to do than go out…”

his tone turns suggestive, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt. you slap at his teasing, shoving your boyfriend off of you with a roll of your eyes. in the reflection of the hotel mirror, his eyes never leave you. god, he was sickeningly in love with you.

“you look beautiful, mi amor,” he murmurs, muffled from the kiss he presses to your temple. dapper in his shirt and trousers, you happily snap a picture for your pleasure and drag him down to the hotel restaurant.

the dinner goes on for hours, full of food and drink and laughter. it’s around half past midnight when some drivers begin to fizzle out and go home, max and charles still ordering shots from the bar. you’re half listening to one of carlos’ stories when you feel a strange weight on your shoulder. tucked into your right hand side, fernando’s head has dropped to sleep on you, his hand still rested on your thigh.

you glance down, trying not to wake your tired boyfriend, and smile fondly. he was wrecked, after a day full of media commitments and congratulations after congratulations. the sight of him was adorable, lips turned downward and eyes gently creased at their sides. you were glad no one else had noticed, for fernando’s sake if nothing else, and gently roused him with a rub of his arm.

“baby? come on, let’s go to bed,” you whisper, and you swear your heart melts inside of you when his droopy eyes raise to yours. he was just adorable, furrowed brows and fingers squeezing at your skin. he nods silently, pulling himself up from the chair. you make your excuses for you both, kissing all of the boys goodbye, before you follow the sleepy fernando to the elevator.

you take his hand, guiding him the right way, and he finally rests against you when you’re inside of the lift. he smells vaguely of his cologne, faded from the long night, your face pressed to his chest as he sways you both gently in your climb to the twentieth floor.

“bed time?” he mumbles, drowsy, stepping out and heading towards your room. you nod in agreement, suppressing a giggle at his tired state. he lets you undress him when you’re safe behind locked doors, slowly and softly undoing every button on his shirt, leaving behind a trail of kisses on the skin underneath.

by the time your own dress is hung up and your makeup removed, he’s out like a light. taking a moment, you stand at the edge of the bed and admire him. his back muscles rippling every time he shifts on the mattress, hair already tousled. somewhere in your stating he wakes, at least you think, grunting and reaching out for you to join.

gladly, you appease him. under the covers, fernando bundles you up in his strong hold and doesn’t let go until morning. and even then, he’s not letting you go too far.

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #fernando alonso blurb #fernando alonso instagram au #fernando alonso #fernando alonso drabble #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso fluff

[folkloresthings]

Northanger abbey - I think we need to see jealous sebastian 👀👀 he would be so hot I swear...

JEALOUS BOY. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

✩⡱ warnings: allusions to sex

days in the paddock were long. you hated thinking it, because you knew how much it meant to sebastian for you to be there, but when you’d done it time and time again — it got a little repetitive. especially when sebastian was busy, off doing practice pls or inspecting the car. times when there was nothing you could do but wait.

it was completely innocent. you were stuck in the aston martin garage waiting for sebastian to finish his practice. lance had just so happened to be there too, having finished his practice lap a little while before. he’d spotted you, sitting all alone, and decided to keep you company. you appreciated it, really, the boy was always sweet to you.

“how’s the new job?” he asked you, passing you a cup of coffee he’d brought from hospitality. you forgot you had mentioned that a few weeks ago, a new job that allowed you to work online and travel with sebastian.

“it’s been really good!” you chirp, eyes lighting up. it was the first time that day someone had asked you a question that was actually about you. “they’re super flexible with travel and stuff.”

“that’s good. i’m sure you’ll smash it,” lance insists, sitting next to you. “i mean, who wouldn’t love to have you?”

you blush a little, a small smile pulling at your lips. you had to admit, lance was incredibly charming — an expert flirt. and while you were utterly dedicated to sebastian, it didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy some flattery.

sebastian’s practice had ended not long ago, and he headed straight back to the garage to find you where he left you. he didn’t expect to find his teammate with you, though, making you giggle and blush like a schoolgirl. sebastian felt jealousy rise in his throat.

he was always quite possessive of you. not to a worrying extent, just that he liked people to know that you were his. and he, yours. but you were younger than him and beautiful — he would be lying if he said he didn’t notice how people looked at you.

lance was closer in age to you than sebastian was. maybe that’s why the green envy that filled him was worse than usual. he knew you loved him, and he was sure you would never be unfaithful, but he despised seeing another man make you look so… happy.

“seb, hey,” lance spots him first, smiling over to him. you turn and smile widely at him. much wider than you’d smiled when lance was speaking to you.

“how’d it go?” you ask, waiting for him to come over. he doesn’t though, only grunting something incoherent. he passes by you both, storming straight to his driver’s room. lance looks at you, confused, and you know just what’s wrong. rolling your eyes, you pat the canadian on the shoulder and leave him there.

“seb?” you call, sticking your head around the door. he’s sat at the little table, arms crossed and sulking like a child. “seb, c’mon.”

you shut the door behind you, hands finding his shoulders. he shrugs you off but you persist, moving until you’re sat on his lap, legs straddling his waist. he can’t ignore you then, hands subconsciously going to your waist.

“he was just keeping me company,” you tell him, brushing back his wild blonde locks. sebastian looks up at you then, eyes dark and heavy. his hands grip your waist a little tighter, pulling you close.

“you’re mine,” he reminds you, softly kissing your bottom lip, teasing.

“i know,” you say, head dizzy already. “yours.”

“mhm,” the german man hums, tucking his finger under your chin and guiding your gaze straight to his. “can he make you feel like i do?”

your head shakes quickly, grasping at his drivers suit. “no. no one can.”

“good girl,” he quietly praises, fingers slipping under your shirt. “now, let him hear who you belong to.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel drabble #sebastian vettel blurb #sebastian vettel x reader

[folkloresthings]

Hello 👋 kudos to your 1k! I was browsing through the Fernando Alonso tag and I love the way you write him! Can we have Fernando Alonso (REJECTED as unworthy by parents because of the age gap etc.) blurb?

thank you thank you! always a sucker for fernando age gap

ACCEPT IT. ❨ fernando alonso x reader ❩

for a whole year, you didn’t tell your family about fernando. thankfully, none of them had social media, so there was no spoiling your relationship. fernando asked, time and time again, to meet your parents and every time you conjured some kind of stupid excuse.

but you knew they’d never understand. fernando was sixteen years older than you, but you’d known from the first date that he was the one for you. the age difference didn’t matter, to either of you. all that mattered was you had each other. but to your parents, it wasn’t quite so simple.

in a way, you were fine with keeping your boyfriend a secret from them. you knew it couldn’t go on forever, but you wanted the peace just a little longer. that was, until your parents decided to show up at your door, completely unannounced.

“surprise!” they exclaimed, stood on the other side of your apartment door. you freeze, knuckles turning white around their grip on the handle. fernando’s only a few feet away in the kitchen, perking up when he hears the guests. “we were passing through town and thought we would pop in — since we haven’t seen you in so long.”

before you could say a word, or try to shut the door in your mother’s face, fernando was right behind you, a hand on your waist.

“hello,” he greets, looking between them and you. you want the ground to swallow you up. “mr and mrs y/l/n, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

extending his hand past you, your father hesitantly takes it, sharing quizzical looks with your mother as they stepped into the apartment. the room was tense, waiting in anticipation for them to put two and two together.

“and who’s this…?” your mother eventually asks, your fathers eyes glued to fernando’s hand near your hip.

“this is fernando. my… boyfriend.”

jesus, if there was every a moment that you wanted to erase from your brain, it was the look that crossed both your parents’ faces in that moment. your heart broke for fernando, knowing how he wanted to make a good impression on your parents.

“y/n—”

“seriously, him?”

your eyes rolled, squeezing fernando’s arm as you step in front of him, a human barrier between him and the wrath of your parents. “don’t be like this, please. i love him—”

“he’s practically my age!” your father exclaimed, rage boiling in him. you felt yourself growing defensive, sick with how they were talking about fernando like he wasn’t even there. “no, y/n. i forbid it.”

“dad—” your eyes widen, feeling fernando slink back from you. this isn’t his fight, and he knows it. he doesn’t know who you’ll pick, despite all of his hope that he’ll be your first choice.

“he’s old enough to be your father, y/n!” your mother interjects, her tone slightly less vicious than your dad’s. “do you really think this can work?”

“yes!” you suddenly exclaim, voice stern and sure. all three look at you, surprised at your stance on the situation. “he’s treated me better than either of you ever have. i’m happy with him — and it’s been working for over a year. i didn’t tell you because i knew you’d freak out like this. i’ve told you that i love him, and if you can’t accept that, you need to leave.”

your parents stare, wide—eyed, and fernando looks just as surprised (though with a little more of a smile). in fact, you’re a little shocked at yourself.

“what on earth are you talking about?”

“get out. this is as much fernando’s apartment as it is mine. it’s simple — you’re either okay with that, or you leave.”

a few minutes and one stare—down later, the door is closed behind your parents and you’re falling into fernando’s arms, relief overtaking you.

“you didn’t have to do that,” he mumbles into your hair, speaking for the first time in fifteen minutes.

“yes, i did,” you sigh, gazing up at him with heavy lids. “i meant it. i love you, and i’m not giving that up just because they don’t approve. screw them, okay? we don’t need them.”

fernando smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. you had each other, and that was enough.

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #fernando alonso drabble #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #fernando alonso instagram au

[folkloresthings]

Another NORTHANGER ABBEY!! This time could I pretty please ask for a drabble with my boy Max Verstappen and the nightmare comfort trope? I just love me some good hurt/comfort, and I have full confidence that yours will be amazing!

Thank you in advance, and I really hope you’re doing well!! ♡♡

was tempted to make reader have the nightmare but my boy maxie needs serious comfort so

MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. ❨ max verstappen x reader ❩

you were usually quite a deep sleeper. you needed to be, with max’s incessant snoring. but for some reason, this night roused you. the room was warm, that cosy kind of warmth you always found under the duvet, but the weight of max’s arm wasn’t heavy on your waist like it usually was.

groggy and confused, you roll over to max’s side of the bed. his breathing is heavier than usual, neck twitching every few moments, hands fidgeting at his side. it takes a moment, but you realise he’s still fast asleep, showing no signs of consciousness.

“max?” you whisper, voice hoarse from sleep. you glance at the clock: 03:41. he doesn’t rouse, only getting more and more agitated in his sleep. laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, he jumps awake. his chest heaving, eyes wide as they dart around the room.

“hey, hey,” you coo, forcing his attention onto you. he finds your eyes and relaxes, a little, gripping your hand. “what happened?”

“sorry,” the dutch boy sighs, trying to ease his breathing. “had a nightmare.”

your face twists in sympathy, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him into your chest. he gives in instantly, slumping against your hold and letting whatever emotions had been building pour out.

“sh, baby. breathe,” you remind him, still gasping for air. your hand smooths repeatedly along his back, guiding his breath until it returns to a somewhat normal pattern. “you’re alright.”

max feels himself well up, and as much as he wants to hold it in, he can’t help but crumble for you. you, who never judged him. the tears fall quickly down his cheeks, staining the shirt you’d slept in. his shirt, really. you hold him even closer, your heart breaking for him.

“do you want to talk about it?” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“the car— it crashed,” he stumbles over the few words he can manage, but it ends there. he curls up into you, grasping at your skin to keep you close; to make sure you’re real.

“you’re safe, max,” you assure him softly, rocking him gently. he felt small now, smaller than he’d ever been. the world champion, on top of the world, dominating every race. and now he was clinging to you like a small child, searching for comfort. “it was just a dream.”

max sniffles, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. his hands hold tight to your waist, your soft kisses calming him gradually. when he eventually dozes back off again, his grasp on you never loosens. and in the morning, he’d tell you just how thankful he is — how blessed he is to have you right by his side, during the good times and the bad. even if they are in the middle of the night.

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen drabble #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen imagine

[folkloresthings]

BECCA!! Congrats on 1k, I love your writing and I’m glad so many other people do too <3

NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.

Could you do Sebastian Vettel + pining/unrequited love but with a happy end? (Kind of à la Amy & Laurie in little women??)

AMY AND LAURIE CODED!!! spot the little women refs

SOMEDAY. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

✩⡱ warnings: mention of v*mit

the light of sebastian’s presence had lit your life for as long as you could — or wanted to remember. young when you’d first met, you at nineteen and him twenty—four, donning his red bull gear and a world championship. the bar in which you had met wasn’t anything special, tucked away in the heart of valencia. you were travelling with friends, he was working his way towards his second championship.

it was easy to spot him across the bar, all blonde curls and dazzling eyes. a woman hung on his arm, whispering in his ear while a friend—of—a—friend introduced you both. he’d barely looked at you, probably to preoccupied with how the woman’s hands were wandering further south by the minute.

your best friend was more of a racing fan than you, and had coincidentally planned the route of your travels across europe to coincide with the grand prix schedule. the next time you saw him was in budapest, nursing the same drink he’d had in spain but arms bare of playthings for the night.

“vodka soda, please.”

“i remember you,” he had slurred, pointing aimlessly towards you as you spoke across to the barman. “valencia!”

you assumed his exclamation of the city was his connecting of the dots, so you sent him a nod and a small smile. “yeah, we both know joseph.”

“joseph, right,” sebastian mused, vague familiarity dancing across his features. “good guy.”

he looked just as handsome that night as he had in valencia, though slightly drunker. you had heard the tales of the good—looking german driver, your friend spent most of your train journeys across countries gushing about him and half a dozen other names you didn’t recognise.

“here, my treat,” sebastian quickly cut across you before you could pay, shoving a few euros into the barman’s hand. you didn’t bother arguing — he was a world famous formula one driver and you were a full time university student. he could afford a vodka soda better than you could.

“thank you, sebastian.”

“you’re welcome…” he trailed off, searching desperately in his memory for your name.

“y/n,” you offered, a grin tugging at your lips. you couldn’t find it in yourself to be annoyed at his lack of attention, not when his eyes were shining up at you the way they were. he repeated it, your birthright sounding far nicer on his tongue than your own. he’d shaken your hand then, ordering an apology round of shots for his “shameful behaviour”.

a few hours later, you held his belongings as he vomited into an empty alleyway. the streets of budapest were practically deserted, town clock chiming three in the morning. sebastian’s challenge of shot after shot soon became a competition with only himself, ending up much drunker than yourself and with no one around to supervise his stupidity.

thankfully, tucked somewhere in his pocket, was the address of his hotel. you got him there, eventually, after a few stops to sit down or sebastian’s several attempts to climb a wall. you took him all the way to him room, getting him into bed and leaving a note and some painkillers by his side.

from then on, you were friends. even when you went back to university, he did all he could to fly you out to races and let you see a little more of the world. australia, japan, abu dhabi… you’d been there to see him win every world championship, to hug him and celebrate with one too many drinks afterwards. you were still always the one to tuck him in after.

the only problem was, amongst this wonderful friendship, you were completely and utterly in love with him.

he didn’t feel the same. you figured that out one night in monaco when he took you for dinner and snuck you down to the beach afterwards. you kissed him on the sand, naive and innocent, only twenty and unsure of what this would mean. he’d been kind about it, sweet as ever, letting you indulge yourself before letting you down slowly.

“maybe someday, when you’re older.”

his words played in your mind like a broken record every birthday from them on. would this be the year? you tried going out with other boys, but none of them compared to him. your sebastian. every year you got older, so did he, and soon you were twenty—six and him thirty—one.

in those years, you were glad for his wise, older words. they’d kept your friendship intact, giving you your person — the one you could talk to in good times and bad. no matter how painful your love for him was, never fading over time, you kept it all down for the sake of keeping him in your life.

“penny for your thoughts?” sebastian’s usual teasing tone pulls you from your thoughts, the montage of your relationship playing in your head. you glance up at him, forcing on a smile.

“sorry, zoned out for a minute,” you breathed out a laugh, smoothing down the skirt of your dress in the mirror. “how do i look? do i look alright?”

sebastian took a moment to let his eyes rake over your body. the dress was a pale blue colour, adorned with pale white flowers that floated about your ankles. he could only describe it as soft, a light summer dress that moved with the wind but hugged your lines perfectly. god, you were heavenly.

“you look beautiful. you are beautiful.” sebastian’s face had softened considerably, looking at you in a way that could almost be mistaken for love. you stare at him, yearning to decipher the thoughts in his head, but you come up empty.

inhaling some feeling back into your body, you move from his gaze. “i better go. robb will be waiting.”

robb. sebastian had been with you when you met. a grand event, drivers and socialites alike. sebastian had gone to get you both a drink when he returned to find the man flirting with you. you were smiling and laughing, your hand finding it’s place on the man’s arm. sebastian turned on his heel and left you to it, finishing both of your drinks in his stride.

since then, you had been to dinner with robb twice. he was charming, funny and sweet, knew just how to woo you. admittedly, you struggled to find the spark that people often spoke of, but you were willing to pass it up for a chance at some kind of romance. sebastian, however, found himself battling with this strange feeling in his stomach every time you spoke to him about robb.

he could feel it again now, watching you skip off to meet your date. twisting and tugging, nausea rising in his chest. it was a new feeling, and one that he hated having. it was selfish of him but he couldn’t help it — you had been his for so long, only his, and now you were slipping away.

“ — but it’s far too cold there to live all year…” chuckling at robb’s latest tale, you felt the words on your tongue fade as he appeared nearby. you had told sebastian where you and robb were going, a small jazz bar with expensive cocktails and live music. so why had he come?

“seb?”

he smiled, brows furrowing in faux confusion. “oh, hey you two. fancy seeing you here.”

if looks could kill, sebastian would be six feet under by now. your glare was cold, but missed completely by robb as he engaged in conversation with your friend. for the next thirty minutes, you didn’t say a word. you didn’t get a chance, with robb asking sebastian a million questions on racing and the latter gladly entertaining him.

“excuse me,” you muttered, grabbing your bag and pushing yourself from the chair. your date barely noticed, staring at a picture on sebastian’s phone. the blonde watched you go, snatching his device back and following you without a second thought.

“hey, y/n! wait!” he hurried after you down the street, struggling to keep up with your hurried pace. “y/n!”

his arm reached out to grab you, spinning you on your heel to face him. he knew with one look that you were mad, and he suddenly regretted every choice he’d made that evening. “what?”

“where are you going?” he asked, rather sheepish.

“i’m going home, sebastian,” your voice was sharp, cheeks red with anger and embarrassment. “my date seems pretty occupied with you in there, so i’m leaving.”

“no, wait…” he grappled desperately, grabbing at your wrist again to keep you there. his lips part, searching for an excuse, but nothing comes out.

“you knew i was coming here tonight! why would you show up when you knew?” seething, tears pricked at your eyes. you cursed yourself for the german making you such a mess. “i told you how excited i was and you purposely came to ruin it! why?”

sebastian sighed, silent. all of that jealously turned to hatred, for himself and his stupid, stupid heart. “i’m sorry.”

you looked at him, waiting for more. needing more than just that.

“i’m sorry, i just — i hated seeing you so happy,” as soon as it was out, as soon as he saw your face twist, he knew it didn’t sound right. “no, shit. not like that. i wasn’t the one making you happy and it felt awful. i didn’t want to see you with anyone else. y/n… i’ve been such an idiot.”

the words sunk in as he tried to tangle his fingers in you, squeezing himself closer to you in the street. your head shook, backing away with every inch he moved closer.

“no, no. seb, don’t do this,” you muttered, ignoring his pleas for your forgiveness. you felt dizzy, all of this coming to soon. “seb, you’re being mean. stop it.”

with your voice sterner, he took a step back.

“i’ve waited for you for seven years. i waited and you never came, but the second i find somebody else you figure it out?” tongue laced with disbelief, you felt your feet stumble on the cobbles below. sebastian reached out to you, worry crossing his face. he felt terrible. he’d put you through so much and expected even more.

“i know,” sebastian whispered, daring to step closer again. you let him now, proving yourself weak to his affection once again. his hand finds your cheek, warming it from the night air, your head resting against his hold. “i’m a fool. i didn’t realise it before but i’ve been in love with you for so long. i don’t know when it happened, but it did. and there’s nothing i can do about it but beg you to forgive me.”

your eyes turn soft, melting into his confessional. everything you’d waited for and dreamed of, the words that haunted you for years of sleepless nights. it was happening and none of it felt real. seven years of wanting it, and now you were hesitant.

“will you forgive me?” sebastian pleads, thumbs rubbing gently at the flesh of your cheeks. his lips, ready for yours, but not until you are. “i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. i promise.”

you smile, because how can you not? when he’s looking at you like you’re the one who hung the moon and the stars — but he’s the sun. your sun, your light, your love.

“yes.” it’s a whisper when it finally comes, but he hears it. his own smile creeps up, squeezing you in delight.

“yes?” he repeats, waiting for you to confirm it again. you do, and he wastes no time in kissing you. not like that night on the beach, young and unsure, but full of love and certainty. because he loves you, with everything he is, and he needs to show you. all soft lips and daring tongues, arms winding around your waist to pull you flush to him.

he loves you and you love him. at the end of the day, or seven years, there’s nothing else that really matters.

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel blurb #sebastian vettel drabble #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel fluff

[folkloresthings]

can you please do comforting fernando after a tough race 🤍

HEARTSTRINGS. ❨ fernando alonso x reader ❩

“fuck!”

your head snaps up towards the shout, eyes having only left the screen for a moment when it happens. there’s a lot of technical babble, none of which you understand, expect one line.

“… retire the car.”

a heartstring tugs at your chest, guiltily hoping it’s lance’s car that pulls into the pit lane. but it’s a white number fourteen that flashes on the screen, and then on the entrance to the garage. gripping the chair under you, you wait in anticipation for the storm about to come.

it had been building for days. poor communication from the team, a bad start in qualifying, and now an engine failure. fernando’s patience with alpine was running thin and you feared the string was about to snap.

“‘nando…” you mutter as he climbs from the car, tugging off his helmet to reveal the sour scowl underneath. engineers pull him away, giving a short brief before he’s ushered to his post—race interview, the other cars still whizzing loudly outside.

all you can do is wait. until his commitments are complete, there’s nothing you can do to comfort his sorrow and pain. at most, you wander back to his drivers room and make some tea for you both — it usually calms him down pretty well.

your leg is bouncing against the chair when the door flies open and shuts again, fernando hurrying inside. you watch him silently, hands ripping off his suit until it falls at his waist, tight fireproofs laid underneath.

“i made tea,” you tell him, tentatively, rising from your seat. he glances towards the two mugs, yours already a few gulps emptier. visibly, he sighs. shoulders slump and give in, reaching across to pull your body to his.

“it’s okay. it’s only one race.” it isn’t, you know that, but it feels like the right thing to say.

“how the fuck did they not notice during the pit?” fernando grumbles against your shoulder. you feel his tension rising again, so you squeeze him a little tighter.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, head turning in the embrace to softly kiss his cheek. he turns to meet you, gentle eyes turned so sad when they meet your own. it tugs at you, making you want to give alpine a piece of your own mind — if only it wouldn’t make things worse.

“i really wanted it,” he admits, eyes glistening. you’re the only one to ever see this side. beyond the stoic, big bad wolf. you get to see the hurt and the pain this career causes him, and god you wish you didn’t because it makes you sick to your stomach.

“i know,” you coo, pulling him back in. his face nestled in your neck, your hand cradling the crown of his head. you sway slightly, feeling his emotions subside with each passing moment. “want some tea, now?”

fernando nods against your soft sweater, but it still takes another minute for him to pull back. when he does, he takes both his mug and you back to the small couch with him. balancing the tea in one hand, he tugs you close to his side with the other. it stays there, glued to your leg, rubbing small circles on the skin below your skirt.

“thank you,” he murmurs after a few minutes of quiet. you look over at him and spot the love in his eyes that you’d grown accustomed to noticing. smiling, you lean into him more.

“it’s just some tea,” you muse.

“no,” he shakes his head, managing a small breath of a laugh. “i mean, for everything. for being there for me, no matter what.”

a heat rises in you that you never want to go away. love, adoration, everything good filling every crevice in your body and you’re sure you’d never find something as pure as what you had with fernando had you lived a thousand years.

“i love you, ‘nando. i’m always going to be there.” you grasp at his wrist, the one resting on your leg. nudging forward, you softly kiss his tea—stained lips. he chases after them, even as you smile fondly at him.

“i love you so very much, corazón,” fernando mumbles, accent thick amongst his emotions. “can we go back to the hotel? let’s just order room service and watch those awful movies you like.”

your eyes roll with affection. “please, you like them too.”

his lips pull into a smirk, standing to his feet and taking you with him. he sets both mugs down, taking a few minutes to change into his own clothes. you fold his suit neatly for him, setting it aside as he pulls on his shorts and top. just before you can reach for the door, he grips your waist softly and pulls you flush to his chest.

his lips fall softly on your own, sucking carefully at the swell of your bottom lip. by instinct, his tongue licks into your mouth, dancing lovely past your own. there’s a passion there, but nothing heated or desperate. just wanting to be close.

“thank you, again,” fernando repeats, brushing your hair back from your forehead. you smile, nuzzling against his touch for a slight second, heart squeezing in your chest.

“i’m proud of you, no matter what.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #fernando alonso drabble #fernando alonso blurb #fernando alonso fluff #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso #fernando alonso instagram au #fernando alonso x reader

[folkloresthings]

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE — send a muse + a song and i’ll write a little drabble for it. !!!!! pls i beg for a lando & afterglow by miss swift

lando + taylor is my dream every night.

AFTERGLOW. ❨ lando norris x reader ❩

✩⡱ warnings: some cursing

it was too often said that formula one drivers were hot—headed, rash, quick to snap without thinking of the consequences. it was said, because it was true.

lando didn’t fit the stereotype. he was sweet and gentle and always good to you. he didn’t like to take his work stress out on you, but when you were at the paddock with him, trying to help him calm down in his drivers room before the race, it was difficult not to snap.

“it’s going to be fine,” you cooed, helping him into his race suit. qualifying and his practice race hadn’t been good. the car was slow, the strategy was poor, and lando wasn’t at his best. but he could still turn it around — that was all you were trying to convince him of.

“jesus, just give me some space!” the english boy snapped, grabbing the buttons of his suit from you and hastily finishing them off. “your pep talks don’t fucking work — i’ll still do shit today, with or without you.”

you fell silent. you hadn’t realised how sensitive he’d been today, and maybe you should have. he always liked you to hype him up before a race, calm his nerves and assure him he was the best. today was a different story.

lando, too in his head to realise what he’d said, only realised he’d done wrong when he heard the door open and close, and you were gone. hurrying out of the mclaren garage, sniffling and self—conscious. lando groaned, head in his hands.

“fucks sake.”

he had fucked up, and it only made his concentration during the race worse. ending somewhere around P10, but he didn’t care anymore. all he cared about was finding you and apologising. praying and hoping that he hadn’t ruined things completely.

he found you back in his drivers room, probably the one place with privacy that you could stay. you were sat in the corner, back to the wall, eyes red raw with the tears that had been shed.

lando hated himself instantly, shutting the door and rushing to kneel in front of you. your hands were locked tight across your chest, so he settled for resting his palms on your knees, freezing when you flinched away from him.

“i’m sorry. god, i’m so sorry,” he murmured, your eyes not meeting his. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. you were only trying to help, and i was a dick.”

you didn’t dare speak, unsure of what to say. you were hurt and annoyed, but you loved him so much. one look into those eyes and you knew you’d melt.

“please don’t leave me,” lando whispers, afraid of his own words. “just… just tell me we’ll be fine, and i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

you couldn’t help it then, to melt into his arms, letting him hold you as close as he could. still muttering apologies into your hair, lando swears he’ll never let himself hurt you again. he can’t risk losing you, not when he knows how good the other side can be.

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #lando norris drabble #lando norris blurb #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris

[folkloresthings]

NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.

Please do Lando Norris + brothers best friend thank you 😁❤️

i LOVE this trope

BAD IDEA. ❨ lando norris x reader ❩

you couldn’t quite remember the first time you had laid eyes on lando norris. for as long as you could remember, he’d been around. your brother had met him in secondary school when they were only eleven or twelve, but you being younger meant you didn’t really see much of them.

you didn’t have much time for your older brother then, and so not much time for his friends. really, you’d first noticed lando when he was eighteen. he’d been away for a while, racing and what not, so when you saw him again he’d suddenly grown up quite a bit. his awkwardness was gone, his muscles stronger, his face more handsome.

but you were only fourteen. you were just a shadow in the corner, of no importance to him. still quiet and weird, not sure of yourself yet.

your crush on your brother’s best friend only became more desperate over the next few years. watching him grow into himself, just as the world began to watch him. he drove for formula one now, mclaren’s star, and you were no one. he could have any woman in the world, so why would he want his friend’s little sister?

lando, sweet as ever, had paid for your entire family to come to his race in monaco. a weekend away with the norris’, something you’d been a part of many times before. you had learned to suppress your feelings for lando, to push them down to the bottom of your stomach and paint on a polite smile.

“you okay?” your head snaps up, lando’s concern greeting you. quickly do you nod, ignoring how the busy mclaren garage shrinks down to just the two of you when he looks in your eyes.

“yeah, fine. just a little crowded in here.”

lando rests a hand on your arm, pulling you out of the way of a mechanic, sending your heart into a million flutters. “i get that. you can wait in my driver’s room, if you want.”

it feels all too intimate, to be in lando’s space alone. you’d only ever been to his apartment with your brother. so you reject kindly, with a shake of your head.

“i’ll just go for a walk. i’ll see you tonight?”

lando smiles and lets you go. you inhale deeply as soon as you escape the busy paddock, wandering all around the city until you find yourself back at the hotel. lando had paid for all of your rooms, giving you your own, and you couldn’t have been more grateful than in that moment. time alone to think. to silently lecture yourself to get a grip.

three hours later, you’ve showered, fixed your hair and makeup as best as you could. you’re halfway into your dress when the door knocks.

“just a sec!” you call, hurrying to the door with your hand pressed to your chest, holding the fabric up. you unlock the door, peeking around to find lando with a smirk.

“your mum sent me up to fetch you. they’re all ready to go to dinner,” he explains and your eyes widen.

“is it that time already?” you curse yourself for losing track of the time. in a panic to get ready, you hurry back into the room in search of your shoes. the door lies open, so lando lets himself in and closes it behind him.

“don’t rush. they can wait.”

still, you rush. if you made everyone late for this dinner you would never hear the end of it from your mother. shoes slipped on, you reach blindly for the zip of your dress. in desperation, you look towards lando.

“will you—?” you plead, gesturing to the back of your dress. he nods, immediately, pacing over to you. turning, the opening of the dress reveals your bare back to him. it’s only when his fingers ghost over the zip that your panic subsides to realisation.

it’s suddenly incredibly warm in your hotel room and lando is taking a long time to zip up quite a small dress. his fingers linger on your skin, investigating its softness. the zip drags upwards, painfully slow, your eyes fluttering closed as he teases. you both freeze when the zip closes, nothing left to ponder over, waiting with bated breath.

you gasp quietly when you feel lando’s hands on your waist, his lips pressing softly to the side of your neck. your head falls back, resting on his shoulder, trying to gather the muddle of thoughts that gather in your head.

“lando…” you whisper, shaking your head. this wasn’t supposed to happen. he wasn’t supposed to return your affections, that wasn’t how the story was written. you were supposed to pine and be left with nothing. “this is a bad idea.”

lando doesn’t care. he turns you by the waist, to face his, and wastes no time in in pulling you into a dizzying kiss. years worth of kisses all in one. all tongue and teeth, the taste of your lipstick and the smell of his aftershave intoxicates you both. his hands grip at you desperately, slipping under the hem of your dress to grasp at whatever skin he can find.

breathless and lighthearted, you part with surprise. you could swear he was drunk when he looked at you, drunk on the taste of your tongue. lando still paws at your frame, making up for lost time, a time he was blind.

“we should go. they’re waiting,” you tell him, eyes still wide and full of shock. lando nods, unable to tear his eyes away from you. his thumb reaches for your lips, fixing the smudged lipstick. you giggle, mirroring his actions. when you’re done laughing like schoolchildren, his lips are void of any evidence.

“right. we should,” he sighs, stepping back from you with reluctance. you busy yourself by gathering your things, fixing your hair in the mirror, finding him waiting by the door. he opens it, fingers brushing you waist as you pass him.

“but maybe,” you speak, turning in the hallway when he closes the door to your room. “you could come back, tonight. after the dinner.”

you nod to the room number on the door to confirm your thoughts. lando smirks, stepping towards you, pecking your lips once more.

“you’re sure?” he looks at you with those eyes and you’re fifteen years old again, knees going weak.

“positive. will you?”

lando, too, finds a great weakness in your eyes. eyes that he once barely noticed. but it was like someone had turned a light on, illuminating you and everything that you had become.

“of course, love. i’ll come.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris drabble #lando norris #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine

[folkloresthings]

Pride and prejudice - gold rush again with seb because there's something about that man lures everyone like oh god... Is there something wrong with me(probs)

anon you’re so right. this is short i’m sorry

GOLD RUSH. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

sebastian vettel was the golden boy of formula one. everyone loved him — his good looks, his charm, his cheek. he was intoxicating, a thing to be marvelled at both in and out of the car. he was the sun and no amount of warnings would stop you from looking straight at him.

you didn’t like that all of these people adored him. you knew that any amount of fans would die to feel his touch, that there were thousands of people ready to take him from you. and yet, when he looked at you with that smile of his, there was nothing to worry about. no one could take that away.

“you did it again, baby,” you squeal, hugging him tightly as he picks you up from the ground. he’s in his race suit, still, waiting to head out onto the podium. “i’m so proud of you.”

sebastian grins, pressing a handful of kisses to your lips. he squeezes you again, glee shining in his eyes. “i love you so much, leibling.”

a small reminder, before he goes off to bathe in the glory. you watch him from the side of the stage, snapping a few photos, squeezing yourself to the front so you can get the best view of your lover.

the crowds are screaming for him, and you don’t blame him. he’s grinning from ear to ear, the sunlight bathing him in gold. a trophy in one hand, a bottle of champagne in the other. despite being drenched in the champagne spray, his hair still falls perfectly into place.

the fans scream, the photographers catch picture after picture, the journalists scramble for the smallest word from him. you always feel that sense of possession creeping back in then. everybody wants him.

but when he stands on top of the podium and searches the crowd for your eyes, finding you and smiling so brightly, you know. he’s yours, wholeheartedly. and he always will be.

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #sebastian vettel drabble #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel blurb

[folkloresthings]

NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.

Oscar Piastri 🥵🧡

With highschool sweetheart trope

Please and thank you ☺️☺️🫶🏻

FOR FOREVER. ❨ oscar piastri x reader ❩

on your first day of high school, you had been seated next to a floppy haired, awkward looking boy called oscar. for a few weeks, neither of you spoke to each other. then, he asked about a homework assignment and you helped him out. it wasn’t until junior year that he finally asked you out, despite pining over you for two years. since then, you’d been inseparable.

your camera roll history was filled with the timeline of your relationship. study dates, prom night, graduation, his formula two podiums, his first day in formula one, every time he flew out to visit you.

you’d fallen in love when you were both seventeen years old, and you’d been together ever since. twenty—one now and still head over heels. you’d been with oscar from the start of his career, but being so far apart from each other made it difficult. you persevered, as much a you could, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were missing out on a little piece of his life.

oscar’s birthday had fallen right in the middle of the racing season, and just in time for the australian grand prix. he was home to celebrate with you and everyone that he loved. able to sleep in your arms every night for a whole week, back where everything began.

like always, his mother was throwing a backyard birthday party for all of the family and friends — even all of the drivers. you had put on oscar’s favourite dress of yours and baked him the cake that he loved. he hadn’t been able to leave you alone all afternoon, his hand glued to your waist, showing you off to everyone he could.

“guys, can i get your attention for a second?”

oscar’s voice pulls you away from lando’s fourth story about your boyfriend, everyone looking to where he stands at the top of the garden. charles passes you the drink he’d left to get you a while ago, sitting on the deckchair next to you.

“i just wanted to thank you all really quickly for coming,” oscar smiles, his mum standing next to him. you can tell she’s made him make this speech, the sheepishness in his eyes making you stifle a giggle. “and to my mum, for putting all of this together. i’m so glad i get to bring all the parts of my life together.”

he goes on a little longer, something about work and being home, and you can’t take your eyes off of him. he looks adorable, back in the australian sun with a birthday badge pinned to his shirt (his little cousin’s doing). oscar’s eyes find yours in the small crowd and he softens, heart swelling.

“and i have to give special thanks to my darling y/n,” oscar raises his glass towards you. any awkwardness is gone from his speech—giving, completely relaxed when it’s you he’s looking at. all eyes turn to you then, but you barely notice. oscar is all you see, every moment of every day.

“she’s put up with me for almost five years, and i couldn’t be more grateful. and she’s going to hate me for pointing her out like this — but, baby, i love you. you’ve been my rock, my heart, my biggest support through everything. even my weird, spotty, puberty stage. thank you, truly. i can’t wait to spend another year with you by my side.”

everybody’s clapping and you can feel your eyes stinging with tears, but you don’t care. your feet carry you across the garden, pressing your lips softly to his. it gains a few jests from the drivers, but you’re too busy smiling up at your lover.

“happy birthday, sweetheart.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri drabble #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff

[folkloresthings]

Hey there! I’d love to request from Northanger Abbey, Fernando Alonso and a sickfic trope ?? One partner is sick, the other has to take care of them! Thank you!

SICK DAY. ❨ fernando alonso x reader ❩

fernando alonso was a renowned formula one driver, a two—time world champion. he drove incredibly fast cars for a living, one of the coolest jobs that maybe existed. he was charming, he was brooding. he had done so much with his life — but he did not get sick.

that being said, he’d been sniffling for two days now. you had told him to take some medicine, to wrap up, to rest up for just a minute. but fernando, stubborn as ever, didn’t listen.

“baby, please,” you beg, standing next to his desk. you set the paper bag down, full of your purchases. “i got you the flu medicine, and some cough medicine and throat drops. just take some and go to bed.”

he shakes his head, typing furiously at his laptop. apparently, when trying to prove himself alright, he works ten times harder than ever. you sigh, and leave him to it — the bag, still beside him. when you check it later, it hasn’t been touched.

you make him dinner later, his favourite, but when you set it down at the table he barely touches it. first, sniffling. then sneezing, coughing, and now losing his appetite. you stare across the dining table at your boyfriend, a knowing look painted on your face, one he tries so hard to ignore.

“you can’t go to work like this, ‘nando,” you insist, arms crossed by the front door of your shared apartment. “it’ll only make your cold worse.”

“i’m fine,” he mumbles through a blocked nose. “i think it’s going away now, anyway. i feel much better.”

he didn’t look it, and worry ate away at you all day. you sent him a few messages, but he insisted he was absolutely fine. that was, until you got a call from lance, asking you to come and pick your boyfriend up.

“thanks for coming. he’s a walking corpse in there,” the canadian boy meets you by your car, leading you straight to where fernando was. he looks even worse than he did this morning, skin a pale grey and nose red raw. fernando looks up in shock when he spots you, ready to argue with both of you. but a sneeze interrupts him, and he turns sheepish.

“come on, old man. let’s get you to bed,” you smirk, holding out a hand for him. “thanks, lance. i’ll let you know how he is tomorrow.”

fernando follows you like a small child, sinking into the passenger seat and letting his eyes rest from his headache. you’re home before he knows it, stumbling out of the car towards the house. you hurry next to him, allowing him to lean on you as you guide him to the door.

“go get changed and into bed. i’ll bring you some soup in a minute,” you tell him, setting his bag down. fernando nods, too drowsy to agree, and wanders up towards your bedroom. you hurry to heat some vegetable soup and a little bit of bread, carrying it and some medicine on a tray up to him.

“thank you,” fernando croaks, tucked in under the duvet. you set the tray on his lap, placing two of the tablets on his tongue and handing him some water. you leave him to his soup, turning on the television for whatever he wants to watch. “stay?”

you turn to your poor boyfriend, all red nosed and dreary eyed, and smile. “i’ll be back in a second. eat your soup.”

by the time you come back with a cold cloth, he’s cleaned the bowl empty. you chuckle, setting the tray aside, and climb onto the bed next to him. fernando moves against you instantly, curling into your side. there was no point fighting his sickness any longer, so there was no point pretending to be strong.

“this is cold but i’ll make you feel better,” you lay by his side, propped up on your elbow, gently pressing the cold cloth to his forehead and neck. fernando’s eyes flutter shut, easing into your touch.

“feels nice,” he mumbles, sleep taking over him. the soft mattress, your warmth next to him, the coolness of the cloth… how could he not doze off?

you stay by his side all evening and night, feeding him medicine and water, cooling his hot skin, fetching whatever he needed. you’d stay by his side through anything and everything. and, in a few days, when you catch the same cold he has — he’ll do the exact same for you.

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #fernando alonso drabble #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #fernando alonso blurb #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso fluff

[folkloresthings]

hi! congratulations x100 for 1k!!! so so so happy for you!!!! 🫶🏻

i was hoping to request “PRIDE AND PREJUDICE — send a muse + a song and i’ll write a little drabble for it”?

oscar piastri + you are in love by the queen ms. taylor swift?

thank you love 🫶🏻

yail is my absolute favourite taylor song thank u for this request. short but fluffy once again.

YOU ARE IN LOVE. ❨ oscar piastri x reader ❩

the smell of burnt toast filled your lungs, stepping out of the shower and into the sunday sun that filled oscar’s bedroom. you’d draped yourself in one of his shirts, considering neither of you were going very far anytime soon. following the scent down to the kitchen, you found the australian boy putting together a breakfast of sorts for the two of you.

you hovered in the doorway, admiring as he busied himself around the kitchen, trying to make it just right. you’d been seeing oscar for a few months now, but neither of you had put a label on anything. you liked each other, you knew each other — your minds and bodies, but the conversation of what was to be hadn’t happened yet. but you didn’t mind, not when you got to spend time with him like this.

“morning,” he greets when he catches sight of you watching him. he’s still in his pyjamas, hair messy and just how you like it. “coffee?”

“tea, please,” you request, pottering over to sit yourself at the table. there’s an array of leftover pastries from your bakery run yesterday, some fruit, and a little vase of flowers you had picked in the park.

he sets the mug down in front of you, passing some sugar and milk for you to add as you wish — even though he knows how you like it by heart now. milk, two sugars. he presses a kiss to the top of your head as he moves past, sitting opposite you. it comes so easily to him, the affection, and it still makes you blush every time.

idle chatter fills the breakfast table, munching on toast and strawberries between filling each other in on what you might do today. oscar laughs at something you’ve said, his eyes creasing and dimples prominent on his cheeks.

“we could finish the rest of that series, today. i really should do some work, but i don’t want to,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. no milk, one sugar.

“you’d rather spend the whole day with me than sit in front of a fake car on a screen all day? i’m honoured,” you jest, exaggerating your words. oscar smiles and shrugs, like it’s the most normal thing ever.

“well, you’re my best friend. why wouldn’t i?” he speaks softly, spreading some butter on another slice of toast.

you look at him then, all of the pieces falling into place when you find that glint in his eyes. he is in love.

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri drabble #oscar piastri