#brits headers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

userlando · 10 months

Note

Okay but imagine, Lando coming home after a triple header expecting you to be at your own home. He's tired and honestly wants to cry a little because you're not there. So, when he walks into his room to see you in his bed, deep asleep, wearing only his shirt and nothing else, he can't help but curl up close to you and hold you

oh I was saving this in my ask box to write on a day when I felt a little gloomy, just a little something for you as a thanks for dropping this fluffy thing in my lap 🤍

homecoming (748 words) lando norris/fem!reader fluff

The house is dark when Lando steps over the threshold, his chest feels a little heavy and his throat tight like he’s two seconds away from crying and he doesn’t really know why.

He assumes it’s an array of different things. He’s been away for three weeks, performance average as he fights to keep his composure on the race tracks and he knows it’s finally time for a break when he drops to P10 on Sunday. Usually, he’d sleep it off at the hotel and then catch a flight to his next destination, but he finds himself too antsy and anxious to spend another second away from home, so he books a flight the same evening and gets his ass home.

His shoulders are drawn tight in tension, fingers itching to grab his keys to his McLaren and drive straight to your place but he holds himself back. He knows you’ve had it equally as rough as him, struggling with your work and his absence only adds onto the stress you’re carrying on your shoulders.

Lando feels like shit, mood dropping even lower when he thinks of you. He kicks his shoes off to the side, knowing that Max would yell at him in the morning for not storing them away like a normal person but he can’t bring himself to care. His body yearns for his bed, with freshly washed sheets because you always do that. Tidy up his room and wash his shit, knowing that he likes the scent of freshly washed cotton to come home to.

He smiles fondly, chest tight when he spots the empty grocery bags in the kitchen; recalling Max’s text earlier in the day where he’d reassured Lando that you were okay, telling him that he was out shopping for groceries with you because you’d insisted on Lando coming home to a stocked fridge.

The Brit feels his eyes well up, walking quietly across the hallway and pushing his door open. The bedside lamp is on, and it gives Lando pause as his eyes adjusts to the dim lights in the room. His eyes sweep across the unusually clean space, frown deepening on his face until he spots the lump under his covers, on his bed.

At first, he thinks it’s Max playing a prank on him and he almost walks over to punch a fist into whoever is laying there just for the sake of it. But then he spots the back of your head, sleeping face coming into view, the closer he walks.

Your soft breaths makes his throat close up, and he sniffles quietly because the rush of relief coursing through him is so overpowering that he cups his lower face with his shaking hand; taking a deep breath to steady himself.

He quickly sheds his clothes, abandoning his plans to shower in favour of crawling into bed. You don’t even twitch, even as he inches closer and lays on his side, face to face with you. You’re warm, clad in nothing but one of his Quadrant shirts and his heart wells over with love at the sight.

Your eyebrow moves, and Lando sucks his lower lip into his mouth because it’s starting to wobble in the massive rush of affection he feels for you. He doesn’t even care that he might potentially wake you up, scooting closer until he can wrap his arms and legs around you, pushing his face into the warm space of your throat where it’s connected to the shoulder and notching his head under your chin.

Lando can feel when you stir in your interrupted sleep, making a sleepy sound and exhaling through your nose that ruffles his hair but you don’t say anything as you wrap yourself around him in a similar fashion almost immediately. He’s thankful that you don’t even question his sudden need to be held, nor do you say anything when he sniffles quietly, only offering your comfort by bringing your hands up to play with his hair.

“Missed you.” You said quietly, voice a little thick with sleep and Lando wants to wrap the sound of it around him like a blanket.

He scoots closer, like if he tries enough, he can crawl into your skin and it makes you hide a smile in his curls.

“I missed you too.” He mumbles, words muffled in your neck and it tickles a little bit. “Never leaving you again.”

You both know it’s not possible, but you nod gently.

“Never.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

whew, I need a touch depraved lando asap 🥺 I hope you liked this lil thing 🤍 lmk what you thought!!

#zee’s asks 💌#lando brainrot #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #lando norris #lando norris blurb #lando norris x female reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader

2K notes · View notes

adventuringblind · 6 months

Text

Not Your Fault

Max Verstappen x Reader x Oscar piastri

Genre: Angst

Summary: Max and Oscar have to comfort their girlfriend who's hospitalized after a major crash.

Dialouge prompt: "It's not your fault"

Warnings: major crash, injury description

Notes: This is part of my 1000 follower celebration! Requests are still open for it if you would like to participate!

Masterlist

"Red flag Max, red flag." Comes GP's voice over the radio.

Something in his stomach dropped at the words. Crashing is a risk they all take every time they get into the car, but that dosen't it isn't hard when it happens.

"Who was it?" His fingers crossed. Silently begging whoever controlled fate that it was neither a McLaren nor a Ferrari. He's not sure he could handle it.

"It's a Ferrari."

"Who?"

"Y/N"

His heart dropped. She'd been called to drive in place of Carlos. The Spainard had caught Covid and was out for the entire triple header. She'd gotten a chance, and now she'd crashed out.

"Is she okay?"

"Max-"

"Is she okay, GP? Please, I need to know." His heart is beating faster then he would’ve liked, but he can’t help it.

“They haven’t gotten a response yet. Ferrari was checking to see the damage on the car but haven’t gotten a response yet-”

“They were checking on the car?!” Max’s blood is boiling as he peels into the pit lane. He rips himself out of the car as marches to where GP and Christian are presumably waiting for him. They look neutral at the moment.

Christian grabs him by the shoulders to stop him from going any further, but it doesn’t matter. The screen is replaying the crash. Something must have happened with the steering and braking because the car just didn’t slow down. It hit the wall at 200 mph. The Ferrari car is stuck in the barriers. The fence having come down on top of her, essentially burying the car underneath.

“Any word yet?” His voice breaks. eye’s still trained on the screen as it shows the Marshalls trying to pull the debris away.

“Still nothing. They lost the onboard footage and can’t see her vitals.”

Max is about to jump into a rant. His anger at Ferrari still boiling. That is - until Lando comes barreling into him. The Brit is out of breath and flushed. “Haven you looked at your phone?”

All three Redbull members stare at him in confusion. Lando looks between them expectantly. “Well somebody better get Max his phone because Oscar is about thirty seconds away from killing everyone in the Ferrari garage.”

Max runs to grab his phone and comes back to Lando who is waiting impatiently for something. Texts from Charles and Carlos about what they know, A missed call from Oscar- “I don’t see anything apart from the usual.”

Land rips the phone out of his hands and pulls up his instagram. Then he find the Ferrari page and and taps on their story. He hands the phone back with sad eyes.

Within the mess or a PR scripted excuse, one thing sticks out to him the most: ‘driver error.’ Max the pulls up Charles’ texts. His hands are shaking with the impending appearance of Mad Max.

Charles gives him the whole story. ‘Don’t believe the story! I saw the data, it was the teams fault.’

“Oscar saw this, didn’t he?”

“Kim, Jon, and Andrea are keeping him confined, but unless you want to be outed to the world I suggest you come help.”

Max looks at the screen. Still no sign of life. The car is still buried.

Then he looks to his team principal for approval. Christian nods and then the two are ducking and dodging cameras.

Oscar isn’t mad often. Rarely, even. He has so much patience for people that Max sometimes wonders where he puts it all.

He found out after the Qatar sprint. Max was getting some nasty hate. It was under every photo Redbull or himself put out. He simply put his phone away and tried not to let it bother him. Their female lover saw but knew better then to start something and decided to, and he quotes, ‘fuck the diets and eat Max’s favorite.’ Which the Dutch had been more then happy to do.

Oscar on the other hand was going to chew out every person who boo’d at max on their way to the hotel. Oscar’s anger comes in the form of harsh words and stupid actions until it turns to wet and it’s like every emotion he’d been stifling hits him all at once. Then it’s all teary eyes a cracked voices.

Max and Lando round the corner and sneak through the back of the McLaren garage. Straight into Oscars room where they are supposed to find him.

He is, in fact, nowhere to be seen.

Max makes a break for the Ferrari garage. He wants to be relieved when he sees the Australian with Charles, but he can’t be because he’s with some of the Ferrari staff as well.

He breaks the circle and sets a, hopefully calming, hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “Any news on her condition?” The men in red shoot him dirty glares as he interrupts whatever they were talking about previously.

“No.”

Okay, rude.

Charles clears his voice. “Actually, me and Oscar were just discussing her condition. They pulled her out of the car - but it doesn’t look good. The FIA might stop the race because of the barrier.”

“Thank you for the update, Charles. We’ll be going now.” Max and Lando have to drag a ver stubborn Oscar away.

They pile into Lando’s room since it’s closer and Oscar collapses. Him and Max almost topple over together. “They said it’s her fault when it’s not!”

“I know. It’s out job to make sure she knows that too. Chewing out Ferrari isn’t going to help.” At the moment, Max can’t help but finish in his head.

They take some time to calm down before heading back out. They are greeted with the news that the race has been cancelled due to the barrier meaning that the two are free to leave.

Which they do, with incredible speed.

She had to be transferred to the hospital. According to the doctor that greets them, she’ll make a full recovery but it will take a while to get there. A few broken bones, some internal bleeding, a concussion, a major gash, but she’s alive. That’s what matters.

Oscar and Max spend the night in her room. The two patiently waiting for her to wake up. Charles had dropped by with Lando to bring them her stuff and see how she’s doing. Max was happy they brought food and Lando actually took to force feeding Oscar.

They wake the next morning to quiet sniffles. Max cracks his eyes open to see her, staring at her cell that Max left on the side table, with tears streaming down her face.

He is up and alert in a second with Oscar coming to slowly. “Schat, talk to me.”

She just hands over her phone without saying anything and Max scrolls through it for a few moments. Apparently Ferrari’s statement went further then he thought. Again, they are playing the blame game.

And no, absolutely not. Max Verstappen is not the kind of man to let her believe this. He turns off the phone and tosses it aside before Oscar can see. He really doesn't need another passive-aggressive Assie incident.

"Charles saw the data. It was the car. It wasn't your fault."

"But everyone is believing it was. How am I supposed to build a career now?" She sobs. The EKG is beeping wildly with her heart.

Oscar, in his sleepy state, switches from leaning on Max to climbing into bed with her. It works like a charm, and she starts to breathe again. It's labored, but it's calming down, at least.

"You'll show them. The data will come out eventually." Oscar mumbles into her shoulder.

"And until then -" Max intertwines hands with both his lovers. "- We'll defend you because we love you."

511 notes · View notes

cars-on-the-moon · 6 months

Text

Carlando hurt/a bit of comfort just below!

Enjoy!

(everything stems from author’s imagination)

“Cabron!” Lando shouted, holding his suit in order to jog quicker.

The Spaniard slightly turned his gaze at him but returned to Rupert, carrying on their conversation.

Rupert nodded and smiled when Lando clasped his shoulder.

“Alright?” he asked the trainer. “Hot innit?” he grinned.

“And you’re going to have to race.” Rupert remarked, giving him a kind pat and stepping a bit back to reach Gino.

Lando’s eyes returned to Carlos, who hadn’t interact with him yet.

“What is it?” he asked him.

“What? Nothing.” Lando shrugged. “I’m a bit jittery.” he revealed.

“Calm down. Everything’s good.” Carlos replied him, almost dismissively, a tone the other man never possessed for him.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion but quickly disregarded it.

“Are we training this week?” he asked him.

“I will be very busy.” Carlos replied, typing something on his phone and quickly burying it in his pocket. Finally, his eyes found Lando, but the Brit only saw emptiness.

“Carlos, are you okay?” he finally asked by micro-analysing all the wrong signs.

“I’ll see you later.” Carlos said and just like that, he walked away.

Lando stood there, watching him as he increased the distance between them. He watched as Carlos finally disappeared around Alpine’s motorhome, leaving him alone and extremely confused.

The great mystery of detached Carlos carried on for the extent of the week and when he never received a reply to his golf invitation, Lando gave up to focus on his race.

“Who from the grid was born in 1994?” Will asked then and instantly Lando pressed the little buzzer button.

“Carlos Sainz.” he replied.

“Ah! There you go! A point for you!” Will excitedly said.

“That’s 7-1.” Oscar reminded them the score.

“Well,” Lando grimaced. “I’ve had better days.” he playfully said to the camera and thusly, the silly YouTube game for the official channel, ended.

Will waved them a polite goodbye as Lando shuffled further into the sofa.

“Mate, you’re miserable.”

“Yeah, thanks Oscar.” he rolled his eyes before shutting them both.

“Oh, you’re in that mood.” he heard the Australian remarking and he hated him a little. The other Australian who was making his life hard once again in his own team. Sharp tongued and funny in a whole different way.

“Piss off, mate.” he mumbled and tried to sound as playful as possible.

He heard the faint sound of Oscar’s giggle as he was leaving the room and finally he found a good time for solitude and peacefulness.

He missed the podium for a tenth of a second and climbed out of his car with a granule of disappointment.

“Are we on for tomorrow?” Caco asked him, finding him outside hospitality.

Lando finished signing a picture of him and turned to the Spaniard.

“Yeah, Max told me you booked it.” he said. “Is Carlos coming?” he asked him.

Caco raised his eyebrows then but quickly schooled his expression to return to normal.

“I don’t know. This triple-header has been hard on him. We’ll see. It’s either going to be Rupert or him.” he replied.

Lando squinted.

“See you at eight.” Caco said, tapping his back.

When Lando arrived at the padel place hopeful, he got disappointed again. The other three players were already in the court but Carlos was nowhere to be seen.

“Are we doing Britain versus Europe?” Rupert grinned at him.

“Sure.” Lando shrugged taking his place in the field.

Max bumped his racket on Caco’s and walked in order to execute the first little serve.

“Carlos coming?” Lando asked Rupert.

“Um, no.” the Brit replied, dipping lower, focused forward.

If Lando got disappointed again, he never showed it.

‘Cabron? Is everything alright?’ Lando had to try again because the though if Carlos being that cold was so unsettling, he couldn’t relax when he was thinking about it.

He was tired enough to not having realised that the next day he was in Mexico City. It took him around ten minutes to remember his plane ride and a few more to actually decide to get up.

He trained intensely and ate his wrap with such eagerness, as if he was a starved man.

Still nothing.

Sunday’s driver’s parade came in a blink of an eye and Lando searched for Carlos before he was waved by Oscar to join him in their car.

“Were you looking for something?” Oscar asked him when the car started moving.

“You.” Lando replied, smiling towards the crowd.

Oscar hummed a bit unconvincingly but nevertheless, let it go. Sometimes Lando thought that the young Australian knew more than he revealed. Behind that quiet stance he had going on, he was observant and intelligent. Lando hated that. ‘Hate’ perhaps was a strong word.

“Carlos!” he finally found the man, as he was taking with Max.

Both men turned to find the source of the voice and one of them smiled widely. It was Max. Only Max smiled.

“I was just telling him how team Europe obliterated team Britain last Monday.” Max teased him immediately.

“I was out of form.” Lando sniffed, playing it cool. “Where have you been mate? You miss both padel and golf practice.” he placed his hand on Carlos’s upper arm, forgetting the cameras around them for only a moment. He let go of him then, staring, wanting to hear a word from him.

“I have been experiencing a few back pains.” Carlos replied him. Coldly; absolutely coldly.

“You? You have never been in pain since I’ve known you.” he said.

“Well, perhaps because I’m getting old.” Carlos spat out and yeah, something was definitely wrong.

“You’re not even thirty yet, mate.” Max added to the conversation when Lando’s silence filled the space.

“Anyway, I’ll see you later.” Carlos chose to ignore Max’s utterance and Lando’s concerned gaze, walking away immediately a second after.

‘How’s your back? How are we going to golf in November?’ He wrote before placing a laughing emoji. He stared at the screen and contemplated on whether to send it or not.

He had tried again to talk to him on Thursday evening, when he saw him outside Ferrari, getting Senior’s attention first.

“Lando Norris!” Senior hugged him. “How are you son?” he asked.

“I’m well and you?” he replied him politely.

“You are having a fantastic season. Congratulations!” he said to him.

Lando nodded affirmatively and finally turned to Carlos.

“I have been texting you. How is your back?” he asked him.

Carlos finally looked at him, brushing his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine.” he replied him.

Lando inhaled deeply, biting down his tongue in order to stop himself from really barking at Carlos that he had been awful and cold and distant and unfamiliar.

“Are you? Fine?” he pushed just a bit more.

“I’m busy. Pa, let’s go?” he asked him turning around and climbing the little red steps.

Lando furrowed his eyebrows, watching him once again disappearing.

“He has been strange. He is angry.” Senior said to Lando. “He is bad with respect. He takes things very seriously, especially from you.”

Lando turned to the older man quickly.

“What? What do you mean? What did I do?”

Lando jogged to his motorhome and texted both Jon and Max.

“Havent you seen the video I’ve sent you a week ago?” Max asked him through the line.

“No, I must have forgotten.” Lando replied him. “What is it? How did you know what I’m talking about?” Lando furtively asked.

“Because you did him dirty man! It’s a complication of the same interview and it was all over Twitter.”

“What the fuck?” Lando whispered and quickly ended the call.

He remembers the interview; it was with some American podcast and he remembered having a miserable time but trying still to be funny and relaxed.

“I’ve had this question ninety three times,” he giggled. “There are not many friends around…I consider Max and Lewis the only two strong drivers…Carlos made a lot of mistakes in that, yeah…Friends is a very big word…He didn’t help me, he did it for himself, of course…Except from me I would like Oscar to win the Championship…Haha, no, Oscar, not Carlos…I wish I could climb to fourth and pass Charles…What? Carlos is? Carlos is above Charles? I didn’t expect that!”

Lando cringed to the last line and locked his phone, placing it on the massage bed next to him.

“Why the fuck would someone make a fucking compilation of that?” he asked the room through his teeth. “And fucking tag-” he didn’t finish his utterance in order to take a deep breath in.

“Lando, what is it?” Jon asked him.

“Have you seen this?” he showed him the video.

“Ah, yes. It was all over Twitter-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded through a foul squeal.

“Because we have a job to do-”

“I don’t need the tough love, Jon. Why did the PR-you know what? I’m leaving.” he jumped off the bed and went looking for his backpack.

“I can talk to PR.” Jon offered.

“No, leave it. The point was to-fuck.” he couldn’t bear to explain either.

He returned to his hotel room and after a warm shower he fell on the bed very keen on sleeping.

It was sudden and overwhelming. He was used to pushing down and down everything that had to with Carlos; everything that wasn’t the friendship they had built. He had locked away the desire that had slowly grown within him. Memories, moments risked back from every time he had though a bit more than he should have. When Carlos had looked at him a certain way, the way he had smiled, the way he had touched him.

Each word echoed in his mind, the dam of restraint broke. Tears welled up in his eyes and the anguish of unspoken love and pain washed over him. He was vulnerable and exposed to himself like never before. He wasn’t as daft as he presented himself and he had realised his feelings long ago and because of that again, he had buried them deep inside, where even intrusive thoughts could not win.

“I didn’t mean anything bad. I was trying to be cool or whatever. Carlos, you know me.” he sent. Perhaps it was too simple or perhaps it was too much, but Lando needed to do something, to say something and opted for that. If he was to overthink it, he would have never sent it.

The long awaited reply didn’t come, even on FP Friday and he felt an emptiness in his stomach, still his words about Charles echoing in his mind.

“Good job! Let’s do the same on quali, yeah?” Will smiled at him.

“Of course.” Lando agreed and pulled out his headphones.

He was miserable. He was miserable at training, at dinner and even in his hotel room when he was in the confines of his own space.

He stared at the unanswered text, and the one above it and the one right above the other.

That son of a bitch. He hated him. He absolutely despised him.

“That’s a pole position!” Will said in his ears. “*Good job! Need lineup?”

“Hey-yo! Yes!” Lando pressed the radio button, slowing down. “Yes! Gimme!”

“P2 Sainz, P3 Leclerc, P4 Verstappen, P5 Hamilton.” Will announced him.

“Well shit.” Lando mumbled after making sure he had his thumb off the radio button.

Charles approached him and told him something about turn seven while Lando was absolutely stuck on Carlos. The driver mode was off and he was back to a new kind of pinning; after so long he had reached this part. Distant unrequited pinning without even realising.

“Good job.” Carlos patted his shoulder when he approached him to get photographed.

“Oh, he speaks.” Lando said through his teeth, smiling to the cameras.

Charles must have heard him because he turned his head to look at him, but did not remark.

And just like this, the Spaniard walked away.

Lando felt his heart dropping and tried really hard to school his expression to a neutral one when he returned to the garage and was congratulated by everyone.

“Carlos, this is getting ridiculous.”

“My tyres are gone, man.” he said to the radio line.

“Push as long as you can. Two laps to go.” Will said to him and really Lando knew the answer. They hadn’t expected that kind of degradation and there was no room for a pit stop, he wasn’t far enough from the Ferrari behind him. He was rather sure that on the next DRS zone, he was going to get overtaken. There was no point making his tyres pop.

It was Carlos’s Ferrari that made a move on turn four of all the turns and Lando tried to defend but it was useless.

“Lando, don’t fight with him, we need to finish.”

“Wasn’t gonna.” Lando replied Will a bit annoyed. He looked on his mirror and saw Lewis behind.

“One corner, Lando.” he heard and inhaled deeply. “That’s it! Well done! P2!”

“Thanks guys, I’m sorry about the tyres, I’m not sure what went wrong.” he addressed the whole garage and factory and let go of the button.

He watched as Carlos stood on his Ferrari and raised his arms up. His eyes caught his father and walked quickly to him, keeping his visor down. His eyes were destroyed by the sweet and the tears that had started forming the moment he had got out his car. Every emotion he carried burst out of him completely. Out of the blue.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find Carlos waiting for him.

“Sorry.” he said to him the moment he embraced him.

“My fault.” Lando replied him.

Carlos pulled back and reached for his visor, raising it up to find his eyes. Oh, the Twitter people were going to have a field trip.

“Lando?” a question in his voice.

Thankfully, the director had to take Carlos away for his interview with DC and Lando managed to weight himself, calm down and take his balaclava off in order to wet his whole face with water. Good enough.

“What happened?” Lewis asked him in the cool down room.

“My tyres were destroyed. There was a massive increase on the asphalt heat.” he replied him.

Carlos walked into the room two and went straight for his water. He looked at the screen and his gaze stayed there for the whole minute they remained in the room.

The cameras cut and Carlos turned to him.

“Okay?” he asked him.

“Yeah.” Lando shrugged and followed Lewis.

He was drenched in champagne by the both men on the podium and smiled for the picture.

“Oi! Look here!” Rupert met them in the hallway, pointing his phone at them.

He opened his instagram and found no post; not like the last time. There was no use of the word “carlando”. There was nothing.

“Carlos…”

He threw his phone to his side and placed his arms over his eyes, trying really hard to not release what he actually felt.

“Jon, can you do me a huge favour?” he asked the drowsy man on the other side of the line.

He walked and decided he, under no circumstance, would ever say to anyone that he walked alone at that time of the night around São Paolo until he reached Carlos’s hotel.

“Carlos, it’s me.” he said as lowly as possible when he heard shuffling from the other side of the door.

The door opened and Carlos appeared, semi-naked and very sleepy.

“Lando- what the-”

“I’m sorry.” Lando stopped him, shutting the door behind him. “I hadn’t realised-I didn’t mean all that, it sounded awful.” he said.

Carlos pulled over his head a t-shirt and fixed his hair by fluffing them even more than before.

“I was being sarcastic and a bit annoyed with the hosts. I don’t remember anything.”

“Lando, okay,” Carlos rubbed his face with his palm and took a step forward. “It’s okay if you feel that way-”

“But I don’t! I think you are a very intelligent and strong driver and of course you can win the Championship and of course you are my friend and of course you are above Charles. I was just-just teasing-I don’t know!” he said all in one breath, feeling his eyes stinging. He wouldn’t cry. No.

“It’s not about-you-I cannot do this.”

“No, you will.” Lando took a step forward too. “You have been awful and you never told me why. I had to find out from your dad?”

Carlos exhaled lengthily. He was tired, he looked it certainly.

“You are welcomed to have those opinions. I just always think that friends should support each other and it’s all I have done since the first time I saw you. I met you.” Carlos tried to translate his thoughts into English, poor man. “I know it’s just press but sometimes words hurt especially from your friend. But well, you said there are no friends around.”

Lando blinked at him. His hand hovered above his neck by its own accord and he felt his breathing quickening.

“You are my friend. It was stupid and I didn’t think about it too much.”

“All I am saying is that support and respect are everything for me. I think that I have been both since we have met. But still, your opinion is your opinion Lando. Now I know that you feel-”

“No,” Lando said moving towards him and grabbing his face between his palms. He needed for Carlos to look at him right in the eye. To make sure he was looking. “I think you are incredible, Carlos. I-I think you are everything.” he whispered, his eyes falling on the Spaniard’s plump lips.

Carlos slightly raised his eyebrows in surprise but didn’t push him away, he didn’t falter.

“Lando…”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to be cool or whatever. My mind is a mess sometimes.” he said.

Carlos slightly nodded, afraid of disturbing Lando’s hold.

“Cabron,” the slightly taller man whispered. “I’m sorry. You can explain everything, I can too.”

A goddamn tear escaped him and he went to wipe it but Carlos beat him to it and caught it with his thumb.

“Don’t. Lando,” he breathed. “Kiss me.” he uttered.

“What?” Lando stuttered.

“Will you? I want to show you that I believe you and that I’m sorry too.” he explained.

And again, Lando wasn’t as daft as he portrayed himself. He would be pretty dense if he didn’t just do it. So he did.

Carlos tried to show him and he succeeded, making him a moaning mess. Who would have thought? Well, Lando had thought.

“Carlos…” he whispered when they finally paused.

“Cariño.” Carlos run his fingers through Lando’s curls. “That was bound to happen from the very start, no?” he smiled lopsidedly.

Lando mirrored him but his grin became wider, wilder.

“Yeah, yes it was.” he giggled.

“Let me post the Carlando picture now, eh?” he playfully said, leaning in again.

#f1 #formula 1 #fan fic #carlando #lando norris #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz jr and lando norris #carlando fanfiction #carlando fic #carlando au #carlando fiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fiction #f1 fic #f1 ficlet

65 notes · View notes

unitedbydevils · 7 days

Text

Match Review: Manchester City U18s 1-2 Manchester United U18s

MANCHESTER IS RED (go with it)

When United are mint, everything is mint, and fuck me are United's Under-18s mint - and also double winners. Up the fucking reds!

United started strongly at Leigh Sports Village, with a driving run and fizzing shot from Ethan Williams in the 3rd minute testing City keeper Brits. Three minutes later and Ruben Curley was doing the exact same again, but to no avail. Then, one minute later, magic happened.

A deep ball from just over the halfway line by Nolan lofted into Ethan Wheatley's path perfectly, but the touch and control to bring it down into a shooting action was technique Dimitar Berbatov would have applauded. Unreal composure and confidence, and topped off with a great finish at the near post past the stunned Brits.

City came back at United, and the game opened up into more of a back-and-forth affair, trading shots on goal, but United's organisation kept a very tight defensive structure and limited the Citizens from any real threat on Elyh Harrison's goal - not that the wunderkind needs too much help. Kid's a future star keeper.

The middle of the half approached and Harrison punts a goal kick up field towards RW James Scanlon. The Gibraltan international nods the ball wide to attacking full back James Nolan, who drives a curled pass forward along the ground into the path of Ethan Wheatley. A defender slides, he knocks it, but Wheatley has the pace. He nips in, rounds the keeper, slots home. 2-0 United and LSV is in bits. SCENES.

City kept up the battle though, and a great killer through ball nearly opened United up in the 34th minute but for a huge body interception and block by Harrison in net. City captain Heskey was potentially fouled in the United box by Jack Kingdon - no foul given though - but otherwise come half time there could be no complaints at United's lead.

The second half was more City, with United making substitutes for rotation's sake but also due to the dearth of depth in the first team squad meaning certain promising youngsters have been requested by Erik Ten Hag for Wednesday's Premier League game against Sheffield United.

Both sides had reasonable chances on goal but nothing too serious until Stephen Mfuni nodded home from a corner to give City five minutes of hope... which was almost realised but for a fantastic full-stretch save by Harrison off Alfa-Ruprecht's header.

City's play and persistence did deserve a goal, and with the arguable penalty in the first half, on another day it could have been a different affair. It is nice to see the best two teams make the final though, and make it a memorable contest.

youtube

It's the result that matters though, and the silverware is ours. The league and now the cup. What a bunch of lads.

Two games remain this season - both at home. Sunderland visit us this Saturday, and then there's one last game versus Everton on May 4th. Lets end strong. GGMU.

#manchester united #man u #man united #man utd #manchester reds #leigh sports village #manchester united u18s #manchester city u18s #stephen mfuni #ethan wheatley #ethan williams #james nolan #james scanlon #elyh harrison #jack fletcher #ruben curley #gabriele biancheri #u18s league cup final #Youtube

2 notes · View notes

hstylestuff · 5 months

Text

like or reblog if you save

76 notes · View notes

earhartsease · 7 months

Text

fuck him up, sheep

—

[ID: newspaper headline poster in a shop window with the all caps header "Leominster" and below that, the all caps headline "sheep attack dog owner in court" and below that a banner for website herefordtimes dot com]

note for non-brits: Leominster is pronounced lem-ster because of course it is

3 notes · View notes

hstylesicons · 1 year

Text

Harry Styles headers// Harry Styles layouts. LIKE OR REBLOG IF U CATCH, PLS!

49 notes · View notes

stellatekintsugi · 1 year

Text

Lewis Capaldi

16 notes · View notes

nyxneon · 11 months

Text

Last month i showed the Lake District in class (a kid needed it for his final exam) and of course there was one website that had the name "Cumbria" in the header. Can you imagine what happened?

How do you brits deal with it?

1 note · View note

russell-63 · 2 years

Note

I don't like Lando. Norris but as if his fans are mad at him for not going to Goodwood with Quadrant and is instead spending time with his girlfriend after a double header and before he has his home GP where he's likely to be doing a lot more media..

.also how hot is the black W10 livery with the black race suit and helmet on George?

Fr let this man enjoy a day off, Goodwood isn't mandatory for them to do 😭 (also I strongly believe lando is going to get the least coverage this year out of all brits but that's my three cents)

Extremely sexy truly, which **** do I have to suck to get it onto the w13??? @ merc answer me

#ask

9 notes · View notes

stateofsport211 · 1 year

Text

Senegal Edged Ecuador In A Thriller, the United States Advanced

A Recap of Groups A & B of the 2022 FIFA World Cup

The scenes as the final whistle blew, where Senegal advanced to the knock-out stage after defeating Ecuador 2-1 (📸 AS USA)

Yesterday saw the conclusion of Groups A and B of the 2022 FIFA World Cup, which confirmed the Netherlands' qualification to the knock-out stage, as well as naming 3 more qualifiers: Senegal (Group A), England, and the United States (both came from Group B). On the other hand, Qatar's elimination was further confirmed after they were outplayed by the Netherlands 0-2 due to Cody Gakpo's and Frenkie de Jong's goals throughout the two halves. They became the second host country since 1992 to be eliminated in the group stage, with a distinction to South Africa's 2010.

The other match of Group A sees the thrilling battle between Senegal and Ecuador, where Senegal initially led at 43' on Ismaila Saar's penalty. However, as soon as the second half started, Moises Caicedo scored an equalizer right in response to the corner, before Kalidou Koulibaly quickly responded minutes later with a half-volley right after the free kick to send Senegal to the lead, and the victory 2-1 by the end of the match.

The final standings of Group A (📸 AS USA)

As a result, the Netherlands strengthened their qualifying position by leading by 7 points, followed by Senegal who scored 2 wins by the end for 6 points. Ecuador left in third place, while Qatar was eliminated empty-handed since they only got 0 points by the end of the group stage.

Meanwhile in Group B...

Christian Pulisic scored a goal via a header to send the United States leading 1-0 before he sustained an injury afterward (📸 Sky Sports).

Two contrasting, but equally high-tension matches, appeared in two different forms: the Battle of the Brits (England v. Wales), and the most anticipated Iran v. United States (for some current geopolitical reasons).

In the first half, while England and Wales tied in a goalless manner, the United States started to lead by Christian Pulisic's goal at 38', where he "sacrificed" his header in a collision with Alireza Beiranvand, the Iranian goalkeeper, suffering a pelvic contusion afterward after being rushed to a nearby hospital. This score would then stay until the end of the match, where Iran tried to increase their intensity in the second half, but could not able to maximize their chances, knowing how well the United States defended.

Marcus Rashford's goal celebration after he scored his first goal in the match against Wales (📸 Daily Mirror)

However, England was proven to be the dominant Brit in this match against Wales. A perfect corner execution from Marcus Rashford opened the goal party at 49' before it was followed by Phil Foden's completion of the previous assists from the left to score another goal around 52'. England kept pressuring Wales until it bore another fruit with another Marcus Rashford goal after receiving a right-wing assist from Kalvin Phillips with a stunning finish at 67', where the pitch was left undefended by the Welsh.

The final standings of Group B (📸 Sky Sports)

As a result, both England and the United States secured their qualifying position to the knock-out stage, scoring 7 and 5 points, respectively, while leaving Iran and Wales to elimination.

With this outcome, the first two matches of the Round of 16 are set, which sets the Netherlands to face the United States and England to face Senegal in the other half. On paper, this might have looked like the Netherlands and England to take the match, but knowing the depth and surprises that this year's World Cup gives, we never know, it could also be the other way round, with the penalty shootout to the rescue should there be a draw and extra time!

#fifa world cup 2022 #fifa world cup #world cup qatar 2022 #football news #football updates #group stage #world cup #knock out stage #qatar 2022

2 notes · View notes