crash n burn | ln4
✦ word count - 1,358
✦ summary - y/n crashed out of the 2024 shanghai gp, and lando can’t help but worry.
✦ warnings - injuries, angst(?), worried lando, racing/f1 inaccuracies!!
✦ ava’s notes - f1driver!reader for this one, folks. sorry for the inactivity, i haven’t had the writing spark in a while. but here i am, and with a new sport, no less! i'm also trying smth new, no Capitalization...not sure if ya'll are into it. i got into f1 a couple weeks ago, so there might be several inaccuracies, but i tried my best. thank you for the support 🫶🏼 (sorry for the long ass note LMFAO)
f1 masterlist & nhl masterlist
THE FAINT SOUNDS OF VOICES reached your ringing ears. you could feel your head pounding from within the totaled car. suddenly, the simple act of opening your eyes was the hardest task for your shuddering body.
“y/n, are you alright?” the voices of your engineers could be heard through your helmet.
“i’m alright,” you mumble, not sure if the words made it out of your dry mouth. as your hands reach towards your harness and disconnect the latches, you let out a sigh of defeat, a whimper slipping past your lips.
you knew the race was over. the helmet was next to come off, throwing it out of your car before shakily ripping off the balaclava from your sweaty head. the act of taking off your helmet meant you couldn't talk to your team, you knew, but you couldn’t care less.
you felt like you couldn’t breathe with the restrictive head gear on.
tears burned behind your eyes, but you willed them back, refusing to show weakness. you felt and heard people around you. medics, probably, you couldn’t tell.
they were whirling around you and the war, or what was left of it. you felt them help you out and you let them, too tired to refuse. as your almost lifeless body left the constricted space, you took a heavy, deep breath, the exhale coming out trembling.
hands grabbed at your waist to keep you upright. waving a hand towards the concerned yet roaring crowd, the medics helped you into the van. before the double doors closed, you opened your eyes as much as you could and stifled a sob at what was left of your car.
you willed the strength to run your hands down your exhausted face. a blood pressure cuff made its way up your arm and you turned to the man responsible.
the thought of your family filled your head; are they worried? are they watching? your boyf-
lando.
you knew he’d be worried sick. turning your head towards the medic, you asked “c-can i speak to him? lando?”
the man – who you felt knew you were going to ask at some point – wordlessly handed you a headset, and you could already hear his yelling.
“-and none of you bloody fuckers have heard from her? complete bullshit. is. she. okay?!”
“lando?” his name spilled from your lips, relief ever so present in your voice, knowing he was okay — as well as he could be after seeing the love of his life crash, hard.
“babe? is that you? fuck- i hadn’t heard from you and i thought the worst.” he spoke, and you knew that if he wasn’t racing, he’d be running his hands through his hair like a madman.
“i’m okay lando, i promise,” you said, your hands gripping the microphone attached to the headset. “i’ll see you soon, okay?”
“yeah- yes, baby. i’m so glad you’re okay. i love you,’ and that was the last you heard before the doors of the medical van opened and you were being whisked away to the medical center in the paddock.
-
a mild concussion and a bruised rib.
you got off easy, they said. it could’ve been much worse, they said.
you just felt tired. exhausted. however many g’s your body was put through would have probably killed a normal civilian. soon enough, you saw the familiar head of dark curls jogging towards you. daniel wrapped you in a comforting side hug, running a hand up and down your back while he placed a soft kiss on top of your head.
“glad you’re alright, sugar,” he breathed out. “don’t know what i woulda done if you hadn’t ended up okay.”
a small, genuine smile appeared on your chapped lips as you leaned against his warm body. danny had dnf’d a couple laps before your crash, and you were slightly glad. it was nice to have a friend after your unfortunate end to the race.
“thanks, avocado,” you acknowledged, a hand coming to rest on his upper arm. the nickname stemmed from an interview he did with a kid that butchered his last name, saying avocado instead of ricciardo.
“you talk to lando yet?” danny asked, knowing your boyfriend is probably worried sick.
“yeah, spoke to him on the way here,” you answered. “he was worried sick, yelling at his team until i got on the radio. sorry you crashed out, danny. it wasn’t your fault.”
“ah i see,” he teased, knowing how much the boy loved you and worried over you. “and ‘s alright, couldn’t do anything to stop it. appreciate it though.”
you squeezed his arm before letting go, knowing he’d have to do interviews and such. “you got somewhere to be? interviews ‘n whatnot?”
danny turned his watch towards himself and swore, making you lightly chuckle. the sound of your laugh brought a smile to his face and he squeezed your arm back, his worried eyes scanning over your tired body. “you sure you’re alright? i can probably push the interviews back a few…”
waving him off with a flick of your hand, you affirmed that it was fine for him to go. he left you with another kiss to your temple and hurried off, turning around with another wave and his signature large, beaming smile. you blew him a kiss and he pretended to catch it, and you smiled fondly. your relationship with danny had always been friendly and flirty, lando never felt intimidated. a brother & sister bond is what it felt like with danny, being teammates strengthened your friendship greatly.
sleep was calling, but the crowd and bustling people kept you up. your eyes met the tv broadcasting the race, seeing the drivers come towards their garages. red flag, you correctly assumed.
fiddling with the zipper of your fireproof suit, you couldn't do much other than stay hydrated and watch the race. a few more people came in and visited you, mostly your team, to make sure you were okay and alive.
on the uncomfortable hospital bed, you tried to catch up on sleep. as soon as your eyes closed, you heard the voice of the commentators. “the race has come to an early end. y/l/n’s crash was brutal. we haven’t heard much about her condition as of yet…” their voices faded out as you heard commotion outside of your hospital bed.
minutes later, lando came barreling in. his fireproof suit was still suited up, and his eyes immediately locked onto your worn out body.
“oh y/n,” he whispered out. lando walked closer to you and carefully wrapped his arms around you, and you could feel his body buzzing from adrenaline.
“hi, lando,” you spoke softly, wrapping your arms around his slim torso. you could feel him hug you tighter. “they didn’t have to call off the race, y’know…i’m honestly fine.”
lando stood up straight and his eyes raked over you, similar to when daniel checked up on you. “fine my ass. you look like shit, y/n. but i’m so glad you’re okay.” his hands ran up and down yours, seemingly to calm himself and you down. “fuck the race, i had to see if you were okay.”
“just a bruised rib and-”
“and? there’s more?” lando’s concerned yet exasperated voice berated you.
you rolled your eyes before continuing, “-and a concussion. honey, i swear, i’m fine. they gave me meds for the headache and i’ve just been in here waiting for you.” you turned your head and grabbed his hand, your lips meeting the inside of his wrist. a smile formed on your face, trying to comfort him.
he sighed out in relief, glad you were okay. he brought you into his arms again. “i just- i don’t know what i would have done if it was worse. i’m so glad you’re okay.” you could feel him press a million kisses to the top of your slightly throbbing head.
a few seconds passed before you spoke up, teasing clear in your voice, “you’re gonna have to apologize to your team, y’know. your yelling was quite loud, baby.”
he groaned out dramatically and chuckled, “oh, fuck off.”
--
italics they could never make me hate you :/
(like/reblog/comment/follow, if you want! if ur a little ghost reader, i appreciate u xo)
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text messages with your cute sub yandere boyfriend ☆
cw: reader is implied to have a cock, no pronouns used, fingering (yandere receiving), kinda wholesome
[name'swhore]:
darling!! i changed my username for you!! do you like it?? (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭♡
[name'swhore]:
darling....? (;´Д`)
[name'swhore]:
please answer me...... (ㅠ﹏ㅠ)
[name'swhore]:
......
[name'swhore]:
*audio message of him crying* (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )
[name]:
damn bitch i'm at work i'll ttyl
[name'swhore]:
bitch? can you say that again? (,,o//o,,)
[name]:
........bitch?
[name'swhore]:
i just fingered myself to your message.... please call me your bitch more often.
(。•̀ᴗ-)✧
[name]:
ooookaaayyyyyyy.
feeling like teasing him a little, you smirk as you type out the next message. you imagine the expression he makes as he reads it.
[name]:
want me to do it for you when i get back?
[name'swhore]:
do what? (´・ω・`)?
[name]:
finger you.
[name'swhore]:
...
[name'swhore]:
YES. yes. yes. please. a million times yes. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
[name]:
be good and i will. and no hole pics. i almost got fired last time because i opened your message in front of my boss.
[name'swhore]:
right. sorry. please don't be mad. (´ε`;)
[name]:
send me another hole pic and i won't fuck you for a month.
[name'swhore]:
I'M SORRY!!!!!!! (˃̣̣̥△˂̣̣̥)
work was tiring today. you laid on your bed staring at the ceiling of your room, musing over a difficult customer you had to deal with hours prior. your serene expression was contrasted by your boyfriend's flushed face, who was currently curled up into a ball by your side, squirming as his tight hole was being ravaged by your tender fingers. you knew all his sweet spots, being able to ruin him even without fully paying attention. a rather loud moan brought you back from your thoughts, forcing you to be made aware of the mess your boyfriend had made all over your bed. the boyfriend in question was also currently lying face down, breathing heavily, trying to recover his composure. his hole continuously puckered as you pulled your fingers out, causing him to shudder. out of the corner of his eye, he peeked at you, upon seeing your unimpressed expression, trailed his eyes down to look at your crotch.
"you're not even hard...." he observed, not bothering to hide the obvious dismay in his voice. "are you... are you sick of me?" his mind races to find anything he could have done wrong. "i won't send you any more nudes unsolicited! i'll... i'll pick you up from work everyday!! i'll let you abuse my hole-"
"you let me do that already...."
"....i...i don't know!! uh..."
"god, calm down. i'm just not really in the mood today. sorry...." you decide to be nice and pat his head comfortingly as he lies back down, exhausted. "you want to hear about my day at work?"
he nods frantically, perking back up as he listens intently to your rambles. although he was a bit of a pathetic slut, domestic life with him was nice. maybe you'd fuck him properly next time...
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