Oscar Piastri Masterlist

I love love love your toto fics!!! can i req one where it's like based off of illicit afairs by taylor swift? specifically the bridge part?

A Thousand Cuts

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pairing: toto wolff x reader

summary: In the quiet, fleeting hours of the night, love feels fragile yet intoxicating. You swore this would be the last time, but forbidden hearts always return to the places they shouldn’t.

a/n: i really hope that you like it, i tried my best 😢

You promised yourself this would be the last time.

Standing in front of the mirror, your reflection mocked you, as if it could see straight into your unraveling heart. The dim lights of the train station flickered behind you, blurring into the fogged window. The announcement echoed through the platform, calling for a destination you’d memorized far too well.

This is it, you told yourself, gripping the edges of the seat as the train rattled through the city. One last time. One last night.

But you knew the truth. It wouldn’t be the last, just as it hadn’t been the last time before. The thought made your stomach twist, guilt settling into its usual corner alongside the yearning.

When you reached the hotel, your chest tightened. You hesitated at the door, the keycard warm in your trembling hand. The hallway was eerily quiet, your footsteps the only sound until you stood before the door.

You didn’t knock; you never had to.

Inside, Toto sat at the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his tie undone. He looked up as you entered, the faintest trace of relief flickering in his tired eyes.

—I wasn’t sure if you’d come. —he said softly, his Austrian accent curling around the words.

—I wasn’t sure either. —you admitted, closing the door behind you. The lock clicked, sealing you both in this fragile, fleeting world where nothing else existed.

—You always come back. —he murmured, standing. His presence filled the room, broad shoulders, sharp lines, the commanding air he carried even in moments like these.

—I shouldn’t,. —you replied, but your voice wavered.

—And yet. —he said, stepping closer.

He stopped just short of you, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from him. For a moment, neither of you moved. It was always like this, a dance of restraint, a futile attempt to draw lines in the sand when the tide always washed them away.

Then he reached for you, his hand curling around your wrist as if anchoring you to him. —Why do we keep doing this? —he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t answer, because the answer was too raw, too painful. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips brushing his in a kiss that tasted of desperation.

The hours that followed were a blur of tangled sheets and whispered confessions. His hands memorized you, his lips traced paths over your skin as if he could map out every inch of you before the sun rose. And you let him, because you didn’t know how to stop.

—Stay. —he murmured, his voice rough and pleading. His fingers trailed down your arm, his touch lingering as if he feared you might disappear.

—I can’t. —you whispered, though every fiber of your being screamed for you to stay.

—You can. —he insisted, his forehead resting against yours. —Just this once.

But you both knew it wasn’t that simple.

The morning arrived too soon, sunlight creeping through the curtains and shattering the fragile cocoon you’d built around yourselves. You sat on the edge of the bed, pulling your clothes on in silence, the weight of the inevitable goodbye pressing down on you.

—You don’t have to go. —he said, his voice steady, but his eyes betrayed him.

You turned to him, your heart breaking at the sight of him, disheveled, vulnerable, and entirely too much for you to bear. —We can’t keep doing this, Toto.

His jaw tightened, and he nodded, though the defeat in his eyes was unmistakable. —I know.

But neither of you moved.

Finally, you crossed the room, your hand lingering on the doorknob. You glanced back at him one last time, trying to memorize the way he looked in that moment—the way his shoulders sagged, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

—I’ll see you. —you said, your voice barely audible.

And then you left, the door clicking shut behind you.

The cool morning air hit your face as you stepped onto the street, and the tears you’d been holding back finally fell. You swore to yourself it would be the last time.

But deep down, you knew you’d be back.

Red Passion

main masterlist

pairing: ferrari!fernando alonso x gf!reader

summary: during his Ferrari years, Fernando Alonso finds solace and unwavering support in his girlfriend, who stands by him through victories and defeats. Amid the roaring engines and relentless competition, she reminds him of the love and warmth waiting for him beyond the track.

a/n: i know this is a little bit short but i hope that u guys like it, and Im so sorry for being so inactive here!!

The world blurred past him in shades of red and gold as the Italian sun dipped below the horizon. The Ferrari garage buzzed with post-race energy mechanics packing up, engineers analyzing data, reporters hunting for quotes. But for Fernando Alonso, none of that mattered the moment he saw her.

She stood near the back of the garage, just far enough to stay out of the chaos but close enough that he could find her instantly. Her eyes, warm and familiar, met his with a silent question: Are you okay?

He wasn’t. Not really. The race had been brutal. Second place, again. So close yet so far, the championship slipping between his fingers like sand. But as he walked towards her, her presence alone soothed the sharp edges of his disappointment.

The second he reached her, she wrapped her arms around him, her embrace firm and grounding. —You drove beautifully. —she murmured against his shoulder.

He sighed, pressing his forehead to hers, letting himself melt into her for just a moment. —Not enough.

Her fingers traced small circles on his back. —You always say that. And yet, everyone here knows you’re the best driver on the grid.

He huffed a small laugh, tilting his head to look at her. —Everyone?

—Well, maybe not Seb. —she teased, making him chuckle despite himself. —But even he knows it deep down.”

Fernando pulled her closer, her presence a welcome contrast to the ruthless world of Formula 1. Here, there were no engineers calculating lap times, no media spinning narratives just the woman who had loved him through it all.

—You always know what to say. —he admitted, brushing a strand of hair from her face. —How do you do that?

She smiled, her fingers tracing the outline of the prancing horse on his racing suit. —Because I know you. And I know that no matter what the results say, you give everything every time you’re in that car.

He sighed again, softer this time. His body ached, exhaustion creeping in now that the adrenaline had worn off, but she was here, steady and unwavering. That was enough.

—Come on. —she said, taking his hand. —Let’s get out of here. You need food. And sleep.

His lips quirked up. —Are you going to take care of me?

—Always. —she promised.

And as they stepped out of the paddock, away from the noise, the flashing cameras, and the weight of expectations, Fernando knew that no matter what happened on track, he had already won where it truly mattered.

hiii!!! I really love your fics!! can i req some toto angst? i LIVE for angst 🤭

Of course you can ‼️ just tell me some details you want for the fic 🤭

Me on my way to read a Slash fanfic

Toto Wolff is in a bad mood and bumps into a girl who spills coffee over him and he goes ballistic on her, only to find her waiting in his office later that day and realising that she is his new assistant. And he apologises and accidentally reveals that he thinks she’s pretty.

Spilled Coffee

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toto wolff masterlist

pairing: toto wolff x assistant!reader

summary: Toto Wolff, in a foul mood, bumps into a woman who spills coffee on him. After a heated exchange, he discovers that she’s his new assistant. Unapologetically bold and confident, she challenges Toto in ways he didn’t expect, forcing him to rethink his first impression.

warnings: tense initial interactions, light humor.

Toto Wolff’s day was, in a word, terrible. Meetings had dragged on endlessly, strategy discussions had gone nowhere, and the pressure of an underperforming car was taking its toll. By the time he left the conference room, his patience was running on fumes.

All he wanted was a cup of coffee to pull himself together before tackling the mountain of paperwork waiting in his office. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

As he rounded the corner of the hallway, he collided with someone moving at an equally brisk pace.

A gasp escaped from the other party, and before Toto could react, a wave of hot coffee splashed across his tailored suit.

—What the hell! —Toto barked, taking a step back, glaring down at the mess. His dark suit was stained, the sticky liquid seeping into the fabric.

—Oh, fantastic. —a voice responded sharply. —This is just what I needed.

Toto’s head snapped up at the tone. He was met with a pair of defiant eyes glaring right back at him. The woman standing before him wasn’t apologizing; in fact, she seemed just as annoyed as he was.

—Excuse me? —Toto said, his tone sharp and cutting. —You just ruined a suit worth more than your monthly salary.

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. —Maybe if you watched where you were going, this wouldn’t have happened. But sure, blame the person holding the coffee instead of the one charging through the hallway like a freight train.

Toto blinked, momentarily stunned by her boldness. Most people would have been tripping over themselves to apologize, but not her.

—Do you even know who I am? —he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Her lips twitched into a dry smile. —Oh, I know exactly who you are. Toto Wolff, the team principal of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, right? Well, congratulations. Today, you’re also the guy who doesn’t look where he’s going.

Toto’s jaw clenched, his irritation boiling over. —You-

—You’re welcome for the coffee, by the way —she cut him off, brushing past him with a pointed look. —Consider it a wake-up call..

Toto stood there, speechless, as she walked away.

Later That Day

Toto couldn’t shake the incident. As much as he hated to admit it, her sharp wit and unapologetic attitude had left an impression. Most people didn’t dare speak to him that way, and it gnawed at him.

When he finally returned to his office, he hoped to bury himself in work and forget the whole thing. But as he stepped inside, he stopped short.

Sitting at his desk, flipping through a folder, was the same woman from earlier.

She glanced up as the door opened, her expression neutral. —Oh, you’re back.

—What are you doing here? —Toto demanded, his voice laced with irritation.

She closed the folder and stood, offering a polite but firm smile. —I’m your new assistant.

Toto stared at her, his mind racing to catch up. —You’re—what?

—Your assistant —she repeated. —Surprise.

For the first time in a long while, Toto was at a loss for words. —No one informed me of this.

—Well, I was informed —she said, leaning against the desk casually. —And here I am.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to suppress the wave of embarrassment washing over him. —Look, about earlier—

She held up a hand, cutting him off. —Don’t bother. I’m not fragile, Mr. Wolff. You were rude, I was rude back. Let’s call it even.

Her bluntness caught him off guard again. Most people tiptoed around him, afraid to upset the boss. But she wasn’t afraid, and it was… refreshing.

—I owe you an apology —Toto said after a pause, his tone more measured. —I was out of line.

She studied him for a moment before nodding. —Accepted. Now, are we done with the awkward apologies, or do you have more to add?

Toto almost smiled. Almost. —You’re… direct.

—Is that a problem?

—No. —he said quickly. —It’s… effective.

As she turned back to his desk, her movements fluid and confident, Toto muttered, almost to himself, —You’re quite pretty when you’re not yelling at me.

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

She froze, glancing back at him with a sharp look. —Excuse me?

Toto’s eyes widened slightly, realizing what he’d said. His ears turned red, a rare show of embarrassment for the usually composed team principal. —I- what I meant was—

She tilted her head, arms crossed. —Are you complimenting me, Mr. Wolff?

Toto cleared his throat, struggling to regain his composure. —It was just an observation. A poor choice of words, perhaps.

Her lips twitched into a smirk, her confidence unwavering. —Noted. For the record, you’re a bit easier to deal with when you’re flustered.

Toto blinked, caught off guard again. She was a force to be reckoned with, and he wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed or impressed.

—I’ll keep that in mind. —he said, his voice softer this time.

She turned back to her work, a quiet laugh escaping her. Toto watched her for a moment longer, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Maybe this wasn’t the worst first day after all.

So like queen idk if u have instagram but like recently the leclercs went to Mexico so can we maybe get smthn REALLL angsty where its like carlos x leclerc reader and she’s not too close to the family. (not on her part mainly charles and arthur) and they go on vacation without telling her and she’s like sad. You can have more ending if u want

💐 anon

a/n: okay, let me know if this is what you wanted. because I understand the point but not too much.

Left Behind

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part 2

pairing: carlos sainz x leclerc!reader

summary: left out of a family vacation, you confront Carlos about the secrecy and the growing distance with your brothers. Tensions rise, but Carlos’ heartfelt apology offers a chance for reconciliation and understanding.

warnings: angst, themes of exclusion and insecurity, emotional confrontation.

The early morning sunlight crept through the curtains of your shared apartment in Mónaco, but the warmth on your face did little to ease the growing heaviness in your chest. You scrolled through Instagram absentmindedly, your feed filled with glimpses of familiar faces. Your brother, Charles and Arthur. Both smiling and laughing under the mexican sun.

Charles had posted a picture of himself sipping on a cocktail by the pool, Arthur had shared a video of their group riding ATVs through the desert, and then there was Carlos—your boyfriend of two years—posing in the same photos, his trademark smile shining brighter than the sun.

And yet, no one had told you about the trip.

Not a single word.

Your throat tightened as you swiped through the posts. You hadn’t even known they were leaving Monaco, let alone heading off to Mexico. What hurt most wasn’t the secrecy — it was the reminder that, despite your efforts, you were still an outsider in your own family.

You’d always known that Charles and Arthur shared a bond you could never quite penetrate. They were close, the kind of brothers who had their own language, their own inside jokes. As their sister, you loved them deeply, but there had always been a sense of distance, a silent barrier that set you apart.

And Carlos… he had fit into their world so seamlessly. You’d seen it from the beginning, the way he joked with Charles like they’d been friends forever, the way Arthur looked up to him. Sometimes it felt like Carlos belonged with them more than he belonged with you.

You sighed, setting your phone aside and staring blankly at the ceiling. The questions swirled in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

Why didn’t they tell me? Did they think I wouldn’t care? Or… did they just not want me there?

The sound of the front door opening pulled you from your thoughts. Carlos walked in, a small carry-on bag in hand. His face lit up when he saw you, but his smile faltered when he noticed the expression on your face.

—Mi amor. —he greeted, stepping closer. —What’s wrong?

You crossed your arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. —You tell me, Carlos. How was Mexico?

His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by your tone. —Mexico? How did you—

—Instagram. —you interrupted, holding up your phone. —Charles and Arthur have been posting non-stop. Seems like everyone had a great time. Everyone but me.

Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair. —I can explain—

—Can you? —you snapped, your voice trembling.

—It wasn’t like that. —Carlos began, his tone pleading. —It was a last-minute thing. Charles invited me—

—And you didn’t think to invite me?

Carlos hesitated, guilt flashing in his eyes. —It wasn’t my place to invite you. It was your family’s trip, not mine.

The words stung, each one hitting like a blow to the chest. —My family —you repeated bitterly. —Right. The family that always makes me feel like I don’t belong.

Carlos stepped closer, his expression softening. —That’s not true—”

—Isn’t it? —you challenged, tears brimming in your eyes. —They didn’t want me there, Carlos. And you went along with it. Do you have any idea how that feels?

He reached for you, but you took a step back. —I thought you were on my side. I thought… I thought I could count on you.

—Mi amor… —Carlos said softly, his voice heavy with regret. —I never wanted to hurt you. If I had known this would upset you—

—You should have known —you cut him off. —You should have thought about how I’d feel. But you didn’t.

The tension in the air was suffocating, the silence between you deafening. Finally, Carlos broke it.

—You’re right —he admitted in a whisper.

His apology caught you off guard, the sincerity in his voice cutting through your anger. You looked at him, searching for any hint of dishonesty, but all you saw was regret.

—I love you —he continued, stepping cautiously closer. —And I never want you to feel like you’re not enough. Not with me, not with anyone.

Your resolve faltered, but his words didn’t fill the emptiness in your chest. You took a small step back, letting the distance between you speak for itself.

—I don’t know if it’s that simple, Carlos —you whispered, avoiding his gaze. —I can’t keep feeling like an outsider.

Carlos froze, his expression pained. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped. He took a breath, and his shoulders slumped slightly.

—I’ll do whatever it takes. —he said quietly. —But only if you let me.

You didn’t respond, your thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. The love you felt for him was still there, but so was the hurt, the lingering doubt.

Carlos nodded, his jaw tight, his eyes filled with understanding—and fear. —Take all the time you need.

He didn’t try to close the distance again, and you didn’t move to close it either. Instead, you stood there, two people caught in the uncertainty of what came next.

The only sound in the room was the faint hum of the city outside, a reminder that the world kept turning even as yours felt stuck in limbo.

Home

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pairing: max verstappen x mom!reader

summary: after a long race weekend, Max Verstappen finally comes home to his wife and daughter.

The house was quiet when Max finally stepped through the door, the only sound being the faint hum of the baby monitor on the kitchen counter. It was late—too late—but he still found himself moving carefully, as if afraid to wake the sleeping peace that filled his home.

He had been away for nearly a week, racing on the other side of the world, and though he loved what he did, the absence of his family was something he never quite got used to.

And then, just as he was placing his keys down, a soft voice broke the silence.

—You’re home.

Turning, he found you standing at the hallway entrance, dressed in one of his old Red Bull hoodies, your hair slightly messy from sleep. Your smile was tired but warm, and just like that, the weight of the past days melted away.

Without hesitation, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You smelled like home, like everything he had been missing.

—I missed you. —he mumbled against your skin.

You chuckled, fingers threading through his hair. —I missed you too. We both did.

At that, Max pulled back slightly, a quiet question in his eyes. —Is she asleep?

You nodded. —She asked about you all day, though. Even tried staying up to see you, but you know how that goes.

A fond smile tugged at Max’s lips. His daughter, Brie, had inherited his stubbornness, but she was still too little to fight off sleep for long.

—Can I see her? —he asked softly.

Hand in hand, you led him down the hall to her room. The nightlight cast a soft glow, illuminating the small figure curled up under a blanket. Max crouched beside her tiny bed, taking in the peaceful rise and fall of her breathing, the way her little hand clutched onto one of her favorite stuffed animals.

He reached out, brushing a stray curl from her face. —Hey, meisje. —he whispered. —Papa’s home.

Even in sleep, she stirred slightly, as if sensing his presence. His heart clenched.

—You should get some rest too. —you murmured from the doorway.

Max exhaled, pressing a gentle kiss to Brie’s forehead before standing. —Yeah. But first, I just want to hold you for a while.

Back in your bedroom, he pulled you into bed with him, arms wrapped securely around you. For the first time in days, he could truly relax.

—This. —he murmured against your temple. —is the only podium I ever want to be on.

His lips brushed your ear as he whispered. —And when she’s asleep, I’ll show you just how much I missed you.

With that, sleep finally claimed him—safe, warm, and right where he belonged.

Charles Leclerc Masterlist

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*gif not mine*

𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒

⌗ Under the mistletoe

HERE

-in which charles and his partner take a quiet christmas walk through the snow, chatting about the holiday season

Wild Games

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pairing: lewis hamilton x singlemom!reader

summary: a single mom, two teens, and lewis hamilton love unfolds through laughter, UNO, and a game of Twister.

a/n: dont have any ideas, so please send requests 🗣‼️

There’s pizza grease on Dash’s cheek, Ari’s taken over the aux cable, and Lewis is laughing like a man who’s finally figured out where he belongs.

The board games are scattered across the coffee table, but Dash’s eyes gleam with mischief when he holds up the UNO deck like it’s Excalibur.

—You ready to lose, old man? —he says, grinning at Lewis.

—Oh, it’s on —Lewis replies, cracking his knuckles in exaggerated slow motion. —But I play ruthless.

You raise an eyebrow, slipping into the couch next to Ari. —So do I.

Ari smirks. —Let’s destroy him, Mom.

Lewis gasps, clutching his chest. —And you, Ari?

The first few rounds go light and fun, until Dash starts stacking +2s like a little gremlin. Ari counters with a Reverse, you hit Lewis with a +4, and suddenly he’s drowning in a sea of vengeance-colored cards.

—You people are animals. —Lewis says, half-laughing, half-suffering. —How am I the only one with 27 cards?

—Because you messed with the wrong family —Dash says with the air of a supervillain.

You’re all cracking up by the time Ari wins the round with a smug. —UNO… and out.

Lewis throws his cards down dramatically. —That’s it. I’m challenging you all to Twister. Let’s see how flexible these egos are.

Dash lets out a yell and dives for the game box before anyone can argue.

Minutes later, you’re on the floor. Literally.

The Twister mat is sprawled out, and the living room looks like it survived a soft tornado made of teens, limbs, and suppressed laughter.

Ari’s already out, she “accidentally” fell during a left-foot-yellow situation that she swears was sabotage.

Dash is hanging on by a toe and a prayer.

Lewis is next to you, way too close for someone trying to win, and somehow his left hand is barely an inch from yours.

—Right hand, blue. —Ari announces with fake menace from the side.

You reach. So does Lewis. Your hands land at the same time. His pinky brushes yours.

It shouldn’t matter.

It shouldn’t send a lightning bolt straight through you.

But it does.

And when you look up, he’s already watching you with that smile. The one he saves for when the kids are distracted. The one that says, we’re more than just this game.

Your heart skips.

You’re not sure if it’s because of the tension in your back or the tension in the air.

Dash loses it, like literally and figuratively, tumbling to the side with a dramatic grunt. —I’m out. My spine doesn’t bend like that.

Which leaves just you and Lewis. Face to face. Hand to hand. Heart to—

—Left foot green! —Ari yells, loving this way too much.

You move. He moves. The moment stretches.

—You okay? —he murmurs, barely audible.

You nod, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much.