It Is A Knife - Jack Abbot.

*see him anywhere*

Danny Ric: NIIICOOOOOOOO HUUUUUUUULKENBERG!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

So I’ve written my first fanfic in the F1 realm if anyone is I treated in reading it. I’ve waited until I was fully done to publish it because that’s how I prefer to write. I pop in and out of sections, tweaking things until I get the story line the way I want. Maybe one day I will learn how to format stories here with a linked master list (someone show me please!) but until then.. here you go… I figured the world needed more Nico Hulk fanfics

Finally Harry Kane won his first ever trophy!!!! 🥺🥺🥺 Thought the curse still on but not today it seems!!!!

Look how happy he is in the sec pic🥺🥺🥺😭😭

This is what I live for!!! 🥺🥺

Could you do fic for jealous!Toto Wolff with wife reader? The Merc garage has invited someone to the paddock and it's someone who the reader idolizes (male). Her whole attention goes to him and Toto's feel jealous because he's always away and can't spend time with her eyes when he's home. But she assured him that everything is fine. Add something else to it if you want to. Just something fluff and cute. Thanks!! :)(

divorce babe divorce | toto wolff

toto gonna be stressing through this whole fic

Before the 2023 F1 season ended, it had been announced that Keanu Reeves would take part in a documentary about Brawn GP formula one team. It was no secret that the actor had a big passion for motorsports so as a way to promote the upcoming documentary, Keanu was invited to COTA. Toto kept this information from you since you. He knew that younger you had a massive crush on Keanu, you told him many times when you watched one of Keanu’s movies. You teasing Toto that you would leave him for Keanu started off as a joke, but he was always overthinking.

Austin was hot. It was Texas after all, they had unpredictable weather every day, but race day just so happened to be sunny. You were seated in Toto’s chair in the Mercedes garage, scrolling on your phone when you heard Lewis call your name. You turned your head and saw him walking towards you with the man you had been crushing on when you were a teenager.

“This is Mrs. Wolff, y/n meet Keanu.” Lewis introduced you. He smiled wide, he also knew you were a Keanu fan.

“H-Hi, oh god. Welcome! I heard Mercedes was going to have a guest i just wasn’t expecting. . . you.” You said nervously. “It’s definitely not a bad thing! Don’t take it like that!”

Keanu laughed. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for having me. This whole experience is incredible.”

Lewis excused himself when he noticed how relaxed you had gotten. He felt confident you could be on your own with Keanu so he left to get ready for the race.

When Toto entered the garage, he really wasn’t expecting to see another man make his wife laugh and smile.

How could she laugh at another man’s jokes? Was I not funny enough? Maybe I’m trying too hard or not enough? And she’s smiling! How could she sit there and laugh? thought Toto.

Before Toto could continue overthinking, you called for him.

“Keanu, this is my husband, Toto.”

Toto forced a smile. “I’m her husband.”

Keanu continued to be his genuine self and talked to Toto about Formula 1. The team principal only nodded and smiled, occasionally mumbling a yes or a no. You knew something was going on with Toto. Why was he being like that?

Keanu excused himself to go to the restroom before the race started. This was your opportunity to talk to your husband. While you sat in his chair, he stood beside you looking over paperwork.

“What was that about?” You nudged him.

“What?” He questioned, not looking up from his papers.

“You know what. I saw that forced smile. I know you, Torger. Have you forgotten that?” You asked.

Finally Toto put his attention on you. “Am I a good husband?”

“Toto, why are you asking me this?”

“I heard you laughing with him. You haven’t laughed like that in a while. And the way you were smiling, you looked so beautiful,” Toto admitted. “I haven’t been the best husband, I know. I’m always away and you’re always alone in our house.”

You took his hand in yours. “Toto, you are the greatest husband ever. Don’t ever think you’re not. I love you so so much. I loved you yesterday, I love you today, I will love you tomorrow and everyday.”

To Toto, It sounded like a sweet song hearing you say those words.

“I love you too.” He kissed your lips. “But, don’t get mad, but in another universe, would you ever date Keanu if you had the chance?” He curiously asked.

You looked at him with pure love in your eyes. “In every universe, I’d find my way to you.”

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

summer break | fernando alonso

an: thank you for the request!!

yourusername added to their story

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yourusername summer break in 🇬🇷

jensonbutton no invite?

yourusername fernandoalo_official i think this question is meant for you

fernandoalo_official 😐

carmenmmundt i miss the girls 🥲 come visit soon!!

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

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

elplannando right?? i feel old

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fernandoalo_official my girls in greece ❤️

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

lewishamilton ❤️❤️

yourusername 😻

yourusername 🐝🪐🤍🤡👽🤖

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fernandoalo_official hi girls give mom her phone back

yourusername no

f1waggss LOL

nandosaston LIVE LAUGH LOVE THE ALONSO GIRLS 🫶🏻

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

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

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

Well, mostly peace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toto blinked. “Here? In the paddock?”

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

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

“Hopefully not before I get my dance.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You wouldn’t dare.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❤️

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

Good kind of chaos

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

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

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: flufffff

A/N:

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

Happy reading xxx

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fernando Alonso x wife!reader

alonsoyn_ ✓

liked by lance_stroll, astonmartinf1 and others 66.965 people

alonsoyn_ My destiny🤍😘

astonmartinf1 The best❤️

alonsoyn_ 😘😘

user I really want what they have

user I love a couple there 😍

user One of the longest lasting couples

user proud to say that I've been here since the beginning of their relationship Hahaha

fernandoalo_oficial My love, I love you so much. ❤️

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

lance_stroll ❤️

alonsoyn_❤️💐

landonorris I want a relationship like yours mom

carlossainz55 I also want

alonsoyn_ Just stop being naughty guys😅😂❤️

user I'M DYING WITH YN RESPONSE LOL

landonorris damn mom, you humiliated us 😂

carlossainz55 I can try lol

alonsoyn_ 😑😑

user I LOVE YN AND FERNANDO

estebanocon make your words mine.

charles_leclerc make your words ours.

carlossainz55 rt.

oscarpiastri rt.

lance_stroll rt.

landonorris rt.

maxverstappen rt.

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alex_albon rt.

mickschumacher rt.

astonmartinf1 rt.

user MY GOD, I WILL END LIFE

user Mom and dad 😍

user 😍😍

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fernandoalo_oficial ✓

liked by alex_albon,nyckdevries and others 743.525 people

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

user The beauty of this family sir 😍

userbr Oi sogra,Oi sogro 😘

user what's his @? Anybody know?

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

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

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

alonsoyn_ My babies, and my adorable, hot husband😍

user and what a husband uff👏🏼😮‍💨😮‍💨

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

user I want you 😋

landonorris wanting is not being able to love

user LANDOO 😂

user 😍

user I want to be part of your family,I could even be a family dog 🥺😭

alonsoyn_ You guys are awesome lol I love you🤍😂

user Yn and Nando🫦🫦🫦

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alonsoyn_ and fernandoalo_oficial

liked by zhouguanyu24,lance_stroll and 91.102 people

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

user I want what they have 😭

user 😍

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

user God, they are so cute 🥹🥹

user the most beautiful couple in the whole world!!

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user adopt me, i can sleep in the dog house 😭

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user Fernando's little face in the fourth photo lol how cute 🥰🥹

user Fan of your relationship 😍🫀

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

user mother and father 😍

user their love overflows 😍

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I had the most amazing dream last night. It's about me and he getting together and just it's so cute🥺🥺🥺🥺 And that he is DR JACK FUCKING ABBOT!!!!!! Can you believe that???? Just binge watching the Pitt and already dream about him 🫠

Best birthday gift ever!!!!!

Happy birthday to my friend @pear-1206!!!

Title: “The Birthday Curveball”

It started with a DM.

A playful comment under one of Nico Hülkenberg’s photos:

“If you’re free on June 11, I’ll save you a slice of cake 😌🎂 #BirthdayWish”

He never replied. Of course not. He was a Formula 1 driver. She was just a fan.

But he saw it.

And something about it—her casual tone, the cute selfie on her profile, the fact that she was wearing one of his old caps backwards—stuck with him.

He screenshotted it and forgot about it… almost.

————————————-

June 11th arrived.

It was just supposed to be a quiet birthday. She’d taken the day off work, treated herself to a bakery coffee, and spent most of the afternoon binge-watching old race highlights in pajamas.

Her friends had tried to throw together a dinner, but plans fell apart last minute. One was sick, another stuck in traffic.

So she was alone. A little wistful, but trying not to care. She lit a single candle in her slice of store-bought cake.

“Happy birthday to me,” she whispered with a smile, blowing it out.

Just then, her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number:

“Check your door. x – N”

She blinked.

Her heart stopped.

No. It couldn’t be.

Still in pajamas, she padded barefoot to the front door, unsure whether to laugh or scream.

And when she opened it—

There he was.

Nico. Hülkenberg.

Standing on her doorstep in jeans and a soft black hoodie, holding a small white box and the most sheepish, adorable grin she had ever seen in her life.

“Happy Birthday,” he said. “I brought cake. And I had some free time.”

She was frozen.

“Um,” she said brilliantly. “Are you real?”

He laughed. “Pretty sure. I had to ask your friend for your address. She told me you loved tiramisu and that you weren’t doing anything big tonight.”

“She knew about this?”

“She helped. Promise it wasn’t too creepy. I figured you invited me first.” He raised his brows.

She gasped. “The Instagram comment! I was joking—”

“I wasn’t.” He stepped forward and lifted the box. “I mean it. If you’re still offering cake, I’m offering company.”

⸻

They sat on her little couch, knees nearly touching. She was still in her pajamas, cheeks hot, mind racing. He told her stories from the paddock, teased her gently when she showed him the poster on her wall, and they laughed like they’d known each other for years.

She forgot to be nervous. He forgot the world outside her cozy apartment.

And when the cake was finished, and he stood to leave, he looked at her like he was memorizing the moment.

“I think birthdays should always come with surprises,” he said softly. “And maybe… next time, you let me plan something even better?”

She nodded, speechless.

Nico smiled.

Then, on her doorway, under the soft golden light—he kissed her cheek.

“Happy Birthday,” he murmured again

A Letter To Old Days.

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

Words: 1.176.

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

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

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

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

So, there is this boy...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it was just a game your mind played.

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

You fell for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you are still falling.

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