#ForYou

[von2dutch]

[iheartsophie]

Just Keep Watching | lando norris

^ྀི pairing: Lando Norris x reader, singer!reader

^ྀི genre: fluff? established!relationship

^ྀི context: You’re a singer chosen to write and perform the lead song for the new F1 movie. The 2024 drivers are watching from behind the scenes, but while the rest are laughing and cheering you on, Lando… Lando can’t even look.

^ྀི sophie speaks: I’m really loving doing singer!reader and i’ve got some ideas of some more singer fics and i’ve also got some ready to publish but i just need to edit them first! 💋

There’s a type of silence that doesn’t come from the absence of sound.

It’s the kind that fills the air when every eye is locked on one thing. Breath held. Muscles tense. And for Lando Norris—watching you walk in the middle of a live track while F1 cars screamed past you—it was suffocating.

“She’s mad,” Charles muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief from the barricaded pit wall.

“Or brave,” Lewis grinned, watching the playback monitor, one leg casually crossed over the other like he wasn’t even slightly concerned about your mortality.

“She’s mental,” Lando said flatly, his arms crossed tight across his chest, jaw clenched.

“Jealous it’s not you being serenaded by McLaren’s paint job?” George teased, nudging Lando with his elbow.

“I’m not joking,” Lando muttered, eyes flickering away from the camera feed. “I can’t watch this, man.”

“You do realize she’s not actually in danger, right?” Oscar chimed in from behind him. “They’re professional stunt drivers. She’s completely safe.”

“That’s what they said about Daniel when he jumped off that yacht in Monaco,” Max added dryly.

There was a beat of silence. Then everyone started laughing—except Lando.

⸻

Earlier that year…

When the directors of the upcoming F1 movie reached out to you, it sounded too surreal to be true - though you weren’t too surprised your boyfriend was an F1 driver after all.

“We want a lead song,” they said. “One that feels cinematic and makes you feel like you’re having a small adrenaline rush and fits the vibe of the sport.”

You locked yourself in your studio for a week and came out with Just Keep Watching.

And when they approved it for the movie’s trailer, then requested a full music video—on a live F1 track, no less—you were thrown into a surreal whirlwind of smoke machines, drones, flame-proof boots, and high-speed rehearsals.

And one British F1 driver who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you… unless your life was in danger.

⸻

“Places!” the director shouted through a megaphone.

Your mind immediately locked in and you had a small internal pep talk to yourself. The stunt director came up to you and told you where to walk and where not to walk. Before the cameras started rolling your stylist came and straightened out your custom-racing-inspired outfit, a black racing suit with red accents which was tied around the waist and a plain black bra underneath.

“Camera 1, steady. Car line-up ready on both sides.”

You turned toward the track and saw the 20 F1 cars that would soon be speeding and swerving around you. All stunt-driven, because even though it was the guys job to drive these cars their job description doesn’t specify in swerving around people at high speeds also.

As the engines revved behind the camera, you sucked in a sharp breath. The song started in your earpiece.

“Goes like this, start with the track. Eyes on me, archin' my back. Just like this here for the night. You ain’t buyin’ in? Just keep watching”

The camera rolled. You stepped forward.

⸻

The cars weren’t driving with you. They were racing past you. Opposite direction. Inches away.

You kept walking. Staring dead into the lens. The wind from the cars nearly knocked you sideways, but you kept time with the beat, like you were immune to the chaos around you.

“I wanna make my mind up. Cause i know where this might go. Wanna take your time up. But you make it difficult”

Another McLaren car flew past, papaya blur.

From the pit wall, Lando swore and spun around, scrubbing a hand over his face like he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mate,” Alex said between laughs, “you drive this fast every weekend.”

“Exactly. I know what it’s like in that seat. If one of those stunt drivers sneezes at the wrong time, she’s a goner.”

“She’s safer than you are during a Grand Prix,” Max pointed out.

“Shut up, Max.”

⸻

When the final cut wrapped, the music cut and silence blanketed the track. The cars pulled away into cool-down zones, and the crew erupted into applause.

But you?

You turned straight toward the pit wall, heart still slamming in your chest, and smiled like you’d just finished a damn ballet recital.

“I swear,” Lando muttered, shoulders sagging in relief, “I’m gonna kill her.”

“She’s walking over here,” Pierre smirked.

“Good. Great. Can’t wait.”

You jogged toward the group of drivers, your racing boots clacking on the tarmac, arms open in mock celebration. “Did it look sick or did it look sick?”

Lando didn’t answer. He just grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the others, behind the McLaren truck where it was quieter.

“Hey—what—?”

“Don’t do that again,” he said, voice tight, eyes flashing.

You blinked. “It’s a music video, Lan.”

“You had cars going head-on around you.”

“They weren’t going to hit me.”

“You don’t know that!”

You fell quiet. The echo of your breath still caught in your ears. You took a step closer.

“Were you scared?” you asked softly.

He huffed. “Terrified.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Because I could’ve been hurt or because you—?”

“Because you mean too much to me for that to be how I lose you,” he said quickly, before his brain could stop his mouth.

The words hit you harder than the wind off the Mercedes had.

Then his hands found your face.

“I watched you walk through chaos like it was nothing,” he murmured. “You looked beautiful. Untouchable. But I was losing my mind.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I’m right here.”

“I know,” he breathed. “And I’m gonna keep you here.”

⸻

Two weeks later, the music video dropped.

Over 20 million views in 24 hours.

Thousands of F1 fans dissecting every frame.

“You can see the Red Bull inches from her shoulder here.”

“The way the Ferrari whips her hair back—cinematic genius.”

“I just know Lando was bricking it when she was filming it.”

But it was the behind-the-scenes clip posted by the F1 social team that really sent fans into a frenzy.

Lando, hiding behind Oscar.

Lando, swearing under his breath.

Lando, pulling you away the second filming wrapped and whispering something no one could hear.

The top comment?

“Everyone else: ‘cool video.’. Lando Norris: ‘My girl just danced with death in a fireproof suit and heels and I’m supposed to be okay with this?’”

⸻

And when the red carpet premiere rolled around, and you walked it hand-in-hand with Lando, you turned to the cameras with a wink.

“Don’t worry,” you said, tugging on his sleeve. “He kept watching.”

And Lando? He just smiled like he hadn’t blinked once since the day you walked through fire and kept your eyes only on him

[ashourmohammed]

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[shaveyoureyebrows]

Trump's New Policy (ft. Tiff and Eve by @crazygnomenclature)

Anyway PLEASE tell me tumblr is home to Typing of the Dead fans I need to find my people

[lymeko]

Cute silly lil comic I made :3

Go support me on my TikTok please!! @lymekoisme

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[starrystarrr]

OJALA LO VEA NEKOO

Es la primera vez que publico algo en esta aplicación y hace poco la descargue para seguir las redes sociales del creador de este personaje.

Aquí esta mi dibujo de Pierrot! 🎪❤

Amaría que lo viera 😭

But Aniways. . .

Espero que les guste ¡! ✨

[sapphicaltgirls]

Blending "I need to feel loved", and "I love you".

[numblocprince]

DITYS @headlessgrasshopper !!! I LOVE THEM!!!✨🌹 😋 Og pic👇🏻 for good pic, tap it :3

I eat dis🥺

[iheartsophie]

FALLING FOR YOU… LITERALLY | oscar piastri

^ྀི pairing: oscar piastri x clumsy! reader

^ྀི genre: FLUFF.

^ྀི context: You’ve always been clumsy—tripping over nothing, bumping into everything. Luckily, Oscar’s gotten so used to catching you that he can do it without even looking. It’s become a running joke in your relationship, but behind the teasing is a quiet kind of care: no matter how many times you fall, he’s always there to catch you. Literally.

^ྀི sophie speaks!: the votes between lando and oscar in the poll was extremely close so why not do both 💋

You had long since accepted the fact that gravity had a personal vendetta against you.

You tripped over nothing on a regular basis. Uneven pavement? Instant faceplant. Carpet edge? Gone. Steps you walked up every day? Still managed to fall on the third one like it was new.

It had become such a frequent occurrence that Oscar didn’t even flinch anymore. He’d just… catch you. Like clockwork. Like it was scheduled. Like his reflexes had learned to expect it.

One time—your favorite and most embarrassing to date—you were walking through the paddock beside him. He was scrolling through his phone, casually replying to a message from Lando, when you caught your foot on the tiniest dip in the pavement.

You braced for impact.

But Oscar? He didn’t even look up. His arm shot out, fingers catching you by the crook of your elbow. With a small tug, he steadied you like it was no big deal. Like it was muscle memory.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “Did you just catch me without even looking?”

“Mmhmm,” he murmured, thumbs still typing. “Third time this week.”

“You didn’t even flinch!”

“You fall the same way every time,” he replied calmly, finally glancing over at you. “Left foot. Mild panic gasp. Arms flail. It’s honestly kind of graceful now.”

You shoved his arm playfully, cheeks burning. “I’m going to start wearing knee pads.”

He just grinned. “Might be a good idea.”

⸻

It was a running joke between you two now. The paddock had noticed too.

Lando had once dramatically offered to buy you stabilizers like you were a toddler learning to walk. Pierre claimed you were trying to invent a new sport: Freestyle Faceplanting. Even Zak Brown got in on it once, laughing as you slipped on the steps leading into hospitality and Oscar caught you by the waist with a practiced ease.

“Again?” Zak had chuckled.

“She’s consistent,” Oscar had said coolly, not even breaking stride.

You groaned. “I’m never living this down.”

⸻

At home, it wasn’t any better.

You once knocked over an entire glass of water while reaching for the remote. Oscar was across the room but still managed to catch the cup mid-air while saying, “Babe.”

“I swear I’m cursed,” you’d muttered.

“No, you’re just…” he paused, searching for a diplomatic word. “Energetic.”

You gave him a flat look. “Just say it.”

“You’re clumsy.”

You threw a pillow at him.

⸻

Despite all the teasing, you knew Oscar secretly loved it.

There was a look he gave you every time you stumbled — a mix of fondness, amusement, and “of course she did.” The way his hands were always ready to steady you. The way he instinctively reached out when you were near ledges or steps or wires or literally anything that could even remotely be a hazard.

You’d tested it once. On purpose.

You were walking through the paddock beside him. You didn’t actually trip this time — you pretended to stumble, just a little, and sure enough, his hand shot out to grab your elbow, like a reflex.

You burst into laughter. “Oscar! I wasn’t even falling!”

“Don’t play with my instincts like that,” he said, eyes narrowing. “One day you’re gonna fall for real and I’ll think you’re joking.”

“You’re like a clumsy-girlfriend-safety-net,” you grinned.

He smirked. “Someone has to be.”

⸻

The jokes continued, but so did the care.

Like the time he wordlessly switched sides with you on the sidewalk to be closer to the curb.

Or when he told the team to move a cable because “Y/N’s coming and I don’t want to spend lunch at the med tent.”

Or when he gently held your hand walking up the stairs — not like a boyfriend being sweet, but like a man who had seen you trip too many times not to intervene.

But your favorite?

It was after a particularly long day in Monaco. The race weekend had been chaotic, the streets were narrow, the press had been overwhelming, and you were exhausted. You were trying to walk beside Oscar while balancing your phone, a drink, and your pass. It was only a matter of time before you dropped something — and trip, you did. Shoes catching on the cobblestone, body lurching forward.

This time, Oscar didn’t just catch your elbow. He tugged you directly into his chest, wrapping both arms around you, steady and warm.

“Okay, that’s it,” he murmured against your hair. “I’m buying you bubble wrap.”

You giggled into his jacket. “You love it.”

“I love you,” he corrected. “The falling is just part of the package.”

You smiled, nose buried against his chest.

“Guess it’s a good thing I keep falling for you, huh?”

Oscar groaned. “That was so bad.”

“Still laughed though,” you smirked.

And with his arm around your shoulders and your balance forever in question, you walked on — tripping occasionally, sure — but always knowing he’d catch you.

Every single time.

[coldazhell-tloz]

a link to the past digital sketch I did in literally 1 hour I guess.. (new record)🕺

[call-me-nena]

271.

Who cares, do better, move on.

[coquettelanaxoxo]

[selliqxrt]

Hiiii love

so, I saw this reel on ig and i’m thinking it would make a perfect bot.

Like, Harry and user are dating for a long time and they’re on date in a field, like a pick nick date. And maybe they’re a couple glasses in and user does a fake proposal with a flower or stone and soon after that Harry proposes for real.

Love youuuuuu 💋

The most fucking beautiful sight in the world.

2018 - Pick nick date

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