gr4cier4cie

[gr4cier4cie]

I AM ALIVE!!!! I HAVE RE-EMERGED!!! GOOD MORNING GOOD AFTERNOON GOOD EVENING MY LOVES!!!!!!! 🫀 please please please excuse my absence im so sorry i shall be repenting in the form of finally posting all (21) of my drafts!! MWAHHSIES FOREVER!!!

[gr4cier4cie]

it's been a while since you posted. hope you're doing well ♥️

OMG HI BABY!! this is the sweetest aww school has just been kicking my ass for lack of better ways to describe that 🥹 but i'm still here!!! i've got some drafts i'll work on after finals that should make up for lost time MWAH

[gr4cier4cie]

girl that lewis snippet

i think like my brain broke cause

what

HEHHEHEEHEHE HIII MY LOVE 💫 THIS INSPIRED ME TO WRITE ANOTHER ONE HERE IT IS JUST FOR YOU I LOVE YOU SOOO MUCH MWAH: the rain wasn't supposed to happen.

not today. not here. not now, with you standing in the paddock wearing a rather... translucent shade of white. (it was stupid, really. you should've known better. should've checked the forecast this morning on your way out of lewis' bed. should have done anything besides trust the goddamn sky.)

your mascara was running (because of course). your shirt was soaked through (because why not?). and lewis hamilton was standing next to you as your eyes tracked the downpour, his hands intermittently clenching and relaxing near your lower hip. you could hear the slight shuffle of skin against skin, the whisper traveling accusatorily across the space between you. you swallowed thickly.

lewis watched the descent of your forgone mascara with something dark in his eyes. something hungry. (he always seemed to look at you like that. in briefing rooms. across the garage. in those moments when everyone else had gone home and the only sound in the air was rain against metal. hearts against cages of bone.)

"here." his voice was gravel wrapped in silk, the kind of sound that made your fingers itch to touch him. he shrugged off his jacket—the one worth more than your monthly salary, the one that had his name emblazoned across the back like a claim—and draped it over your shoulders. you shouldn't have let him.

but you did.

the scent of him made your skin prickle. made you wonder what it would taste like on your tongue. (wait a minute. you already knew that.) "i'm fine," you lied, the words tasting like copper on your tongue. it felt mysteriously like defeat.

his laugh was soft. the kind of sound that belonged in dark rooms made out of borrowed time. "you always are." his thumb caught a droplet of rain trailing down the side of your temple, and you found yourself unable to breathe. his skin was fever-hot, a stark reminder of jeddah and suzuka and every other bad decision you'd decided was worth making. his eyes had dropped to your mouth like gravity, and your fraying professionalism cracked like carbon fiber under pressure.

"thanks for the jacket," you whispered, swallowing, watching his eyes track the movement of your throat like he tracked racing telemetry—precise, hungry, calculating. he was so close you could count his eyelashes. one, two, three, four—

"you're welcome," he murmured, and only then did you realize he was brushing stray water droplets from your lashes, the tilt of your brow, the apple of your cheek. an excuse to touch you.

"you should—" his hand grazed the spot below your ear, and your words caught on a choked inhale. "we should—"

"careful," lewis huffed, thumb brushing your bottom lip, coming away stained red. (you'd done it on purpose, the lipstick. the mascara. the goddamn outfit. you were sure he knew.) "don't choke."

"someone might see us," you finally got out, palm closing around his wrist. your voice didn't sound like yours. too breathless. too wanting. too much like the sounds you'd made against his pillows last night, and the night before, and the night before. "this morning, when i—"

"left?"

you scoffed, taken aback by his interruption. "that's not—"

"ran away?"

"lewis." your breath ghosted over his lips, and you watched them part. longing you didn't even realize you had bubbled over, spilling into your bloodstream like heroin. your fingers dropped his hand, curled into his shirt without permission. "i didn't run."

his laugh was dark chocolate and champagne spray as he stepped away, leaving your skin burning. "sure you didn't."

(lewis hamilton had you on a leash. no matter how far you ran, you'd always come crawling right back.)

♡

I'M HAVING SO MUCH FUN WRITING FOR THIS WHAT 😵‍💫 love you always baby i've missed you MWAH from gracie always!!!

[gr4cier4cie]

loss of my life

texts you get from ex!driver after he sees the news of your wedding to someone new, all these years later.

ft. max verstappen, charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lewis hamilton, lando norris, and oscar piastri.

angst heavy.

a/n: my first text au on this blog! sorry for the angst hehe

reblogs & tags appreciated !!

[gr4cier4cie]

house handy ⛐ 𝐃𝐑𝟑

“if there are leaves that need to be swept, i’ll sweep them. if there’s rubbish that needs to be emptied, i’ll empty it.” — harris dickinson on being domesticated (or: the one where daniel gets to slow down a bit)

ꔮ starring: daniel ricciardo x girlfriend!reader. ꔮ word count: 1.6k. ꔮ includes: romance, fluff fluff fluff. mentions of food. established relationship, post-f1 daniel. inspired by the dickinson quote in the synopsis. ꔮ commentary box: every so often i miss dric and something like this gets written. shoutout to this one spotify playlist for being the perfect writing accompaniment. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

There’s a cup of coffee on your bedside table when you wake up.

It’s a specific Australian brew, one your boyfriend has proudly touted as Danny-approved. Anything less would be a travesty. The steam curling from the mug draws you out of your sleep, reminding you of less than favorable experiences with the drink—days spent working yourself to the bone, evenings chugging the drink to stay awake for FaceTime calls.

Groggy, you take a sip. It’s perfect in a way you’ve never quite nailed. The right amount of sugar, just a hint of milk. The caffeine shot straight to your system gives you just enough energy to drag yourself out of bed.

It doesn’t take too long to find him, even if you weren’t expecting to find him at all.

You follow the music.

If he could help it, Daniel would never bother your rest; he knows how little of it you get as is. In the mornings, his footsteps are quiet. He pitches his voice low when he’s on the phone. And he tries to hum, not sing.

Key word: Tries. Better word: Fails.

He attempts to muffle his Bluetooth speaker with an old racing jersey, but the sound leaks through the fabric anyway. You feel the vibrations of the Noah Kahan song in your toes as you wordlessly pad into the kitchen. The space smells like maple syrup and flour, like what used to be good about off-seasons and long weekends. 

Daniel is too busy wrestling with a pancake to notice you at first. He’s singing, almost like it’s a stage whisper of some sorts. 

We ain’t angry at you, love, your boyfriend croons to himself, you’re the greatest thing we lost. 

He nearly jumps out of his skin when you wrap your arms around his waist. 

“Jesus Christ!” The words escape him in a surprised back of laughter. “You move like a freakin’ ninja, I swear.” 

A drowsy smile curls on your face as you rest your cheek to his back, in the space between his shoulder blades. You had always teased him for being something like your personal radiator. He’s solid and warm in your arms, enough to make you want to crawl back into bed. 

“You’re here,” you mumble into the unjustifiably soft material of his sleepshirt.

You feel him chuckle. The sound ripples through his body, through his obvious resistance in turning around and hugging you properly. He’s far too dedicated to the pancake in the non-stick pan to give into your sleepy brand of affection. 

“Where else would I be?” he teases lightly. 

Austin, you nearly say, because you’ve memorized the race calendar like the back of your hand. But you bite your tongue at the last second, holding back the remark when you remember—right. Right.

He’s not even looking at you, but Daniel already knows. He’s always had a sixth sense for anything that had to do with you. With a low hum, he flicks the stove off, sets down his spatula, and finally turns to face you. 

He looks better now. It’s a sigh of relief, a major grace. The days after Singapore had been rough, had dimmed his megawatt smile like it was a popped lightbulb that could never be replaced. But then the days turned into weeks, and the media frenzy died down, and proper goodbyes were given to those who mattered most to him. 

“Don’t do that,” Daniel chides, tugging at your chin.

You had started chewing on your lower lip, the way you did when you were deep in thought. Hadn’t even noticed it. Of course Daniel had; of course he knew just the way to look at you and hold you in a way that made you feel like you were unraveling. 

“Sorry,” you say softly. 

“Don’t be,” he says without missing a beat. 

He leans down slightly, just enough. You feel his stubble first. The brush of his five o’clock shadow on the top of your head. And then there’s the kiss—the firm press of his lips to your forehead. 

Your eyes flutter close as your arms tighten around him. He doesn’t pull away immediately, doesn’t move an inch even as the song on his phone transitions into a new one. So clean the house, clear the drawers, mop the floors, and stand tall, like no one's ever been here before or at all, the singer trills. 

“I’m not used to you being around again,” you finally confess, the words almost lost as you bury your face in Daniel’s chest. 

“I figured,” he huffs. “Gotta get more used to it, though. I’m going to be home a lot more now.” 

You strain your ears, trying your best to see if there’s anything lingering beneath his words. Is there any pain you might need to patch up? Any anger you might need to unpack? 

No. Not this time. Daniel says it like a fact. He sounds a bit wistful, and maybe a touch sad. But—for the most part—he’s folding himself back into your life. It’s in the way he sets the table for breakfast and chatters with you about everything except the elephant in the room. It’s in the small argument you have on who will wash the dishes before you settle on a compromise: you wash, he dries. It’s in the afternoon he spends moving around your apartment like he can’t quite relax, like there’s a part of him still behind that cursed second seat. 

“Danny,” you call out to him exasperatedly, but he’s not listening. 

He sweeps the leaves from your porch. He folds all the laundry. He inspects the cabinets and shelves, which is pretty much the last straw for you. 

“Daniel.” 

He freezes, hands bracing your bookshelf. The expression on his face—as if he’s a kid caught rifling through the cookie jar. “What?” he asks, already halfway into being defensive. 

“What are you doing?”

A beat. He’s looking at you, gauging you, to see how driven crazy you are. It’s truthfully not much, but the warning signs are there. Your arched eyebrows, crossed arms, pursed lips. 

He does the unwise thing and tries to play it off.

“Making repairs,” he says. The second word rises in intonation—making repairs?—almost as if he’s asking you, challenging you to stay otherwise. 

“You can barely even work a hammer,” you deadpan.

“I take serious offense to that.” 

“Danny, c’mon.” 

“There’s a loose screw here, I swear—” 

“Ricciardo.” 

He’s dropping the act before you can even get half his surname out. “Alright, alright.” He crosses the room in a couple of quick strides, settling down next to you. “You caught me.” 

The couch groans underneath your combined weight. He perks up, as if pleased to have found something he can work on, but the look on your face has him sheepishly curling into your side. Absent-mindedly, you begin to curl your fingers through his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, treading as delicately as you can manage. 

An outsider might not see anything wrong. Daniel curls around you like a parentheses, pulling you into him until you’re tucked together. He’s been holding you like this a lot as of late. Arms around your middle, face burrowing into the side of your neck. Relearning your curves, keeping you from slipping through his fingers. 

“Nothing,” he murmurs against your skin. 

You pinch the back of his neck. He whines in protest.

“What’s going on in your head, love?” you rephrase. 

The silence stretches. Not uncomfortable, just thoughtful. It holds like a held breath. When Daniel responds, it’s in the deep exhale of the truth. 

“I don’t know how—” He pauses, inhales, pushes on. “I don’t know how to be.” 

“Be what?” 

“Just be.” 

Ah. 

Daniel has gone stock still next to you, as if the confession is one that will have him condemned. It makes your heart ache. You’re the last person in the world to ever think bad of this man, and you make it clear as you plant a kiss between his scrunched eyebrows. 

“It’s okay,” you say soothingly. “You’ve got time.” 

He mumbles something inaudible into your collarbone. Something about the hour, something about you. You give an absentminded hum in response. Right now, all you can do is let the moment pass. 

Let Daniel find his footing. Let your apartment feel like a home again. Let Sundays be exactly that—not a race weekend, not the loss of his life. Just a weekend. Just a Sunday. 

After a couple of minutes, he breaks the silence. “I think I’d like to be a house husband.” 

That makes you giggle. “What?” you ask, giving his forehead a light flick of your fingers. “A house husband?” 

He pulls his face away from where he’d been hiding. And there it is, you think to yourself. The face-splitting smile that has whiskers crinkling around his eyes. God, the things you would do to keep Daniel smiling like that. 

“I’d be pretty good at it, no?” he teases. “I can cook. I can clean.”

“The pancakes were burnt this morning.” 

“And you said you loved them.” 

The bickering brings laughter, and the laughter gives way to breathless kissing, and the kissing lapses into another bout of silence. This one is a lot more companionable, as if Daniel’s spirits have been lifted after only a couple of bad jokes and exchanged smooches. 

Relief rattles out of Daniel in a soft sigh. A quiet, wordless acquiescence of This is my life now. 

He looks like he doesn’t regret it. You want so badly to keep it that way. ⛐

[gr4cier4cie]

the perfect match¹ ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

lando norris is convinced he’s unlovable. it’s your literal job to prove otherwise.

ꔮ starring: lando norris x professional matchmaker!reader. ꔮ social media au. ꔮ includes: romance, friendship. mentions of alcohol & food; cussing/profanity; suggestive jokes. lando nicknames reader ‘cupid’, intentional typos. sparked by a24's materialists. ꔮ commentary box: my love for @norrisradio knows no bounds :3 this will have a part two! 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Liked by user1, user2, and others yourusername   wedding number nine. nothing brings me more joy than seeing people get the happy ending they deserve. 💐 congratulations, anyataylorjoy & malcolmmcrae.

user1 always at the crime scene omfg user2 That camera!! Can we know what model it is anyataylorjoy gracias 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨   ♥️ Liked by creator   ⤷ user3 wait so is it true yourusername matchmake’d them?   ⤷ user4 anya PLSSS notice me user5 I could really use yourusername’s skills but her consultation fee… Let’s run it back a bit, baby

Liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, and others yourusername   thank you for the warm welcome, williamsracing. an enjoyable first grand prix in blue. 💙 content soon.

user1 OKAY I SEE YOU user2 aren’t carlos and alex both in relationships 😭 what they need a matchmaker for user3 Can we get a spoiler what the content was for pleek   ⤷ williamsracing Team Torque E04 🤫 But you didn’t hear it from us       ⤷ user4 ADMIN!?!?!       ⤷ user5 the crossover i didn’t know i needed. user6 oomf plz tell us about the other drivers u’ve met 

“How Do I Matchmake For My Friends?” | Team Torque Ep. 4 | Australian GP

Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, and others mclaren   Some scenes from Shanghai 🇨🇳 #McLaren #F1 

user1 carlando i’ve missed U user2 This after the Team Torque episode is comedic. 😂 user3 i want alex in a way that is detrimental to feminism. williamsracing Found a match? 😜   ⤷ mclaren 🤷   ⤷ user4 ??? does this mean something   ⤷ user5 Williams x McLaren collab LFG user6 i heard lando gave alex and carlos SO much shit for the torque ep screamsss user7 Lando if you need a girlfriend I’m right here,,

yourusername posted a story.

lando replied: pleased to make your acquaintance 🤝

Liked by maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, and others lando  lookin for love 

user1 that caption is diabolical   ⤷ user2 Why look for love!! I’m right here!! user3 The first pic. I’m dizzyy 😵‍💫 user4 okay but props to your photographer. hotness. user5 does this have something to do with yourusername ?   ⤷ user6 RIGHTTT because of her recent IG story   ⤷ user7 is Lando one of her new clients?   ⤷ user8 or maybe it’s a new mclaren content thing   ⤷ user9 They’re both being very quiet about this. Lmao. user10 lando’s loverboy era [[INCOMING]]?!

Liked by yourusername, user1, and others f1gossipgirl   lando enjoyed his winter break with british snowboard champ charlotte moioli! moioli is the reining record-holder of the women's snowboard cross. was our mclaren driver getting lessons or finding love on the slopes? 🏂

Liked by yourusername, user1, and others prixtea   Monaco's sweetheart finds her prince? 🎨 NOR spent his weekend with renown artiste, Sylvie Auguste, at Festival des Arts de Monaco. Sources say the two spent much of the evening giggling over champagne. Should we be expecting a new WAG on the paddock come Suzuka?

Liked by quadrant, lando.jpeg, and others yourusername   what’s up, bullet?

user1 have the loveliest vacation, darling 🥢 user2 that first pic? gorjjj user3 Last slide 👀 user4 bring back sushi pls ! user5 am i too f1-pilled or is that last slide literally lando ⤷ user6 Now that you mention it…

Liked by georgerussell63, yukitsunoda0511, and others lando   whassup su…zuka! mega day at liberty walk hq with quadrant to launch our helmet/car combo. seeing all this up close and working with the legend that is libertywalkkato to build the lb-kaido works r32 skyline has been an honour. always love coming out to japan, but this definitely made it even more special.

user1 ok so they’re dating yourusername   ⤷ user2 “what’s up, bullet?” x “whassup suki” not slick AT ALL… monsterenergy Sheeeesh 🔥 user3 The vibe is immaculate >>> maxfewtrell 🔥🇯🇵   ⤷ user4 max, was yourusername in attendance?? Blink twice if yes   ♥️ Liked by maxfewtrell       ⤷ user5 DID MAX JUST CONFIRM WHAT 

yourusername posted a story.

[gr4cier4cie]

i know kimi is still a student and so am i, do you think he'd take you to a prom or formal? or vice versa would he go to yours? just seeing him all dressed up would do something to me idk... lmk ur thoughts hunny!

OH MY GOD HIII NONNIE THIS IS THE CUTEST CONCEPT EVER IM CRYING 😭 oh absolutely he would make time to take you to prom/any formal dances!!!! i mean, if it's important to you it's important to him for sure (toto would be like "where the fuck did kimi go" and george would probably shrug and go "prom." bc kimi's JUST a teenager what else can be said?!). and omg he'd be so cute seeing you all dressed up he'd probably go dead silent for about a minute just staring oh he's so cute ah i love him!!! and just KNOW he's a good dancer. like. scarily good. middle-of-the-dance-circle-will-have-you-questioning-whether-a-career-in-dancing-with-the-stars-was-his-real-calling kinda good.

[gr4cier4cie]

i am having Gracie withdraws.

HEHEHE IM SO SORRY SCHOOL HAS BEEN KICKING MY ASS AHHHH I'M BACK NOW I'M HERE FOR GOOD I'VE MISSED YOU LIKE CRAZY MY LOVE HOW ARE YOU?!! MWAHH 💖💖💖

[gr4cier4cie]

okay but like lewis x (much younger....) reader in the sports media field. like imagine getting to do content for the team or just getting to interview your man.. like he'd be so cutesy and supportive. and him helping you prep questions or coming up with funny things to say to his friends on the grid. idk i think it'd be so cute.

not me making this up because i am studying sports media.......

okay bye gracieracie love u

OH. YOUR MIND. I WANNA TAKE A HUGE BITE OUT OF IT BECAUSE YEAHHHH. YEAHHHHHHH. and omg?!! sports media is SO DAMN COOL can't wait to see you on the big stage someday hehee 💫💫 and oh YES. lewis is cordial. professional to a fault with everyone else. always polite. says what needs to be said before moving on. but with you? he changes. morphs into something distinctly real. all his media training? out the window. he's playing with the hem of your skirt under the table as you're trying to ask him questions about tire pressure, tilting his head when you stutter as if to ask you if you're alright. and in my mind, he straight-up skips past other reporters when he sees you if he can do so. he'll let you ask meaningless questions if it means another minute with you, another minute seeing you be effortlessly, simply you. and then when the camera cuts, he's leaning in, pressing a little kiss to your temple, a murmured, 'good job, love' or 'so proud of you' muffled by the click click click of the hawkish cameras surrounding you.

oh, and at the the next post-practice press session, when you ask him about how he's feeling about the weekend ahead, he'll smile slyly, lean forward, and say something like: "depends. how long are we spending in the bedroom tonight?" 💖

[gr4cier4cie]

hihi! I love your texts fics, would you consider adding oscar to them?

HII MY LOVE!! i just made one with oscar in it!! thank you sooo much for requesting i love him so much it was about time i added him to my text fics!! here it is: twenty-one days (practically a lifetime, if you ask me)!! 💫

[gr4cier4cie]

♡ i'm a shameless caller (she's a full machine ♡ 2

or: you're the best thing that had ever happened to him. lando can't help himself from reminiscing a bit. or a lot. or all the time. (can be read as a happy standalone or a flashback from part one of this!!) fem!ex!reader x lando norris pt 1

warnings: none just a lil fluff and angst!! THIS IS A FLASHBACK TO WHEN LANDO AND READER WERE IN A RELATIONSHIP TO HELP FIX THE DAMAGE I CAUSED W PART ONE IM SORRY!!

♡

voicemail 1: — [1.10]

"hey, love, just got back to the hotel. [pause] quali was a killer. missed you like hell the entire time. can't even sleep without you anymore. [laughs] mum just sent me that video of you two baking at the house yesterday. she really likes that blue scarf on you—she told me to tell you to keep it. says it looks better on you than her. [laughs] she'd probably kill me if i said i agree, but i do. love you lots. hope you're, uh, sleeping well. even if i'm not. see you soon, baby."

voicemail 2: — [00.52]

"oh, baby, you would not believe what just happened in the drivers' meeting! [laughs] max tried to—actually, no, this is too good for voicemail. please, please, please call me the second you're out of work. it's absolutely mental. also! good luck on your presentation today, baby. you're going to smash it. i'm crazy proud of you. miss you lots. love you forever."

voicemail 3 — [1.12]

"hi, lovely, just got the care package you sent. [pause] how'd you know i was missing home? thought of it this morning, actually. feels like.... like you know me better than i know myself. sorry i didn't get a chance to call until now. had to stop carlos from eating all the biscuits you made me. [laughs] i stole a bunch of the tiny hotel soaps as a present for you when i get home. call me when you're done with work, yeah? love you."

voicemail 4 — [1.13]

"baby! wake up! i just had the best dream—it was you and me at home, and you were wearing my old race jacket and you were... cooking, maybe? i dunno, i'm already forgetting it. [laughs] but it was.... good. we were happy. simple as that. [sighs] i miss that. you, in the kitchen, in my race jacket. send me a picture of you in it when you get a chance. i miss you like crazy over here. anyways. love you forever."

voicemail 5 — [00.53]

"hi, lovely girl. i'm hiding in the bathroom of that gala thing i told you about. you would love it—they have the mini strawberry shortcakes you're obsessed with. ate like, four of 'em, just for you. [pause] keep reaching for your hand when i'm talking to people. keep thinking you're here with me. [pause] anyways. call me when you get a chance."

voicemail 6 — [0.50]

"hi, baby. i just found that note you left me in my bag. [sighs] you're really... something, aren't you? it's, uh, been one of those days. i really needed it. i really needed you. kinda pathetic, yeah? [laughs] sometimes i wonder what i did to deserve you. [pause] call me when you wake up? just... wanna hear your voice. love you."

voicemail 7 — [0.51]

"morning, lovely. just had breakfast with the team and... [laughs] you'll never believe what happened. you know the bracelet you made me? the beaded one, with my number on it? everyone else wants one, too. said it's giving me luck, or something. [laughs] you should charge them, if you ask me. anyways. love you lots. see you soon."

voicemail 8 — [00.21]

"hi love. it's properly miserable here in silverstone. raining like hell. my hair's all messed up, now. [sighs] don't laugh when you watch me on tv, yeah? i'll know if you do. [laughs] love you, baby."

voicemail 9 — [1.12]

"baby? just got your text about your day... wish i was there with you. would've made you that awful tea you pretend to like when you're stressed. [pause] i'm sorry it wasn't good today, baby. you don't deserve that. i'm so proud of you and... [pause] god, you deserve everything. everything good. i promise tomorrow will be better, yeah? i love you so much. hold on, okay? i'll be home soon."

voicemail 10 — [1.16]

"hey, baby. i know you're in the air right now, but... [sighs] i just watched the sunset from melbourne. took a couple pictures for you. can't wait till you're here so we can watch it together. [pause] i keep, uh, thinking about how you... how you changed everything for me. i didn't know life could get this good, you know? didn't know it was possible to love someone as much as i love you. [laughs] i was thinking maybe after the race... [pause] we could talk about you coming to more of them? like, all of them? permanently? [laughs] anyway. call me when you can. love you. so much."

♡

note: so... for those of you who read part one im sorry i tried to make this happier but i am now realizing it's not much better 😭 i want to apologize but what can i say?! angst IS my specialty!! MWAH LOVE YOU ALL!! taglist: @f1fantasys

[gr4cier4cie]

♡ twenty-one days (practically a lifetime, if you ask me) ♡

or: triple headers are the worst. it's a good thing the drivers have you to keep them... motivated. featuring: lando norris, carlos sainz, lewis hamilton, oscar piastri ♡

warnings: seuxal innuendo of course, thank you so much to the nonnie who requested oscar for one of these text fics!!! I LOVE HIM THANK YOU FOR INSPIRING ME MWAH

♡

[gr4cier4cie]

the lewis x assistant reader snippet was so good i am begging for more <3

OMG I SUCCUMBED TO THE VOICES AND WROTE ANOTHER SNIPPET as a continuation to this (im soo happy you liked it hehe this trope is a comfort for me for reasons unknown but omg enjoy this love you lots nonnie!!):

the garage was too hot. then again, jeddah always was, air suffocatingly thick with heat and humidity and memories of things you weren't supposed to want. things you found yourself suddenly unable to stop thinking about. (suzuka had been a mistake. a devastating mishap in the form of lewis' lips against yours and your brand-new silk dress puddled dismissively near the foot of his bed. it couldn't happen again. wouldn't. wouldn't. wouldn't.)

dusk had turned to dawn when you finally looked up from the free practice telemetry, tired eyes finding lewis' across the paddock. "the rear left's showing unusual wear patterns," you said, professional to a fault. clinical. (as if you hadn't dreamed about lewis' hands last night, about the way they gripped the steering wheel with practiced, methodical ease, about how they'd felt trailing along your inner thigh as his mouth wrote hymns into the column of your neck—) "we should adjust the camber for tomorrow."

lewis hummed absentmindedly. "should we?" his voice was low. dangerous. the kind of voice that made you forget about telemetry and tire wear and all the reasons this was a terrible idea. he was close enough now that you could smell his cologne, something expensive and damningly subtle that caught in the hollow of your throat.

you were an inhale away from throwing yourself at him. (again.) "yes," you murmured. "we should."

"should," he repeated, testing the word like he tested brake points—pushing, searching, aching for that perfect snap of tire against track. "interesting choice of words." his fingers drummed restlessly against the desk beside your waist, too close, yet not close enough. "we should do a lot of things, yeah?"

a moment passed. then another. then another.

you swallowed hard. "lewis."

"we should focus on the data," he continued, voice dropping lower with each word. entire octaves seemed to still in waiting. "we should maintain professional boundaries. we should forget about suzuka." his hand shifted, knuckles barely grazing your thigh. "should probably stop thinking about what you sound like when you—"

"don't." (please don't stop. please, please, please, please.)

"don't... what?" he was closer now, the heat of him bleeding through your team shirt, ferrari-red stretched across shoulders too tense, hips indented with the haunting memory of his fingers gripping your bare skin like a vice. "don't remember? don't think about it?" his breath ghosted over your neck. "don't want you?"

"lewis." higher, this time. a warning. a plea. a prayer.

"tell me it meant nothing," he whispered, lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. "tell me you don't think about it. about us. about suzuka." his fingers found your hip once again, thumb sliding under the hem of your shirt. "tell me you don't miss it."

you turned to face him. painstakingly lifted your eyes to his. (you were just full of mistakes today, weren't you?) "we can't. not again."

"can't?" his smile was dangerous, promising. "or won't?"

(you were most certainly fucked. in more ways than one.)

♡

HEHEHE I LOVE WRITING FOR THESE TWO love you lots nonnie!! mwah from gracie always!!! 💫💫

[gr4cier4cie]

♡ silent treament (cruel, cruel girl) ♡

or: you and the drivers don't always see eye to eye. that doesn't mean they'll ever miss a chance to shoot you a text. featuring: lando norris, max verstappen, ollie bearman, kimi räikkönen ♡

warnings: none, just pure fluff (THIS IS WHAT YOU ALL DESERVE AFTER WHAT I'VE PUT YOU THROUGH MWAH)

♡

[gr4cier4cie]

hii!! could i please request a carlos x gf (established relationship) fic pls!! either a fluffy one where he takes her to spain and meets the family and shows her around his childhood home or a hurt/comfort where she’s getting hate from the fans/media plss I can’t decide 😅❤️❤️

HIII LOVE!!! THESE ARE THE CUTEST CONCEPTS EVER going in my drafts right now!!! im not sure which one i'll do yet (bc omg i adore both) so stay tuned heheh!! thank you so much for requesting as always i love you MWAHH ❤️

[gr4cier4cie]

THE LH44 X ASSISTANT SNIPPET GRACIE HELLO?????? 💳💳💵💵 take my money please

OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AHH omg take MY money actually i am begging for lh44 x lawyer!reader bc OMG THAT CONCEPT IS SO GOOD IT HURTS 💵💵💵

[gr4cier4cie]

i dare you to act upon the lh44 x assistant thoughts. 😍😍😍

no bc i am DISGUTING W MYSELF I NEED TO STOP I NEED TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN (here's a snippet of a lil something im working on hehehehe):

the spreadsheet had glitched again. a flicker in the dark, a stab in the back, a fucking betrayal. your breath hitched as the screen panned to white.

"tell me we didn’t just lose everything," you whispered, voice low. tight. rather hastily restrained. barely held together by the fraying thread of three restless hours of sleep and six hours of logistical level-headedness, of suzuka transport schedules (confirmed), red-eye flights (booked), sim runs (scheduled)—

behind you, lewis exhaled. heavy with sleep. worn. (you'd begun to resent it—his way of saying things without saying them.)

"you didn’t save it," he said. not accusatory. not cruel. just… flat.

you refused to look up. "you didn’t save it. this is your laptop. which, by the way, is a hundred years old." then, under your breath: "no one manually saves anything anymore."

a beat. the window was cracked open an inch, tokyo air damp and warm and electric, buzzing with the neon heartbeat of a city that never really slept. you'd turned off the lights an hour ago, the dim glow of the laptop screen on your lap painting your features in panic. (you always wondered when the day would come. the day you took it too far.)

"i’ll redo it," you said after a long moment. "it won’t take long."

you heard lewis shift on the bed, sheets rustling beneath his weight as he lifted himself to his feet. he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. you hadn’t meant to watch him. you could still feel the ghost of it lingering: his body stretched taunt across white cotton, shirt bunched around his navel, jaw slack with exhaustion. the way his mouth twitched in his sleep. (you couldn't help but wonder what he had been dreaming about.)

he was behind you, now. close enough to feel. close enough to touch. "you should rest."

you snorted softly. "that’s rich. coming from you."

somewhere down below, a car horn blared, then faded. lewis didn’t move. didn’t speak. not at first. and yet, the heat of him, the weight of his presence, stifled the words sitting limply in your throat.

"take the bed." his voice was gravel under velvet. something scraped from the bottom of a glass you weren’t supposed to drink from. "i'll do it."

your fingers began to fly across the keyboard in professional earnest, but you were simply typing gibberish. anything to keep from facing the slight downturn of his lips, the languid, sleep-mused drop of his eyes. "don't even think about it."

soft footsteps (one, two, three, four). then the slow press of his chest against your back, the tingling heat of his frame against yours. he didn’t really touch you. not yet. but his arms bracketed yours, palms flat on either side of the laptop, caging you into the desk without force. your eyes dropped to the ink on his fingers.

"tell me to stop," lewis murmured, his words ghosting over the back of your neck. (oh. oh. oh, god.)

your voice didn't seem to be yours. "we have an early call time."

"tell me. to stop."

"i can't."

"you never can," he said, breath ghosting over your jaw, your temple, the shell of your ear. "don't know why i asked." and then his mouth was against your neck, a press of lips just beneath your pulse, soft and scorching. feeling for the racetrack of your heartbeat. (and that's light out and away we—)

"that's not fair," you whispered, fingers stilling against the keyboard. "i'm just trying to do the right thing." (the clock on the desk read 2:43 am. too late for sense. too early for sleep. what else was bound to happen besides this?)

"this is the right thing," he said, mouth tracing a line down the column of your neck, the curve of your jaw. memorizing the shape of this mistake. your eyes slipped closed; you let it happen.

this couldn’t happen. it couldn’t.

(which meant, of course, that it would.)

♡

am i ever gonna post this fr?? prob no BUT OMG LET'S CHAT ABOUT THIS CONCEPT I LOVE IT MWAH 💫