#F2 RPF

[scrollonso]

Only — Fraul

Franco’s phone buzzed in his pocket just as he finished laughing at something Alex had said, his cheeks still flushed from the joke.

He casually pulled it out, glancing at the screen, but his smile quickly faded as he saw the message waiting for him, a photo of him and Alex together earlier in the day attached to it.

Bebito: Ok go fuck Alex then.

Franco’s heart stuttered. He blinked, reading the message again, hoping he had misread. He hadn't expected this reaction, not from Paul, not over something so small. The disbelief settled into something heavier as he scrolled up briefly, trying to see if there had been anything in their recent messages that could have sparked this. But there was nothing.

Another message appeared before he could even begin to think of a response.

Bebito: You want a tall, lanky man now?

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, struggling to find the right words. Paul was rarely like this. Sure, he could be protective, intense even, but he was usually so secure, so grounded. Yet every once in a while, that fierce insecurity would rear its head, and it was always so raw, so unexpected. Franco knew from experience how difficult it could be to calm Paul down once he got this way, but he also knew that ignoring it would only make things worse.

And just as he finally thought of a way to start, another notification lit up his screen.

Babito: I could lift both you and Alex.

Franco sighed, rubbing his temple as the tension began to build in his chest. Paul was muscular and strong, always quick to remind Franco just how capable he was of protecting the people he cared about. There was a certain fierceness in him that Franco adored, a passion that made him feel safe and cared for. But Paul’s jealousy — when it did flare up — was something else entirely. It was intense, like everything else about him, and it never failed to blindside Franco.

Just as Franco thought the string of messages was over, another one popped up, and his eyes widened.

Bebito: He can’t fuck you as good as I do.

Franco nearly choked, heat rushing to his face, and he stole a quick glance at Alex, who was still chuckling over something on his own phone — probably messaging Franky, who Paul had forgotten about for some reason — oblivious to the texts lighting up Franco’s screen. But the knot of tension in Franco’s chest tightened as he reread Paul’s message. He knew his boyfriend’s possessive side well, but this was on another level.

A simple media day had turned into a jealous showdown, and Franco could practically feel Paul’s grip tightening from miles away. Paul was reminding him — claiming him, really — and Franco knew the tone all too well. The guy wasn’t hurt; he was staking his territory. And as much as Franco found it intense, he also knew it wasn’t going to stop until he said something to shut it down.

“Alright, enough,” Franco muttered to himself, exasperated, as he typed, hoping a simple response would ease things before it spiraled.

Pisikene: Paul, stop. It’s nothing like that.

He watched the “typing…” bubble appear instantly, and Franco braced himself. Paul was confident, unapologetically so, and the man had a habit of making sure Franco — and anyone else within earshot — knew exactly who he belonged to. There was a possessiveness in Paul that Franco usually found flattering, thrilling even, but in moments like this, he knew he had to play his words carefully.

With a quick breath, he added another line, hoping it would bring Paul back down to earth.

Pisikene: Only you know how to make me beg.

And that seemed to work, Paul dropping it for the time being — at least until media day had finished.

“Okay,” Franco says the second they step into the loft, “now will you tell me what all this is about?”

“What all what is about?” Paul asks, crowding Franco up against the door as he speaks. Their bags drop to the ground. Paul braces one arm on the door next to Franco's face, flexing to show off his muscles in the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing, and uses the other to ruck up Franco's shirt. He ducks his head down to Franco's neck and begins to suck a bruise into his skin.

Franco gasps, a mix of surprise and pleasure spilling from his lips as Paul's mouth works its magic on his neck.

“Paulito, wait—” but the words are more breathless than halting, an invitation wrapped in caution. Paul can read the tones of his voice effortlessly by now, has them memorised like he’s learned his favourite songs by heart. This isn’t a genuine plea to wait, and so Paul feels no need to honour it the way he otherwise would.

Paul grins against Franco's skin, feeling the way his boyfriend’s pulse races beneath his lips.

“Wait? Why would I want to do that?” He pulls back just enough to meet Franco's eyes, the playful glint in his gaze dancing with mischief. “I just want to show my boyfriend a good time, that’s all.”

Franco rolls his eyes playfully, though Paul can see the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

“Is that all? This has nothing to do with a certain conversation we had today, then?”

Paul crowds up against Franco even closer, wedging a thigh between Franco's legs.

“No,” he says, rolling his hips. “Why would a random conversation even matter? Or some stupid guy who couldn’t back off of you? That’s not important.”

“I mean, I agree,” Franco says, dick rapidly hardening against Paul's leg, “but you seem pretty worked up about it. Alex is harmless, you know that, right?”

“Stop saying his name,” Paul says, well aware that his voice comes out like a growl. He swoops in and claims Franco's lips in a passionate kiss to ensure there’s no more sassing.

Franco kisses him back, that familiar warmth flooding between them, making Paul's frustration dissolve with every sweep of their tongues. It's intoxicating, the way Franco leans into him, the way his hands find their way to Paul's hair, pulling him closer still.

“You know,” Franco murmurs against Paul's lips, breath hitching as Paul's hands roam over his sides, “jealousy can be pretty sexy sometimes.”

“Really?” Paul asks, feigning innocence, though he feels a rush of excitement at the thought. “So you’re saying I should keep making a scene whenever some Rossi wannabe gets too close?”

Franco laughs, a genuine sound that sends sparks racing through Paul's veins.

“Only if it ends like this.” He tugs at Paul's shirt, pushing it up just enough to expose more skin. His fingers dance over Paul's stomach in a teasing manner that makes Paul shiver involuntarily.

“Oh, it’s not ending like this.” Paul grinds his hips against Franco one last time, both of them groaning at the touch against their straining erections. “Bedroom. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” Franco says jokingly, rolling his eyes before following Paul, who has his hand fisted in Franco's shirt.

Once down the hall and in front of the bed, they make quick work of shedding their clothes. Paul pushes Franco down onto the bed. He guides his hands up to the headboard, the little railing that’s perfect for holding onto during sex.

“What are you doing?” Franco laughs, the sound playful but edged with something deeper, something that sets Paul's heart racing. Fuck, he loves his boyfriend.

His boyfriend. Nobody else’s. Just his, and his alone.

“Just making sure you remember who you belong to,” Paul replies, his voice low and teasing as he hovers above Franco. The contrast of their bodies, skin against skin, ignites a fire that flares in the pit of his stomach.

Franco bites his lip, that wicked grin resurfacing as he glances up at Paul. He’s sprawled on the bed, tousled hair framing his handsome face, lips slightly swollen from their earlier kisses. It’s a look that drives Paul wild.

“Oh really? And how do you plan on reminding me?”

Paul leans in closer, their faces inches apart, and whispers, “just like this, by showing you just how good I can make you feel.” He slides his hands down Franco's arms to grasp his hips, anchoring him to the bed.

“Yeah?” Franco's voice comes out breathlessly. His hips jerk up,  as if to escape Paul's hold, but then relent, falling back against the pillows. “Like- like this?”

“Exactly like this.” Paul leans down to steal another kiss.

No, steal isn’t the right word. You can’t steal what’s already yours. 

Paul takes another kiss. 

As their mouths move together, Paul's hands explore every inch of Franco's body, fingertips trailing down his sides and across the familiar curves of his hips. He grins when Franco arches into him, a silent plea for more.

Usually, Paul would draw it out, wait until Franco is dripping with sweat and precome and absolutely begging for his release. He’s too pent up for that now, though. It’s gonna be a quick one.

Paul leans away and reaches for the lube on the nightstand. He settles on the bed between Franco's legs, spreading the lube on his fingers and pushing Franco's legs apart. They fall open obediently.

Paul doesn’t waste any time, sliding a slick finger into Franco. Franco arches into him, letting out a soft moan that sends shivers down Paul's spine. It doesn’t take much for Paul to think that Franco is ready for another finger, so he adds it, scissoring them to stretch Franco open. He’s so responsive, moaning and writhing against Paul's touch.

“More,” Franco gasps as he reaches down to stroke himself. Paul can’t resist taking over for him, wrapping his hand around Franco's cock and stroking in time with his fingers inside him.

Franco's hips thrust up into Paul's hand, seeking more friction. Paul obliges by adding a third finger and picking up the pace. He leans in to kiss Franco deeply, swallowing every moan and whimper that escapes his lips.

“Please,” Franco whimpers when they break for air. “I need you.”

That’s all the invitation Paul needs. He lines himself up and slowly pushes inside of Franco, savouring the feeling of being buried deep within him. They both let out a sigh of satisfaction as they find their rhythm together.

They move together in perfect harmony, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. It feels like coming home every time they make love, despite how many times they’ve done this before.

Yeah, this feels right. Paul and Franco. Not Franco and fucking Alex.

“You look so good for me,” Paul pants. “Fuck, you always looks so good. It’s infuriating, cause everyone sees it. Sees you. It drives me crazy.”

“I don’t care about anyone else.” Franco lets go of the headboard to place a hand around his dick, stroking it in time to Paul's thrusts.

“You’re damn right, you don’t.” Paul pushes one of Franco's legs up further. Franco takes the hint and wraps his other hand around it, keeping himself in place. The new angle causes Paul to slide in right against Franco's prostate. “Cause you belong to me , Franco. Not to anyone else.”

Franco groans, head thrown back.

“God, yes,” Franco breathes, his voice thick with need, the words dripping with a desperation that sends a rush of possessive pride surging through Paul. He loves that he gets to make Franco feel this good, that he’s the only one who has the privilege of seeing him this way. “ 'm all yours. Always have been.”

Paul feels his heart swell at the affirmation, their bodies moving in a passionate rhythm. Every thrust is a claim, every gasp from Franco ignites a fire within him, stoking the flames of something deeper than just lust. It’s love, it’s trust, it’s intimacy. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

“Say it again,” Paul urges, anchoring himself over Franco, his muscles taut and glistening with sweat. He watches Franco's face contort in pleasure as he drives deeper, pushing them both closer to their peaks. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“Yours,” Franco gasps. “Only yours.”

“Good,” Paul growls.

“Paul,” Franco's voice takes on a higher, slightly desperate pitch, one Paul knows all too well. “Paul, I’m getting close.

Paul shifts his body weight to his legs and one arm. He uses his free hand to bat away at Franco's hand, the one that’s stroking himself, and wraps his own palm against Franco's dick. Suddenly, he’s struck by the urge to be the sole cause of Franco's pleasure. To own it, even.

“Let me do it,” he says. “I’m making you feel good. Just me. All me, all mine.”

“Fuck.” Franco writhes on the mattress, as if his body is unsure if he wants to sink into it or float upwards. His newly freed hand finds purchase in the rumbled bedsheet, clinging on.

“That’s it,” Paul says, thrusting into Franco with a brutal pace, “come for me, Franco. Only for me.”

“For you,” Franco pants, “only for you.”

“You’re mine.”

“All yours,” Franco agrees, “ fuck , please.”

“Say it again.” 

“Yours, I’m yours, Paul, I’m gonna-”

“Come for me,” Paul urges, grinding against Franco's prostate unforgivingly. Franco whines, a tell-tale sign that he’s close. “All mine, come for me, give me your orgasm, come, Franco.”

Amidst Paul's mindless chatter, Franco's orgasm overtakes them both. He arches his back, clenching down on Paul as he comes. White strips paint his chest, spilling between their bodies.

It sets Paul off too, the look of pure pleasure that’s overtaking Franco. He buries himself deep inside of Franco and hides his face in his neck.

When they’re both shivering and oversensitive, Paul collapses on top of Franco, their chests heaving as they catch their breath. He nuzzles his face into the crook of Paul's neck, inhaling the familiar scent of sweat and sex. He presses a kiss to Franco's skin, feeling him shiver at the contact.

“Fuck,” Paul mutters, still coming down from his high. “That was…”

“Amazing,” Franco finishes for him, running his fingers through Paul's hair. “As always.”

Paul lifts himself up to look into Franco's eyes, cupping his face in his hands.

“I love you.”

Franco smiles, that soft smile that makes Paul's heart skip a beat.

“I love you too.”

They share a lingering kiss before Paul untangles himself. As much as he loves basking in the afterglow, he also knows that they are mere minutes away from feeling all gross and sticky. He steps into the bathroom and wets a washcloth, returning to clean up Franco with gentle, loving touches. He wipes himself down as well, then tosses the washcloth at the laundry basket — it lands perfectly in the middle, point for Paul — and then climbs back into the bed.

Paul settles on his back, letting Franco curl into his side. Paul's arms wrap around Franco and Franco's head settles on his chest. It’s safe and warm and everything Paul could ever have asked for.

“I’m sorry I got so possessive earlier,” Paul says after a few moments of comfortable silence. “It’s just- seeing you with someone else…”

Franco runs his hand soothingly up and down Paul's bare chest. It ends up on Paul's shoulder, a comforting pressure. 

“I know, Paul. But you don’t have to worry about that. I’m yours and yours alone.”

Paul ducks his head, cheeks burning.

“I’m glad you’re mine,” he whispers into Franco's hair.

Franco nuzzles further into Paul.

“Of course I’m yours,” he replies. He presses a kiss to Paul's chest, wherever he can reach. Franco loves those kinds of touches. Sweet and tender, but also achingly casual. Just about touch and love and closeness. “All yours, Paul. Nobody else’s. And definitely not Alex's.”

“Alex who?” Paul says, blinking sleepily. 

Franco chuckles. 

“Exactly, corazón. He doesn’t matter. For me, there’s only you.”

“And only you,” Paul replies, before sleep takes them both. 

It’s only them. No Alex, no others. Nobody else.

Just them.

[liwysz]

Bearnelli Masterlist!

Come on, a few kisses will not ruin our friendship, I swear.

1. They think a fool like me can't win

“People... expect so much from me. It’s like I’m carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders and, at the same time, sinking into a bottomless pit. I can’t take it anymore, Ollie, I don’t want to be a new Max Verstappen, or a new Lewis Hamilton. What’s wrong with just being me?”

He finally broke down, his fingers clutching the red Ferrari shirt Ollie was wearing as if he were the last safe harbor left, while he sniffled and sobbed, completely inconsolable.

2. Truth to be told

Kimi blinked, surprised. A party? He definitely wasn’t expecting that. "A party? Right before Baku?" He tried to sound casual, but nervousness started spreading through his body. He wasn’t exactly a fan of big social events, especially when everything inside him already felt like a storm.

Ollie laughed, noticing the hesitation. "Oh, relax. You don’t have to be tense. It’s just something with the guys, nothing too wild. Besides, now that you’re of age, it’d be cool for us to show you the wonders out there."

F1 General Masterlist | Meet me

[pitlanewrites]

✎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ you make me (giddy) ✧˖°

Pairing: Ollie Bearman/Andrea Kimi Antonelli

Rating: T for 'brief idiot teenage boy Kimi'

Word Count: 1146

Date Published: 06.05.24

Kimi and Ollie are not looking forward to the awkwardness of sharing a room.

That is, until they find out the number of beds.

read here!

[maxcuntstappen]

It is day 6 of Lav’s Ficmas ‘23 and I have ventured into a new flavour of lestappen.

better late than never (3.5k) (nsfw)

Relationship: Arthur Leclerc/Max Verstappen

Tags: Miscommunication, Porn with Plot, Accidental Voyeurism, Sexuality Realisation

Summary:

It was a classic case of dissociation. Sure, he followed the younger categories and kept up with their results, Arthur’s with a closer eye than others. But it was different. The Arthur with his helmet on wasn’t the same as the Arthur who had his jeans pulled down to his ankles, his hands gripping at a guy’s head, fucking his hips into his mouth, making the man choke.

They weren’t the same people, not for Max.

And then Arthur got into F2 and everything changed.

Read on Ao3

[nnato]

Not me being a little bastard and asking another request but since you keep doing those little pieces of art may i request something with norman/arthur (look at me not asking mitchtonio) in bodyguard au? 👀 you can choose tbe prompt. Please??

Anything for you, my beloved Sofia 😌✨

Prompt: “Find someone else to annoy.”

Norman loves to go to the gym in the middle of the night. No one else is usually there, the other guards either asleep or on duty. It is one of the rare times where he can be undisturbed and go about his routine in peace.

Norman moves from the treadmill to the bench press after his warm up, spreading out his towel before he gets his weights, stacking them up on the press. The sounds of his work out playlist drown out the world around him, a rare luxury he usually can’t afford. But he’s safe here for now. At least from people with bad intentions.

What he didn’t take into account is the one person who will always find a way to abuse his nerves and his patience.

Halfway through the second set of his exercise, Norman notices movement from the corner of his eyes. But the person moves too clumsily to be a threat, so he ignores it. That is until a head plops up into his vision, a bright smile lighting up the whole face of Arthur. Norman can see his lips move but he doesn’t hear a single word due to the music. He’s also not willing to break his set just because the little shit decided to come by.

But Arthur either doesn’t care or doesn���t notice that Norman can’t hear him. He keeps talking, bend over Norman and the bench press so he can’t escape him visually at least. One deep breath tells Norman enough about the state he is in though to not wonder anymore. Arthur smells like alcohol and cigarettes and sweat, the usual mix after a night at the club. Just that he wasn’t supposed to go out tonight.

Norman puts the barbell back into the safety holder and sits up, taking off his headphones.

“… and then they told me they would escort me home, like can you believe? I was so close to the best night of my life and they just ruined it!” Norman hears the end of Arthur’s story and it’s all he needs to put the pieces together.

“So just because your bodyguards did their job and picked you up from one of the clubs you’re not supposed to go to, you decided to come here instead of going to bed like you should?” Norman says, turning so he could look at Arthur. “Sorry, your Highness, but my sympathy for your situation is pretty limited.”

Arthur pouts at that, flopping down on the trainings device closest to him.

“I’ve had my night end in the worst way and now you’re being mean to me too.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic. Excuse me but I have a trainings session to do.” Norman is about to put his headphones back on but Arthur is surprisingly fast for his drunken state, trying to snatch them out of his hands. But Norman would be a bad bodyguard if he would let a drunken prince overpower him. He grabs Arthur by the wrist, glaring warningly at the Prince.

“Why don’t you find someone else to annoy, your Highness?” he asks but he can see the way Arthur’s eyes darken, can feel his pulse quicken underneath his fingers.

“Oh but you know you’re my favourite person to annoy.” Arthur smiles at him wickedly and moves into Norman’s space. Norman tries to retreat but he only comes so far until his back the barbell. Arthur uses it to his advantage, climbing onto Norman’s lap.

“Your Highness-“

“Oh c’mon Norman, drop the titles, will you? I think we’re way past that by now,” Arthur interrupts him, wrapping one arm around Norman’s neck since the other still has his wrist in a tight grip. Not that it would stop him.

Norman stares up at him, aiming for an unimpressed expression but Arthur can see right through the facade. He’s been watching him for long enough by now to know what is going on behind the mask of professionalism. Most of the time at least.

“And I think you’re way past your bed time,” Norman says but it doesn’t have the expected effect.

“Take me to bed then. Just to make sure I don’t wander off again.” And fuck, Norman knows he shouldn’t, that it would be better to call one of the others to take care of Arthur. He’s already a menace when sober but a drunk prince? Better not to underestimate. Norman learned that the hard way already. Why is it that he still can’t stay away from Arthur though?

“If I bring you back to your room, will you leave me alone for the night then?”

Arthur only grins at him and Norman sighs in defeat. He knows he will regret this later but does he even have a choice?

Getting Arthur off his lap with the promise of escorting him to his room isn’t hard, the other pulling him off the bench and out of the gym. Norman doesn’t even get the chance to take his things with him, following Arthur along the corridors of the palace that seem deserted during the night. They arrive at Arthur’s room without passing anyone on their way, and Norman wants to stop outside the door. He only promised to bring him here, nothing more. But one look from those dark eyes, a gentle tug on his hand, and the memory of what happened the last time Norman brought Arthur home in the middle of the night are enough to make his resistance falter.

The whispered “No one has to know” clings in his ears as he follows Arthur inside, closing the door behind them.

[on AO3]

[whiskeyswriting]

Visiting Hours

TW: Mentions of death and grief

I wish that heaven had visiting hours

And I would ask them if I could take you home

But I know what they'd say, that it's for the best

So I will live life the way you taught me, and make it on my own

And I will close the door, but I will open up my heart

And everyone I love will know exactly who you are

'Cause this is not goodbye, it is just 'til we meet again

So much has changed since you've been away

July 21, 2015

Silence. All I can hear is silence. I can’t even feel my heart or the tears anymore. I had time to say bye Jules… But I never wanted to. I need you Jules. I can’t do this without you - you’re my brother. My best friend.

All we can see is Charles from across the church. I don’t know what to tell him to comfort him. The somber music starts and we see the pallbearers walk towards you. I can only focus on Seb and Romain. Once they grab hold of your casket, everything around me fades away.

A hand grabs mine and I know her heart is breaking too. You two were supposed to be forever. Jules and Alana. Ever since you met, there was never a day when you wouldn’t say you were going to marry her.

Our souls mourn you. We’ll never know how to fix this hole you left in us. Jules… I’ll do everything I can every day to make you proud. I know I’ll have bad days. I know I’ll struggle to accept you being gone. I’ll never forget you. I do hope you look after me and after Alana.

Forever your baby sister,

Baylie Bianchi

--

Jules… My love… My fiancé. I can't believe it's true. I keep looking for you. I check my phone and wait to hear from you.

Our time together will never be enough. We promised each other forever. We were weeks away from forever… But now I’m forever without you.

I’ll keep my promise to always look out for Baylie. She’ll always be my baby sister now. I can’t promise I’ll ever love again. Jules you stole my heart that day we met when our sibling were karting. I’ll still have weekly lunches with your parents. I’ll look after Charles.

Je t’aime mon cœur,

Alana Hubert

September 10, 2019

I thought losing Jules would kill me… but losing you, my baby brother… I don’t think I’ll survive. I don’t know how I’ll say goodbye. We were never supposed to say goodbye. I don’t know what I did to deserve losing my baby brother. I love you Anthoine.

You’ll always be my most favorite person. The one who I’d share all my secrets with. I’ll miss our weekly sibling pizza nights. I’ll always wear your number with me. I’ll do my best to be brave and strong but I don’t know how to without you. You always gave me the strength and confidence I needed.

Anthoine… Find Jules and papa Hervé. They’ll know how to help you guide and cheer Pierre, Baylie and Charles up. We’ll miss you and never forget you.

Always your proud big sister,

Alana

--

Mon croissant… Mon cœur… Anthoine… My sweetheart… Life will never be the same without you and your smile. I don’t know how I’ll survive without you. I wish I could have stopped time and saved you.

I’ll be there for Alana. I know what losing your brother… your favorite person is like. I can help her. I’ll help Pierre too. I remember the first time I met you both. We were karting and you two were too busy trying to out pace the other one that I just sped past you. Ever since that day, it was always the three of us. We were inseparable.

This isn’t goodbye. Anthoine. It’s just until later.

Your sweetheart,

Baylie

[papayafiles]

is this rpf or are these irl quotes from the actual drivers, a quiz:

because all of them are somehow real and this entire article reads like fanfiction

[logansargey]

F1 and F2 drivers + the unsent project

[giuseppe-yuki]

shapeshifting!reader au blurbs: a spinoff

summary: the drivers on the f1 grid aren't the only ones that have shapeshifting girlfriends...

or: some moments featuring the team principals, f2 drivers, reserve drivers, and retired drivers with their shapeshifting girlfriends outside of the paddock.

a spinoff of my original f1 shapeshifter!reader series due to popular demand :)

f2:

andrea kimi antonelli - tiger

ollie bearman - bear cub

dino beganovic - komodo dragon

team principals:

toto wolff - wolf

reserve drivers:

mick schumacher - ermine

liam lawson - kiwi

retired drivers:

kimi räikkönen - swan

sebastian vettel - carpenter bee

nico rosberg - desert rain frog

jenson button - lion

ask blurbs:

arthur leclerc - monkey

kimi antonelli - tiger

ollie, dino, paul - bear cub, komodo dragon, songbird

paul aron - songbird

kimi antonelli - tiger

kimi antonelli - tiger

franco colapinto - orange cat

kimi antonelli- tiger

franco colapinto - orange cat

franco colapinto - orange cat

kimi antonelli - tiger

a/n: if anyone would like to request a driver/principal not on the list, just shoot me an ask and i'll see what i can do :)

separate note: i understand ollie and kimi technically have seats in f1 for next year, but i am still going to group them into f2 for now!

[rpfshippingpolls]

⚠️ DON’T START DISCOURSE ABOUT RPF IN THE NOTES!! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED IF YOU DO SO ⚠️

Do you ship it?

Reason:

“Two households alike in dignity, Ferrari and Mercedes. Surely the tragedy of young talents with the weight of the world on their shoulders, in rival academies, won't triumph again. Surely their destinies haven't already been decided by fate. Surely, just this once, Formula 1 won't break them.”

[scrollonso]

First Kiss (Special Ending)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (4.4k words, fluffy ver) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {This is just a mix of different moments, i'm scared to let them go}

last part - masterlist - it's over ☹️

"I want a baby" A tipsy Lance muttered, face barely illuminated in their shared hotel room.

"What?" Fernando laughed, unsure what Lance was talking about, he never made much sense when he was drunk.

"A baby, Nano." Lance frowned, eyebrows furrowing at the sound of the Spaniard laughing

"You want a baby? Lancito you are a baby." The older man said, sitting down next to Lance

"Do you not want a baby with me?" His voice cracked, eyes welling with tears as he sat on the edge of their bed.

"Ay, Mi sol. I do, I do want a baby with you." Fernando backtracked, moving his hand to brush the Canadians hair from his face "Let's sleep before we get a baby, okay?"

Lance nodded and before Fernando knew it the taller boy was curled up and asleep under the duvet.

The sun streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Lance stirred, groaning slightly as he rubbed his eyes, the events of the previous night slowly coming back to him. Fernando was already awake, sitting in an armchair by the window, a cup of coffee in hand and a knowing smile on his face.

"Good morning, mi vida," Fernando greeted softly.

Lance sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep. "Morning, Nando."

Fernando watched him carefully. "You remember what you said last night?"

Lance's cheeks flushed. "Sort of. I said a lot of things."

"You said you wanted a baby," Fernando prompted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Lance's eyes widened as he recalled his drunken confession. "I meant it, you know," he said earnestly, his voice steadier now. "I really want us to have a baby."

Fernando's expression softened. "I know you did. And I want that too."

The weeks that followed were filled with research and conversations, the initial idea turning into a plan, el plan. By December, Lance and Fernando had finalized the adoption process, ready to welcome a newborn into their lives.

On December 21st, they found themselves in Bulgaria, meeting their son for the first time. The tiny baby was swaddled in a soft blanket, his dark eyes wide and curious. Lance’s heart swelled as he held the baby close, Fernando at his side, both of them marveling at the little life that had become theirs.

"Look at him, Nikola Stroll-Diaz," Fernando whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Lance gently touched the baby's cheek. "He's perfect," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Back in their home, the nursery was ready, filled with soft toys and a crib waiting for Nikola. The transition to parenthood was an adjustment for both men, balancing their careers and new responsibilities, but the joy they felt was undeniable.

In the early hours of the morning, Lance would often be found rocking Nikola to sleep, the baby nestled against his chest. Fernando would join them, wrapping an arm around Lance, their little family complete.

One evening, as they sat together on the couch, Nikola asleep in his crib, Lance turned to Fernando. "You know, when I said I wanted a baby, I never imagined it would feel like this."

Fernando smiled, pressing a kiss to Lance's temple. "It's better than anything I could have imagined."

Their journey had been unexpected, but as they watched their son grow, both men knew they wouldn't trade it for the world. Lance and Fernando had found something more precious than any championship title, they had found family.

The house was quiet, except for the soft coos of Nikola, who was nestled comfortably in Lance's arms. The snow outside created a serene backdrop, the fireplace casting a warm glow inside the cozy living room. Fernando entered, his expression thoughtful, as he sat down beside Lance on the couch.

"Lancito, there's something important I need to talk to you about," Fernando began, his voice steady but serious.

Lance shifted slightly, adjusting Nikola in his arms, the Spaniards tone worrying him. "Hm?"

Fernando took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Lance's. "I've decided to leave Renault."

Lance's eyes widened in surprise. "You're leaving Renault? What happened?"

Fernando nodded, understanding Lance's reaction. "But I feel like I need a new challenge, something that will push me further."

"Nando, we have a baby now, is that not new enough?" He joked before his curiosity deepened. "So, where are you going?"

A small smile tugged at Fernando's lips. "McLaren."

Lance's surprise turned into a smile. "McLaren? Do you know who your teammate's gonna be?"

Fernando nodded, his excitement evident. "Lewis Hamilton, I'm pretty sure you guys were in F3 together"

Lance nodded before looking down at Nikola, who was now dozing peacefully in his arms, and then back at Fernando. "I’m proud of you, Nando. I know you're gonna do great."

As the podium ceremony began in Malaysia, Lance made his way closer to the stage, navigating through the throng of fans and team members. Fernando stood tall on the top step, his face beaming with triumph as the Spanish national anthem played. He glanced down, his eyes finding Lance and Nikola in the crowd, his smile widening even further.

After receiving his trophy and the customary champagne spray, Fernando looked back at his family, his expression a mix of joy and love. Lance waved, Nikola’s tiny hand mimicking the motion with Lance’s help.

Fernando couldn’t resist. As soon as he could he made his way towards the two the crowd parted, allowing the man to reach his family. He took Nikola into his arms, pressing a kiss to the baby’s forehead before leaning in to kiss Lance.

The cameras on them and shocked expressions from people in the crowd meant nothing when he had Nikola and Lance in his arms.

Lewis was one of the first to voice his support after the two publically announced their relationship. In the next race weekend, he wore a "Love is Love" shirt during media day, making a small yet powerful statement. "We’re all part of this family," he said in interviews. "Fernando and Lance are showing incredible bravery, and it’s our duty to support them."

Kimi also showed his support. He was seen wearing a rainbow wristband during the pre-race drivers' parade, a subtle yet significant gesture. When asked about it, he simply said, "It is no different than me and Jenni."

Nico, Felipe, and Jenson joined the movement, each wearing "Love is Love" shirts during various race weekends. Their actions spoke volumes, showing unity within the paddock. Nico, in particular, used his platform to speak out against the negative reactions. "This sport should be inclusive and welcoming to everyone, both black and gay drivers."

Giancarlo and David added their voices, emphasizing the importance of acceptance in such a high-profile sport. David, during a television broadcast, said, "My past rivalries with Lance has nothing to do with how I feel. Their love and commitment to their family is something to be celebrated, not condemned."

In private, the support from fellow drivers meant the world to Fernando and Lance. It reinforced their belief that they had made the right decision by coming out, not just for themselves but for the many others who might be struggling in silence.

Nikola, still blissfully unaware, continued to bring joy to their lives. The paddock began to embrace him too, with drivers often stopping by to say hello and spend a few moments with the bright-eyed baby.

After the podium celebrations and media commitments after the European GP, the two returned to their hotel suite, where Nikola was waiting with his mémé. As they entered, still riding the high of their dual podium finishes, they found Nikola playing on a soft blanket spread out on the floor.

"Hey, mi sol," Lance greeted, scooping Nikola up into his arms, having made sure to wash off the champagne before he returned. "Did you miss us?"

Nikola’s eyes lit up at the sight of his fathers, and he reached out towards Fernando, who joined them, pressing a kiss to Nikola’s forehead. “Today was a good day,” Fernando said, his voice filled with contentment.

Lance gently bounced Nikola in his arms, Fernando sticking his tongue out at the baby. Suddenly, Nikola let out a high-pitched giggle, his eyes sparkling with delight. Both Lance and Fernando froze, their eyes widening in surprise.

“Joder. Did he just laugh?” Fernando asked, a broad smile spreading across his face.

Lance nodded, his own grin matching Fernando’s. “Oh my god!"

They took turns making silly faces and noises, their smiles growing with each giggle that escaped Nikola’s lips. The room filled with the sound of his infectious laughter.

“Look at him, Nando,” Lance said, his voice choked with emotion. “He’s so happy.”

After the season had concluded, Lance, Fernando, and Nikola retreated to their home in Dubai for a well-deserved break and to celebrate Lance's 20th birthday.

Fernando had woken up early, setting about preparing a special birthday breakfast while Lance and Nikola slept peacefully. Lance awoke to the delightful scent and the distant sounds of clinking plates. Rubbing his eyes, he smiled as he heard Nikola’s excited babbling from his crib. He turned to see Fernando entering their bedroom, a tray with breakfast treats in hand.

“Happy birthday, mi sol,” Fernando greeted warmly, quick to peck his boyfriends lips.

Lance’s smile widened. “Thank you, Nando. This looks amazing.”

Just then, Nikola’s babbling escalated, and they saw him standing in his crib, eager to be let out.

“Looks like someone is ready to join us,” Fernando smiled, setting the tray down and lifting Nikola out of his crib. The baby giggled, reaching out for Lance.

Lance gently scooped Nikola into his arms, planting a kiss on his chubby cheek. “Good morning, sweet boy,” he cooed, eliciting more giggles from Nikola.

Years passed in a flash, Nikola now 2 and Fernando back with renault. He took Lance outside, Nikola not far away on a blanket over the grass, distracted with toys.

"Lance," Fernando began, his voice filled with emotion as he looked deeply into Lance’s eyes, "from the moment we met, you’ve brought light and joy into my life. You’ve been my boyfriend, my best friend, and the love of my life."

He paused, his heart racing with anticipation. "Today, I want to ask you something. Will you marry me?"

Fernando reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a stunning ring nestled inside. "I promise to cherish you, to support you, and to love you with all that I am, for all the days of our lives. Lance Stroll, will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?"

He held his breath, waiting for Lance’s response, his heart overflowing with love and hope for their future together.

Touched by the sentiment, Lance leaned over to kiss Fernando, forgetting to say yes as his emotions swallowed him. “I love it. Thank you,” he murmured, his heart full.

"Is that a yes?" Fernando whispered as the kiss broke

"Yes" He nodded eagerly, vision blurred with tears as Fernando put the ring on his finger

In 2010, they finally got married. The venue they chose was a picturesque estate in Asturias, nestled amidst rolling hills and lush gardens, offering a serene backdrop for their special day.

The morning of the wedding dawned with clear skies and a gentle breeze, setting the stage for an unforgettable celebration. Lance and Fernando, surrounded by their closest friends, family, and colleagues, prepared for the ceremony with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

Lance looked gorgeous in a tailored suit, his expression a mix of joy and anxiety as he awaited the moment to see Fernando. Fernando, radiant in a sleek tuxedo, exuded confidence and happiness as he made his final preparations. Their son Nikola, now a lively three-year-old, played happily with his cousins and friends, adding a warm energy to the pre-wedding festivities.

As the ceremony began, guests gathered in an intimate garden adorned with floral arrangements and soft candlelight. Lance and Fernando stood side by side under an elegant arch, exchanging heartfelt vows that they had written themselves. Their promises to support and cherish each other resonated deeply, accompanied by the gentle rustling of leaves and the soft murmur of loved ones’ affirmations.

Nikola, the ring bearer, toddled down the aisle with a mischievous grin, holding the rings in his tiny hands, eliciting laughter and applause from the guests. Lance and Fernando beamed with pride as they watched their son play such an important role in their union.

The ceremony was followed by a joyful reception, where guests enjoyed delicious cuisine and danced under the starlit sky. The evening was filled with laughter, heartfelt toasts, and moments of pure happiness as Lance and Fernando celebrated their love and the journey they had embarked upon together.

Among the guests were many of their fellow Formula 1 drivers, who had become not just colleagues but close friends. Giancarlo, Nico, Sebastian, and others raised glasses in a heartfelt toast to Lance and Fernando, expressing their support and admiration.

As the night drew to a close, Lance and Fernando stole away for a quiet moment together, gazing at the stars and reflecting on the significance of their wedding day. “I never imagined I could be this happy,” Lance whispered, his hand intertwined with Fernando’s.

Fernando pulled him close, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Today was perfect.”

In 2016, Nikola experienced his first karting race. The venue was a local karting track in Montreal, the same one Lance had raced at dozens of times before.

Nikola, almost ten years old, approached the race with a mix of excitement and curiosity. He had shown a natural aptitude for driving even at his young age, often mimicking his Papas movements on their simulator at home.

Nikola, dressed in his racing suit labeled "Stroll-Diaz" at his hip, looked tiny but determined as he stood next to his kart.

When the green flag dropped, Nikola sped off, barely visible above the kart’s steering wheel. He maneuvered through the twists and turns of the track with surprising skill, his concentration evident even under his helmet. Lap after lap, he pushed himself, gaining confidence with each corner.

To everyone’s surprise and delight, Nikola crossed the finish line first, claiming victory in his debut race. The cheers of his family and the proud smiles of Lance and Fernando echoed across the track. Nikola, his face flushed with excitement, couldn’t believe he had won.

"I won! Dad, Papa, I did it!" Nikola exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment as he removed his helmet.

Lance and Fernando exchanged amused glances. "You did great, sweet boy," Lance said, ruffling Nikola’s hair gently. "You ready for the next five?."

Nikola’s eyes widened, having not realized there was more. "What?"

Lance and Fernando had noticed Nikola had been proudly telling his friends at school that he was Spanish and Canadian, just like his dad and papa. While they appreciated his admiration and identification with them, they also wanted him to understand and embrace the fact that he's Bulgarian.

"Nik, can we talk to you about something important?" Lance began, his voice gentle but firm. Nikola nodded, curiosity evident in his eyes as he sat between his fathers on the couch.

"We love that you want to be like us, niño," Fernando chimed in, placing a reassuring hand on Nikola's shoulder. "But we also want you to know who you are."

Nikola furrowed his brows slightly, he was well aware that he was adopted but he didn't understand where this was going. "I'm Nikola Stroll-Diaz?"

Lance nodded, leaning in to explain. "You are, but you're also Bulgarian."

"We want you to feel proud of all the places that are a part of you," Fernando added, his voice warm with encouragement. "Bulgaria's where you were born, and it will always be a part of you, no matter what me and Dad are."

Nikola pondered this for a moment, processing the new information. "So, I'm Spanish, Canadian, and Bulgarian?" he asked tentatively.

"Yeah," Lance replied with a smile. "You're a little bit of everything, and that's what makes you special."

As Nikola grew older and more involved in karting, his connection to his Bulgarian heritage deepened, both Lance and Fernando trying their best at learning and teaching him the language and culture.

At thirteen years old, he decided to compete in the WSK Open Cup, a significant step in his racing career. Determined to honor his Bulgarian roots, Nikola made a deliberate choice to race under the Bulgarian flag.

Nikola's dedication to representing Bulgaria on the international karting stage earned him a nickname that resonated deeply within the racing community: the Bulgarian Lion. He wore the name with pride. So much so that on his sixteenth birthday Lance finally agreed for him to get the words tattooed.

During the races, Nikola showcased impressive skill and maturity beyond his years. His speed and strategic racing maneuvers caught the attention of seasoned competitors and racing enthusiasts. Off the track, journalists and fans alike praised him not only for his talent but also for his commitment to honoring his Bulgarian identity.

Lance and Fernando watched with pride as their son embraced this new chapter in his racing journey. They supported him wholeheartedly, attending races, offering guidance, and celebrating his achievements both on and off the track.

As the season progressed, the nickname "the Bulgarian Lion" became synonymous with Nikola's racing persona, making waving the Bulgarian flag after winning the championship a thousand times more meaningful.

As they prepared for the 24-hour Endurance race in Dubai 2021, the atmosphere in the team garage was electric with anticipation. Nikola, suited up and ready for his stint behind the wheel, exchanged a nod with Fernando, who was overseeing the final preparations with a focused intensity.

"You've got this, Nik," Fernando said, his voice filled with confidence as he checked the telemetry readings. "Remember to stay focused and keep your lines clean. We're counting on you."

Nikola nodded, adjusting his gloves with a determined expression. "I got it, Papa," he replied, his voice steady despite the nerves bubbling beneath the surface. "I'll make you proud."

Lance stood nearby, a proud smile lighting up his face as he watched father and son exchange encouraging words. "You've trained hard for this, sweet boy," Lance chimed in, patting Nikola's shoulder reassuringly. "Trust yourself."

Nikola glanced at his father, a mix of excitement and gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks, Dad."

Fernando stepped closer, placing a hand on Nikola's helmet with a smile. "Now go out there and show them what you're made of."

With a nod, Nikola slipped into the driver's seat, the engine roaring to life beneath him. As he rolled out onto the track, Lance and Fernando exchanged a proud glance, knowing their son was ready for the challenge ahead. Throughout the grueling hours of the race, they monitored his progress, offering encouragement over the team radio and celebrating each successful stint.

When Nikola brought the car back into the pits after a particularly intense night stint, Fernando was there to greet him with a firm handshake and a heartfelt embrace. "You did it, hijo," Fernando said, his voice thick with emotion. "You drove like a champion out there."

Nikola beamed, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. "Thanks, Papa," he replied breathlessly.

Lance joined them, wrapping his arms around both Fernando and Nikola in a tight hug. "We knew you could do it," he said proudly, his voice tinged with emotion. "You've made us so proud, Nik."

Fernando and Lance were enjoying a rare moment of downtime in the living room of their home in Dubai, the hum of the Formula 1 season momentarily distant. Nikola, had been spending a lot of time on his phone lately, having just gotten into his first Serious relationship.

Fernando opened twitter and was greeted by Nikola’s face, him and one of his friends in theid fireproofs wearing chains with a song playing on the background Fernando couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the video catching him off guard.

Lance, sitting next to him, leaned over to see what was so funny. His amusement quickly turned into concern. “Fernando, we need to talk to him about this,” Lance said, his tone serious. “Our image and his are important. We have to be responsible on the internet. He's not just a teenager, he's our son.”

Fernando, still laughing, shook his head. “Come on, Lancito. He’s just having some fun. Let him enjoy himself. Besides, the fans aren't taking it seriously.”

Lance frowned, clearly not convinced. “It’s not just about fun, Fernando. What he posts online reflects on all of us. We can’t just ignore how things can be perceived. We need to teach him about maintaining a good image.”

Fernando put his arm around Lance, trying to ease his worry. “Nik’s a smart kid. He knows where to draw the line. And honestly, it’s good for him to have some fun, racings been stressing him out. We can guide him, but we also have to let him be himself.”

Lance sighed, nodding slowly. “I know you’re right, but I still think we should talk to him. Just to make sure he understands the balance between having fun and being responsible.”

“Of course,” Fernando agreed, still smiling. "He’s growing up, people talking about him is gonna do more than us talking to him"

In 2025, Nikola joined Prema in F2, taking another significant step towards his dream of racing in Formula 1 as his Dad had around his age. His rookie season was challenging, filled with ups and downs, but Nikola's talent and resilience shone through. He secured multiple podium finishes, earning respect and admiration from his peers and racing fans.

One particularly memorable race took place at the Spa. Nikola started from the back of the grid due to a technical issue during qualifying. Undeterred, he drove with remarkable skill and tenacity, overtaking car after car. By the final lap, he was in third place, chasing down the leaders. With a daring move at the last corner, he secured second place, earning a standing ovation from the crowd.

After the race, Lance and Fernando were there to greet him, their pride evident in their expressions. "That was incredible, Nik," Lance said, his voice filled with awe.

Fernando nodded, his eyes shining with admiration. "You've got the heart of a champion, hijo."

Nikola smiled, his exhaustion replaced by pure exhilaration. "I learned from the best."

As the years went by, Nikola's journey in motorsport continued to inspire many. He remained grounded (somewhat, he also remained aware of his advantages both from family and his good looks), always remembering the lessons his parents had taught him about love, resilience, and the importance of embracing one's identity. His success was not just measured by trophies and titles but by the impact he had on the sport and the legacy of acceptance and inclusion he helped foster.

In 2028, as Nikola finished the last race of his first season in Formula 1, placing 3rd in the championship, he stood on the same podium where his Dad and his Papa had once celebrated countless victories. The echoes of the roaring crowd filled his ears, a blend of cheers and applause that seemed to merge the past and present. The sun set behind the grandstands, casting a golden glow over the circuit, making the moment feel almost surreal.

Nikola’s heart raced, not just from the adrenaline of the competition but from the overwhelming pride and joy coursing through him. He glanced down at the crowd where Lance and Fernando watched with beaming smiles. Their eyes glistened with pride and love, their expressions reflecting the countless years of guidance, support, and encouragement they had given him.

Lance, ever the serious and composed figure, had tears welling up in his eyes. He remembered the many conversations they had about anything and everything, about the hard work and dedication it took to succeed in such a demanding sport. He had always been the one to emphasize responsibility, ensuring Nikola understood the weight of the family legacy he carried. Watching his son achieve this milestone was a testament to their shared efforts and dreams.

Fernando, standing beside Lance, couldn't contain his wide grin. He had always believed in letting Nikola find his own path, balancing hard work with joy and laughter. Fernando’s laughter had often filled their home, rubbing off on the other two in the house, a reminder that passion and fun were essential ingredients for success. Seeing Nikola on the podium, Fernando saw the perfect blend of their teachings. A young man who was as dedicated as he was joyful.

As Nikola raised the trophy high, he felt the weight of his family's legacy in his hands. The crowd’s cheers grew louder, a symphony of support and admiration. He could see flashes of both his fathers' victories in the eyes of the fans, a reminder of the history that had shaped him. But more than anything, Nikola felt the unbreakable bond of his family, a constant source of strength and motivation.

The journey to this moment had been filled with challenges, triumphs, and lessons. Nikola remembered the early mornings at the karting track, the long nights spent discussing strategies, and the countless pieces of advice from both Lance and Fernando. Every step of the way, they had been there, pushing him to be his best while reminding him to enjoy the ride.

Standing on that podium, Nikola knew that no matter where his racing career took him, the support of his family would always be his greatest strength. The future was bright and full of possibilities, but the foundation built by his Papa and Dad would always guide him. As the national anthem played then the champagne was sprayed, Nikola looked towards the crowd, locking eyes with Lance and Fernando. They nodded, a silent promise of unwavering support and love.

In that moment, Nikola understood that his victories were theirs as well, a culmination of shared dreams and relentless dedication. He stepped down from the podium with a heart full of gratitude, ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing he would never walk the path alone.

[pitlanewrites]

✎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ father first, think later ✧˖°

Pairing: Kimi Räikkonen and Andrea Kimi Antonelli (non-romantic)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1718

Date Published: 09.04.24

It’s Seb who shows him the article. Kimi peers at his phone, trying to make out the article title—exceedingly difficult with how Seb leaves the brightness down. Who Is New Prema Recruit and Mercedes Junior Andrea Kimi Antonelli? Excuse him, Andrea who?

Or: Kimi Räikkönen reads an article about Kimi Antonelli and decides that he is his son now.

read here!

[lovelytsunoda]

the cozy collection bonus features | cozy collection stories as penguin classics

*excluding the two current kinktober additions*

includes all fics from the 2024 round of the cozy collection :) none of the images used to create the covers belong to me, they were all found on pinterest

[nnato]

get me out of here

Watching a play at the opera isn’t one of Arthur’s favourite pastimes. But since he was the only person available from the Royal Family, his mother made him attend the event. Gladly he has Norman to keep him company. Arthur is sure that with a little bit of persuasion, he can get Norman to agree to have some fun.

Norman/Arthur || 900 words || T

for @dacchamp

[whiskeyswriting]

Well that will be depressing....

Hoping to post later tonight

[usssputnik]

I want to read some Paul Aron x Franco Colapinto fics so much, Franco the precious boy and Paul the winner villain, come on, it's right thereeeeee, their vibes are amazing