#formula one rpf

[liwysz]

This is so Verstappen coded 😭😭😭

— Fiona Apple

[standgrand]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64157485

And maybe that was why, before Lando could say anything else, Oscar suddenly leaned back against the door, tilting his head as far as it would go, exposing his throat in the process.

An open invitation.

or they really like to celebrate with a bed

[mattmurdockismyspiritanimal]

[satanxklaus]

♥︎ 𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈𝐭 𝐔𝐩 | lando norris x reader smau

✦ pairing : lando norris x fem!reader ✦ summary : in which fans are quick to throw hate towards lando's girlfriend that does not fit into the 'typical' wag lifestyle. ✦ content warning : profanity, illusion of sex, several ayesha erotica references, slut-shaming, use of yn ✦ faceclaim : girlies from pinterest

a/n: hey! so this is my first time doing this after many years of not writing shit. this is kinda short. pls let me know what u think,, feedback is always appreciated!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

yninstagram

liked by landonorris, mclaren, yourbestie and 21,987 more.

yninstagram tummy full of edible gummies, im feeling yummy

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user3 god shes a pr nightmare fr

user9 god there are kids on this app. gross.

landonorris ✓ ZOWEEE MAMA bark bark !!!!

⤷ yninstagram c'mere and get sum xx

landonorris ✓ damn baby give me a chance pls 😩

⤷ user16 nurse he is out again

⤷ mclaren ✓ lando pls we talked about this yesterday

ynfan1 god idk if i wanna be her or be with her shes so fckn hot dude

text messages

landonorris ✓

liked by oscarpiastri, f1wags, mclaren and 1,634,200 more.

landonorris ✓ i've been seeing a lot of hate and awful name calling towards my partner on the internet for the past days. truly if you were really a fan of mine, i ask you to please respect our relationship and stop sending hate towards my girlfriend. i love her, and i don't care how she acts or dress a certain way. its really none of your business, really. suck it up.

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⤷ yninstagram i love you 🤍🥺

⤷ yninstagram u have no business for posting that third pic, count your days norris

user7 now where are the bitches that keeps barking and hating. sit down ho

f1wags protect yn at all cost.

mclaren ✓ our paddock princess 🫶🏻

user19 they could never make me hate you yn yln.

fransisca.cgomes why yall hating on my wife for?

⤷ yninstagram omg girl i miss you so much!! u should leave pierre and be with me instead 🙏🏻

⤷ fransisca.cgomes im omw 🏃🏻‍♀️

⤷ pierregasly ✓ hello???? please dont take my girl 😭

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user12 u are disgusting

⤷ yninstagram your hairline is disgusting 🤢

landonorris ✓ god you're so damn sexy

landonorris ✓ wait for me till i get home

⤷ yninstagram 🤭 im still in bed where u left me this morning. come quick xx

yninstagram

liked by landonorris, fransisca.cgomes, pierregasly, ynfan and 89,634 more.

yninstagram yea i might be a slut, but im still a wag and you're not. stay pressed 😘💋

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[logansargey]

Simi is honestly the best duo in F1 because you have this quiet finnish man who stares off into the distance and dissociates 24/7 and doesn't talk to anyone, who's literally known as the Iceman instantly become friends with this chaotic, sunshine, always yapping, bee freak german man. And they go so well together. Like the only times you actually see Kimi smile in his F1 days are when he's around Seb. He calls Seb "Sebi". They've never argued and always talk when they have a problem on track. Kimi went back to Ferrari just to be teammates with Seb. They constantly praise one another. They're the F1 duo and probably the best rpf ship ever. No one compares to Simi.

[neptunescore]

why is jenson and nico called PrincessCake? i'm assuming that princess refers to Nico

Yep, princess is nico, and like, we all know why. It's the same reason he was nicknamed Britney: he's pretty, and the drivers wanted to poke fun at him for it.

The cake part, though, it ALWAYS leaves my giggling. So basically, bfr jenson was starting his 200th gp they asked him whether getting a good result — in this race especially— mattered to him. For some reason, jenson took this question completely differently and just went on abt how much he loves cake😭😭

I genuinely can not make this up. My man said the word cake more than 10 times in one sentence, and he wouldn't STOP💀

Wait let me see if I can find the clip😝

Source

FOUND IT!!!

And there you have it! The origin story of princess cake😭

[liwysz]

8 days to fall in love with your rival

Charles Leclerc x Max Verstappen

Chapters: 5/10 | Words: 13,373 | Started posting: 2024/12/09

The rivalry between Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen was the fiercest in the world of sim racing. Each commanded their own virtual empire, with legions of fans ready to defend them at any cost. Streams were veritable battlefields, full of provocations and questionable moves during multiplayer events, fueling the drama between the two even more. The intensity of this rivalry was what kept the sim racing community alive. Between Twitter barbs, live taunts, and edited clips full of sharp commentary, everyone knew that Charles and Max couldn’t even “breathe the same air” in the virtual world. For viewers, watching their interactions whenever they had the chance to play against each other was like watching fire and gasoline meet over and over again — explosive, chaotic, and impossible to ignore. All of this changed after a certain announcement appeared. or: my Lestappen Christmas fic project

F1 Masterlist | Lestappen Masterlist | Meet me :)

[isacksteban]

Cinnamon — Strollonso (Prologue)

The café buzzed with the usual campus chatter, the smell of coffee and pastries filling the air. Lance sat at a round table near the window, sunlight casting a soft glow on his dark hair as he absentmindedly tapped his pen against his notebook. His iced coffee sat in front of him, already half-melted, condensation pooling on the table. His brows were furrowed, lips pursed in frustration as he stared at his notes, though it was clear his mind was elsewhere.

His friends — Jessica, Esteban, Charles, and Zhou — lounged around him in varying states of relaxation. Jessica was scrolling through her phone, occasionally making comments about her latest assignment. Esteban leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, while Charles and Zhou debated the ethics paper they had due at the end of the week. But Lance wasn’t listening to any of it.

Suddenly, he broke the relative calm.

“I swear, Dr. Alonso is crazy in love with me,” he blurted out, loud enough to turn a few heads from nearby tables.

The reaction was instant. Esteban choked on his drink, coughing and spluttering as Jessica raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Charles and Zhou exchanged wide-eyed glances before Zhou burst out laughing.

“What?” Esteban finally managed to wheeze, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Like the Beyoncé song?” Zhou asked, grinning.

Charles immediately smacked the back of Zhou’s head. “Only you would be thinking about Beyoncé when Lance is in the middle of a damn schizophrenic episode.”

Jessica stifled a giggle behind her hand as Charles’ laughter grew louder. Lance scowled, narrowing his eyes at his friends.

“I’m serious,” he said, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “You don’t see the way he looks at me during lectures. The comments he makes… It’s not normal, I swear.”

Jessica leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Wait, wait. Are you serious? You’re talking about the same Dr. Alonso who made us write that twenty-fucking-seven-page essay on moral philosophy last week? That Dr. Alonso?”

“Yes! I’m telling you, he’s insane,” Lance insisted. “The way he stares at me during class — it’s like I’m the only person in the room. And then he called my analysis ‘profound’ the other day, and after that, he barely looked at anyone else for the rest of the lecture.”

Zhou raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his face. “Or maybe he just really liked your paper? Ever think of that?”

Charles grinned mischievously, clearly enjoying the situation. “Or maybe you’ve been listening to too much Lana Del Rey.”

The others burst into laughter, and even Lance had to bite back a smile.

“Come on, Lance,” Zhou said, shaking his head. “You think our business ethics professor is crazy in love — great song, by the way — with you? Sounds like a stretch.”

Lance crossed his arms defensively, a stubborn pout on his face. “I’m not saying I WANT him to be into me,” he muttered. “I mean… okay, he’s hot. Obviously. His muscles are fucking insane, and don’t even get me started on his grey hairs—”

“Jesus Christ, Lance,” Esteban coughed, cutting him off. “Reel it in.”

Lance waved him off, trying to suppress the heat rising to his cheeks. “But there’s no way I’m imagining this. You didn’t see how flustered he got when I stayed after class to ask a question.”

Jessica smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe you’re just his favorite student. I’m not sure the old man can even see well enough to think about that fat ass you’ve got.”

“Right,” Esteban chuckled. “And next, you’ll be telling us he watches Call Me By Your Name in his office while thinking about you.”

Lance tried to hide his grin, but it broke through anyway. “We are kind of Elio and Oliver coded,” he said, his tone teasing. “My dad was in one of his college classes, you know.”

“Oh my God,” Jessica groaned, laughing as she grabbed her bag. “Okay, we need to get to class before you spiral any further.”

They all stood, grabbing their things and making their way across campus toward the lecture hall.

As they entered the room, Lance’s eyes immediately sought out Dr. Alonso. He was standing at the front of the class, impeccably dressed as always, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that Lance definitely shouldn’t have been looking at. But seriously, how could he resist? Especially with that gorgeous tattoo from his wrist to the bend of his arm. His sharp eyes scanned the room, pausing briefly on Lance.

Lance felt his heart skip a beat. Shit.

Jessica nudged him with her elbow, whispering, “Okay, I’m starting to see what you mean.”

Dr. Alonso cleared his throat, his voice steady and authoritative. “Good afternoon, class. Today, we’ll be discussing the complexities of moral relativism and its application in modern business practices.”

Lance sat at his usual spot, near the middle of the lecture hall — not too close to be suspicious, but not too far that he couldn’t see every detail of Dr. Alonso. His friends, sprawled around him, whispered quietly as they unpacked their laptops and notebooks, but Lance barely registered any of it.

His eyes were fixed on him.

Dr. Alonso stood at the front, hands resting lightly on the podium. His voice flowed smoothly through the room, low and rich, with a slight accent that made every word sound infinitely more interesting. Lance tried — he really tried — to take notes, but his pen hovered uselessly above his paper.

“Lance, you’re staring,” Jessica whispered without looking up from her screen.

“I’m not—” Lance started to protest, but he cut himself off when Dr. Alonso looked up again. His gaze locked on Lance’s for just a second too long before he continued pacing in front of the whiteboard.

Lance’s heart was racing now.

He slouched in his seat, running a hand through his hair. Okay, this is fine. Totally fine. No big deal. But it was a big deal, especially when Dr. Alonso started rolling up his sleeves further, revealing more of that tattoo that Lance had definitely been fantasizing about since the semester started.

“I’m gonna lose my mind,” Lance muttered under his breath.

Esteban leaned in. “You’ve already lost it. He’s not into you. He’s grading you.”

Jessica smirked. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind being graded by those hands.”

“Jessica!” Lance hissed, scandalized but laughing despite himself.

Dr. Alonso clapped his hands once, drawing the class’s attention back to him. “Moral relativism often forces us to examine our own biases. What we think is right or wrong isn’t always absolute. Context matters.”

As he spoke, he moved toward the side of the room, his gaze sweeping across the students. But once again, his eyes returned to Lance, who quickly averted his own.

Jessica snickered quietly. “He totally just looked at you.”

“I told you,” Lance whispered, feeling vindicated but also panicked. “It’s not in my head.”

Charles leaned across the aisle. “If he starts quoting Lana Del Rey lyrics, I’m walking out.”

Zhou stifled a laugh. “He’s gonna give Lance an A and write ‘young and in love’ in the margins.”

Lance shook his head, trying to focus on the lecture, but it was impossible. Every glance, every subtle shift in Dr. Alonso’s expression, felt like a secret message just for him.

Toward the end of class, Dr. Alonso leaned against the desk at the front, arms folded. His voice softened slightly. “Remember, what we perceive as ethical may change based on who we’re dealing with. Relationships, power dynamics… they all affect our judgment.”

Lance nearly choked on air.

Jessica’s eyes widened. “Okay, that sounded personal.”

“Am I hallucinating?” Lance whispered, sticking the tip of his tongue out and smiling as he held back a laugh. “Or is he flirting?”

Charles grinned. “If this turns into a fanfiction plot, I’m gonna scream.”

As the class wrapped up and students began packing their things, Lance stayed frozen in his seat. He was overthinking everything — every look, every word, every interaction.

“Let’s go,” Zhou nudged him.

But Lance hesitated, watching Dr. Alonso gather his papers at the front of the room. He was moving slower than usual, lingering as if waiting for something — or someone.

Jessica caught the look in Lance’s eyes and grinned. “Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re about to do the whole ‘stay after class to ask a question’ thing.”

Lance flushed. “Jess, it’s a valid strategy.”

“It’s a thirsty strategy,” Esteban teased, slinging his bag over his shoulder before blowing a kiss to his friend. “Good luck, lover boy.”

As his friends filed out of the room, Lance stood slowly, gathering his courage. He approached the desk, his heart pounding in his chest.

Dr. Alonso glanced up, his sharp eyes softening as Lance approached. “Mr. Stroll. Do you have a question?”

Lance swallowed hard, his palms sweaty. “Yeah, um… I just wanted to clarify something about the reading.”

Dr. Alonso tilted his head, watching him closely. “Which part?”

Lance struggled to remember a single thing from the reading. His mind was blank. “Uh… the part about… power dynamics?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Dr. Alonso’s mouth. “Power dynamics. Of course.”

There was a beat of silence, the tension between them almost palpable.

Lance licked his lips nervously. “So… is context everything?”

Dr. Alonso’s gaze flickered to his mouth, just for a second, before meeting his eyes again. “In ethics? Yes. In life? Sometimes.” He paused, leaning in slightly. “It depends on what you’re hoping to achieve.”

Lance’s breath caught in his throat. Holy shit.

“Right,” Lance managed to say, his voice a little shaky. “Got it.”

Dr. Alonso’s smile deepened, his expression unreadable. “I’ll see you next class, Mr. Stroll.”

Lance nodded quickly, grabbing his things and practically sprinting out of the room. As soon as he was in the hallway, he pressed his back against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

His friends were waiting just outside, grinning like idiots.

“So,” Jessica said, folding her arms. “Did you get your context?”

Lance ran a hand over his face, groaning. “Shut up.”

Charles laughed. “You’re so fucked.”

“No,” Lance muttered, shaking his head. “I’m definitely not imagining it.”

Next

[landoscaring]

kisses (melbourne fix it fic)

i did this more for myself than anything because bitch, that hurt.

Click here to read it on Ao3 bc for some reason the link is not working on tumblr :)

//

As he climbs out of the car in park fermé, clasping Max’s hand and bumping fists with George, he turns to find his mechanics and Zac grinning at him and unlocks a new level of understanding for how want works when it’s shared by two people who can’t have the same thing at the same time - the phantom pain of knowing someone’s missing. His head spins as it tries to process that he’s won, that he’s done it, that he’s proved himself once more. That all the work with Will over winter paid off. That his dad and mum and sister are right there, arms outstretched, waiting for him. That Andrea isn’t there, either.

//

[fall0utmind]

saw your comment about fic recs! not the same anon but please drop omg

Hi anon,

Sorry this has taken so long.

Carlos x lando fic recs below (I can do other F1 ships if people want - also check out my ao3 bookmarks because I save my faves for later)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47886001

When Lando turns around after all the cars have cycled past though, a shock of red sitting with his back against the barrier without a helmet on greets him. Lando only feels slightly guilty for thinking Carlos looks hot when he’s sad. The sight of Carlos sitting there, legs bent and hands dangling atop his knees, takes Lando’s breath away. “So, come here often?” It’s not overly loud, but with the lull in noise and Carlos close by, of course he hears it.

Or: Lando is a paddock photographer in his first year of frequenting the F1 paddock. He meets Carlos by chance after a race and can’t help but be pulled into his orbit slowly and then all at once.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44834194/chapters/112804642

”Wait, what do you have to be in Woking for?” Lando asked and Carlos - Carlos didn’t answer. He just shrugged, a smile on his face that was almost bashful, a little helpless, and from one moment to another, Lando’s world tilted on its axis.

***

In January 2025, Carlos Sainz Jr. signs a one-year deal with McLaren Racing Limited.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40245273

'Don't fall in love with the barista', the sign in front of the coffee shop reads. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37564255

Carlos Sainz is a personal chef who finds himself hired by Lando Norris, a young millionaire and CEO of Quadrant Design and Product Development. Lando is also, as it turns out, too busy to remember to eat, let alone cook. Over the course of nine months, Carlos' affection for Lando - his client and boss, technically - grows immeasurably, and perhaps to Carlos' own detriment.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46752907/chapters/117752281

“What time did you go to sleep last night, cabrón?”

The 7AM light hitting Carlos made his Disney Prince dark hair look like a halo, his features softer in the morning.

He was frowning a little bit, but in a way that made him look worried instead of angry.

“Uhhhhhhhh…”

“Landooooooo…”

OR: the one where Lando is slowly girlrotting away and Carlos just wants to help.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47675434/chapters/120171880

He gets the same feeling that has been coming around more often these days - the realization that, within reason, he can do whatever he wants. It's his life, and right now he wants to lick the roof of this guy's mouth.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33862663/chapters/84192049

Lando’s already had a very poor time of it this morning. First there was no real milk in the break room refrigerator, so he had to put almond milk in his tea, disgusting. Then he caused a panic in the explosives lab by knocking over someone’s project. Now he’s faced with Carlos Sainz Jr., Foreign Operative #055.

[standgrand]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60845713/chapters/164707588

Because ever since that meeting, the only thing his mind had been able to picture was this:

Lando in that car.

And Lando never getting out.

[heliads]

a minute from home - lewis x nico

Nico is doing post-race podium interviews. Lewis has made it to the podium for the first time in a while. It's always something awful when they're that close, isn't it?

masterlist

Lewis loves it when Nico holds the post-race interviews.

Secretly, secretly. At first, it felt like bragging– see how well I’m doing, even after you left? Nico is gone from this world of tire marks and helmet swaps, only able to return from the other side of a veil. White linen suit and sockless loafers, microphone in hand. How did it feel to win again? Again? To break the records? This is your 190th podium. 200th.

Isn’t it fitting? Lewis is still here. Still good. Still every bit the world champion. Nico had his already, his one-and-done. Lewis wonders if he regrets it every day. For several months, up until quite recently, in fact, Lewis had considered the same. Were it not for the fact that he still can feel the metal taste of a trophy in Abu Dhabi, can hear the chants when he wins that eighth– No, Lewis could never leave. Not really. Not yet. Not until he becomes a broken man, more broken than this, when they lock him out of the factory and refuse to let him in that car. They would have to take it from him first, and God knows they’ve already tried.

So, for Nico to leave like that, so suddenly– Lewis gets it and he doesn’t. He feels that way about a lot of his former teammate and friend and everything bar a lover, thank you for that one, Crofty, so much so that he can’t put it into words half the time.

He hadn’t needed to put it into words, though, back then. Nico had known. Same way Lewis had known it like a sickness festering in his stomach when they had started to break. He’d stopped being able to read Nico. He’d stopped being able to tell what he’d done wrong when the jokes didn’t land like they should, when they weren’t jokes at all. He knew it was over when Nico started smiling at him like he did the reporters, clenched jaw and maddened eyes.

He knew it was over when they stopped talking altogether.

And now they have– this? A few spans apart, Nico’s hair gelled but still a little wind-blown. They’re strictly professional, but when Lewis grins Nico stumbles over his words in a manner totally unbefitting one of Sky Sports’ best critics. They are light-years away from what they used to be as kids, but maybe not that far either. Lewis feels like he can see a thousand ghosts orbiting the two of them. There are hundreds of Lewis-and-Nicos hovering around, doing track walks, getting ice cream, staying up too late, screaming until their throats were sore, doing worse to make their throats sore. Hating each other. Ending it, and then coming back.

Lewis answers the post-race interview questions mostly on autopilot so he can let the rest of his mind focus on the interviewer. Nico looks good. Lewis remembers a tightness to him in the last few years, a tension in the shoulders, a manic glint in his eyes, that has gone away at some point over the past few seasons. He’s softened up a little, but not in a way that stops him from grilling the hell out of whatever team principal is unfortunate enough to cross his path while he’s interviewing for Sky Sports.

“Thanks, Lewis,” Nico says, and it’s enough to drag him back to reality. Lewis murmurs a thank-you in return, then offers the mic back over for Nico’s next victim.

He’s expecting one of the many tech assistants hovering around to grab the microphone, but instead, Nico surges forward and takes it himself. The move is too hasty, too eager, and their fingers scrape each other in the passing of the baton, nails against palms against veins thrumming below soft skin. The cameraman has decided to focus on a shot of Lando forcing himself to congratulate Oscar, thank God, so no one sees. No one but them, of course, but who would know to look anyway, or know what it meant when Lewis sucks a ragged breath in through painfully tight lungs?

Nico holds on a half second too late, then abruptly lets go again. Lewis stares at him a second longer then makes himself step away, back to the cooldown room, where he sits in vacant silence until Lando says something stupid and he snaps back on impulse.

Nico is married, he reminds himself. Nico told Lewis he was getting married just to watch him bleed out on the floor of his hotel room. But that night, he’d not left for another half hour, wanting to prove how good he was one last time.

The honest truth of the matter is, it doesn’t actually matter how good either of them is, provided it’s better than the other. Nico is better at asking the questions. Lewis is better at answering them. Different games, but somehow still the same in the end. They’d change any rule if it meant they could still be competitors. Just like how it had been when they were young– first to the hotel door and back, first to eat their food. Then, older. First to the flag. First to the hotel door again, but this time, no leaving. First to make the other beg. First to take it back.

Lewis isn’t good at taking things back, but he doesn’t like the silence after a particularly hard-hitting truth, either. The only option, then, is to leave. He supposes that makes him more like Nico than ever before. Up on the podium, he lets the younger boys drench him in sticky-sweet champagne, and by the time he stumbles off, somewhat sightless– he swears the stuff clots in the eyes more with every passing year, not that he’s had enough of it recently to be sure– Nico in his linen glory is already gone, probably back to his pretty wife and his pretty family, where he can sit and watch like usual.

Nico had always liked watching, anyway. It was easy with those big, open eyes of his. They’d grown more guarded over the years– Lewis’ fault, mostly– but they still showed enough when they were alone and it was dark and–

Enough, enough. Lewis doesn’t like how easily the memories can creep over him again. They’ll want him back in the team meeting space anyway, so the guys can discern how on earth their car was possibly good enough to make it to the podium and so George can moan about how he’d almost been there too, and it was completely someone else’s fault that he wasn’t. Still, he takes the time to glance around one more time in search of white-suited spectres before slipping through the doors of the Mercedes garage once again.

The meeting is just as stultifying as he’d expected, although he is grateful for the praise of getting the job done. Still, when he comes out to see how the sun has sunk low in the sky, he can’t think about anything but leaving, and maybe getting completely wasted closer to midnight, too. Lewis can’t imagine that anyone else would still be here except the last of the fans still digging out every sign they can take home with them and the somber teams scraping up the last data from today’s fuckups, so he’s totally surprised to turn a corner and see Nico wrapping up the last of his interviews.

Nico thanks Laura Winter and a few other nameless Sky Sports reporters before turning and, incongruously, heading Lewis’ way. Nico’s obviously out in space, but his head snaps up just before they run into each other and he says, “Oh, Lewis,” with a little less tenacity than he’d greeted him earlier that day. It’s something nonetheless.

Lewis is still genuinely surprised enough to furrow his brow and ask with no small amount of confusion, “What the hell are you still doing here? I thought you would have gotten your check and bounced the second the podium stuff was over.”

“That’s typically what you think of me, isn’t it?” Nico retorts, and Lewis realizes a bit too late that he’s come off pretty antagonistic. 

Luckily, Nico only lets him suffer a few seconds before letting out a quiet half-laugh. “As it turns out, they’ve been down a few reporters due to an outbreak of travel flu, so they needed me to fill in a place or two. Extra B-Roll.”

Lewis takes an automatic step back at the mention of any sickness. Driver’s habit. “If you get me ill, man, I’m going to ruin you.”

“Ruin me?” Nico asks. “Where’d you learn your threats, from Russell? Back in the old days, you’d just tell me you were going to run me off the road and that would be the end of it.”

Lewis snorts without meaning it. “Yeah, well, if I do that now, it’ll just be manslaughter, won’t it? Bit different without you in the car, too.”

Everything’s a bit different without Nico in the car, he means, but can’t say it. It hurts to know that this is the closest he’s gotten to being able to say that in a long time. They’ve been dodging and dancing around it for ages now, but it’s taken years for the burn of that shock announcement to fade.

Nico’s lips flex momentarily.  “We all have to move on. Maybe you should’ve too.”

Lewis hears the rebuke even if Nico doesn’t mean it and stiffens instinctively. “It’s not my fault the car’s been shit,” he says by impulse, “Everyone knows it. Sure you can tell it too with all your reporters’ data and whatnot. Don’t even know how you get half that stuff. Got George in your pocket or something?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “George Russell is not the kind I would want in my pocket.”

There’s a sort of gap, but Lewis is too testy to hear it. “And what, me? Is that why you were hanging around after, to see what sort of scoop I’d give you so you’d have an edge the next time you have to give a shock pronouncement? Or Toto?”

“Jesus, Lewis,” Nico says irritably, “One of these days, you’re going to have to stop being so paranoid. I thought you quit it when you pretended you had grown up since I left, but apparently not. Not everyone’s out to get you, you know.”

Lewis folds his arms across his chest petulantly, more upset because he knows Nico’s right than anything else. “Like you’re one to talk. You’re the one who left because of it, remember?”

“Left the car, not the people,” Nico says abruptly. “You’re the one who refused to reach out.”

“Takes two,” Lewis mumbles. “It’s been a while since either of us made that effort, hasn’t it?”

Nico hovers there in his couture loafers, and Lewis wonders what he’s thinking about. If he’s maybe weighing the odds of a perfect family versus something stupid they’ve been doing since the dawn of time.

One of Nico’s hands snakes out of the pockets of his jacket to rest on Lewis’ hip. “We’re not that different yet, are we? Or maybe I do just want the inside scoop, and you’ve been right all along.”

The last part is bitter. It’s more like what Lewis remembers anyway, so he warms to it instinctively. “That’s alright. I’m sure you would have been a shit spy if it wasn’t in German, anyway.”

Nico rolls his eyes on instinct, but laughs a little anyway. Quiet, in the onrush of the late afternoon. “You just couldn’t be bothered to pick up any languages.”

“I knew a bit of many,” Lewis argues, “Just not words I wanted to say in front of people.”

This time, Nico cracks a full grin. “Bullshit. I’ve heard you say some heinous things in English.”

The corners of Lewis’ mouth keep turning up before he can stop them. “Go finish your reporting before I say something really heinous.”

Nico’s eyes spark like he wants to hear just what that might be, but he does as told and shuffles off. Right before he goes, there’s this slight weight distribution in Lewis’ pocket, as if Nico has slipped something inside.

“I’m in the same building as you,” Nico adds as he starts to walk away. “If you really feel like reminiscing.”

Lewis shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. He gets delayed talking to various groups around the paddock anyway, and it’s a while later until he can start heading back to his hotel and think about Nico’s last words once more. He should go get his stuff together. He should call his mom. He should do a lot, actually, but he doesn’t.

Lewis pauses in front of the door. He’d known what was slipped into his pocket without even bothering to look, and he pulls it out now. The key card glints in the low light of the hotel corridor. He wonders if they make the lights that dim on purpose, so you have no choice but to lean close to someone else, or make your way inside the door that isn’t yours. It’s about making it easier to take the easy way out. To pretend it’s someone else’s fault that you’re here, and caving again, like you said you wouldn’t all the times before.

Lewis still has a choice. Nothing is keeping him here. If he goes, Nico will be the scorned one. On the up and up again, Lewis has better things to do than a Rosberg, obviously. If he does this now, it’s because he wants to. No other reason.

The light flares a tantalizing, teasing green, and the lock clicks open. Lewis slips inside.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife, @supervoldejaygent

[satanxklaus]

♥︎ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 | charles leclerc x reader smau

✦ pairing : charles leclerc x fem!wife!reader ✦ summary : in which charles is a proud soccer dad and he got too enthusiastic during his daughter soccer match ✦ content warning : use of yn, badly translated french, attempted humor, crack fic ✦ faceclaim : girlies from pinterest

a/n: henlo !!1! idk why but i just feel like charles would be that type of soccer dad who gets too competitive and heated for no reason. had this idea randomly popped in my head while i was at work lol. lemme know what u think! enjoy~ (requests are open)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒

yninstagram

liked by charles_leclerc, pascale.leclerc.355, scuderiaferrari and 187,937 more.

yninstagram not to be that soccer mom, but look!! fleur's already a star player!! xx

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charles_leclerc ✓ ma fille! ma fierté et ma joie, regarde-la!! (my daughter! my pride and joy, look at her!!)

❤️liked by yninstagram

user1 fleur is not even my kid but im crying,, shes so cute in her little soccer jersey 🥹

user4 wow the talent in sports must run deep in the family

❤️liked by charles_leclerc ✓

scuderiaferrari ✓ Fleur Leclerc for the next AS Monaco Football Féminin's star player 🙌🙌

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text messages

*time skip to thursday*

charles_leclerc posted a story

user7 replied to your story ⤷ shes growing up so fast

maxverstappen1 ✓ replied to your story ⤷ thankfully you're not the one playing ⤷ one leclerc that can actually play football 😂 ⤷ charles_leclerc ✓ bro get off my page fr

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twitter

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charles_leclerc

liked by pascale.leclerc.355, yninstagram, maxverstappen1, scuderiaferrari and 2,454,387 more.

charles_leclerc ✓ the sport genes truly does run in the leclerc family 😏😉 so so proud of my fleur, you will always be my number one champion 🫶🏻

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maxverstappen1 ✓ yes she gets the genes from yn. certainly not from you 😂😂

⤷ charles_leclerc ✓ you do not want to play that game with me, mate. ⤷ maxverstappen1 ✓ is that a threat??? hello?? ⤷ user6 😭😭 soccer dad charles is not playing any games w anyone

user8 yall saw that vid of charles beefing with a 5 year old over a damn soccer game?? LOL

⤷ user34 he was serious abt it too LMAOO

yninstagram CHARLES LECLERC PICK UP THE DAMN PHONE

⤷ charles_leclerc ✓ oh no we gotta go.. 🏃‍♂️💨💨 ⤷ user34 nahh aint no way ur getting away with it bruh 😭

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text messages

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insta

charles_leclerc ✓

liked by yninstagram, pascale.leclerc.355 maxverstappen1, scuderiaferrari and 4,769,387 more.

charles_leclerc ✓ in all seriousness, i apologize for the misunderstandings i have caused and the video that has been circulating around on the web. after hours and hours of apologizing to my beautiful wife (im forgiven thank god), i just wanted to say that my fleur and yn are both the greatest gift i've ever received in my life, no championships can ever compare. Papa sera toujours fier de vous deux et sera votre plus grand fan jusqu'à la fin des temps. (daddy will always be proud of you both and will be your biggest fan till the end of time)❤️❤️

view comments

yninstagram je t'aime, mon monde entier 😘🩷 (i love you, my whole world)

⤷ yninstagram papa, je t'aime mais s'il te plaît, ne viens pas au prochain match de football - fleur xx 🩷 (daddy, I love you but please don't come to the next football game) ⤷ pascale.leclerc.355 les amours de ma vie 😂❤️ ⤷ charles_leclerc ✓ 😭😭pleurer et dormir sur le trottoir ce soir (crying and sleeping on the curbside tonight)

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꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

⚠ 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 ⚠ : 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞.

© 𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘅𝗸𝗹𝗮𝘂𝘀 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰. 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱. 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗶𝗳𝘆, 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻

[logansargey]

Rating the F1 current teammates based on if they've fucked or if they will.

Haasbands (Nico x Kevin.) Kevin literally said "suck my balls" and I'm 100% sure Nico did. They're too lovely and nice with each other for Nico not to have. Kevin is like, one penalty away from no longer being allowed to be anywhere near a track and he's still committing crimes for Nico.

Lance and Fernando. (Strollonso) These two mfs have the nastiest sex known to mankind and are proud of it. Lance has a thing for dilfs and men like 3 times his age. Lance has too many older men wrapped around his finger oml.

Charlos (Charles x Carlos) These mfs are acting too much like a divorced married couple to not have fucked at least once in their lives. They probably fucked nasty, too.

Chestappen. (Max x Checo) I'm sorry guys, but I have to put them in spot 4 just bc they honestly deserve it. Max has a thing for older guys and Checo has a thing for cheating. These two definitely fucked once. (Maybe drunk or not, but they fucked.)

Pierre and Esteban. (Pierresteban) These two remind me of two exes that just have WAY too much sexual tension. Their relationship is if Pierre took Esteban's virginity, and never called back and ignored him for years after until they got reunited as teammates. I feel like seven minutes in heaven will do them good. (You're either gonna open the door to them fucking or one of them dead. No in between)

Lolex(?) (Logan x Alex) Hey, they gotta get their anger from the team out somehow... They fucked once when they were drunk or just angry at each other. They didn't talk about it after but neither of them can't stop thinking about it.

Landoscar. (Lando x Oscar) Someone get them a room ASAP. They probably want to fuck each other but doesn't know the other one wants it. But Lando looks at him too fondly for there not to be something.

Gewis (George x Lewis) they should probably be higher but to me, they're where they belong. George probably wants to fuck him, but Lewis is still stuck up in his ex to want to feel intimate. They probably did hook up once or twice but Lewis cut it off.

Valterri and Zhou. These dudes are NOT doing the nasty. They probably kissed once just to know what it felt like, and will never do it again.

Daniel and Yuki. Let's be honest, these guys can barely stand each other. Yuki would rather give up cooking than hook up with Daniel. Yuki also wants to have his husband (Pierre) or his boyfriend (Liam) back. Daniel is also too obsessed with Max to think about anyone else.

[neptunescore]

Currently thinking abt a Carcar AU, except it's Oscar's first year in Mclaren, Carlos is Oscar's race engineer, and they just don't get along. Clipped radio msgs between the both of them, awkward team briefings and just overall Oscar does not like Carlos.

But Carlos is trying, he loves this job and he loves Mclaren and him and Lando are such good friends and he knows if he doesn't get along with Oscar the team will have to give the position to someone else; that's just how the sport works.

So he invades Oscar's personal space, ambushes him in the paddock, forces him to hang out together randomly during race weeks, all in hopes of Oscar just clicking back with him. Because he likes Oscar. Likes his deadpan sarcasm and his snide comebacks. He just doesn't understand why Oscar doesn't like him back.

All of a sudden, communication is way better. Oscar's getting good results, and while he is confused as to why Carlos is always trying to spend time with him, he just chalks it up to him being a weird guy and convinces himself he's happier bc he gets to make fun of anything Carlos does even more now.

Then. A race goes wrong. Oscar is pissed. He's mad. He's rushing into his garage and pushing at Carlos and hissing insults and— Zak is pulling him away. He's being talked to now. They're telling him they thought he and Carlos had figured it out, but obv not and how they have been finding him a new race engineer and — if he'd like — Oscar could talk to him first, see if they get along.

Oscar's shocked. He didn't even think of this being a possibility, but wait what. He should be happy, he hates Carlos! But. He doesn't want Carlos to go. He wants Carlos to stay right here. They've improved so much together, and Oscar has never felt more soothed than he has with that accented rumble in his ears. And don't the team absolutely adore Carlos? What does Zak mean they might replace him? Carlos loves this job. They can't do that to him. They can't just fire Carlos—

Oh. Oh.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

meet me at london fields (ch.2)

📙🧡 a pop star lando x non-famous oscar fic 🏙️ featuring: awkward small talk. zhou’s mysterious MBA degree. alex thee yapper. nefarious pigeons. girl!logan. jammy dodgers. a samsung PRISM+ fridge. and, tea? (tea!) 📝 ch2/12, 5.4k words 🍪 rated t, may go up 🔗 read on ao3

preview:

“I feel like this is the part where people normally like, talk about the weather or something,” Lando says, out of nowhere.  Oscar finds this kind of refreshing, the lack of preamble before hurtling right into a thought.  “Right,” Oscar says. There’s an awkward pause. “What do you think of this weather?”  “S’nice, actually. I’m not often in town during the summer?” Lando scuffs the pavement with his shoe, heedless of the fact that they’re quite nice Onitsukas, if Oscar has correctly identified them.  “Colder than usual, I reckon.” “You’re Australian though.”  “What, was it my accent?” Oscar deadpans.  Lando stops on the spot and looks him in the eye, as if he’s not sure if he’s allowed to find this funny. Oscar shrugs, as if to say there’s no threat here, mate, and Lando nods. As if he understands this is not in fact some sarcastic or loaded comment, but an invitation to the joke.