#lance stroll blurb

[pierregazly]

soft for you ꨄ lance stroll

lance stroll x reader

warnings: disgusting fluff, mention of crash [1018 words]

request: could i request 3 & 4 from the 🫶🏼 prompt list with lance? [3. SMILING during a kissss >>>>> and 4. the gaze that softens as soon as it lands on you.]

note: lance taking after his dad >>> relationships come before f1 >>> this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!

He was pissed. Even without hearing his words, or knowing the whole situation, you could see it in his face. His eyebrows were pinched, the sarcastic roll of his eyes after every sentence that left his mouth, both stark examples of how genuinely angry Lance was.

It had been a nightmare of a season from the first race, anything that could go wrong, having gone wrong. You knew nothing you could say or do would truly change Lance’s perspective. The car wasn’t great, the strategy was poor, and little mistakes had begun piling up, the damage to his car worse and worse almost every race.

And the first race of the season you were able to attend? Another crash, another early end to Lance’s race. You couldn’t help the grimace that overtook your face as you watched him argue with one of the engineers, his hands flying up in the air in exasperation as another eye roll was visible from your spot across the room.

Multiple people were trying to avoid looking at the conversation currently taking place, not wanting to overstep or get anywhere near the line of fire once Lance finally made his exit from the room. You couldn’t help but stare at the situation, waiting for him to finally look up, to finally make eye contact with you.

It didn’t take him long to do so once he realized he had multiple eyes on him, his brown orbs locating your own just seconds later. His face, his mere gaze, softened almost immediately, any comment from his engineer going unheard and ignored as he simply nodded his head in response to whatever he was saying. You couldn’t help the small smile that began to form on your face as he walked towards you, leaving his mechanics and engineers to stew in their own anger and frustration.

Just another little thing you could always count on. He could be livid. He could be whipping his steering wheel across the room, or shouting at whoever would listen; but he would never allow it to enter your relationship. It was one thing you admired, one of so many things you loved about him. His career, his job, it was separate from your relationship and always had been.

He didn’t talk about racing when he was with you, didn’t talk about how poor the season was going or how miserable he was beginning to become. He would talk about it when you urged him to, not wanting him to bottle it up, not wanting him to feel as if you didn’t support him when he was at his worst. But he never let it effect your relationship, never let the anger mask his love for you, or the way he treated you.

Pulling you into his arms once he was close enough, you felt his chin rest gently on the crown of your head as a loud exhale left his body. His back muscles were tense, his body practically shaking in frustration as he squeezed you tighter, trying to take advantage of all the time he could get with you.

Pulling back, you watched the corners of his lips curve as he gazed down at you. Your grip on his bicep not letting up as you observed the influx of emotions cross his features. The defeat, the frustration, the misery; they were so prevalent at first, so raw as he tried to contain them. But before long, the emotions of devastation began to melt away. The small grin on his face not wavering as he looked down on you, practically delighted to see you, regardless of the outcome of his day.

“Bonjour, mon coeur. You look beautiful, as always,” he murmured.

Smiling up at him, you stood on your tiptoes so you could press a small kiss to his lips in gratitude for his words.

“Bonjour, my love. How are you? Are you okay? Are you sore? You’re very tense,” the onslaught of questions spewed from your lips, unable to contain them as you began looking him over.

The soft grip on your cheek was all you needed to glance back up into his eyes. A faint smile still graced his face as he gently ran his thumb across your cheek. A smile still graced his face as he leaned down to press his lips against yours, prompting your own lips to curve upwards as he did so. 

“I’m fine, mon coeur. A little sore, nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I just have to deal with some media, and probably some more yelling, and then we can get out of here, yeah? I can book us reservations for somewhere, or we can just get room service back at the hotel? Whatever you want.”

“Lance… if you want to talk about the race, we can. You don’t have to be so nonchalant about it, I know you’re not happy,” you said.

Shrugging his shoulders at you, his only response was to lean down and brush his lips against yours again, the curve of them still so prominent. The softness, the gentleness, the simple adoration so evident in his every action with you.

His lips touched yours before moving on to the tip of your nose, your cheeks, the skin below your ear; a smile gracing his lips with every kiss.

“I’m not happy, but not much I can do about it. I’m not going to let it determine my time with you, though. Work stays at work, no need to bring it back to the hotel with us. So, reservations, or hotel dinner?”

Before you could answer, Lance continued.

“Dinner in the hotel sounds like a good idea, I think. Room service and some reality television sounds like a good time to me, maybe cuddle up a little and ignore the world. What do you think?”

Pressing your lips against his with a large grin, your only response was a squeeze of his bicep and a nod of your head. If he wanted to escape the world and hold you all night? Well, all you could do was say ‘yes’. 

just wanted to write something soft/loving so i hope y'all love this!!! thank you everyone for participating in my follower celebration and being lovely!!!

[inevesgf]

Please, I starving for some Lance prompts😭 can you do 34+46 (if it's okay to do two combined prompts)? I will be so happy and even cry if you could do that

Thank you in advance, have a wonderful day! <3

"it's so cold" "come here, idiot"⠀ + ⠀lance stroll ⠀༉ ‧₊˚. ⠀prompts.

despite lance's knowledge that you weren't the best at ice skating, he thought taking you to the rink would be a wonderful idea for a date.

content + warnings: lance stroll + female reader, mentions of small injury. word count 900+.

hope this feeds the lance girls! writing this made me more excited to go skating again. if you would like to find other works from this special or read my other works, click the link here ⋆·˚ ༘ * notes + reblogs are heavily appreciated and don't forget to tell me your thoughts via comment, reblog or ask.

the air was crisp and invigorating, each breath a cloud of mist that danced in the fading light. the outdoor ice rink was a hub of activity, surrounded by towering evergreen trees dusted with fresh snow, their branches glimmering under the soft glow of lanterns. a light breeze carried the cheerful sounds of holiday music, the merry jingles of the tune blending seamlessly with the chatter and laughter that filled the air.

you stood at the entrance to the rink, your heart racing as you watched the smooth, glassy surface shimmer beneath the golden glow of the overhead lights. couples and families filled the ice, most of the crowd skating effortlessly without any help or assistance, dancing across the ice with such ease.

you stared out into the rink like a deer in headlights, a cloud of smoke puffing from your cold lips as you exhaled. an ice skating date with your boyfriend with blissfully romantic, and you would have came to enjoy it more if it wasn’t for one thing: you didn’t know how to skate. 

“can’t we just go inside? sit down for a bit before we do this?” you tried to plead with lance who was already out on the ice, his balance perfect as he looked over at you, a small chuckle falling from his lips. 

being canadian, lance was perfect at skating. with hockey being god’s great gift to the country, the ability to play hockey or even ice skate was practically a skill you were ordained with at birth if you were born there. lance was skilful in many sports, and in your luck, hockey just had to be one.

growing up, you recalled going ice skating with friends and family once or twice. pained memories of slipping on the ice or embarrassing yourself infront of your crush because you were unable to balance was something that haunted you into your adult years. the activity was something you were never gifted at, so you swore to never step foot on the ice again until lance came begging with puppy dog eyes. you just couldn’t say no to him when he looked like that.

“i promised you hot chocolate if you skate for at least a bit. you can do it,” lance smiled, another chuckle falling past his mouth at your nervous stance, your widened eyes making it all the more ridiculous to him. gently, lance reached out his gloved hand, holding it out for you to take a hold of.

you took a shaky breath, shaking your head as if to protest, “it’s so cold, can we please go warm up for a bit? then i’ll do it, i promise.” lance knew you were trying to stall, a sarcastic roll of his eyes letting you know there was no way you were escaping back to the shack without trying.

grumbling under your breath, you took a hold of lance’s hand, shakily stepping onto the ice. “there ya go,” lance hummed, satisfied at your ounce of bravery as he held out his other hand, ready to hold onto you as he pulled you out onto the ice.

your legs wobbled like a baby deer, a small woah escaping from your cold lips as you tried to maintain your balance. “‘m gonna let go of you, okay? i’ll be right here if you need my help,” lance cooed calmly, and despite the persistent shake of your head, he let go.

skating backwards a few feet away, lance beckoned you to follow, treating you as if you were a baby learning to walk for the first time. you grumbled, knowing lance’s patience would be the only way you survived this date as you tried to move forward, scraping the blades of your skates across the glistening ice.

as you ventured further onto the rink, you focused on lance, his hand held out with a sense of gentle reassurance. the world around you faded away — shouts from kids skating across the ice, the warmth of a nearby fire crackling and the aroma of hot chocolate in the air dissipating as you remained focused. all that mattered in that moment was the soft scrape of blades on ice and lance’s encouraging smile that gleamed like a beacon of support.

you almost had it – lance nodding with happiness as you slowly glided your wobbly legs across the ice, your arms extended to keep you balanced. a glimmer of hope washed over you as a smile decorated your face, you were finally doing it.

just as you started to find your groove, another skater zipped by, your body instinctively flinching. with a squeak of surprise, your foot slipped, and before you could react, you found your body making contact with the ice.

a small mumble of ouch escaped your mouth, but was quickly replaced by a laugh as lance came to your rescue, slowly skating over before holding out both of his hands. “you okay, baby?” he asked softly, yet a hint of a smile grew on his lips. once you nodded, lance began to laugh, grabbing onto your hands.

“come here, idiot,” he chuckled, pulling you to your feet. lance helped dust the small grains of snow off your coat, coming to place his gloved hand on your cold cheek as a smile grew on his face. “don’t worry,” he teased, “you’ll be a professional ice skater in no time.”

with renewed determination, you took a deep breath as the two of you resumed your slow, awkward dance across the ice. through every fall, every laugh, and every moment of shared joy, you felt the magic of the evening enveloping the two of you, turning your stumbles into memories both you and lance would come to cherish.

© inevesgf do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or claim any of my works as your own. notes + reblogs are heavily appreciated! ⋆·˚ ༘ * find my other works here.

[russellsppttemplates]

hey înes so i think my family forgot about my birthday which is today (just a rushed store bought cake) so can you write something about the grid surprising the reader who is a driver to whichever team you choose 🥹

Note: happy birthday, dear! ✨️I hope you had a lovely day 🥳

"Do you think she'll like it? I got the prettiest cake they had in there", Charles said as he set the box on top of the table.

"Really? That was the nicest one there?", Lewis asked as he looked at the baked good from all angles.

"I could've baked something that looked a little bit better", Pierre offered.

"Could you?", Carlos slapped the French man's back.

"I wouldn't eat anything baked by any of you", Lando chirped in, "where's Oscar? He walked here with me! I've lost him already", he muttered.

"Oscar is the one in charge of bringing Y/N here - Mick said it would be too suspicious if I walked with her", Max offered.

"I also got her the present we agreed on", Lance set the bag next to the cake.

"I'm sure someone did, but just in case - do we have candles?", George butted in.

The groans leaving everyone's mouth was enough to let him know no one did.

"Candles are overrated, anyway", Daniel tried to keep the humour.

"Oscar and Y/N are on their way here - they just stopped to talk to Toto", Mick said as he got inside.

When you walked up with Oscar into the meeting room, you were expecting the stewards to be mad at you, "I think we're late, Oscar!", but you were met instead with cheers and balloons thrown at your face.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Y/N!", they all cheered as you looked at all your friends gathered in the same room.

"We still wanted to make something special between us without the team recording and all of that", your teammate Max said as he showed you the cake, "it's not homemade and we're not sure how good it is, but it's the thought that counts?", he squinted.

"This is amazing, guys, truly", you cooed, "I bet it tastes amazing - even if those colours are not natural on the slightest", you took some of the bright red filling with your finger and licked it.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[vivwritesfics]

Lance and gifts

Blurb

Lances love language was gift giving, that was clear to everyone. He had all of the money in the world and he loved to use it.

His gifts were always thoughtful, always something meaningful to the people that recieved them.

Birthdays were always nerve wracking with Lance. There was so much pressure to get something as good as he gave. He didn't provide this pressure,of course, but she always felt it.

There were a few birthdays, a few Christmases, before she realised the way to win Lance over with gifts was homemade, something priceless.

The good thing about Lance's racing career was that he was away a lot. For this gift, she had plenty of time to teach herself how to knit.

For months she worked on knitting lance a hat. It was simple, in as close to Aston Martin Green as she could get. She thew a mixture of that green yarn, black yarn and white yarn to make a pompom.

It wasn't brilliant when it was finished, but she was proud. And Lance loved it, too. It was perfect for his winter break ski trips.

There was one present, though,one Y/N got for him once they got engaged. She gave the artist the design and let them get to work.

When she went home, his logo was tattooed above her hip. And he couldn't get enough.

[verstappen-cult]

the 3 from this list with lance <3 te amo

You’re trying to explain to Fernando and Lance what you and the team have prepared for this week. Just some videos and questions to asnwer, not too much to overwhelm them.

But you keep getting distracted because of Lance.

“And then we’re gonna finish with you two walking side by side, answering some questions.” You explain what you are gonna be doing in half an hour.

You look at Fernando, who is typing something on his phone, but it gives you a nod.

When you look at Lance, you find him looking at your lips, lost in thought. It makes you blush so hard but he doesn’t even notice because his eyes are glued to your pink and plump lips.

“Lance?” Only then is he looking you in the eyes.

“Sorry, yeah. Whatever you say, yep.” His pink cheeks make him look even cutier.

“But I need to know if you understand.” You try to hold your laugh when his eyes widen. “You didn’t hear anything, did you?”

He, once again, looks at your lips. It’s just a second because he goes back to look at anywhere but at you. And you don’t understand why he hasn’t made a move yet, or said something. Anything.

“Something about questions.” It sounds more like a question but you’ll give him that.

“Yes, I’ll see you outside hospitality in half an hour.”

Fernando gives you a thumbs up and a wink before walking away.

You smile at Lance but he’s already turning away.

“Lance?” It makes you giggle how fast he’s facing you again. This time he keeps his gaze on some part above of your shoulder. “If you want to kiss me so bad, you just need to ask.”

[lipringlrh]

would anyone read poly!logan and lance😖😖 please😖😖

[formulaforza]

Haiiiiiii i love your writing, could i request Lance Stroll with the prompt the first initial kiss being a simple peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one?? I feel like that’s very him vibes.

—nowhere in particular

pairing: lance stroll x reader wc: 1.1k summ. everything with lance is so damn... friendly.

It’s been nearly three months of “Oh, Lance and I? We’re�� we’re nothing,” followed by a pursed smile on your lips and an eye roll from whoever was bold enough to ask you. Three months, some eighty-something days of we’re nothing, when the two of you were most certainly fucking something. 

You weren’t dating, that was for sure. And you weren’t fucking, either. So, to anyone else it might look like you were nothing. But even if you thought you were crazy—the dozen or so people who seem to ask you about him every time they see the two of you interact is enough proof that you really are something. 

It’s hard to place exactly what it is, but it falls somewhere on the fault line between friends and dating, moving through like with the promise not to date anyone else, but without the balls to just date each other. 

It’s not that you don’t have the balls, it’s that you refuse to. You’ve always been a firm believer in him making the first move. You just never thought you’d be as desperate for someone to make the move as you are for Lance to just up and get it over with already.

Always a firm believer in the guy making the first move, but christ. Three months of waiting, and you’re about two days away from reaching your breaking point. 

Lance sits next to you on the flannel blanket in the park. The “friendly flannel blanket,” as he’d said shortly after proposing the idea—made skittish by your lack of response within the five second window he gave you to do so— “that I always have, like, in my car, y’know.” You couldn’t see him through the telephone lines, but you could imagine it, the way his hand nervously ran over the back of his neck. 

He was always adorable like that, all nervous and fidgety when you did anything more than give him the time of day. It’s cute. You’ve always thought it was cute when he was nervous, because he spends the rest of the time so stupidly confident. You like that you can make him nervous, but it seems like you’ve made him too nervous. 

Because he sits next to you on the friendly flannel blanket with the friendly picnic he’d prepared and the friendly cake he’d brought with carefully placed raspberries and the friendly bottle of red wine. You sit next to him, wearing the friendly hoodie he’d pulled over and off his head when you shuddered with the breeze, a friendly centimeter of space between your crossed legs and his wild brown hair, your eyes fixed to his friendly pink lips when he talks. You want to scream—fuck friends, Lance. Fuck friendly, and just kiss me already. 

Lance’s head, meanwhile, fucking spins. He’s such an idiot, he thinks, can’t stop himself from speaking—from feeling the need to inform you (lie to you) that everything he touches is friendly. There’s nothing friendly about the way he feels about you, but his stupid fucking mouth is too worried that making that fact known is only going to screw him over—that he’ll mess it up enough that not only is he not dating you, but now he’s not even your friend. 

Because… well. You’re you—all pretty hair and pretty lips and pretty smile and pretty skin and pretty personality. You’re soft when he’s brash and you’re brash when he’s soft and nothing ever feels balanced unless you’re the one balancing it. 

And now he’s lying here, on this thick, itchy blanket, just wondering when you’re finally going to have enough of him and his inability to just. To just kiss you, and let the rest of the world make sense. 

You eat, and you talk, and you make him laugh—you’re always making him laugh harder than he should. Anyone who watches probably thinks he’s a total fool, head over feet and half in-love with the same girl everyone else would be half in-love with. No joke in the history of the entire world has been funny enough to elicit the laugh you hear from him every time you crack one. 

He’s carefully slicing the cake when you swipe your finger through the white frosting, wiping the sugary substance off on the tip of his nose with a giggle. His head shoots up while you do it, catches your eyes and the completely human way they crinkle when you laugh, the way your lashes settle when you smile, and all he can think is that you just look so pretty.

You’re so pretty, and he doesn’t even have time to talk himself out of it, because he’s kissing you—quick, simple, like he was trying to shut you up. It’s a peck, nothing more, and certainly not the way he wanted to kiss you for the first time. He can’t believe he just managed to fuck up the first time he kissed you—that he definitely just made certain the first time was the last time. He’d strangle himself if he could.

“I’m sorry,” he’s saying before you can even process what just happened. “You just… I’m sorry.”

A smile pulls on your lips, and your cheeks ache from how much the muscles have been used this afternoon. “It’s okay,” you nod.

“You… there’s frosting on your nose,” he says, wiping the remnants of your swipe off his nose.

“I don’t care,” you say. “Kiss me like you mean it.”

His eyes shoot up before his head does, like he’s checking if you’re being serious or not. You are. You’re dead serious. The kind of quick peck a middle aged wife stuck in a miserable marriage gives to her middle aged husband will not be the first move you've been waiting three months for. If he’s going to kiss you with frosting on his nose, he better do it right. 

He makes up for it, though, when he wipes the frosting from your nose, licks it clean off his thumb and slots his hands on either side of your jaw, pulling you to him like he’s been waiting to do it for ninety days. When his lips finally meet yours, the rest of the park falls into the background. The sweetness of the frosting lingers, blending with the warmth of his lips. This is not a peck—this is a declaration, a revelation. 

“Better?” He says, his forehead warm against yours. 

You nod, smiling. “Much better,” and then you kiss him again like time might run out, even though you both know it won’t.

[formulas-bitch]

unknown sister - lance stroll

4.2k words

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an ethereal glow over the city, Lance Stroll found himself wandering aimlessly through the bustling streets. His mind was elsewhere, lost in thought, as he weaved in and out of the throngs of people. He had no particular destination, no particular purpose - he was just there, existing. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her: a girl, no more than a few years older than he was, who bore a striking resemblance to someone he once knew. Intrigued, Lance followed her at a discreet distance, his heart racing with anticipation.

As she ducked into a quaint little café, Lance hesitated for a moment before mustering up the courage to enter after her. The moment he stepped inside, the familiar scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries enveloped him, sending a wave of nostalgia washing over him. His eyes searched the crowd until they alighted upon her: sitting alone at a table in the far corner, lost in thought, a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. His heart skipped a beat as he realized that this girl was his sister; the one he had never known existed.

Cautiously, Lance made his way over to her, his steps slow and deliberate. He cleared his throat, trying to gather the words that seemed to have deserted him. "Um… excuse me?" he finally managed to say. "I'm Lance Stroll. We… we might be related." There was a long pause as he waited for her reaction, his heart pounding in his chest.

The girl looked up from her coffee, her eyes widening in recognition. "Lance?" she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. "It can't be…" She set her coffee down and pushed it aside, her gaze fixed on him. "You're Chloe's brother?" Nodding, Lance felt a lump forming in his throat. "I am. I found out about you a few days ago… I just… I had to see you for myself." He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. "I'm sorry if this is weird or confusing for you. I just… I wanted to meet you."

For a long moment, the sibling just stared at each other, the air thick with emotion. Then, slowly, the girl stood up and moved around the table, her arms opening wide. "I'm Layla," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "And yes… I am your sister." She pulled Lance into a tight hug, burying her face in his shoulder as they clung to each other.

Lance was at a loss for words, but he hugged her back just as tightly, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and connection. As they pulled apart, their faces wet with tears, Layla wiped at her eyes and forced a shaky smile. "I can't believe it," she whispered. "All this time… we had no idea."

The siblings took a moment to compose themselves, each ordering a cup of coffee before settling into a comfortable booth. As they sipped their drinks, Lance began to fill Layla in on the details of his life: about Chloe, their parents, and his time in formula 1. Layla listened intently, her eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. In turn, Layla shared stories of her own, about her life growing up in another part of the city and her dreams of becoming a professional dancer.

As they continued to talk, the café around them seemed to fade away, replaced by a world where the only thing that mattered was their connection to each other. They spoke of their shared memories, both real and imagined, and began to forge a bond that transcended time and circumstance. They laughed together, cried together, and found solace in each other's company.

Eventually, their conversation turned to the future. Layla confided in Lance that she had been struggling financially and was considering giving up on her dancing dreams. Upon hearing this, Lance was determined to help her. He offered her a place to stay in his apartment and promised to use his connections in the entertainment industry to help her get her foot in the door.

Layla was overwhelmed with gratitude, and they hugged tightly once more. As they pulled away, Lance could feel a new sense of purpose and direction in his life. He knew that finding Layla had been a blessing, and he would do everything in his power to make sure that their bond only grew stronger.

as they were catching up, lance had received a call from their dad.

"I hope you haven't forgotten about the race this weekend, son," he said, his voice booming through the phone. "You've got a lot of fans out here who are counting on you. Don't let them down."

Lance smiled at his sister as he listened to their father's words. "I won't, Dad," he assured him, before turning back to Layla. "So, how about we grab some lunch and talk more about your dancing? I have a few ideas on how we can make things happen for you."

As they left the café and ventured out into the bustling city, Layla linked her arm through Lance's, a gesture of sisterly affection that filled him with warmth. "I can't thank you enough for this, Lance," she said, looking up at him with shining eyes. "You have no idea what this means to me."

Lance shrugged off her gratitude, feeling it was an understatement. "It's the least I could do," he replied, his voice gruff with emotion. "You're my sister, after all. We're in this together."

Their walk took them past a park where a small festival was taking place. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and the sizzle of food on grills. They stopped at a booth selling kebabs and shared a plate, chatting animatedly as they ate. Layla told Lance about a dancing competition she'd heard of, one that would offer a substantial prize and a chance to perform in front of a prominent choreographer.

"I think that's something we should definitely look into," Lance said, wiping his hands on a napkin. "I'll see what I can do to help you get sponsored. And if you need any contacts in the entertainment industry, just let me know."

As they continued to walk through the park, they stumbled upon a group of people practicing some intricate dance moves. Layla's eyes lit up and she immediately went over to join them. Lance watched her dance with a mix of awe and pride, marveling at how graceful and talented she was. He couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness as well, wanting to make sure that no one ever underestimated her or stood in her way.

After watching her for a while, Lance noticed a young man standing off to the side, obviously captivated by Layla's dancing. He walked over and introduced himself as Adam, a fellow dancer who had been struggling to find his place in the industry. The three of them exchanged numbers, and Layla and Adam quickly became friends, often practicing together and offering each other advice and support.

As the weeks passed, Layla's audition for the dancing competition grew closer. Lance had been working tirelessly behind the scenes, using his connections to secure her a spot in the competition and even managing to find her a talented choreographer to help her prepare. He couldn't have been more proud of his sister, and he knew that no matter what happened, she would make him and their father proud. even though their dad dint know that lance had found Layla and was in contact with her .

Adam, too, had become a close friend to Layla and Lance. He had been an invaluable source of support and encouragement, always offering a listening ear or a helpful hand when needed. The three of them had developed a special bond, and Lance couldn't help but feel grateful for the positive influence Adam had on his sister. He hoped that their friendship would only continue to grow stronger in the years to come.

As the big day of the competition approached, Lance found himself feeling both nervous and excited for Layla. He'd never been one to dance himself, but he'd seen her practice countless hours, pouring her heart and soul into each routine. He knew that she had what it took to win, and he was determined to make sure that she had everything she needed to succeed.

The day of the competition finally arrived, and Lance, Layla, and Adam made their way to the venue. The atmosphere was electric, with dancers from all over the city gathered to showcase their talents. Lance helped Layla with her hair and makeup, making sure she looked her best before she went onstage. As she waited in the wings, he could see the determination and focus in her eyes, and he knew that she was ready to give it her all.

The competition was fierce, with each dancer bringing their unique style and technique to the stage. As Layla's turn approached, Lance felt a lump in his throat and a knot in his stomach. He knew that no matter what happened, he would be proud of her. When she emerged onto the stage, the audience erupted into applause, and Lance couldn't help but feel a surge of pride.

She danced with a grace and power that Lance had never seen before, her movements fluid and effortless. The choreography was stunning, and Lance could tell that the judges were impressed. As she finished her final move, the crowd rose to their feet, showering her with cheers and applause. It was clear that she had won over everyone in the room.

Lance couldn't believe his eyes as Layla was named the winner of the competition. He felt a wave of emotion wash over him as he watched her accept her trophy and give her speech, thanking him and Adam for their support. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment, knowing that he had played a part in helping her achieve her dreams.

As they left the venue, Lance could feel the weight of the world lift off his shoulders. The constant worry and stress about their financial situation had been consuming him, but now, with Layla's victory, he felt a newfound sense of hope and optimism. He knew that things were going to be okay, and that Layla would have the opportunity to pursue her passion without having to worry about money.

as layla and lance made their way out of the competition, they were approached by Lawrence, their dad, well more like lance's dad as he didn't know it was Layla his eldest daughter standing in front of him, as he had left her mom when she had found out she was pregnant with her.

Lance was about to introduce them but then thought better of it, he would let them have their moment, so he stood back and just watched with a smile on his face as his sister and their dad reunited. It was a moment of pure joy and happiness that he would never forget. He could see the surprise, shock and then disbelief in his dad's eyes as he looked at Layla, taking in her beauty and grace, and then the realization hit him that this was his daughter, the one he had never met, the one he had missed out on all these years.

The emotion in the air was palpable, and Lance felt a lump form in his throat as he watched the two of them hug, tears streaming down their faces. It was a moment that he knew would change their lives forever, a moment that would bring them all closer together, a moment that would help them heal from the pain of the past.

As they pulled apart, Lance could see the love and pride in his father's eyes as he looked at Layla, and it filled him with a sense of hope and joy. He knew that their relationship would take time to build, but he believed that with patience and understanding, they could create a new family, one that was based on love and acceptance.

Layla seemed to feel the same way, as she introduced her father to Adam and Lance, her voice shaking slightly with emotion. Lawrence, taken aback by the depth of her feelings, could only nod in acknowledgment, unable to find the words to express his own emotions. The four of them stood there, bonding over their shared experience and the love they had for Layla, their amazing daughter.

As they continued to talk, Lance noticed a change in his father's demeanor. Where before there had been shock and disbelief, now there was a quiet determination to be a part of their lives. He wanted to make up for the time he had missed, to be the father Layla and Lance deserved. It was a moment of clarity for Lance, one that made him realize that perhaps their father's love was not as lost as he had once believed.

The rest of the evening was a whirlwind of introductions, hugs, and tears. Chloe and Lance's mother, who had never quite forgiven their father for abandoning them, seemed to soften as she watched the emotional reunion unfold between his other daughter he never got to see grow up. There was a new understanding in her eyes, a recognition that perhaps Lawrence had not been as heartless as she had once thought. It was a fragile peace, but it was a start. she soon introduced herself as Lawrence's wife and Chloe and Lance's mother.

As they all left the venue together, arms looped around each other's waists, they felt a sense of hope and unity that they had never experienced before. They knew that their lives were about to change drastically, but for once, it felt like it was for the better. They were going to be a family, a real family, with all its flaws and imperfections.

Lawrence, still struggling to process the events of the evening, couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in Layla's accomplishments. He knew that he had missed out on so much of her life, but he was determined to be there for her now. He promised himself that he would do whatever it took to make things right with her, Chloe and Lance, and to earn their trust and love.

As they walked to the car, Layla took her father aside and gave him a small, leather-bound book. "This is a journal I kept during my time competing," she explained. "It's full of my thoughts, feelings, and experiences. I wanted you to have it, so you could get to know me better." Lawrence, touched beyond words, promised to read it carefully and to treasure it always.

" Next week is your sister Chloe's wedding and we would love for you to come and celebrate with us"

Layla's face lit up with joy as she hugged her father tightly. "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world." She glanced over at Lance, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's going to be a special day for all of us."

Lawrence returned her smile, feeling a sense of warmth spread through his chest. "It certainly is. And I want you both to know that I'm here for you, no matter what." He placed a hand on each of their shoulders, his gaze meeting theirs in a show of sincerity.

The rest of the evening was a whirlwind of celebration and joy as they all attended Chloe's wedding together. Layla and Lance glowed with happiness, clearly proud of their sister and excited to share this special day with their newfound family member. Lawrence found himself feeling more and more at ease with them, beginning to form real connections and bonds that he hadn't thought possible.

As they danced and laughed throughout the night, Lance couldn't help but notice the way his father looked at Layla. There was a sense of awe in his eyes, as if he couldn't believe the incredible woman she had become. Lawrence, for his part, seemed to be relishing every moment of spending time with her, treasuring each conversation and memory they made together.

Chloe and her new husband, meanwhile, were beaming with happiness as they shared their special day with their newly expanded family. They had been through so much, but seeing their father there, a part of their lives once more, made everything feel just a little bit brighter.

As the night wore on, Layla and Lance began to dance together, their movements fluid and effortless, mirroring the deep connection they shared. Lawrence watched them from afar, a small smile playing on his lips as he recalled his own wedding dance with their mother. He couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the journey that had brought them all here, to this moment, together as a family.

Chloe and her new husband, meanwhile, had taken the opportunity to steal Lance and Layla away for a slow dance, twirling them around the dance floor as they shared heartfelt words and hugs. It was a moving display of love and support, and it brought tears to Lawrence's eyes to see his children so happy and loved.

As the night wound down, the guests began to say their goodbyes, but not before Layla, Lance, and Chloe insisted on gathering everyone together for a group photo. They posed arm in arm, beaming with joy and pride, their newfound bond shining through in every image. Lawrence stood behind them, his hand resting on each of their shoulders, feeling a sense of peace and contentment wash over him.

As the last of the guests departed, Chloe pulled her father aside. "Thank you," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "Thank you for coming tonight, for being here for us. It means more than you'll ever know." Lawrence, unable to speak past the lump in his throat, simply squeezed her hand and nodded, his own eyes misting over.

Meanwhile, Lance approached Layla with a gentle smile. "You were amazing tonight," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I don't know how you did it, but you made everyone feel so welcome, so included. I'm so proud of you, sis." Layla blushed, her cheeks flushing, but she didn't miss the warmth that spread through her chest at his words.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice trembling just a little. "I'm glad I could help. And thank you for being there with me tonight. You were amazing too, you know." Lance chuckled softly, reaching out to take her hand. "We'll always have each other's backs, right?" Layla squeezed his hand in agreement, her gaze meeting his.

As they stood there, lost in their own thoughts and feelings, they were unaware of the approach of their father. Lawrence cleared his throat gently, drawing their attention back to him. "You two are an incredible team," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I couldn't be more proud of you both." His words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with meaning, before Lance and Layla stepped forward to embrace their father in a tight hug.

The night air was cool and crisp as they made their way back to the car. Layla and Lance had switched places, with Lance now driving his father's rental and Layla riding shotgun beside him. As they drove, the city lights reflecting off the buildings and streets, they found themselves lapsing into silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the day's events.

"Do you think he'll stay?" Layla finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lance glanced over at his sister, then back at the road ahead. "I don't know, sis. It's a big change for him, moving out here and all. I mean, he's got his job, and he seems to be enjoying it, but…" He trailed off, shrugging slightly. "Who knows? Maybe he'll find a way to make it work. We can only hope, right?"

As they pulled into the driveway of their parents' house, they both glanced at each other, a mix of emotions playing across their faces. They got out of the car and walked together up to the front door, taking a moment to gather their thoughts and compose themselves. The night had been full of highs and lows, but they both felt a newfound sense of connection, not only with each other, but with their father as well.

Inside, their mother was busy cleaning up the remnants of the party, her movements efficient and graceful as she worked. "How did it go?" she asked, looking up from her task with a tired smile. "Did everything go alright?"

"It went better than alright, Mom," Lance replied, taking her hand and leading her into the living room. "Layla and Chloe did an amazing job tonight, and everyone seemed to have a great time." He gestured towards the photo album they'd put together earlier, sitting prominently on the coffee table. "We even got a group photo."

Layla nodded in agreement, her eyes drifting towards the album. "It was hard work, but it was worth it. I think everyone who came felt welcome, and that's all we could've asked for." She glanced over at her father, who was sitting in the corner of the room, looking thoughtful. "And Dad seemed to really enjoy himself too."

Their mother smiled warmly and squeezed Lance's hand. "I'm so proud of both of you," she said. "You've grown into such amazing young adults." She paused for a moment, her expression turning pensive. "And I hope that tonight was a step in the right direction for all of us, finding our way back to each other."

as they talked in the kitchen , Lawrence made his way and joined them, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He looked at his children with a mix of pride and sadness in his eyes. "You both did an amazing job tonight," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me to see all of you together, enjoying each other's company." " i was thinking Layla, why don't you join me and lance for his race next week?" asked Lawrence, trying to sound casual. "I'm sure it'll be fun, and it'll be great for all of us to spend some quality time together."

Layla looked at her father, then at Lance, her eyes filling with hope. "I'd love to, Dad," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "That sounds like a great idea." Lance nodded in agreement, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. They all knew that this wasn't just about a race; it was about trying to rebuild their family, one small step at a time.

As the weeks passed, they all threw themselves into preparations for the race. Lance trained harder than ever, determined to do his best for his father. Layla helped out with logistics and publicity, using her organizational skills to make sure everything ran smoothly. And Lawrence, well, he was there for moral support, offering advice when asked and lending an ear when needed.

The day of the race finally arrived, and the entire family made their way to the track. The air was filled with the roar of engines and the excited chatter of spectators. Lance's heart pounded in his chest as he strapped himself into the car, but he felt a calm confidence wash over him when he saw Layla and their father standing nearby. They were his biggest fans, and he couldn't have asked for anything more.

As the race began, Lance focused on the track, determined to navigate the twists and turns with precision. He could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins, pushing him to go faster, to outperform his competition. But even as he raced, his mind kept drifting back to the people he loved standing on the sidelines. He knew that this race wasn't just about winning or losing; it was about proving to himself and to them that he could be the man they needed him to be.

In the grandstands, Layla and their father cheered him on, their voices carrying across the track. They could feel the raw emotion in their words, the unspoken love and support that flowed between them. As Lance neared the finish line, they held their breath, willing him to cross it. And when he did, emerging victorious amidst a cloud of burning rubber and deafening cheers, they erupted in applause, their eyes shining with tears of pride.

Lance climbed out of the car, his chest heaving, and threw his arms around his father. They hugged tightly, sharing a moment of connection that felt like it had been eons in the making. Layla joined them, wrapping her arms around both of them, and for a brief moment, it felt like everything was going to be okay.

As they walked back to the pit, Lance couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. There was still so much work to do, so many bridges to mend. But for now, he was content to bask in the glow of victory and the love of his family. He knew that with their support, he could face any challenge that came their way. and he finally had another sister who he could share his dreams with.

[formulalfc]

saw lance with facial hair and haven't been able to think about anything else since so here we are <3

he had told you he was trying to grow out his facial hair but you never thought he would look so goddamn fine?? it's early in the morning and lance is getting ready to go to the paddock cause its qualifying today and he needs to be there a bit earlier than you do. and ur watching him from under the covers, head just poking out because its cold :/ he pulls a shirt over his head and you pout cause u can't see his abs anymore and he catches your pout and sends a wink your way making you giggle and blush. when he's done getting ready he's coming over to you and stroking your face and hair, eyes moving quickly over you as if he's trying to fuse the picture of you all snuggled in bed into his brain. and then he's leaning down and kissing you all of the face and ur full on belly laughing cause his beard tickles like hell and you can feel him laughing too. and when he pulls back ur holding his face in you hands, scratching at his beard as he gazes down at you. and the way he's looking at you makes you clench your thighs, and then your frowning cause why does it kinda hurt down there. and then it just clicks, cause lance must have spent a good hour eating you out the night before and so now you have a rash at the top of your legs and you know its gunna hurt like a bitch for the next few days, but you can't bring yourself to care cause you love his facial hair so much.

inbox is open send me some ramble requests <3

[jamminvroomvroom]

Lance and almost girlfriend. She's scared of his world and scared to really commit.

well, she’s angsty, she’s fluffy and she’s finally here! thank you for sending this in, sorry it took me so long to get this out there, but i hope you enjoy! never written lance before so this was a bit of a challenge but y’all know how i loves my angst. wrote this in about 10 mins so go easy on me lmao

-

you felt his hands ghosting over your hips, moulding to the curves of your body. it was as if he was an extension of you, and sometimes you wished he was.

but he wasn’t. he couldn’t be. you wouldn’t let him be.

“you weren’t there.” his voice fell flat, counteracting the delicateness of his touch. “you said you’d come and you didn’t.”

you sighed, the guilt you already felt increasing tenfold, making your heart hurt in your chest every time it beat.

“i couldn’t.” you whispered, weak in your response. you’d figured it would be easier this way, to push him away. you figured it would hurt less.

“but you promised me.” hurt laced his voice, twisting into his words devastatingly. you felt sick, making him ache like this, ache for you, but you couldn’t be what he wanted to be, you didn’t know how.

“i’m sorry, ba- i’m sorry, lance.” you cut yourself off, brutally, cruelly. you felt his hand tense on your waist, before falling away completely. defeat.

“are you done with me?” you grimaced at the words, turning around slowly to face him, to face up to the consequences.

“i wish i didn’t have to be.” it was pathetic, really, the way you breaking his heart, as if you were already hurt, not that you were scared to one day be by his fast paced life.

“you don’t. what are you saying?” he was frustrated, confused by your meek arguments. did you expect sympathy? sympathy when you were grinding ever morsel of his hope between your fingers?

“i’m scared, lance. i’m scared of all of it. this life that you live, it’s not normal.” you explained, frantic, desperate that he’d understand you, knowing exactly how sorry for yourself you sounded.

“i thought i meant more to you than that.” his demeanour hardened as he spoke, disappointed as you flashed your get out of jail free card. “i thought you cared about me, but if you so desperately want out of this before it’s even started, then fine, by all means. you know where the door is.”

you started to turn away from him, ready to grab your bag and sob in the back of a taxi to the airport but the words that interrupted you stopped you square in your tracks.

“but before you go, i want you to think about it. all of it. every single night in my arms, the way you blush when i hold your hand and when i brush the hair away from your eyes when you fall asleep reading on my sofa. how you watch every race from my apartment with your hands covering your eyes and how you cried when i finally got a fast car. i want you to think about how i would retire just to make you happy, how i want you by my side in everything i do.”

you were speechless, teary, hands shaking as you felt the weight of your decision in your hands.

“now, if you still wanna go, knowing that i will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy, making you safe, you know where the door is.” his voice was firm, but that didn’t stop it from shaking as you both felt the impact of what you quickly realised was pure cowardice. god, you loved him. you couldn’t let your fear rule you, couldn’t let it ruin your life

you were frozen, watching his face fall further, assuming his words meant nothing to do. what you did shocked both of you, because despite everything, every doubt, fear, worry, you rushed to him, into his arms, that slowly wrapped around you in response.

“i don’t know what i was thinking. i’m yours. i will always be yours.” you breathed, tears breaking the dam and drenching your face as his hands tangled in your hair on a journey to cup your face. you kissed him desperately, held in his strong, capable hands that you knew would look after you, that you knew would worship you and protect you from every single monster under the bed that came with his life.

-

[f1smutwriter]

Lance Stroll Masterlist

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[pucksandpower]

Paddock Princess

Formula 1 (literally half the grid) x Vettel!Reader

Summary: when the drivers find out that you’re planning to have a baby all by yourself, they offer to help out by playing sperm roulette … the results are surprisingly wholesome

The buzz of excitement fills the air as the paddock comes to life on a sunny morning. Drivers, team personnel, and media representatives mill about, but there’s a palpable sense of anticipation among a particular group of racers gathered near the Ferrari motorhome.

Max leans against the sleek red structure, his eyes darting around nervously. “Has anyone seen her yet?” He asks, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not yet. But she should be here soon, right?”

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Lando chimes in, bouncing on his toes. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

Carlos nods in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. “A very strange movie, but I’m here for it.”

George glances at his watch, his brow furrowed. “She’s usually here by now. You don’t think she’s having second thoughts, do you?”

“No way,” Oscar says confidently. “You know her. Once she sets her mind to something, that’s it.”

Lewis, standing slightly apart from the younger drivers, offers a reassuring smile. “Oscar’s right. She’s one of the most determined people I know. If this is what she wants, she’ll see it through.”

Logan, the newest addition to the group, shifts nervously. “I still can’t believe you guys talked me into this. My mom would freak if she knew.”

Alex pats him on the shoulder. “Relax, mate. It’s all anonymous, remember? Besides, think of how happy she’ll be.”

Fernando, leaning against a nearby barrier, nods sagely. “Exactly. We’re doing this for her, because she deserves it.”

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, suddenly straightens up. “Heads up, guys. I think I see her coming.”

The group falls silent as you approach, your press pass swinging from your neck and a warm smile on your face. “Morning, boys,” you greet them cheerfully. “Why do you all look like you’re up to something?”

Max clears his throat, trying to sound casual. “Us? Never. Just, uh, enjoying the nice weather.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you’re all gathered here by pure coincidence?”

Charles steps forward, his charm on full display. “Can’t we just be happy to see our favorite reporter?”

You laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along. But seriously, what’s going on? You’re all acting weird.”

The drivers exchange glances, silently debating who should speak first. Finally, Lewis takes the lead.

“We heard about your decision,” he says gently. “About wanting to have a baby.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t realize ... I mean, I only told a couple of people.”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Word travels fast in the paddock. Especially when it’s about you.”

You look around at the group, a mix of emotions playing across your face. “Okay, so you know. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all acting like you’re planning a heist.”

Carlos steps forward, his expression earnest. “We want to help.”

You blink, confusion evident in your eyes. “Help? How?”

George takes a deep breath before plunging in. “We’ve all agreed to donate sperm. To give you options, you know?”

Your jaw drops, and for a moment, you’re speechless. “You ... what?”

Oscar jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “We know you said you were thinking about using a sperm bank, but we thought, well, why not use someone you actually know?”

“And trust,” Alex adds quickly.

You look around at the group, your expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something that might be amusement. “Let me get this straight. All of you,” you gesture at the assembled drivers, “want to donate sperm so I can have a baby?”

They nod in unison, and you can’t help but laugh. “This is ... I don’t even know what to say. It’s incredibly sweet, but also completely insane.”

Fernando steps forward, his expression serious. “We know it’s unconventional. But you’re important to all of us. We want to support you in any way we can.”

You shake your head, still trying to process the situation. “I appreciate that, truly. But guys, this is a huge decision. It’s not just about me having a baby. One of you would be a father.”

Max nods, his face set in determination. “We’ve thought about that. A lot, actually.”

“And we’re okay with it,” Lando adds. “Whatever level of involvement you want, we’ll respect that.”

You look at them, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait a minute. How exactly would this work? I can’t exactly pick one of you. That would be ...”

“Awkward,” Lance finishes for you. “We know. That’s why we came up with a plan.”

Logan, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “We’d all donate, and then the clinic would mix the samples together.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “So it would be like ... artificial insemination roulette?”

Carlos grins. “Exactly! That way, no one knows who the father is. It could be any of us.”

You shake your head, a disbelieving laugh escaping you. “This is absolutely crazy. You know that, right?”

Lewis steps closer, his expression gentle. “Maybe. But we all care about you. We want you to be happy, and we know how much you want this.”

You look around at the group, taking in their earnest expressions. “I don’t know what to say. This is ... a lot to process.”

George nods understandingly. “Of course it is. We don’t expect you to decide right now. Just ... think about it, okay?”

You nod slowly, still looking a bit dazed. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But guys, this is a huge thing you’re offering. Are you sure you’ve really thought it through?”

Alex speaks up, his voice calm and reassuring. “We have. We’ve talked about it a lot, actually. We know it’s not a decision to make lightly.”

“But we’re all in agreement,” Oscar adds. “If this is what you want, we want to help make it happen.”

You take a deep breath, looking around at the group. “I need some time to think about this. It’s ... a lot to take in.”

Max nods, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere.”

As you turn to walk away, still looking a bit shell-shocked, the drivers watch you go with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Lando asks, nervously fidgeting with his sleeve.

Charles shrugs, his eyes still following your retreating figure. “I don’t know. It’s a big decision.”

“We’ve done our part,” Fernando says sagely. “Now it’s up to her.”

The group falls into a contemplative silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the potential consequences of their offer.

Several days pass, and the paddock is abuzz with speculation. The drivers have managed to keep their offer under wraps, but your contemplative mood hasn’t gone unnoticed.

You find yourself cornered by the group once again, this time in a quiet corner of the paddock after qualifying.

“So,” Max says, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “Have you, uh, given any thought to our offer?”

You look around at the expectant faces surrounding you and take a deep breath. “I have, actually. I’ve thought about little else, to be honest.”

The tension in the air is palpable as they wait for your decision.

“I’m still not sure this is the right thing to do,” you begin, and you can see their faces fall. “But ... I can’t deny that the idea has a certain appeal.”

Hope blossoms in their expressions, and you can’t help but smile at their eagerness.

“Before I say yes,” you continue, holding up a hand to stave off their excitement, “I need to know that you’ve all really thought this through. This isn’t just about me having a baby. One of you will be a father, even if we don’t know which one.”

Lewis nods solemnly. “We understand. We’ve talked about it a lot, believe me.”

“And you’re all okay with the possibility of having a child out there that you might never know is yours?” You press.

They exchange glances before nodding in unison.

“We know it’s not a conventional situation,” Charles says. “But we’re all willing to accept whatever comes of this.”

You look at each of them in turn, searching their faces for any sign of doubt. Finding none, you take a deep breath.

“Okay,” you say finally. “If you’re all sure about this ... then yes. I’d be honored to accept your offer.”

The reaction is immediate and overwhelming. Cheers erupt from the group, and before you know it, you’re engulfed in a group hug.

“This is going to be amazing,” Lando exclaims, his face lit up with excitement.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” Alex adds, his smile warm and sincere.

As the excitement dies down, practical considerations start to surface.

“So, how do we do this?” Oscar asks. “Do we all just show up at the clinic or ...”

You can’t help but laugh at the mental image. “I think it might be best if we handle this discreetly. I’ll talk to the clinic and set everything up. They can give you instructions on how to make your ... contributions.”

George nods, looking relieved. “That sounds like a good plan. We don’t want this getting out to the media.”

“Agreed,” you say firmly. “This stays between us. No one else needs to know the details.”

The group nods in agreement, and you feel a wave of affection for these men who are willing to go to such lengths for you.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” you say, shaking your head in wonder.

Fernando smiles, his eyes twinkling. “Believe it. In a few months, you could be on your way to motherhood.”

The reality of the situation starts to sink in, and you feel a mix of excitement and nerves. “This is going to change everything, isn’t it?”

“Change can be good,” Carlos says, giving you a reassuring smile. “And you won’t be alone. We’ll all be here to support you.”

You look around at the group, feeling overwhelmed by their support and affection. “Thank you. All of you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this.”

Max grins, lightening the mood. “Well, naming the kid after me would be a good start.”

The group erupts in laughter, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Nice try, Verstappen. But I think we’ll be steering clear of any names that might give away paternity.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the group. The magnitude of what you’ve all agreed to hangs in the air, but it’s accompanied by a sense of excitement and possibility.

“So,” Lance says, breaking the silence. “I guess the next step is to set up appointments at the clinic?”

You nod, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement in your stomach. “Yeah, I’ll get that sorted out and let you all know the details.”

“And then ...” Logan trails off, looking a bit overwhelmed.

“And then we wait,” Lewis finishes for him. “And hope for the best.”

You look around at the group of men surrounding you, each one ready to potentially become a father for your sake. It’s an unconventional situation, to say the least, but as you take in their supportive smiles and excited eyes, you can’t help but feel that you’re embarking on something truly special.

“Well, boys,” you say, a smile spreading across your face. “I guess we’re really doing this. Let Operation Make A Baby commence.”

***

The hospital waiting room crackles with nervous energy as eleven Formula 1 drivers pace, fidget, and attempt to distract themselves. The air is thick with anticipation, and every time the door opens, heads snap up in unison, hoping for news.

Max runs a hand through his hair for the hundredth time. “How long has it been now?” He asks, his voice tight with tension.

George checks his watch. “About six hours since we got here. But labor can take a while, especially for first-time mothers.”

“I still can’t believe this is really happening,” Lando says, his leg bouncing incessantly. “One of us is about to become a father.”

Charles nods, his eyes fixed on the door. “It’s surreal. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find out this was all a dream.”

“Not a dream, mate,” Alex says, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Very much real.”

The door swings open, and a nurse steps out. The drivers collectively hold their breath, but she merely smiles apologetically and heads down the hallway.

Carlos groans. “This waiting is killing me. How are we supposed to just sit here?”

“We could place bets on who the father is,” Logan suggests with a nervous laugh.

Lewis shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We agreed we wouldn’t try to figure it out, remember?”

“Lewis is right,” Fernando says sagely. “What matters is that the baby and the mother are healthy.”

Oscar nods in agreement. “Exactly. We’re all in this together, regardless of biology.”

Lance, who’s been quietly observing until now, speaks up. “Do you think she’s scared? I mean, we’re all nervous wrecks out here, and we’re not the ones giving birth.”

The group falls silent, contemplating Lance’s words. It’s a sobering thought, reminding them of the magnitude of what’s happening just beyond those doors.

“She’s strong,” Max says finally, his voice filled with admiration. “Stronger than all of us put together. She’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, the door swings open again, and this time, a doctor steps out. The drivers scramble to their feet, forming a semicircle around her.

“Gentlemen,” the doctor says, a smile playing at her lips. “I’m happy to inform you that both mother and baby are doing well. It’s a healthy baby girl.”

A collective cheer erupts from the group, followed by a flurry of hugs and backslaps. The tension that’s been building for hours finally breaks, replaced by jubilant relief.

“When can we see them?” Charles asks eagerly.

The doctor holds up a hand. “The mother is resting now, but she’s asked to see you all in about an hour. She wants you to meet the baby together.”

As the doctor leaves, the drivers look at each other, a mix of excitement and nerves on their faces.

“A girl,” Lando says, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “We have a daughter.”

“She has a daughter,” Lewis gently corrects. “We’re ... well, I’m not sure what we are exactly.”

“We’re family,” Fernando says firmly. “All of us and the little one.”

The next hour passes in a blur of excited chatter and speculation. Finally, a nurse appears to escort them to the private room where you and the baby are waiting.

As they file into the room, the sight that greets them renders them momentarily speechless. You’re propped up in the bed, looking tired but radiant, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket.

You look up as they enter, a soft smile on your face. “Hey, guys. Come meet your daughter.”

The drivers approach cautiously, as if afraid they might break the spell. You adjust the blanket, revealing a tiny face with rosebud lips and a button nose.

“She’s beautiful,” Max breathes, his eyes wide with wonder.

“She’s perfect,” Charles adds, his voice choked with emotion.

You beam at them, your eyes shining. “Want to hold her?”

After a moment of hesitation, Lewis steps forward. With practiced ease, he gently takes the baby from you, cradling her carefully in his arms.

“Hello, little one,” he coos softly. “Welcome to the world.”

The other drivers crowd around, each wanting a closer look. As Lewis passes the baby to Carlos, the scrutiny intensifies.

“Is it just me, or does she have Max’s nose?” Lando asks, peering closely at the tiny face.

Max leans in, his brow furrowed. “I don’t see it. But those ears ... they look like yours, Lando.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Boys, she’s about one hour old. I think it’s a bit early to be playing guess the father, don’t you?”

The drivers have the grace to look sheepish, but their curiosity is far from satisfied.

As the baby is passed from driver to driver, the observations continue.

“She has a strong grip,” Alex notes as tiny fingers wrap around his thumb. “Definitely going to be a racer.”

“Look at those long eyelashes,” Oscar marvels. “Those have to be from Charles.”

Charles preens a bit at this, while the others roll their eyes good-naturedly.

When it’s Fernando’s turn to hold the baby, he studies her with a thoughtful expression. “You know,” he says slowly, “I think she has your smile.”

You raise an eyebrow. “She hasn’t even smiled yet.”

He shakes his head, a mysterious smile on his face. “Trust me. I can tell.”

As the baby makes her way back to you, the drivers settle into chairs around the room, their eyes never leaving the tiny bundle.

“So,” George says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Have you thought about names?”

You nod, looking down at your daughter. “I have, actually. I was thinking ... Nessa. It means miracle. I thought it was fitting, given how she came into our lives.”

“Nessa,” Logan repeats, testing the name. “I like it. It’s beautiful.”

The others murmur their agreement, and you feel a wave of relief. Naming a baby is hard enough without having to consider the opinions of eleven potential fathers.

“Nessa it is, then,” you say, smiling down at the sleeping infant.

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “Can I ask ... how are you feeling? About all of this, I mean.”

You take a moment to consider the question. “Honestly? I’m overwhelmed. Excited, terrified, grateful ... all at once. But mostly, I’m just in awe. Of her, of this whole situation, of all of you.”

The drivers exchange glances, a mix of emotions playing across their faces.

“We’re the ones who should be in awe of you,” Carlos says softly. “You’ve given us an incredible gift.”

“He’s right,” Max adds. “No matter which one of us is her biological father, we’re all going to love her. And you.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you. All of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

As if sensing the emotional moment, Nessa chooses that moment to wake up, her tiny face scrunching up as she lets out a wail.

“Oh boy,” Lando says, his eyes wide. “That’s quite a set of lungs she’s got there.”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa in your arms. “Well, she is a paddock baby. Got to make herself heard over those engines somehow.”

As you soothe the baby, the drivers watch in fascination. It’s clear that despite their earlier bravado, the reality of a newborn is a bit daunting.

“So, uh, what happens now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look up from Nessa, who’s settled back into sleep. “Well, we’ll be here for a couple more days. After that ... I guess we figure it out as we go along.”

Lewis nods thoughtfully. “We’ll need to work out a schedule. Make sure you have support, especially during race weekends.”

“And we’ll need to baby-proof our garages,” Alex adds. “Can’t have her crawling into a stack of tires.”

The conversation turns to practical matters — childcare arrangements, safety considerations, and how to balance their racing careers with their new roles as ... well, whatever they are to Nessa.

As they talk, you can’t help but marvel at the scene. Eleven of the world’s most elite drivers, discussing diaper brands and the merits of various baby carriers with the same intensity they usually reserve for tire strategies and aerodynamics.

“You know,” you say, interrupting a heated debate about the best brand of baby formula, “I think Nessa might be the luckiest baby in the world.”

The drivers pause, looking at you quizzically.

You smile, looking around at each of them. “She’s got eleven of the most dedicated, passionate, and competitive men in the world looking out for her. Plus, she’s guaranteed to have the coolest bring your parent to school day ever.”

The room erupts in laughter, the tension of the day finally breaking.

“Just wait until she’s old enough to drive,” Max says with a grin. “We’ll have her in a kart before she can walk.”

“Oh no,” you groan, though you’re smiling. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?”

“Eleven monsters,” Charles corrects with a wink. “Don’t forget, we’re all in this together.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the room. Nessa sleeps peacefully in your arms, blissfully unaware of the extraordinary circumstances of her birth and the unique family she’s been born into.

Fernando breaks the silence. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “in many ways, this little one embodies the spirit of Formula 1.”

The others look at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Think about it,” he continues. “She’s the product of competition, of pushing boundaries, of taking risks. But she’s also about teamwork, about coming together for a common goal. Just like us on the track.”

The drivers nod, considering Fernando’s words.

“Plus,” Logan adds with a grin, “she’s already got a better sleep schedule than most of us during a race weekend.”

Another round of laughter fills the room, and you feel a surge of affection for these men who have become so much more than colleagues or even friends.

As visiting hours come to an end and the nurses start to shoo the drivers out, there’s a reluctance to leave. Each of them takes a moment to say goodbye to Nessa, promising to return soon.

Before they go, Lewis gathers everyone into a tight circle around your bed.

“I think we need to make a pact,” he says solemnly. “No matter what happens, no matter how our careers go or how life changes, we stick together for Nessa. She’s part of all of us now.”

The drivers nod in agreement, their faces serious.

“For Nessa,” Max says, placing his hand in the center of the circle.

One by one, the others follow suit, until all eleven hands are stacked together.

“For Nessa,” they chorus, and in that moment, you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you and your daughter will never face them alone.

As the drivers file out, casting longing glances back at the sleeping baby, you settle back against your pillows, exhausted but content.

Looking down at Nessa’s peaceful face, you whisper, “Welcome to the world, little one. You’ve got quite the adventure ahead of you.”

And as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but smile at the thought of the unconventional but loving family waiting just outside those hospital doors, ready to take on the world for the tiny girl in your arms.

***

The paddock rushes with activity as teams prepare for the upcoming race weekend. But between the usual hustle and bustle, an unusual sight catches everyone’s attention: you, pushing a stroller with a now six-month-old Nessa, surrounded by a protective circle of drivers.

Max hovers close, his eyes darting around warily. “Are you sure this was a good idea? Bringing her to the track?”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa’s sun hat. “Max, she’s been coming to races since she was born. This is nothing new.”

“Yeah, but now she’s old enough to attract attention,” Charles points out, cooing at Nessa as she gurgles happily.

Lando nods in agreement. “People are starting to ask questions. Did you see that article in Autosport last week?”

You sigh, remembering the speculative piece about Nessa’s parentage. “I saw it. But we knew this day would come eventually.”

As the group makes their way through the paddock, heads turn and whispers follow. The sight of eleven of the world’s top drivers fawning over one baby is certainly not an everyday occurrence.

Carlos leans in, speaking softly. “Maybe we should have come up with a cover story. You know, pick one of us to pretend to be the father.”

George shakes his head. “No, we agreed from the start — no lies. We’re all in this together, remember?”

“Easier said than done,” Logan mutters, noticing a group of journalists eyeing them curiously.

As they approach the Mercedes garage, Lewis spots a familiar face and freezes. “Uh, guys? We might have a problem.”

The others follow his gaze to see your older brother, striding purposefully towards the group. His expression is a mix of confusion and growing anger.

“Seb!” You exclaim, trying to sound casual. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Switzerland.”

Sebastian ignores your greeting, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him. “What’s going on here?” He demands, his gaze sweeping over the assembled drivers.

The group exchanges nervous glances, each silently hoping someone else will take the lead.

Finally, Fernando steps forward, ever the diplomat. “Sebastian, my friend. It’s good to see you. Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more private?”

But Sebastian is having none of it. His eyes lock onto Lewis, who instinctively takes a step back. “Lewis?” He says, his voice dangerously quiet. “Care to explain why you and half the grid are hovering around my sister and a baby?”

Lewis swallows hard, looking to the others for support. Finding none, he takes a deep breath. “Seb, it’s not what you think. Well, it is, but also it isn’t. You see-”

“Lewis?” Sebastian explodes, his face reddening. “I thought better of you!”

The outburst draws even more attention, and you can see team personnel and journalists alike straining to hear what’s happening.

Lewis, caught off guard by Sebastian’s reaction, blurts out, “In my defense, I thought I would get to fuck her!”

A collective gasp goes up from the group, and you bury your face in your hands, mortified.

Sebastian’s eyes widen in shock and fury. “Tha- what? How would that make it better?”

Realizing his mistake, Lewis backpedals frantically. “No, no, that came out wrong! I didn’t mean-”

But Sebastian is beyond listening. He lunges forward, only to be held back by Alex and Oscar.

“Let me go!” Sebastian growls, struggling against their grip. “I’m going to kill him!”

Nessa, startled by the commotion, begins to cry. The sound seems to snap everyone back to reality.

“Enough!” You shout, your voice cutting through the chaos. “All of you, into the motorhome. Now!”

Chastened, the drivers file into the nearby Red Bull motorhome, with Alex and Oscar still keeping a firm grip on Sebastian. You follow, pushing Nessa’s stroller and trying to soothe her.

Once inside, with the door firmly closed against prying eyes and ears, you turn to face the group. Sebastian stands at one end, still glaring daggers at Lewis, who’s wisely put Max and Charles between them.

“Alright,” you say, your voice tight with frustration. “I guess it’s time we explained everything.”

Over the next hour, you and the drivers take turns recounting the story — from your decision to have a baby, to their unconventional offer, to Nessa’s birth and the months since. Sebastian listens in stunned silence, his expression cycling through disbelief, confusion, and finally, grudging understanding.

When the tale is finished, Sebastian slumps into a chair, running a hand over his face. “So let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You,” he points at you, “decided to have a baby on your own. And you lot,” he gestures at the drivers, “thought the best solution was to play some kind of ... paternity lottery?”

Lance nods hesitantly. “When you put it like that, it does sound a bit mad.”

“A bit?” Sebastian laughs incredulously. “It’s completely insane!”

“But it worked,” Carlos points out, gently rocking Nessa, who has calmed down and is now contentedly chewing on his finger. “Look at her, Seb. She’s perfect.”

Sebastian’s expression softens as he looks at his niece. “She is beautiful,” he admits. Then, turning back to the group, he adds sternly, “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you all took advantage of my sister!”

“They didn’t take advantage of me,” you interject firmly. “This was my choice. They were just ... supporting me.”

“By offering to impregnate you?” Sebastian retorts, his protective big brother instincts in full force.

George steps forward, his expression earnest. “Sebastian, I know how this looks. But we care about your sister. All of us. We just wanted to help make her dream come true.”

“And create the world’s most confusing family tree in the process,” Logan mutters, earning a sharp elbow from Lando.

Sebastian sighs, looking around at the assembled drivers. “I still can’t believe you all agreed to this. Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? The media frenzy when this gets out?”

Fernando shrugs philosophically. “Life is full of challenges. This is just another one.”

“Easy for you to say,” Max grumbles. “You’re basically past retirement age. Some of us still have our whole careers ahead of us.”

The room falls silent as the reality of their situation sinks in. The secret they’ve managed to keep for over a year is on the verge of exploding into the public eye.

“So what do we do now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look down at Nessa, who’s drifted off to sleep in Carlos’ arms, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around her. “We tell the truth,” you say firmly. “Or at least, as much of it as we’re comfortable sharing.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Lewis, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet since his earlier outburst, speaks up. “We could say that we all agreed to help you have a child, but keep the details private. No need to mention the ... um, method.”

“You mean the part where you thought you would get to fuck her?” Sebastian growls, causing Lewis to wince.

“I really am sorry about that,” Lewis says sheepishly. “It came out all wrong.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Focus, boys. We need a plan.”

Over the next hour, the group hashes out a strategy. They decide to release a joint statement explaining that you had chosen to become a single mother, and that the drivers, as your close friends, had offered their support. The exact nature of that support would remain private.

As they finalize the details, Sebastian watches the interactions with growing amazement. The way the drivers instinctively work together, finishing each other’s sentences and anticipating potential issues, speaks to a bond that goes beyond mere friendship or even shared paternity.

“You know,” he says finally, interrupting a debate about whether to use the phrase ‘unconventional family’ in their statement, “I think I owe you all an apology.”

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to Sebastian.

He continues, his voice softer now. “I reacted badly earlier. But seeing you all now, how you’ve come together for my sister and for Nessa ... it’s actually kind of beautiful.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes as you move to hug your brother. “Thank you, Seb. That means a lot.”

As you pull away, Sebastian turns to address the group. “But let me make one thing clear,” he says, his tone becoming stern once more. “If any of you ever hurt my sister or my niece, you’ll have me to answer to. Understood?”

The drivers nod solemnly, a mixture of respect and residual fear in their eyes.

“Good,” Sebastian says, a small smile finally breaking through. “Now, who’s going to let me hold my niece?”

As Carlos carefully transfers the sleeping Nessa to Sebastian’s arms, the tension in the room finally dissipates. Watching your brother coo over your daughter, surrounded by the unconventional family you’ve built, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

“Well,” Lando says, breaking the moment, “I guess the hardest part’s over. Now we just have to explain this to the rest of the world.”

Alex laughs, shaking his head. “Mate, I think that might actually be the easy part. It’s raising her that’s going to be the real challenge.”

As the group dissolves into laughter, discussing potential future scenarios (“Who’s going to teach her to drive?” “All of us, obviously!” “God help us all.”), you can’t help but marvel at the strange and wonderful turn your life has taken.

Looking around at the men who have become so much more than colleagues or friends — who have become family in the truest sense of the word — you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together. And really, with a support system like this, how can you possibly fail?

As the laughter and chatter continue around you, Nessa stirs in Sebastian’s arms, her tiny hand reaching out. Without hesitation, eleven hands reach back, each driver gently touching a finger or offering a thumb for her to grasp.

In that moment, watching the most competitive men in motorsport melt over one tiny girl, you know that no matter what the future holds, Nessa will never lack for love, support, or, undoubtedly, speed.

***

The sun beats down on the jam-packed karting track, the air thick with the scent of fuel and the buzz of excitement. Amid the crowd of nervous parents and eager young racers, one group stands out: eleven men, a mix of current and former Formula 1 drivers, clustered around a small kart where an eight-year-old girl sits, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and her face a mask of determination.

“Remember, Nessa,” Max says, kneeling beside the kart to look the girl in the eye, “smooth on the throttle, late on the brakes.”

Charles leans in from the other side. “But not too late, mon chou. You don’t want to lock up in the corners.”

“And watch your lines,” Lewis adds, adjusting Nessa’s helmet. “The racing line isn’t always the optimal when you’re being pressured.”

Nessa nods solemnly, taking in every word. “I know, I know. We’ve been over this a million times.”

Lando grins, ruffling her hair. “That’s our girl. You’ve got this, kiddo.”

Around them, other parents and children stare in disbelief. Whispers ripple through the crowd as people recognize the famous faces surrounding the young racer.

“Is that really Lewis Hamilton?” One mother hisses to her husband.

“And Max Verstappen!” The man replies, his eyes wide. “What are they doing here?”

A nearby father shakes his head in amazement. “I heard rumors about that kid, but I didn’t believe them. How can she have so many ... well, fathers?”

Meanwhile, you stand slightly apart from the group, watching the scene with a mix of pride and amusement. Your brother sidles up beside you.

“You know,” he says with a wry smile, “when I imagined my niece’s first race, I didn’t quite picture this circus.”

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh come on, you love it. Besides, you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

As if to prove your point, Sebastian’s eyes narrow as he spots Carlos making a last-minute adjustment to Nessa’s kart. “Hey!” He calls out, striding over. “What are you doing to her suspension?”

Carlos looks up, startled. “Just a small tweak. The track’s a bit bumpy on turn three.”

“It’s fine as it is,” George interjects, crouching down to inspect the kart. “Any softer and she’ll lose responsiveness in the chicane.”

“Actually,” Fernando chimes in, “a slight adjustment might help. But not too much, Carlos.”

As the debate over suspension settings intensifies, Alex notices Nessa’s growing nervousness. He kneels beside her, speaking softly. “Hey, little racer. How are you feeling?”

Nessa bites her lip, her eyes darting between her arguing fathers and the other young racers preparing for the race. “What if I let them down?” She whispers. “They’re all so excited.”

Alex’s expression softens. “Oh, Nessa. You could never let us down. We’re proud of you no matter what happens out there.”

“He’s right,” Oscar adds, overhearing the conversation. “We’re here because we love you, not because we expect you to win.”

“Although winning would be nice,” Logan quips, earning a chorus of groans and eye-rolls from the others.

“What Logan means,” Lance says, shooting a glare at his fellow driver, “is that we want you to do your best and, most importantly, have fun.”

Nessa nods, a small smile finally breaking through her nervous expression. “Okay. I’ll try.”

As the call comes for racers to take their positions, the group reluctantly steps back, allowing Nessa to maneuver her kart to the starting line. You move forward, leaning in to give your daughter a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” you say softly, “you’re amazing, no matter what happens out there. And we love you more than anything.”

Nessa beams at you, her earlier nerves seeming to melt away. “I love you too. And all my dads,” she adds with a giggle, looking at the assembled drivers.

As you step back to join the others, the atmosphere around you changes. The playful bickering and nervous energy give way to a focused intensity that you recognize from countless race weekends. Eleven pairs of eyes are locked on the small figure in the pink and white kart, second row on the starting grid.

The lights begin their sequence, and you can almost feel the collective intake of breath from the men around you. Green! The karts surge forward, and Nessa makes a good start, holding her position into the first corner.

“That’s it, ma princesse!” Charles cheers, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Hold your line!”

“Watch your inside on turn two,” Max mutters, as if Nessa could hear him. “There’s space if you need it.”

As the race progresses, the commentary from the drivers becomes a constant stream, analyzing every move, every overtake, every defensive maneuver. Other parents cast bewildered glances their way, clearly overwhelmed by the level of scrutiny being applied to what they had assumed would be a casual children’s race.

Midway through the race, Nessa makes a bold move, diving down the inside of the leader into a tight hairpin. The karts touch slightly, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looks like both might spin.

“Steady!” Lewis calls out, his body tensing as if he could somehow influence the outcome through sheer will.

But Nessa manages to control the kart, emerging from the corner in the lead as the other driver runs wide.

The group erupts in cheers, their earlier promises of “it’s not about winning” seemingly forgotten in the heat of the moment.

“Did you see that move?” Lando exclaims, practically bouncing with excitement. “That was pure Norris!”

“Excuse me,” Charles interjects, a proud grin on his face, “I think you mean pure Leclerc. That finesse under pressure? All Ferrari.”

“Oh please,” George scoffs good-naturedly. “That was clearly a Russell special. Calculated risk with perfect execution.”

As the friendly argument over whose racing style Nessa has inherited continues, Sebastian leans in close to you. “You know,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and resignation, “I’m starting to think we created a monster.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, we definitely did. But look how happy they all are.”

Indeed, as you watch the men who have become your family over the past eight years, you’re struck by the pure joy radiating from them. Their focus is entirely on Nessa, their own achievements and rivalries forgotten in their shared pride for this little girl who has somehow become the center of their world.

As the final lap approaches, Nessa is still in the lead, but with another driver close on her tail. The tension among the group reaches fever pitch.

“Come on, Nessa,” Fernando murmurs, his eyes never leaving the track. “You’ve got this. Stay focused.”

“Defend the inside line,” Carlos advises, as if she could hear him. “Don’t give them any space.”

The last corner approaches, and the second-place kart makes a desperate lunge for the inside line. For a moment, it looks like Nessa might be overtaken at the last second.

“No, no, no,” Alex mutters, his hands clenched into fists.

But Nessa holds her nerve, taking a slightly wider line and using her momentum to slingshot out of the corner and across the finish line, just ahead of her rival.

The eruption of cheers from the group of F1 drivers drowns out even the sound of the karts. They jump, hug each other, and pump their fists in the air as if Nessa had just won the World Drivers’ Championship.

As Nessa brings her kart to a stop in the pit area, she’s immediately surrounded by her fathers, each clamoring to be the first to congratulate her.

“That was incredible, little love!” Lewis exclaims, helping her out of the kart.

“You drove like a champion,” Max adds, his face split by an enormous grin.

“I’m so proud of you, mon petit champion,” Charles says, pulling her into a tight hug.

The other parents watch in amazement as Nessa is passed from one racing legend to another, each offering praise, analysis, and suggestions for improvement in equal measure.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” one father mutters to his wife. “How is this fair? That kid has a whole F1 pit crew!”

His wife shushes him, but nods in agreement, her eyes wide as she watches the scene unfold.

Meanwhile, you make your way through the crowd of excited drivers to reach your daughter. As you approach, the men part to let you through, their chatter dying down.

You kneel in front of Nessa, taking in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” You ask softly.

Nessa’s face breaks into a wide grin. “That was amazing! Did you see when I overtook on the hairpin? And the last corner, I thought for sure he was going to pass me, but I remembered what Papa Fernando said about late apexes, and it worked!”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “I saw it all, baby. You were incredible.”

As you release her, Nessa looks around at the circle of beaming faces surrounding her. “Did I make you proud?” She asks, a hint of her earlier nervousness returning.

“Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Sebastian says, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“You exceeded all our expectations,” Fernando adds with a warm smile.

“And trust me,” Lando chimes in with a wink, “our expectations were pretty high to begin with.”

As Nessa basks in the praise and attention of her unconventional family, a race official approaches, looking slightly overwhelmed.

“Excuse me,” he says hesitantly, “but we need to do the podium ceremony now.”

The drivers reluctantly step back, allowing Nessa to follow the official to the makeshift podium. As she takes her place on the top step, her face beaming with pride, you find yourself surrounded by eleven grown men, each looking as proud as if they had just won a world championship themselves.

“You know,” Oscar says softly, his eyes never leaving Nessa as she receives her trophy, “I think we might be in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning to look at him.

He grins, a mixture of pride and mock fear in his eyes. “If she’s this good at eight, can you imagine what she’ll be like at eighteen? We might be out of jobs.”

The group chuckles, but there’s a note of truth in Oscar’s words. As you watch Nessa on the podium, her small hands raised in triumph, you can’t help but wonder what the future holds for this extraordinary little girl with her eleven F1 driver fathers.

But for now, as the sound of applause fills the air and you see the pure joy on Nessa’s face, you push those thoughts aside. There will be time enough for worrying about the future later. For now, you’re content to bask in this moment of triumph, surrounded by the most unconventional and wonderful family you could have ever imagined.

As Nessa runs back to the group, her trophy clutched tightly in her hands, she’s enveloped in a group hug that threatens to lift her off her feet. And in that moment, watching the pure love and pride radiating from these men who have given your daughter so much more than just their DNA, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, Nessa will always have the strongest support system imaginable.

After all, with her fathers in her corner, how can she possibly fail?

[russellsppttemplates]

Dad Lance with his girls in Japan

"Can we go see the flowers before we go to the track, daddy?", Addalynn asked as they left the hotel, you pushing a sleeping Margot on her stroller, "sure, they're this way", he guided you.

The cherry blossoms looked beautiful, leaving your daughter to look up in awe of them, asking for you to take a photo and send it to your mother since she knew her grandma loved them.

Once you arrived at the track, you were fascinated by the amount of fans. Year after year, the fan turn up increased and so did their signs, costumes and offers.

"Look, daddy! There's a big face of you!", Addalynn pointed out as a fan held a giant cardboard face of Lance, "it's as big as me!", she squealed as Lance signed a few caps, one of the fans handing him a small bag, "I made these for your little girls, I hope they enjoy them!", the girl said as Lance took the small crochet bunnies, "do you mind if I give it to them now? The youngest is still asleep, I think", he chuckled, the girl eagerly nodding.

"That girl there made these for you", Lance crouched down and showed Addalynn as she appreciated the details, "I love it, daddy!", she squealed before whispering something on his ear, "yes, that's right, baby, go and tell her", he encouraged as Addalynn smiled at her, "they're very pretty, Arigatō!", she thanked proudly before she showed a sleepy Margot her new bunny, making the younger Stroll girl wave back cutely.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[lorarri]

★ . . . 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 , 𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖

summary , ferrari's team owners son is exposed for having a fan account for there number one driver and some how they end up fake dating for six months

pairing , heir! lance stroll x fem! f1 driver! reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | sol’s masterlist | f1 masterlist

yourinstagram

liked by carlossainz55 lance_stroll 79,479,480 others

yourinstagram a car launch and charity gala like no other 🥂✨

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user the way lance was trying to outbid Y/N the whole charity live stream was so funny to me

user the fact that Y/N and Lance sat at the same table doesn't sit right with me

user okay can we stop talking about the fan boy and talk about MOTHER

user the fact that lance's fan account is still posting about Y/N is WILDDDD

user okay enough of simp boy Y/N ate and left nothing

user the way Carlos and Y/N were side eyeing Lance the whole time was so funny

user I bet Lance was posting on his fan account during his event

user okay but the new car looks sexy af

user okay but imagine if they ended up dating

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MANAGER LUCY

I need you to date Lance Stroll

Y/N

who???

MANAGER LUCY

Lawrance's kid

he got exposed for having a fan account about you

and now he looks like a love sick idiot

and he has apprently been begged his father to get a date with you since you joined the team

but he has only now just given in to giving it to him

Y/N

so I have to go on a date with someone who I have only ever met for less than a day

cuz he got exposed for thirsting over me

and now he wants to date me

MANAGER LUCY

yup

they have sent a contract though

basically be with him for six months

and if you aren't happy by the end of it you can 'break up'

but your main job is to make this overgrown fan boys dream come true

also he is willing to pay alot of money

and you will get a better contact next year

Y/N

okay okay okay

fine

but six months and then I'm done

MANAGER LUCY

good to hear it

I'll send the paper work though in a bit

Y/N

great

also I just stalked his fan account it's actually quite in a weird kinda way

yourinstagram . 2hrs ago

seen by carlossainz55 landonorris 76,379,279 others

SIR LANCE-LOT

last week of dating....

LADY Y/N-INNGTON

yeah...

SIR LANCE-LOT

I don’t want this to end

LADY Y/N-INNGTON

me neither....

SIR LANCE-LOT

wanna go skiing

LADY Y/N-INNGTON

sure

but if this is gonna work plz stop with the fan account

I don’t need to lose even more privacy 

SIR LANCE-LOT

but i have 700k followers :(((

LADY Y/N-INNGTON

I’ll buy you a ferrari to make up for it bae and I’ll let you inroduce me as your wifey to people

SIR LANCE-LOT

deal!!!!

no take backies 

lance_stroll

liked by carlossainz55 lewishamilton 87,480,297 others

lance_stroll look mom I'm a house husband for real now

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user rip YNhusband_real you shall be missed

user bro is really living my dream huh

user nah him in his wag era fr now

user ICONIC

user ugh I don't know who I want more Y/N or Lance

user haters must be salty rn

user this is everything to me

user ferrari better not fuck Y/N strategy or else lance is gonna get them all fired

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[verstappen-cult]

✦ ۰ —ᣞ ⊹ ݁ ﹙ 🖇️ ﹚: a look into your camera roll if lance stroll was your boyfriend !

bringing home flowers without a reason. fancy dinner parties. gentle embraces. falling madly in love. soft and lazy mornings. physical touch as a love language. singing in the kitchen until your lungs give out. cherry tinted lips. lance would do anything for his favorite girl. being the spoiled girlfriend. lying your head on his chest as he talks about the future. declarations of love.

[hemmingsleclerc]

Welcome Back ┃Sebastian Vettel

Pairing: sebastianvettel x wife!

summary: sebastian and his wife give a surprise visit to the drivers

The sun was setting over the prestigious circuit, casting a warm golden glow over the bustling F1 paddock. The air was filled with the heady aroma of fuel and excitement, as fans and teams prepared for the next race. Unbeknownst to the drivers, a surprise awaited them in the form of a familiar face.

Sebastian Vettel, four-time Formula 1 world champion, was near the paddock entrance with his wife Y/N. After a brief hiatus, they returned to the racing world, not as competitors, but as spectators and supporters. As they walked through the meadow, whispers of excitement and surprise followed them.

Sebastian and Y/N decided to visit the drivers, many of whom had considered Vettel as a role model and mentor throughout their careers, and Y/N as a second mother, having always been there for them since their beginnings. Their first stop was the Scuderia Ferrari garage, where Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz were engrossed in pre-race conversations with their engineers.

The moment they entered, the atmosphere changed. Leclerc and Sainz turned to see the iconic duo standing there with warm smiles. The garage buzzed with excitement as the younger drivers embraced Sebastian like a long-lost friend and Y/N, with her gentle lover, radiated warmth, making the meadow feel like a homecoming.

"It's amazing to have you both here," Charles exclaimed, his eyes shining with admiration. "We've missed having both around!"

Carlos nodded in agreement, "Yeah, it's like having our racing parents back. How's life outside the cockpit treating you?"

Sebastian chuckled, "It's different, but we're enjoying the change. And we couldn't resist coming back to witness the thrill of F1 and catch up with all of you."

The surprise visit continued as the couple toured the paddock. Each meeting was marked by genuine enthusiasm and candid conversations. Max Verstappen, who upon seeing them from afar, ran towards them and hugged them tightly, excited to tell them all of his achievements that he had managed to achieve thanks to their help and support. Lando Norris, who almost fainted from excitement when he saw them in front of him, grabbed them both by the arms and took them to the McLaren garage, eager to introduce them to his new partner, Oscar, and the other drivers enthusiastically shared stories of their trips in the mountains. races and asked the experienced couple for advice.

As Sebastian and Y/N approached Lewis Hamilton's Mercedes garage, the air was filled with anticipation. Hamilton, Y/N's old friend, rival and former teammate, greeted them both with a warm hug along with a big smile on his face.

"Seb, Y/N, it's been too long!" Hamilton exclaimed. "This paddock hasn't been the same without you. We need your wisdom and humor back in the game."

Sebastian grinned, "Well, we're here to bring some of that back, at least for today. But remember, you're doing just fine without us. Keep pushing, and the wins will come."

''It's good to see that I left the Mercedes seat in good hands, George has been fantastic in this new season!'' Y/N exclaimed with a touch of emotion and nostalgia when remembering the boy's first season.

The surprise visit of the Vettel's became the highlight of the racing weekend. The drivers, in the midst of their high-risk world, appreciated the moments with them and the peace of mind of knowing that even if they were no longer there every race weekend, they would always be with them. As the day of the race went on, the echoes of their visit persisted, inspiring the drivers to try harder, not only for victory, but also to make their grid parents proud, who watched them grow up, gave them advices, helped them get up when people started to turn their backs on them, who told them to never give up their dream, and who had given them a new meaning of ''family''.