holllandtrash

[holllandtrash]

this is quite literally me

[holllandtrash]

let's show f1 writers some love;

i've seen some discourse over the off-season about the quality of writing on f1tumblr, which is not only disheartening to see because i know how much effort goes into fic writing and smaus, but it also makes me sad to think new readers aren't finding the gold that exists on here.

so, i wanted to create a thread for people to shout out their favourite writers or fics or blogs that supports f1 writers! here are mine in no particular order;

@percervall @curiousthyme @jamminvroomvroom @vetteltea @monzabee @userlando @holllandtrash @goldsainz @lavenderlando @strawberrysainz @chaiiitime @chilling-seavey @velvetsainz-writes @landograndprix @luvth0t @driverlando @coff33andb00ks @snoopyracing @moonlightwritingf1 @lnfours @libraryofloveletters @vamossainz55 @silversainz @lxclerc @whorekneecentral @a-distantdreamer @formula-hamilton

i absolutely adore you all and i know there are so many more blogs out there! so please add your faves to this post or make a post of your own — i know it means the world to writers when ya'll shout them out. 💋 cate xo

[holllandtrash]

hey! i came across your blog and you're writing recently and I'm a bit late on it realizing you're now inactive. I just want to say how much I've enjoyed reading your work. I'm usually just a silent reader, i like and reblog, but I've been posting my own work now and I realized how much feedback means to authors. I hope you find success in your career, you're very talented. Thank you for sharing your work, you're amazing <3

oh man i log into tumblr for the first time and ages just to see this!! my heart hurts i love you ♡ i hope you find success and i hope you never stop writing

[holllandtrash]

hi friends im alive i miss u all

sadly, for the time being, i have stopped writing fanfiction. i need to focus on my career and also on writing a story that i so desperately want to turn into something real

i wrote a little synopsis of something im working on if youre curious and you can read a snippet and see the chat gpt curated cover below the cut lol

The Art of Falling

Indy Brookes has spent her life immersed in the art world, navigating the delicate balance between creativity and commerce at the prestigious Westmont Auction House. She understands that every masterpiece holds hidden depths—stories layered beneath the surface. So when the new Head of Client Relations, Sunil Dival, steps into her world, she can’t help but see him the same way: a piece of art waiting to be unraveled.

Indy thrives on passion and instinct, while Sunil holds tight to logic and control. Though they each bring something valuable to the table, their visions for the future are fundamentally at odds.

As their lives begin to overlap, Indy realizes that Sunil, much like the art she loves, has more to him than meets the eye. In the fast-paced world of auctions and high-stakes deals, they find themselves navigating not only their work, but the unspoken connection growing between them.

Wine bottle in hand, I headed back upstairs, my footsteps quiet on the marble floors. I was going to grab my bag from behind the reception desk when something caught my eye in the gallery—Sunil, standing alone in front of the red painting I had just shown Ms. Bass.

His hands were slid into his pockets, his posture relaxed from what I could tell. The soft glow from the light fixture above the painting cast shadows across his side profile. Much like Ms. Bass, he stared at the painting in confusion. But instead of asking what he was supposed to feel, Sunil stared at it as though if he stood there long enough the answer would jump out. I waited in the doorway, watching him for a second longer than I probably should have.

The painting had a way of doing that—drawing people in. But it was strange seeing him like this. Still emotionless, but more composed. I couldn’t tell if he was just in work mode or if there was something else.

I leaned against the doorframe, the bottle dangling loosely between my fingers.  “Admiring the art?” I called out, my voice sounding more casual than I currently felt.

Sunil didn’t turn right away, his gaze fixed on the canvas. “Something like that,” he replied, his tone flat, as if he were working through something in his mind.

I took a small step into the gallery, unsure if I was intruding on a moment I didn’t fully understand. “What are you thinking?”

He finally glanced in my direction, though not quite meeting my eyes. “Just wondering why people are drawn to it,” he said. His voice was measured, detached. “There’s been so many calls about it, you know? It was the piece that Ms. Bass was here to see too, wasn’t it? I just don’t get what makes it worth the attention?”

I hesitated, not sure if he wanted a real answer or if he was just thinking out loud, but I had just had this same conversation only minutes prior. I took a step closer. “It’s about how the artist uses color and texture to create emotional tension,” I said carefully. “The red isn’t accidental, it has a purpose—it’s layered with meaning. Passion, desire, love. It’s almost as if the artist wanted you to feel conflicted, to question what you’re supposed to see.”

I paused, watching for any reaction, but Sunil’s expression remained impassive, his eyes still fixed on the painting. 

“The longer you look at it,” I continued, “the more it forces you to engage with that tension. That’s why people are drawn to it—it’s not just about what they see, but how it makes them feel. It doesn’t let you be a passive observer.”

He didn’t respond right away, then, without glancing in my direction, he said, “Or maybe people just like to overthink things.” His tone was flat, but the words cut through the air with a dismissive edge.

I stopped in my tracks, realizing at that point that he wasn’t asking for an explanation the way Ms. Bass had. He didn’t care about the history or the artist’s intent. This was something else.

“It’s nice, I guess.” he muttered, almost to himself. 

Nice. 

Nice. 

That word felt like a direct slap to the face. Nice? I had spent years studying pieces like this—pouring over the intricacies, the layers of emotion, the painstaking detail behind every ounce of effort put into it. And Sunil stood there, calling it nice? It was like hearing someone call a symphony ‘catchy’.

The part of me that wanted to set him straight bubbled up to the surface. I wanted to tell him that this wasn’t just a painting you glanced at and deemed ‘nice.’ This was a masterpiece, something you had to feel, something that deserved more than a casual shrug and a throwaway word.

A mild summer breeze was nice. A freshly-mowed lawn was nice. This painting landed in a category of its own that I was actually offended by his comment. 

I could almost hear the lecture forming in my head—something about the delicate use of the color red, the emotion hidden beneath the shadows. I wanted to ask if he even knew what it meant to truly see a painting like this, to understand the depth it carried.

But then I stopped myself, the words slipping away as quickly as they came.

What was the point? He wasn’t here to appreciate the art the way I did.

He wasn’t a curator. He wasn’t a historian. He was Head of Client Relations. His job revolved around the sales of the auction, not the beauty that was stored within our walls.

Sunil wasn’t asking for an analysis or a history lesson. He didn’t need to be corrected or belittled. Maybe, for him, ‘nice’ was enough. At least he was taking the time to even look at the piece.

I bit back the urge to put him in his place. Sometimes people just needed to have their own moment and this shouldn’t have been about me proving I knew more. 

For a moment I was envious of the lack of emotion he felt. I knew too much about the artist and his collection. I felt too much, but it wasn’t my place to force someone to feel the same. Maybe he just needed to stand in front of it, lost in whatever he was seeing, without someone like me shoving meaning down his throat.

So I stayed silent. I let him have this. His moment.

I took a step back, muttering a quiet "Goodnight," as the space between us grew. 

Sunil nodded, still looking at the painting. "Goodnight," he repeated, but there was something in his tone that made me pause. It wasn’t cold, exactly, but it wasn’t warm either. It was just…there. Like everything else about him since he’s arrived—distant.

I lingered for a second longer, waiting for some kind of clarity but it didn’t come. I couldn’t get a read on him. With a small sigh, I twirled the wine bottle in my hands and made my way out, leaving Sunil alone in the gentle glow of the nice painting.

--

yes her name is indy like indy car!! u can take the girl out of motorsports but u cant take motorsports out of the girl !!

[holllandtrash]

Guys…little Leclerc would be fucking bawwwwwling seeing Lando on the podium like

[holllandtrash]

max and charles borderline waterboarding lando with champagne lmfao

[holllandtrash]

we might deserve a resurgence of 6to1 with LN’s win!!!

We really do

[holllandtrash]

I’m sobbing I have been WAITING for this win

[holllandtrash]

it’s because he’s spanish

[holllandtrash]

Can you do a quick lando angst

in the kitchen | lando norris

1k words - loosely based on the song by Reneé Rapp But now it's just me And a hundred square feet of bittersweet memories

You reached for the chain around your neck, yanking it off with a harsh tug, not even bothered to see where in the kitchen it landed. Maybe it slid under the fridge or tucked away in one of the corners and wouldn’t be found until the next time Lando swept.

Regardless, it was gone.

The necklace he bought you six months after you started dating meant nothing more than the dust that layered the ground. The golden initials, LN, could rust away for all you cared.

You imagined a day where Lando tried to find the necklace. He watched you pull it off with such force, it had to be in the kitchen somewhere. You thought about him on his hands and knees, searching for the last remnant of your relationship until finally, weeks later, he’d come across it covered in a layer of crumbs and grime.

What would he do with it?

Would he throw it out? Or would he just hold onto it, on the off chance that you came back for it, for him? Would he stand there in the kitchen and ask himself what went wrong?

You used to dance in that kitchen. You in one of his shirts, Lando in a quadrant hoodie with the matching crew socks. He’d spin you under his arms and you’d laugh as he fought not to slip on the tiled floor. Quiet music would play through the bluetooth speaker sitting at the edge of the counter and the only light to guide your movements flooded in dimly from the hallway.

You used to cook together in this kitchen. Side by side, breakfast, lunch and dinner when his obligations didn’t whisk him away. You’d argue over the good cutting board because even though there were three other perfectly good cutting boards tucked away in the cupboard, it was more fun for Lando to pinch your sides and tuck you into his chest as your laughter filled the confined space, it was a sound Lando easily became accustomed to. 

There was a point when he would do anything to hear it, to be the reason your face lit up and that breathtaking melody passed through your lips. He loved to be the reason for your laugh, your smile, all of it.

He told you he loved you for the first time in that kitchen.

It was during the winter break, a week or two before Christmas and you had just gotten back from a holiday party one of your friends hosted. As you were in the process of sliding your jacket off, you verbalised those worrying thoughts you had about still not being able to find a gift for his parents, something you had been muttering about for a few days and you expected the same response when you turned to face Lando. Don’t worry, we still have time.

But he stood there in the kitchen, twisting one of the rings on his finger and staring at you with a look he had never given you before. The only way you could describe it was new. Like Lando had a fresh set of eyes and he was looking at you in a way he had never been able to before tonight.

“What?” You asked, trying to figure out what was going through that head of his. Usually, you could. You knew him better than he knew himself.

But you didn’t expect him to reach for your hand and pull you into his chest. Your arms wrapped around his waist as you stared up at him. The lack of light in the flat didn’t falter your ability to see him so clearly, it never did. 

“I love you,” he whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him. The corner of his lips tugged upwards and he nodded, like he was happy with those words, proud that he finally got them out. “I love you,” he repeated. 

He loved you.

At that point, he did. He meant those words and you didn’t doubt it. 

Now? You wondered if the times he did say it, he said it absentmindedly before walking out the door, like he had to remind himself how he felt about you, like he needed to say those words for you, not because he wanted to. 

You didn’t dance in that kitchen anymore, you hadn’t in months. 

You didn’t cook together, relying on delivery apps or eating at separate times. 

You didn’t laugh anymore.

Those words, ‘I love you’ hadn’t been spoken out loud in twelve days. You counted. 

You stopped saying it first, waiting to see if he would take it upon himself to not be the response, but you had too high of expectations for him. Lando stopped telling you that he loved you the second you stopped telling him. 

Did he even realise it? That you had pulled away, that you stopped meeting him at the door to kiss him, stopped dragging him into the kitchen to dance with you. All of those moments, those sweet intimate moments that once meant so much to both of you, had vanished. 

If he noticed, he didn't say anything.

If he noticed, why didn't he say anything?

Why was he still not saying anything?

Why were you just staring at each other? Why were there tears streaming down your face while he just stood there? Why wouldn’t he just tell you that he loved you? When did he stop loving you?

When did he stop loving you?

And when did you stop loving him?

You looked away first, maybe you were looking for the necklace for a quick second or maybe you just couldn’t take that distant stare anymore. He wasn’t looking at you like you were brand new. His eyes were tired, drained. They carried no love for you. 

Without a word, you stepped away from him, mind and heart empty but that’s how the kitchen felt for months now anyway. Four cutting boards just seemed like too much. The music was too loud. This 100 square feet of space was too dark for you to find any sort of comfort anymore. 

There was nothing there for you to hold onto. 

It was just a kitchen.

- this is not edited im sorry if theres mistakes - also sorry i havent written in a hot minute i love u

[holllandtrash]

[holllandtrash]

Ferrari have a decent car. If they didn’t give Charles a broken car (this was likely when they broke his car), without a doubt they would have earned P2 today. A shame. But what a brilliant drive from Charles! Truly the most adaptable driver and the way he handled what should have been a race ending issue is brilliant.

[holllandtrash]

CHARLES?? what was the reason

[holllandtrash]

sorry but logan's radio just gave me flashbacks to when yuki turned on radio just to yell

[holllandtrash]

“Leclerc is suffering” Leclerc is always suffering dude

[holllandtrash]

secret admin | lance stroll social media au

pairing: lance stroll x reader

aston martin admin and lance are friends (we think?) until lance gets into a cycling accident and then no one knows what to think in this au, lance did not get into an accident at the start of the season, i wouldn't let the loml be injured twice, even in a smau

astonmartinf1

liked by lance_stroll, dailyf1updates and 107,833 others

tagged: lance_stroll

astonmartinf1 sneak peek into our saturday 😎💚

view all 5,829 comments

hamiltvn oh we love a lance stroll appreciation post

sebstroll he needs a podium this year

yourusername 💚💚💚💚💚💚

astonmartinf1 added to their story

yourusername added to their story

lancestroll added to their story

yourusername

liked by chloestroll, yourbestfriend and 671 others

yourusername are you really in monaco if you don't post a photo dump of you in monaco?

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yoursister woww did she finally put the laptop away and enjoy herself for a change?

yourusername don't be fooled, i bring my laptop with me everywhere

yourbestfriend okay bestie who is that in the third pic

yourusername my boss

lance_stroll added to their story

lance_stroll added to their story

astonmartinf1

liked by yourusername, chloestroll and 213,221 others

tagged: lance_stroll

astonmartinf1 lance stroll spotted 💚

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charles_leclerc 😂😂😂😂😂😂

landonorris aston martin admin doesn't play around

f1 here for this series

lance_stroll this was uncalled for

astonmartinf1 it was completely called for

yourusername added to their story

astonmartinf1 added to their story

lancestroll

liked by astonmartinf1, yourusername and 209,716 others

lance_stroll finished in the points today! Good hustle from everyone on board -- bring on the next race 👊👊

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astonmartinf1 see what you can accomplish when you stop stalking admin? 💚💚

lancestroll stalking is a harsh word, you're the one who invites me to hang out paddocksleuth do we sense some flirting in the comments??? rearwingf1 here for this paddock love story

yourusername 💚💚💚

liked by lancestroll

yourusername

liked by lance_stroll, yourbestfriend and 892 others

yourusername all work, no some play (see u later monaco)

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lance_stroll please delete

yourusername woahh sorry idk how that last pic ended up in there chloestroll L O L

formulalewis okay but if she is admin i understand why lance keeps taking her picture 🥵

paddockgf so shes hot AND has a sense of humour

jemmapitlane lance make a move on her or i will

lance_stroll added to their story

yourusername

liked by chloestroll, yourbestfriend and 910 others

yourusername just what i wanted, a coffee the size of my head

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yourbestfriend tu es trop mignon

yourusername bestie you know i don't speak french lance_stroll she said you're the cutest yourbestfriend ^^^^ yourusername i AM the cutest liked by lance_stroll

lance_stroll

liked by yourusername, astonmartinf1 and 265,226 others

lance_stroll absolutely gutted to be missing the Spanish Grand Prix but I will be watching and cheering on astonmartinf1 from home. Thank you to my medical team who has made this rehabilitation process smooth and optimistic.

huge thank you to friends and family for their incredible support during this time and a special shout out to the girl who refused to leave the hospital room the entire time I was admitted💚

I promise to be back behind the wheel as soon as possible👊

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astonmartinf1 We miss you (both of you).

landonorris rest up mate, we'll see you soon

f1 💚💚💚

granddprixgf WAIT ADMIN HAS BEEN WITH LANCE THIS WHOLE TIME???

leclerrcs16 THEY'RE DATING???/?? ?W??? WAHT

tyreblanketss how did NONE of us figure this out🥺🥺🥺

yourusername

liked by chloestroll, astonmartinf1 and 2,102 others

tagged: lance_stroll

yourusername 3 different photos, 3 important moments in our life.

1 - the day we became more than friends, the end of the season celebration last year that i wasn't even going to attend but thank god i did because you finally made a move after i spent the last 8 months winking at you from across the garage

2 - the day you told me you loved me for the first time, also the day i realized you are most definitely going to be the person i spend the rest of my life with

3 - and yesterday, seeing you smile for the first time in a week, after an accident that has forced you to slow down and take a (temporary) step back from the world around you. yesterday was a reminder that I fell in love with your strength, resilience and determination. you are the most passionate and dedicated man that i know and i am blessed to have you at my side💚 i love you, you'll be back behind the wheel before you know it

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lance_stroll i love you, thank you for being my biggest supporter💚 i can't imagine doing this without you

chloestroll 🥺🥺🥺🥺

f1 paddock love story

lance_stroll added to their story

this was the longest smau ive ever created

masterlist here