#f1 ship fic

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ August Slipped Away - [Part 1]

♥ next | masterlist

♥ pairing: charles leclerc x carlos sainz jr

♥ summer romance

♥ inspired by the folklore love triangle

♥ 501 words - short fic but a part of an ongoing series

♥ a/n: none of these pictures are mine, I found all of them on pinterest. cross posted on ao3

The salt air in Monaco was a nostalgic feeling for Charles. The sweet memories of his childhood rang in his ears but the more recent, tragic moments swirled with them. His home country never reciprocated the same amount of love he had for it. Nothing seemed to go his way here.

It was a summery morning down by the Mediterranean Sea. A group of seagulls flew by the coast where Charles was watching the sunrise and drinking his coffee. He spotted a few couples on an early walk and a group of men playing volleyball. It was a delicate moment until a not-so delicate object struck his face. The pressure knocked his head against the rocky wall he was sat at and he instinctively clutched the back of his hair. He looked up in surprise, a man rushing over to him.

"Mierda, are you okay?" he asked, eyes darting all over Charles.

"Yea..." Charles mumbled, staring down at the spilled coffee that had flung out of his hand and landed on the ground.

"Let me buy you a new drink." the man offered, holding his hand out to help Charles up. Charles took his hand, standing and brushing the wrinkles out of his clothes.

"You don't have to-"

"It's the least I could do," the man cut him off and smiled. "I'm Carlos. Sorry for hitting you in the face." he laughed softly.

"Charles," he held his hand out. "And don't worry, it's fine."

Their hands gripped each other's gently, thumbs lacing together in a shake. They lingered there for a moment, savoring the warm touch and taking note of the way Carlos' hand practically swallowed Charles'.

"Now how about that coffee? I could use some of my own." Carlos smiled, breaking his hand away.

~

There was some sort of unbreakable spark between the two. Smiles and laughs were shared throughout the summer months. They'd spent days together on what an outsider would describe as dates. Gelato, beach trips, and long walks around the small country.

On this particular evening Charles invited Carlos to his apartment. Carlos noticed the intimate details of the Monegasque's place: the rust on his door, a selection of sweet teas, and a light cream colored cardigan draped over a chair by his kitchen table.

They sat on the couch together talking about their lives until their gaze locked, shattering their oblivion to the tension in the room. The visit to Charles' apartment was clearly not just a friendly invite. They exchanged soft kisses and breathy whispers, stumbling off the couch into another room. Maybe they didn't expect to be waking up next to each other, but they both knew they wanted it.

The sun blazed through the curtains, a slight breeze trickling through a gap in the window. Charles woke up first, rolling over to admire the man lying in his bed. He soaked in the feeling of Carlos beside him, taking a few deep breaths. It felt like a weight had been lifted. Like a curse had been broken. 

[pierregazly]

so in love ꨄ charles leclerc

charles leclerc x f!reader

warnings: 18+ only, p in v - no protection, charles is in love, charles doesn't shut up when he's horny [1008 words]

request: 🌶 Could you write prompt 17 with Charles Leclerc, please [17. “What’s wrong?  Why’d you stop?”  “Nothing’s wrong.  I just wanted to take a second to admire how beautiful you are.”]

The smell of sex wafted throughout the room. The fan running above your bodies did little to erase the sheen of sweat that had begun glittering across yours and Charles’ bodies. The sounds of skin against skin, grunts into the open air, it was intoxicating, it was all you could focus on.

Charles was insatiable. Had been since his win. All he could think about, all he wanted, was to feel himself pressed against you, inside of you. By all means, you were his favourite drug. He had practically begged you to let him bend you over in his driver’s room after the race. Then barely even gave you any time to recuperate once you were in his car, on the way back to the hotel. 

His hands had only left you to drive, and even then, one was still running up your leg, dangerously close to where your own body was yearning for him, practically soaking through your clothes because of the teasing movements of his hands.

His body craved yours more than it craved anything. But his mind, his heart? They just simply craved you. The way you smiled up at him from below the podium, the way you were always the first person on his brain when he woke up, and the last thing he thought about before he went to sleep. He craved everything about you, everything about your relationship. You were all he wanted.

It’s what always made things so much more intimate with him. The way he loved you transcended into his every action. It didn’t matter if the night was supposed to be about him, Charles always found a way to turn it around to make it about you.

Just like tonight.

His nose was pressed into the junction between your neck and shoulder, leaving open-mouthed kisses to the bare skin. Soft moans fell from your lips when you felt his teeth scratch against the sensitive skin of your neck, an inevitable mark forming from his actions.

Charles’ hips rutted against yours gently, his hardened member stretching your wet heat deliciously. You could feel him mumbling into your neck, his warm breath coasting across your skin, prompting goosebumps to jump to the surface as a shiver wracked throughout your body.

“So fuckin’ perfect, f’me. So beautiful, merde. Takin’ me so well. God, so incredible. Wish we could stay like this forever,” he groaned. 

He was practically delirious as he mumbled words into your neck, soft whimpers falling from your lips as he pressed his hips deeper into yours, hitting spots inside of you that had you crying out for him.

Pulling himself up and onto his elbows, his eyes locking on yours. Looking up at him questioningly as his lower body halted its ministrations. 

“What’s wrong? Why’d you stop?”

Shaking his head at you, he used one arm to hold himself up as he ran a thumb down the side of your cheek, across your lips, down your neck. You couldn’t contain the goosebumps that continued to litter your skin from his actions.

“Nothing’s wrong.  I just wanted to take a second to admire how beautiful you are.”

Your cheeks instantly heated, the adoration so evident in his eyes as he smiled softly down at you.

“Oh, Cha… hush,” you giggled, slapping at his shoulder. He leaned down to press his lips to yours, his hand now delicately holding your cheek.

Pulling away from you, he flopped over onto his back, tugging on your hand as he directed for you to climb on top of him. He loved watching you ride him, loved watching as you threw your head back in pleasure, or when you would grasp his thighs, your unrelenting grip always causing his hips to stutter in pleasure.

To put it simply, he loved just being able to look at you. Loved being able to make eye contact with you, being able to connect your fingers. Loved being able to see how much you loved him, in the most intimate form.

You did as he directed, climbing on top of him and sinking down on his cock. The stretch caused your eyes to close in pleasure, tipping your head back as a small sigh left your lips. Charles’ own sounds of pleasure mixed with yours, his hands instantly gripping onto your waist as he pulled you down harder.

“Fuckin’ love watching you ride me, merde,” he swore.

His thumb pressed against the hood of your clit, rubbing against the sensitive nub as you whimpered at his actions. The mixture of him rubbing your clit alongside the feeling of him stretching you out pushed you to move your hips faster, craving the feeling that was slowly beginning in the pit of your stomach. 

You could feel the pleasure growing, Charles’ fingers never leaving your clit as he guided your hips with his unoccupied hand. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, the way your hips moved, the way your head was tipped back; revealing the darkened marks he had littered against your neck earlier in the night. A small smirk grew on his lips when he realized you were getting close, his own orgasm creeping up on him.

The sounds you were making increased, your hips stuttering against his.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty? Gonna soak my cock? Wanna cum with you, baby. Wanna fill up this pretty pussy,” he practically cooed his words, bucking his hips upwards so his cock hit the spot inside of you that had you crying out for him.

Your upper body snapped forward as your hands hit his shoulder. Charles’ own hips stuttered as he began to empty himself inside of you, continuing to rub his fingers against your clit, guiding you through your own moment of pleasure.

Slapping his hand away, you allowed your body to drop lightly onto his, attempting to regain your breath. Charles wrapped his now-free hands around your back, pressing his lips against your cheek in a soft kiss.

“Je t’aime, mon cœur,” he whispered.

“Je t’aime aussi, mon amour.”

i don't know what to say!!! but what i want to say isn't appropriate!!! hope y'all enjoy this

[papaya-queen]

Teenage Dirtbag babyy !! - F2/3/F1 academy grid

my first smau - please be kind I’m new with the tools

Y/N x Paul Aron - Ollie Bearman x Andrea Kimi Antonelli - Abbi Pulling x Doriane Pin

<3

Later - 3 am

Yourusername

Yourusername I’m just a teenage dirtbag babyyy

tagged : paularon_, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, racerbia and 6 others

User1 young drivers on social media are a blessing

User2 WAIT IS THAT OLLIE AND KIMI ?!!

            User3 AND DORIANE AND ABBI ?!!

maxverstappen1 stop posting on social media and answer our calls

User4 oh to be a part of that friend group …

<3

Racerbia

Racerbia never let Y/N plan the hangout

tagged : yourusername, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, paularon_ and 6 others

Yourusername hey !!! It was amazing !

User6 AFTER BEARNELLI AND PINING WE GOT PAULY/N ?!!!

Arvid.lindblad actually the best hangout of my life

            Yourusername finally who someone likes my hangout plan

            Landonorris wait until tomorrow morning

<3

The next day

Sunlight was already picking through the curtains when Y/N woke up. Her head was hurting, like someone was hitting it from inside. She tried to get herself up, but some weight was keeping her pinned against the mattress. She turned her head and saw a blond head she knew too well. Sure, her and Paul were big on physical touch but sleeping like this never happened. She carefully shifted to see the room without letting go of Paul’s embrace.

Y/N observed the room and the people in it. She could recognize Kimi and Ollie on the couch opposed to her, the older spooning the other. She had a moment of confusion, but she knew Kimi and Ollie had always been big on PDA even as friends. She kept looking around, checking if all her friends did make it back to the apartment. Arvid, Dino, Maya and Bianca were all sleeping on the floor with some blanket resting on them. And on the armchair, you could find Abbi and Doriane literally glued to each other, managing to fit in the tight chair. Y/N tried to get up to go eat something but all the moving and shifting in Paul’s arm woke him up.

“Hi princess!” he said with the sleepiest voice ever.

“Hi baby!” she responded, hugging him tighter.

Then she got up, after spending a few minutes convincing Paul to let her go. Y/N walked to the kitchen, open the door and faced Charles, Max, Oscar and Lewis. She brutally closed the door before reopening it. “Good morning, everybody!”

“Good afternoon actually!” Charles pointing the clock on the wall. He was right, it was indeed way past noon. 3pm actually.

“So, what’s the reason for the visit?” said Y/N trying to act cool in front of her 4 grid-dad.

“Humm…You don’t remember last night, do you?” Oscar asked.

“Euuh no …?” She responded.

“Well, we have a little explanation to do when everyone wakes up” Oscar sighed.

Max stood up and entered the living room to shout, “EVERYONE WAKES UP NOW!” The mass of teen made a groaning sound, some of them complaining about their head. There was also some confusion like Abbi and Dorianne who were looking at each other, not understanding the how and why they were like this. Same for Kimi and Ollie. After a couple minutes, the other older driver entered the room and told everyone to sit and listen to them.

“You kids are fucking mental; you should definitely know that! Before we start scolding each of you, do you actually remember what happened yesterday?” Charles was endorsing his role as the principal grid-dad of those kids.

“I remember that we met up here, we drank maybe one or two beers then we went to the bar.” said Kimi, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, and Y/N picked up a worksite cone and put it on her head.” Gaby completed.

“I remember something about Ollie and Kimi, and Abbi and Dorianne, like they kissed or something like that” Arvid said earning some weird looks from the four.

Bianca finished their story and added “I remember Y/N got stuck on a tree, we called Oscar to help but Paul got her back before he arrived.”

“Well we have a base to work on” Max said pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s actually not that bad, I thought they would black out like completely.” said Lewis.

“So kids, you all got wasted at the bar and started doing random shit, like sitting on rooftops, stealing shopping carts, scooters and you also did some private things, you should check your insta especially Bianca and Y/N” Charles resumed the whole night and let all the teens check on their insta and realized all the things they did while he decided with the others grid-dads to post something to try to peace the situation.

<3

Charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 2 others

Charles_leclerc why did we have to adopt that many teens?

Tagged yourusername, paularon_, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli and 7 others

Olliebearman  we’re sorry dad 😖🥺

            Yourusername speak for yourself

User8 the dads regretting their choice 🤣😭

Paularon_ it hurts but it was amazing

User7 The Bearnelli and PaulY/N pic 🥹

Dinobeganovic_ never let me have alcohol ever again

            Maya_weug same

            Gabrieleminiofficial same

____

well that's it ! I'm kinda proud of this, i hope you're gonna love this as much as me ! byye :)

[andcars]

★ 𝗣𝗨𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗖 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗦 maxiel , rbr x vcarb admins au

THE RBR AND VCARB admins have been getting real friendly on social media recently . the fans very much notice it

TAGS . . . # daniel ricciardo/max verstappen , alternate universe — not racing drivers , max is the red bull racing social media admin , daniel is the visa cashapp rb social media admin , established relationship , outsiders pov , slight suggestive content FIC STYLE. . . # social media au (twitter , instagram , tiktok )

— this one is dedicated to my baba <3 might continue this as a series

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dannyricciardo Who will I be tonight... 🤔🤫 #VCARB #thatsthequestion #lol

sebbettel NOW... WHY IS BRO HOT

baddassformula the fact that this is the face of the man who's been flirting with the rbr admin

lexandra_tbh REDBULL ADMIN REVEAL WHEN!?!

condiified whoever the rb admin is, they're a lucky person

justinn_case Does he go to the races as well?

dannyricciardo Have to give the live updates! 🥳

emrac3 FUCK OFF I WATCHED HIS VIDEO BEFORE

justaninchi_shutup i wanna devour this man

webberspider fuck redbull i support vcarb

dannyricciardo🤣 Yeah... Fuck Redbull (👀)

bearmansbear WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

realnamegucci lolll why'd you expose yourself like that

dannyricciardo Don't wanna join in?

realnamegucci not trynna get myself fired mate

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dannyricciardo

liked by @ realnamegucci and 923 others

Had a nice vacation! Work 💪

View all comments

realnamegucci why do u look like that

dannyricciardo Like your boyfriend?

realnamegucci fucking idiot hahahah

multiplyer ???? MY STALKING IS NOT IN VEIN

victoriaverstappen Bring my brother next time, he sulks too much

realnamegucci idk what ur talking about

dannyricciardo @ victoriaverstappen Duty noted 🫡

kennybeer Who's here after the TikTok reveal 👀

ubercrashesinf1 holy shit bro is Really fucking hot

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realnamegucci

liked by @ dannyricciardo @ teamredline and 1,143 others

fun stream today 👍 sorry had to leave early guys

View all comments

dannyricciardo I was sad when it ended but became happy when I remembered you're coming to me ♥

realnamegucci no i'm going to work

dannyricciardo To me! 😚

realnamegucci why're you like this loll 😂

lukecraneofficial Could've won the race with you

realnamegucci can't be the only good driver in this game 🤣🤣

dannyricciardo Look so good playing racing games 🙏Got me praying on my knees

realnamegucci ew lol

dannyricciardo You say that now...

victoriaverstappen There are children in here!

multiplyer the flirting is crazy i'm going to find something i know it

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dannyricciardo

liked by @ realnamegucci and 112 others

My favourite part of working

View all comments

jarnoopmeer Calling HR for this

realnamegucci lost focus and had a workplace relationship? lol

realnamegucci i told you not to post that picture!

dannyricciardo I can't when my boyfriend looks this good 🤩

janicester Why're you so whipped

dannyricciardo LOVE!

multiplyer JACKPOT! HE'S WEARING A REDBULL SHIRT!

multiplyer can't believe it took me to 2019 to find this picture

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dannyricciardo

liked by @ realnamegucci @ multiplyer and 6,524 others

Didn't mean to reveal you, @ realnamegucci but... I always did want to show you off to the world ♥ ♥

View all comments

realnamegucci if i get fired for this it's your fault

dannyricciardo Maxy, pretty sure everyone knows we are deeply in love

realnamegucci i didn't... hahaha 🧡

ubercrashesinf1 @ multiplyer is the real goat in this

dannyricciardo Such a 🕵️‍♀️

multiplyer ON GODD AHHHHH

cloudszz1 this is gonna be part of the ricksf1addiction iceberg

dreamsncars CONGRATULATIONS TO THE HAPPY COUPLE!! EVEN THOUGH THEY'VE BEEN PROBABLY AT IT FOR YEARS NOW

mclaren Happy for the couple! or something

realnamegucci you're next la***

mclaren NOOOOOO

realnamegucci next time tell me before you're gonna out yourself and me to everyone... but also sure ig ily2

dannyricciardo HE SAYS HE LOVE ME! MARRY ME PLEASE!

you support me best on tumblr with reblogs and comments !    by andcar

[logan-lieutenant]

i didn't win the wheel: episode 1

(if anyone knows how to make gifs 🥺 please help me out until then it's shitty screenshot summer)

Alex: "I'm gonna say... 400,000."

Logan: "I'm gonna say 430,000”

ok cool let's introduce the WHOLE DYNAMIC of this episode in one still, shall we? alex is looking directly into the camera pondering the shit out of this question, and *this is logan's face*. look at that. look at that fucking smirk. alex is like "you know what? i'm going to get this question right" and logan is like "you know what? i'm gonna use the oldest trick in the pick-a-number-1-through-10 book and i'm gonna WATCH you get annoyed with me and i'm gonna love every second of it." he knows what he's doing

Alex: "Oh, you're playing that game, are you? Just gonna go a bit above?"

Logan: *smoothest fucking wink i've ever seen* *the fucking TONGUE CLICK*

ok WHAT. how am i supposed to handle this i– let's start with the fact that even before logan gave his answer he's leaning back, head cocked, gazing at alex ✨like that✨ practically about to do the arm-around-the-shoulder-thing **before** because he knows exactly how alex is going to react. that fucking wink he had that planned from the beginning. even before alex phrased it like "oh, you're playing that game, are you?" which WOAH BRAT TAMER ALEX DID NOT SEE THAT COMING and jesus christ i feel like i'm intruding on something. this doesn't even feel like ao3 this feels like the beginning of a shit 2k word wattpad draft but no this actually happened

Alex (after guessing exactly 1 less than Logan's and getting it right): "Yes!"

Logan (sunshine smile): "You're a donut..."

okay so apparently alex’s reaction to being called a donut 🍩 is that smile and leaning into logan for the first time in the video and giggling and idk fucking blushing like what kind of degradation kink is this... like i'm sorry i love you landoscar but "you freaking muppet! you got all the hangers!" will need to step aside for whatever is going on here

need i remind you this is ALEX'S reaction to kph. logan brought the k in there first guys leave your what the fuck is a kilometer bit behind ok!!! (i'll find this eventually but logan answering that question on "wrong answers only" with "i'm gonna answer this correctly. it's 1.6 to a mile" is the hottest thing i've ever seen)

aaaaaand here we go end of the video. DO I NEED TO DO A SIDE BY SIDE COMPARISON OR WHAT actually–

alright that's the best you're gonna get with preview. but LET'S BREAK IT DOWN. so we go from logan doing literally all of the talking, all of the video introduction and explaining the activity, and alex even with his whole "oooh ray of sunshine" image clearly thinks this is stupid, he even makes little sarcastic hand gestures when logan describes it. and even right in the beginning he's not looking at the camera he looks like an adhd kid sat next to the window (come on alex look alive). but THREE MINUTES of an admittedly stupid game he's done a total 180, smiling and laughing and literally that wasn't that funny but now i'm gonna laugh because you're the one who said it and leaning in to read the cards for the first time and- well logan is mostly unchanged. from the first question he decided his main task for this video was literally just to check out his teammate at point blank range with his emotions very very clear on his face (alex is OBLIVIOUS af but then again he did pull out the "oh you're playing that game are you?" and i was NOT ready for that so who knows)

ok so episode 1 is very much a warmup for the rest of the series i know that. obviously this isn't the "reaching stratospheric levels of homoeroticism that actually leave a wake of collateral damage to all compulsory heterosexuality in a 50 m radius" as charlos but holy shit it's a lot more obvious than i thought!!!

[orgasming-caterpillar]

And It's Too Cold//It's Too Cold

Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg | Angst | Smut | 1695 words | on ao3 | in Google Docs

Songfic Based On: Sweater Weather, The NBHF

Nico was in the cooldown room when it happened. Towel in hand, he was wiping the cold droplets trickling down his torso when Lewis burst open the door. (They didn't even use the cooldown room at the same time anymore.)

“Nico.”

The name left his teammate's mouth for the first time in weeks. Nico's throat didn't have to tighten like that— he wasn't going to speak anyway.

“I need to talk to you,” Lewis said, something desperate in his voice that Nico wasn't sure was real.

All I am is a man

Nico’s words were careful, deliberately stern. “What do you want, Lewis?”

I want the world in my hands

“To talk to you- about the race.” Abu Dhabi. 2016. “You won. Congratulations. I still won the championship.”

That seemed to snap something inside Lewis. In a swift motion, he lunged at Nico. But his childhood friend was much too familiar with his tactics, he knew about his speedy attacks and had swift reflexes to match. All those teenage years spent wrestling on hotel beds weren't for nothing.

“I don't fucking care!” Lewis shouted, his collar grasped in Nico's hands, Nico pushed all up against the wall. “I don't fucking care that I won the race!”

“You seemed to care a fuck lot about it on the track, mate,” Nico spat.

Lewis jerked his shoulders, hitting his head on the wall in the process. “Why can't you see, Nico?! Why can't you understand? I can't take this anymore.”

I hate the beach

But I stand in California with my toes in the sand

“Take what, Lewis? Because all I've been doing this year is take and take and fucking take. You haven't taken shit compared to what you've put me through.” His eyes were burning now. He needed Lewis out of here.

“I can't take this— you pretending I don't exist. I will take the accidents and the crashes and the goddamn fistfights, but I can't,” —his voice broke, eyes welling up, and Nico had the urge to wipe them before any tears fell— “I can't take this, Nico.”

Use the sleeves of my sweater

“You really think you're the only one suffering? How self centred, how typical of you, Lewis.”

Let's have an adventure

“...What?”

“You think this doesn't hurt me? this non stop fighting and competition, and never making up? Open your fucking eyes. I don't like this any more than you do.”

Lewis' hands dropped from his shoulders, chest heaving. The air between them was electric, too dangerous to breathe in.

Head in the clouds but my gravity centered

“Then why do you do it?” It was the smallest voice Nico had ever heard.

Because it's better than admitting the truth. Because it has less consequences than saying 'I love you.' “Because you started it.”

Touch my neck and I'll touch yours

Dark eyes trailed from his wet hair to the damn skin of his torso, not in a lewd way, but like a man recalling all that he has to lose. When he looked back up, there was a hope in his eyes that Nico couldn't bear looking at. “And will you stop if I stop?”

You in those little high waisted shorts, oh

This was a terrible idea from the beginning. The Karting, the trip to Greece, the ride-or-die friendship, all of it— terrible.

Oh, she knows what I think about

“Stop fucking thinking so much, Nico, it can't get worse than this.”

It really couldn't.

And what I think about

The answer came in the form of a desperate hand grabbing the back of Lewis’ head to bring him closer.

It was a gunshot, the way their lips met each other's. It was the sweet shock of love after a lifetime of yearning. It was like their first sip of too-strong whiskey at fourteen, knowing they've crossed a line they can never go back to.

One love, two mouths

Lewis’ surprise melted into eagerness in a split second. Nico tilted his head and grabbed his bicep. Lewis had grabbed Nico's face with both hands like he was something dear and precious.

It really was a terrible idea, and nothing could ever fix it; but if they were going to burn they'd go down singing in the flames.

One love, one house

“Take off your shirt,” he grunted. Lewis obeyed.

Smooth brown skin burned under Nico's freezing palms. He grabbed a handful of the pecs, moaning into the kiss.

No shirt, no blouse

“Is this—” Lewis pushed him away. God give him dignity, Nico almost whined. “Is this a confession thing? Or a goodbye thing? Because I have no idea what I'll do with a goodbye fuck.”

Just us, you find out

Nico had no idea either. He didn't want to leave Lewis. But for now, the only thing on his mind was the throbbing heart under his hand. They were here. ‘Leaving’ seemed like something out of a hazy dream. “I don't know.”

Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no

Lewis had this look on his face— like he wanted to run away but his feet wouldn't take him. Nico wanted to tell him that there was nothing he could have done to change anything. There was nothing that could have ended up with them anywhere other than where they are. He didn't say anything.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

“Do you really? Or is this another game?” Yes, Nico wanted to yell. He knew what Hamilton was asking. 'Do you really love me?’ and he wanted to yell, Yes, yes, yes. I do love you. I do. I'm sorry. All he could do was nod.

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

Lewis put a hand on his cheek, kissing him again. Only this time it was so much more gentle, yet hurt so much more. Somewhere in his subconscious Lewis seemed to have realised that this was probably the first and last time they will ever do this; and he did it like he wanted to remember.

And if I may just take your breath away

There was so much Nico wanted to say, and he couldn't say any of it. He wanted to scream.

We will never be the same again, he wanted to say. I will never love another like you. A moan. You've destroyed all that I was. A sigh. Do not destroy what I am. Hands caressed his body, so soft it was painful. Build me a pyre, and I'll still whisper your name as I burn. A prayer. I love y—

“How do you want this?” Lewis whispered, hands working him out of his pants.

I don't mind if there's not much to say

Nico grabbed his shoulders, using the stability of Lewis’ hands on his thighs to wrap his legs around his waist. He relished in the way Lewis groaned, he would never hear it ever again.

Sometimes the silence guides a mind

To move to a place so far away

Lewis was gentle, so gentle. They both loved like an ocean. With Nico it was a tsunami; desire coursing through his veins as he groped, wrecked, swallowed everything that came in his way. And with Lewis it was this; sweet, gentle and relentless like moonlit waves in the darkest hours of the night. What choice did either have but to drown?

The goosebumps start to raise

“More,” he whimpered, arching his back against the wall. The soft gaze with which Lewis was watching him was more violent than any fistfight they've ever had.

And then I watch your face

Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah

It hurt— even with how tender Lewis was being. Maybe more so because of that. He harshened the pace at Nico's request, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. Their hearts beat in sync, thudding against the ribcages pressed together.

These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for

Strangling begins with holding. Cannibalism begins with a kiss. They both bring grief and hurt and madness; what is love if not just tender violence?

Inside this place is warm

Outside it starts to pour

He reached the peak of his pleasure first, spilling onto their abdomens. Lewis followed right after.

Coming down

One love, two mouths

They stayed like that for a while; chests heaving, foreheads pressed together, hearts broken like the promises they made at fourteen.

One love, one house

No shirt, no blouse

“Don't leave me, Nico.”

Just us, you find out

Why do you speak to me and why do I try to understand? he thought. We no longer speak the same language.

Not a word was uttered.

Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no, no, no

“We can fix this.” That damned hope.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

“Put me down,” was what Nico chose to say. Lewis did, searching his face desperately for an answer.

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

Nico picked his pants off the floor, pulling them on without another word. Lewis spared them both the pain and stayed silent as well.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

He was wiping his torso with a spare towel when Lewis finally spoke.

“You promised, Nico.”

Nico looked at him, no longer caring about the wet streaks on his cheeks. “We made a lot of stupid promises.”

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

“You said we'd race together. Forever. You said you wouldn't race without me. Then why should I?”

Wasn't forever such a sweet lie? It wasn't nearly as long as people thought it was.

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

“I'm leaving racing for good, Lewis.”

And it's too cold, it's too cold

Lewis was silent for what seemed like hours. “I love you.”

With a single whispered phrase, Nico shut the door behind him. “It'll pass.”

The holes of my sweater…

[wisteriagoesvroom]

📚 10 f1 fics i've loved lately 🏎️

been thinking a lot about how to organise fic recs into some sort of sensible post, 'cus there are so many (great!) pairings and (delicious!) driver combinations, not to mention so many varying styles of fic and SUPER TALENTED WRITERS!!111!!

just gonna list a bunch in no particular order, with accompanying pics, so you can get a sense of the vibes.

'cus what is f1 rpf but all about the ✨ vibes?! 🏁

p.s. people are in this community making amazing stuff for freeee!! if you liked these please leave a kudos or a comment, it makes a writer's day 🫡 

let's gooooo--

objects in the mirror by linearity (@drivestraight) charles/max. 87k words (series), rated t then e

listen. LISTEN! charles to rbr is one of the best premises ever and i will read it in like a thousand iterations. but this fic. this fic series in particular cleared my skin, made me want to cut my hair into a bob out of sheer emotion. i would be remiss not to start with this one because its impact on my f1 rpf trajectory should be studied by science. you know when a story just jumps off the page and it's so real that it becomes your canon. a kind of meteoric inevitability. plus, i almost never cry at fics. but by the time the third act of this one hit, i just went -- damn, am i rly about to tear up at a f1 rpf fanfiction rn? (yes.)

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sawtooth by nottonyharrison (@nottonyharrison) charles/max. 40k words, rated e

max as a f1 engineer? for CARLOS at FERRARI? sign me the fuckkk up. first off, awesome premise. there's always going to be something so heartwrenching about "what ifs", especially in any universe where max isn't a racer. despite the change of circumstances, just... the sheer poetry of two characters who just inexplicably find their way to each other in any universe... 🤧 also this story nails racing scenes in a way that's so visceral, i feel like a fly on the damn halo with them. and, aside from the gourmet lestappen, carlos's whole thing in this fic is joyous! spicy! he's so unapologetic and vaguely annoying! hilarious! + the swimming pool scene lives rent-free in my head.

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salt skin by peachbellini (@strawberry-daiquiris) oscar/lando. 12k words, rated e

this fic is magic. literally and figuratively. (MERMAID LANDO???? MERMAID LANDO.) the kind of story that makes you gasp and melt a little bit. and made me want to throw my phone at the writer, 'cause it's really that good. the yearning, the metaphor for all that's monstrous, a boy who is lost (and the boy who he finds, is equally so). this is just beautifully written and a little quirky and so well executed. i think i put it in my bookmarks as "what if lando was a mermaid and it was filmed by a24" or something. pearl of a story.

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hockey!! shrimp colors :) by leafmeal0ne (@ocontraire) oscar/lando. 13k words, rated t

leaf meal one. i have only known you a week but if anything were to happen to you i would wreck everyone in the room including myself. in all seriousness, anything that leaf writes is brilliant. they're one of these writers who could do a throwaway line on the label of a ketchup bottle and i will probably scream about it. the precision, the way they switch up sentence structures, the freaking darcy-level regency yearning transposed onto a contemporary sports setting. i'd rec all of leaf's sports AUs and i'll probably talk about more in a future fic rec post. BUT. the hockeyyy one my GOD. the barely restrained violence, their mutual desire, the theme of finding your place... *wails uncontrollably*

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you almost unearthly thing by anonymous max/daniel, 3.7k words, rated g

max is a governess(govern..lad?) and daniel is the mystery man at the manor. this was a response to a request i made in the kinkmeme! (if you haven't read those fics go check 'em out, there are so many great ones, and not necessarily all rated e). this is a criminally underrated little story that has my favourite repressed feelings + people dancing around each other + gothic vibes + "what the hell is wrong with y'all in this tale" combo that i really adore. it's really well written and captures the atmosphere so well.

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the so-called narrative by antimonyandthyme (@antimonyandthyme) oscar/carlos, 10k words, rated e

i'm once again asking why there are only 7 carlos/oscar works in the tag. I'M ONCE AGAIN ASKING-- *is sedated*. *jolts awake* okay but for real this is a great story. hot, fake-friendship-to-situationship which so happens is one of my favourite places to be. also hello miscommunication/they're so weird about it/they both want each other but can't express themselves for shit/insane racer boys energy.

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and silver, and samarium by pink_mink (@on-softs) george/toto, 5.2k words, rated e

i profess i am not usually the biggest fan of A/B/O (altho!! this fandom has made me go BUT ACTUALLY HM at least a few times). and this fic freaking nails it, along with the twisted power dynamics between TPs and drivers, as seen through the lens of omegaverse. this story rattles around my head like a stubborn ghoul just from the style and prose and sheer audacity alone. george kneeling at toto's knees while he's working..... ohhhhhhhhh i was this close to calling my lawyers.

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algorithm by anney (@badboy-george) charles/max, 16k words, rated e

i LOVE, LOOOOVE a sci fi concept alright. love that shit, will inhale it like moon dust with zero regrets. and what a fantastic one this one is!! the premise is that the FIA can now statistically show the compatibility of drivers on the grid and it's very pacific rim-y drift compatible, mixed with the surreal vibes of eternal sunshine or HER or some such. it should be outrageous, but it really works. that's the beauty of a great fic right there.

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trajectory of trojan asteroids by redpaint (@redpaint) nico/lewis, 3.3k words, rated g

also one of the fics i first read when i hopped on board the f1 rpf train. the pain and poignancy just gets worse the more i learn about brocedes. you know when you're like "there's no way this was reallll" and then you're like "fuck, it was so real". then you get a fic like this that just encapsulates all that rage and loss and grief and upset, set against the starry vista of endless space. *clutches tablecloth* god.

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p.s please bear in mind that these recs are entirely subjective! i enjoy loads of f1 stories but these are the ones that have especially stuck with me for some inexplicable reason.

p.p.s if your fic is on here and you want it taken off for whatever reason, i'm happy to, no questions asked 💛

BYE for now / until part 2. (i also love talking to ppl about fics so pls feel free to send an ask or hit me up in DMs or whatever.)

xoxo, -- wizz

[iamred-iamyellow]

what if I wrote a florist seb x tattoo artist kimi fic what then

[magnificentbirb]

just someone who wants my company (2.4k, ongoing, carcar)

“Do you want us to be friends?” Oscar blurts. (In which Oscar and Carlos find some common ground and realize that sometimes it's better to be alone together.)

Read on AO3

[lxndonorris]

moments like these - Charlos

Charles Leclerc x Carlos Sainz Jr Theme: smutish, teasing, touching, angsty (a mess) Charles and Carlos are getting ready for the British GP and Charles gets sentimental thinking about next year x word count: 1870+ taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests, pairings or reader is fine ;)

It is a crisp Friday morning at Silverstone, the air tinged with anticipation as F1 teams prepare for the first practice session of the British Grand Prix. In the heart of the paddock, amidst the bustling activity, stands Charles' motorhome. Inside, the two Ferrari pilots are getting all geared up and ready for a hopefully good start to the race weekend.

Charles glances out the window, his eyes scanning the bustling Silverstone paddock. It is a typical British summer day, gray clouds hanging low and the air charged with excitement. 

He is already wearing his racing suit, looking just as good as always. The suit accentuates his frame perfectly, and the tailored fit highlights his athletic build. 

To tease Carlos a little, he keeps the upper half of his suit hanging down around his waist, exposing his tight, red fireproofs. The frabric clings to his taut muscles, hugging him like a second skin.

Charles relishes the feeling of his racing gear against his skin. There is something uniquely exhilarating about the snug fit of his fireproofs and the protective weight of his racing suit.

Every time he pulls it on, he feels a surge of adrenaline, a reminder of the incredible power and speed that await him on the track.

He firmly runs a hand across his chest, subconsciously feeling his muscles underneath his shirt. The fabric is cool and smooth, designed to offer both comfort and protection. It is part of his identity as a driver, a uniform that transforms him into a force to be reckoned with on the track.

Charles catches his reflection in the window, satisfied with what he sees. The racing suit fits him perfectly, tight in all the right places, especially around the waist. His groomed beard and messy hair add to his rugged charm, and he knows his accent is the final touch that makes the whole package irresistible.

Running two fingers along his jawline, a smirk tugs at his lips when his focus shifts to his teammates reflection, standing a few meters behind him.

"Like what you see?" He hears Carlos voice echo through the motorhome, and right away, he licks his lips in excitement. 

Like a child caught in the act of mischief, Charles turns away from the window, and his gaze settles on Carlos, who is just putting on the lower half of his racing suit. He catches sight of Carlos's fireproof undergarments, the tight fabric clinging to his body in a way that makes Charles's heart race even faster.

"Oh, yeah." He nods with his eyes wandering all over Carlos's form. "

He is thrilled to watch his boyfriend dress up, a private moment that feels intimate and special amid the chaos of the race weekends. 

They have been teammates for years now, a partnership that grew from professional camaraderie to something deeper and more intimate. They managed to keep their relationship a secret, a feat not easily accomplished in the high-octane, gossip-driven world of Formula 1.

But somehow, they've made it work thus far, even though it's going to be much harder when Carlos leaves the team at the end of the season. News, that broke Charles's heart the most, and he is reminded of this week after week.

Charles pushes these thoughts away, his focus shifting to the man he loves stretching right in front of him.

"Need a hand with that?" Charles offers with a light chuckle, his voice playful.

Carlos looks at him, a grin spreading across his face. "Enjoying the show, are we?"

"Always," Charles replies, his eyes twinkling with affection. "You make it hard to look away."

And he means it.

Carlos looks equally stunning in his racing suit, the red fabric flattering his complexion and accentuating his well-formed body. Charles, unble to take his eyes off him, subconsciously strokes his own chest while watching Carlos, who catches the gesture and smirks, clearly enjyong the attention.

He, in turn, smoothes the fabric of his suit with the palm of his hand, using it as an excuse to touch himself, drawing Charles's gaze to the way the suit clings to his physique. The way his muscles flex as he moves, the determination in his eyes, and the natural confidence he exudes are captivating. 

The air is charged with a mixture of affection and unspoken desire, a silent understanding passing between them.

Charles loves these stolen moments, where they can be themselves, free from prying eyes of the public and the pressure of their roles as Ferrari drivers. 

"You look amazing," Charles said softly, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

Carlos chuckles, his eyes twinkling brightly. "Coming from you, that means a lot."

Charles steps closer, his hand still lingering on his chest. "It's true. The suit suits you so well."

Carlos's smile widens, and he takes a step forward, closing the distance between them.

"You don't look too bad yourself, Leclerc." He teases, knowing very well what buttons to push to make Charles lose himself in the moment.

Their eyes meet, and for a moment, they forget about the race weekend, the team and focus on just each other.

Charles's hand moves from his own chest to Carlos's, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric. "I will miss this," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Carlos places his hand over Charles's, squeezing it gently. "Oh, Charles." 

His expression softens, and he takes a step closer, his other hand coming up to cup Charles's cheek. "I know," he says gently. "It's going to be different, but it doesn't change what we have."

Charles looks into Carlos's eyes, searching for reassurance. "But it won't be the same." We won't have these moments, this closeness."

Carlos smiles, a comforting warmth in his gaze. "We will find new ways to be together. Just because we won't be on the same team doesn't mean we won't see each other. We'll make it work."

Charles nods, feeling a bit of the weight lift from his shoulders. "You're right. It's just hard to think about."

Carlos leans in, his forehead resting against Charles's. "I know, but we have now, and we'll make the most of it. And when the time comes, we'll face that change together, just like we face everything else."

Charles closes his eyes, savoring the closeness the comfort of Carlos's presence. "Thank you," he whispers. "I needed to hear that."

Carlos pulls back slightly, his smile widening. "Anytime, mon cher. Now, let's focus on today. We've got a whole weekend in front of us."

Charles chuckles, feeling his spirit lift. "Right."

Some thoughts still linger, however, and he is unable to push them aside. 

"Hey, can you help me with my suit? The upper half is always a bit tricky." Carlos smiles shyly, his big brown eyes shining brightly.

Charles immediately knows what he is doing, but he doesn't mind. He appreciates the small gesture that shows how well Carlos understands him. "Of course," he replies, stepping closer once more.

Carlos slips his arms into the sleeves of his racing suit with practiced ease; his movements fluid and confident. Charles reaches out, his hands straightening the fabric, smoothing it over Carlos's chest.

His fingers trace the contours of Carlos's muscular arms, up to his broad shoulders, and finally to his neck. The intimacy of the gesture—the familiar touch—sends a shiver down Charles's spine.

Carlos closes his eyes, a contented hum escaping his lips as he savors the feeling. "You always know how to make everything better," he murmurs.

Charles swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest. The way Carlos responds to his touch, the quiet joy in his eyes make it difficult to resist the pull of emotions.

He hesitates for a moment, the weight of their surroundings and the reality of their situation pressing down on him. But then he sees the trust and love in Carlos's gaze, and it gives him the courage he needs.

Without another word, Charles leans in and kisses Carlos, a gentle yet passionate expression of his feelings. It is a kiss that holds all the emotions he can't put into words—the love, the gratitude, the sadness, and the hope for their future.

Carlos responds in an instant, his arms wrapping around Charles, pulling him closer. The kiss deepens, a silent promise that no matter what changes lay ahead, their bond would remain unbroken.

When they finally pull apart, both of them are breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. "Thank you," Charles whispers, his voice filled with emotion. "For everything."

Carlos smiles, his eyes shining with affection, as Charles slowly zips up his suit, his hands moving with a gentle, deliberate care. When he finishes, he pets Carlos lovingly, his fingers lingering on his chest. 

A sly smirk plays on his lips as he glances down at Charles's chest, noting how the cold British weather has a visible effect on his boyfriend, the tight fireproofs clinging to his skin, and the nipples imprinting through them.

"Need some help with yours?" Carlos offers, his voice tinged with playful concern.

Charles nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Sure, I'd like that."

Carlos's touch is gentle yet slightly possessive as he begins helping his boyfriend with the upper half of his suit. His fingers deftly guide the fabric over Charles's shoulders, smoothing it down in one swift motion.

But just before he zips up the suit, his hand slides inside, stroking Charles's tummy with a tenderness that gives him goosebumps.

Charles can't help but let out a guttural growl; the sensation both comforting and electrifying. The feel of Carlos's hand on his chest, the warmth and familiarity of his touch, is something he cherishes deeply.

"Now, this feels better, eh?" He teases, his hand continuing its gentle caress.

Charles closes his eyes, relishing this moment. "You know it does." He murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

Carlos's hand lingers for a moment longer, his touch both reassuring and grounding. Then, with a final, loving stroke, he zips up Charles's suit, sealing them both in their racing armor.

"There," Carlos says softly, his eyes meeting Charles's. "Ready to take on the other's?"

He nods and grabs their Ferrari caps from the counter, slipping his on with ease, and watches as Carlos takes his cap and puts it on backwards, a playful grin spreading across his face. 

The gesture is quintessentially Carlos—casual, confident, and full of charm.

"Looking good," Charles remarks, unable to suppress a smile. The backward cap adds a touch of roguishness to his already striking appearance.

"Carlos chuckles, adjusting the cap slightly. "Just trying to keep up with you."

Charles shakes his head, the weight of the earlier conversation lifting. The simple act of putting on their caps, a routine they shared countless times, brings a sense of normalcy and comfort—a reminder that despite the looming changes, some things will always stay the same.

They head out of the motorhome, their caps firmly in place. The chilly British air greets them, but the warmth of their connection keeps the cold at bay.

As they walk toward the garage, they fall into step side by side, ready to face the day's challenges with renewed determination.

-

EN: I needed this after last week's fiasco....

[ctimenefic]

I know the admins have probably already driven the joke into the ground but if anyone wanted a short meditation on Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, daddy kink and a side of landoscar and carcar, boy, do I have that under the cut

Lando should’ve had enough of thinking by 1am on the Monday morning after the Monaco GP. There hadn’t been much to do but think during the race - ask about the gap to George, think, gain half a second on Carlos, think, catch a glimpse of the battle for 12th somehow two whole laps behind him, think. And in the end, cross the line exactly where he started, because it was fucking Monaco on zero pit stops, and Charles was never going to gamble, so neither could anyone else. 

Maybe it’s too much time spent playing percentages without ever taking a fucking risk, but as he flops back into a VIP booth he finds himself weighing the odds again. Charles is soaking wet for the third time that day - first champagne, second the harbour swill, and now some rank mix of vodka, sweat and liquid fucking joy oozing out of his with every flail. It’s disgusting and adorable and Lando will not be accepting any comparisons to Miami. Not home before sunrise, Lando reckons. Four piss-stop strategy, hah.

Oscar slides in opposite, a clutch of beers in hand, because he’s still super fucking awkward about bottle service at Jimmy’z coming via girls with tiny skirts, even though Lando has explained, like, four times by now, that is kind of the point of bottle service.  “Not taking a spin on the decks?” Oscar asks, because he’s secretly fifty years old. 

“Nah, tracks were mid. Not dancing?”

Oscar shoots a look over his shoulder at the increasingly large space around the second prince of Monaco. “Ah, no. Might’ve had a boring race but I don’t need to take my life in my hands.”

And that’s when it happens. The line just materialises in his brain, as instinctive as correcting for understeer. 

Not even with your new daddy? 

He barely gets ahead of it, teeth slamming shut after an inhale. And his brain starts racing, harder than he raced all fucking weekend. He’s got a rep for saying stupid shit off the cuff, but this one he thinks about. 

Maybe he says it, and Oscar snorts and drinks his beer, plays it off with a joke about his brother Leo, his uncle Arthur, whatever six new permutations of the joke have evolved as everyone with so much as a sniff at a paddock pass gets shitfaced in the same club.

Maybe he says it, and Oscar’s eyes widen, too taken aback to laugh, but weirded out, and there’ll be a few stilted messages before Montreal wipes the slate clean. And Lando will play things straight, in all senses, til at least summer break.

Maybe he says it, and Oscar’s freckles disappear into the flush across his cheeks. He’ll dart another look back at Charles, shove his beers into Lando’s reach, and stride across the dancefloor to Charles and Carlos and Pierre. He’ll get his hands on Charles’ shoulders to steady him, when he beams back drunk and sloppy, and he’ll share some twist on Lando’s joke, wry and quiet and yet perfectly clear over the thump of what is objectively a mid remix. And Charles will listen and blink as the words leak through to what little remains of his conscious brain six hours after the fucking win of his life. Maybe then he’ll laugh, so loud Lando can hear it, and Carlos and Pierre too, and Oscar will look back at him and grin and sure, the remix is mid, but Lando kinda wants to dance actually. 

Maybe Charles won’t laugh. Because that’s another set of odds - Charles isn’t going home alone, he’s going to slip-stagger through the streets that love him in someone’s arms, maybe many someones. Maybe Charles won’t laugh, but he’ll hook a sweaty elbow round the back of Oscar’s neck, and get a grip in Oscar’s hair, and they’ll dance like they just got 1-2 in Monaco. Lando will be stuck in the fucking booth watching as Charles’s bracelets catch the lights when he winds his arms round Oscar’s neck, catch the flash of the stupid sponsor watch when Oscar puts a steady hand on his waist. And he can’t read lips, can’t know, but Oscar will lean close to say something in Charles’ ear, and Lando will know it’s “Daddy” a few hundredths before Charles gasps.  And it’ll be too public, Jimmy’z on a fucking GP Sunday, Carlos might let Charles burn alive but Pierre’ll keep it clean, but Lando will know, Charles will know, Oscar will know - il predestinato and the rookie who could, on a fucking collision course. 

Or maybe Charles won’t laugh, and he’ll get a grip in Oscar’s hair, and Oscar will lean close, and Pierre will steer them to the door, pull in George and Alex to run interference, because they understand appearances, and Charles will take Oscar back to his flat, the only place any of them have in Monaco that feels truly like a home (no offence to Kelly, but her decorating is straight out of Pinterest’s Most Wanted). Oscar’ll fit there, among the knick knacks and family photos and all the shit Charles still has because he didn’t move every six months of his teens; Oscar’ll earnestly compliment some quilt or throw that was made by Charles’ 107-year-old grandmother and Charles’ll look at him with those huge doe eyes, and the fog of alcohol will clear but the intent will still be there, hot and possessive. Maybe Oscar doesn’t need to call him daddy now because Charles is smart enough to see a trophy when it’s in his hands. So he’ll press him up against his piano because what neighbour is going to complain about noise the night Monaco’s man won the GP, even if chords turn to the half-shouts of a beautiful boy being fucked out, the squeak of sweat-soaked skin on polished ebony. Lando will wake up with his mouth tasting like death and a short message letting him know he’ll be alone on the McLaren jet, unless he offers George a lift, and he’ll have to decide what’s worse, styling it out or feeling George look at him every few minutes, long fingers on the executive-suite sick bag they hide down the side of the seat. 

But maybe Charles will laugh, and Pierre will laugh, but Carlos won’t. Carlos’s jaw will work like he’s taking a grid place penalty for a racing incident, and then he will laugh, but low, mocking. Osc’ll turn, already annoyed, shoulders rising, but Carlos will drop a lazy hand on the nape of his neck and squeeze as he gestures with the other, back and forth, a two-fingered point and shake at Charles, then tapping twice on his own chest for emphasis. He’ll tug Oscar in closer, and there’ll be some of their usual animosity in it, too much strength, Oscar’s chin tilted forwards. Carlos will set his mouth against Oscar’s ear and say “he can’t be your daddy”, or whatever, the smooth operator equivalent, except Carlos is never smooth, just raw and fucked up and hot enough to blast through anyone’s higher brain function. So Oscar will follow when Carlos saunters out, and only someone who knows him well will be able to see beyond that blank expression that he’s practically shellshocked. Carlos won’t notice; Carlos will take him to a hotel room, tease him about putting him on his knees in the parking garage, in the elevator, somewhere where the cold could seep through Oscar’s unbearably thin trousers, but only really send him down once they're behind a locked door with plush carpet underfoot, because Carlos is a bit of a bastard but really good at casual, considerate without it coming across as anything so frightening as real feelings. He’ll tell Oscar to say it again, say it until he’s hoarse, and if Oscar chokes on the word that’ll be nothing to Carlos’s dick, not when Carlos has something to prove and three hours of staring at Oscar’s rear wing to motivate him. And Lando won’t fly out alone, but Oscar’ll be quiet and rumpled and he’ll ask for extra lemon in his fucking ice water and that’ll be worse, so much worse. 

So maybe he doesn’t say it. Maybe that’s it, and they dance and they drink and nothing changes. Seventy-eight laps and he finishes where he started, Oscar one position out of reach. 

Or. 

Or he says it, and Oscar says, “What.”

He says it, and Oscar says, “Sorry, repeat that?”

He says it, and Oscar says, “I don’t think you want me calling Charles daddy.”

He says it, and Oscar says, “Say that again. No, just the last word. Say it to me.”

And Lando will- he’ll- he’s going to-

His race stutters out. He blinks, and the mid remix hits the chorus again. 

Oscar’s looking at him, a half smile on his face. Slightly expectant, like he’s learnt to anticipate one of Lando’s jokes. 

Lando opens his big fat mouth. 

[sinofwriting]

Froot Loops - Charles Leclerc/Daniel Ricciardo

Words: 217 Word Prompt: Froot Loops Note(s): This was supposed to out at 4pm but uh life happened and yikes. But it's here now and enjoy!

Masterlist | Support Me! | Sin's Sept. Blurbs

Daniel doesn’t even flinch as he feels a pair of arms wrap around him, dutifully hunching a little so it’s easier for a chin to dig into his shoulder.

“Daniel, what are you eating?” His voice is still thick with sleep. He chews for another second before swallowing. “Cereal.” He gets a spoonful, pressing the spoon to the side of the bowl, draining the milk away, until there’s nothing there and lifting it for him to see. “Want a bite?” There’s a small hum, considering, and then he can see from the corner of his eye, Charles leaning a bit forward, mouth open and Daniel turns his head carefully guiding the spoon into his mouth.

“It’s good.” Charles murmurs as the spoon clicks against the bowl. “What is it?” “Froot Loops.” Daniel laughs, seeing the confused expression. “Froot Loops? I, what?” “It’s an American cereal baby.” Daniel tells him, before giving him another spoonful, smiling at the way Charles hums happily and with his other hand he reaches for the cereal box, pouring more into the bowl. Charles presses a kiss to Daniel’s temple as he watches him stir the cereal around, coating it all in milk. “Why do you have American cereal in Monaco?” Daniel shrugs and the motion makes Charles’ face scrunch up. “Why not?”

[monacodarling]

Charles and his sensitive ears

Like it starts out when he was younger his ears look funny and cute and people kept pulling on it coz it reddens so quickly

When he blushes it just starts from his ears, then splotchy mess on his cheeks then his neck then his whole face. Like his ears give him away so easy.

And then you know when he was teammates with Seb, Seb has the tendency to whisper a lot and then it becomes a thing.

He gets shivers in his whole body when Seb presses his lips against his ears and tries to speak without yelling, so he gets the unfiltered sensation of vibrations and shit and he just tries to not get a hard on. He doesn’t know what causes the Pavlovian response. Are his ears sensitive? Yes. Is it a voice thing? Maybe. Is it a Seb thing? Definitely.

And at one point Seb notices. And well he was kind about it. He understands the kid, doesn’t mean he can’t help himself but to tease him right??

So anyway, only Seb knows his secret now. Usually Charles can get a hold of his reactions when someone leans over to whisper. But sometimes when you have sensitive ears and a voice kink well…

Probably a 5+1 thing where Charles wants to prove it’s not a sex thing…until it becomes one.

[your-ace-cousin-clover]

"In hindsight, Max thinks, they perfectly Checo-ed him."

-

In the middle of the 2024 Formula One Season, Checo announces that he's joining the newest team on the track, Expensify APX-GP.

Behold, the Chestappen in the weird F1-RPF movie fic.

Tagging @formulanni as requested! 🫡

Thank you for your wonderful Inspo of Joshua fanart!per

[its-all-papaya]

can we get a lestappen or a landoscar + 13? maybe after waiting for a long time? or after one of them thought the other had been injured? 👀

heyyyyyy bestie anon, I come with gift ! it didn't end up that desperate, but I started in a direction and loved it too much to abandon, so if you want, I'll write that injury landoscar for you down the road as an apology.

other disclaimers include: I do not speak any of these languages & I am not remarkably well-versed in lestappen lore. ALLLLL that being said, I am quite fond of this one.

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

13. desperately | lestappen | ~800

Charles thinks he’s been in love with Max since before he knew the word for it. He had amour and he had amore, but Max had neither of those. And by the time they both had love, there were too many other words between them in all their varied languages, a mess of translations.

Because before Charles had love, he had colère, fighting back from P7 after Max edged him off the track in France. There was envie, watching his childhood rival slide into the seat of an F1 car through the screen of his laptop, balanced on his knees where he sat on the floor of his bedroom. With Ferrari, there was frustrazione from the garage as Charles watched Max take the chequered flag in front of a backdrop that he’d been looking at for 23 years. It was Charles’ view before Max knew it existed, and that was devastazione, heartbreak.

(Charles knows now that for Max, before there was love, there was pijn and there was snelheid and there was very little else.)

He’s known how to battle Max since before he knew English. He learned how it felt to overtake Max on track before he learned how to fit his mouth around the word - ‘overtake.’ Before he knew disappointment, before he knew victory, he knew déception, watching Max beat him and la victoire, beating Max.

In all of Charles’ memories, in each of his milestones, Max is there. In the pits, on the podium, thighs pressed together in the curve of the couch. For as far back as his memory extends, there has been racing boots and rubber, and around the apex of every turn, always there is Max.

Seven months after that afternoon in Monaco, Charles watches Max take the top step of a podium for the tenth time in a year and the hundredth time in his memory. He looks up at the boy he’s been battling nearly all his life and it’s the first time he’s seen him and thought fierté, proud.

Somewhere between that night in Abu Dhabi and two and a half years later in Imola, though, the weight of the world has switched shoulders. Charles has never been unburdened in F1, has never been light (if he’s allowed for a moment to be maudlin, he’ll admit he doesn’t know anybody who’s donned rosso corsa and come out the other side without an ache in their bones from the weight of it), but that has always been just another thing he shares with Max. He’s been comparing them one to the other for so long that it has become a part of his every weekend, like strapping his helmet, like saying his prayers. Max has never been soft, but his success has settled his fury, and when they interact now – more than ever – often he is doux, gentle. There are three World Championships between them and enough points that Charles doesn’t bother counting. He should look up the grid and feel jalousie, but instead he looks up from P3 through a mist of champagne and realizes the feeling (next to his motivation) is friand, fond.

Every weekend there is Max, and every summer there is Monaco. They occupy adjacent places in Charles’ chest: constant like racing, glittering like trophies. Always what he is chasing, always out of reach.

Only this summer, impossibly, there is no devastazione. There is no frustrazione. There is just vittoria, euforia, victory in Monaco.

He’s won, and it’s not a Championship but for now, for today, he can’t imagine winning anything that would matter more. Fresh out of the harbor, the Monégasque salt still stinging in his eyes, he thinks of every kilometer he’s ever driven, every podium he’s ever stood on, every moment he’s spent fighting for this, and always, toujours, sempre the person beside him. Monaco is Formula 1 and Monaco is home – a pair of associations that belong to the streets of Monte Carlo and only one other thing.

The champagne is sparkling in his bloodstream when he returns to the paddock, but it dims in comparison to the feeling he gets when he meets Max’s eyes. It is nothing to run to him and it is everything to reach him.

Max whispers words and they are English, but they could be any language and Charles would still understand. It is Abu Dhabi, it is Val D’Argenton, it is Monaco in Max’s gaze when his arms fit tightly around Charles. When Charles kisses Max, there are no words left. It’s desperation, it’s passion, it’s two decades in the making. It’s wet with Charles’ tears – relief like a victory lap – and it’s amour, amore. Charles’ hands bracket a face he’s spent his whole life watching and his mouth slides against a mouth he’s loved since before it could even speak to him. It is a long time until they part.

Charles thinks enfin, finally, and pour toujours, forever.

[joaoista]

《More than colleagues, they are my family》

❤️Charlos + mention of Arthur/Ollie 💛One-shot (+1.4k words) 🤍Fluff + family bonding time (sort of)

Oliver waited patiently inside the Ferrari motorhome. He had already gone through multiple interviews making statements here and there. He received congratulations from many important people in the world of motorsport, feeling fortunate to have so much support from those he admires. Even his father was there to celebrate with him this first great milestone in his career in the highest category of motorsport. The only thing missing was to celebrate with a well-known duo from the paddock that he considered equally important as another member of his family.

And it was with them in mind that the first figure crossed the entrance, giving him a friendly smile before approaching him.

“You did very well, mate”, Charles' words were imbued with genuine affability, as he watched the youngest in depth.

He already knew that look. Eyes narrowed, bright with emotion. It was undoubtedly...

Pride. Pride for him.

Ollie felt himself reverberating in his seat with ill-contained emotion. It was because of it that he couldn't help but jump out of his chair and rush over to Charles, wrapping his lanky arms around him in a tight hug.

“Yes, we were a great team today! One of the best!”, he exclaimed. Enthusiasm pouring through his pores.

However, his mind clicked. He quickly pulled away from Charles. A thin layer of blush sprinkled over his cheeks, embarrassed, mentally scolding himself for getting caught up in the emotion of the moment and acting impulsively accordingly.

He was just about to shout an apology when the Monegasque took him in his arms again, reciprocating the congratulatory embrace.

“Oh, come here Ollie”, the older man murmured. Oliver felt his eyes slowly blurring, feeling himself almost completely overcome by the accomplishment of the feat he had achieved tonight.

He was going to allow himself to collapse in the midst of Charles' comforting embrace, but an intrusion awaited deep down by him made an appearance, startling him and watching as he stole the second of the Leclerc brothers' breath away.

‘They're so obvious’, Bearman thought with amusement and affection.

“Carlos”, he's pretty sure he could hear the smitten sigh leave Charles' lips.

“P3, not bad, my Lord Perceval”, the Spaniard walked in their direction with a slow step. Appreciation painted all over the eldest's eyes as he focused on his mate from Monaco.

“I would be offended if you thought otherwise. The fight to see who can cut the Red Bulls' streak started last week.”

“As well as the other inside bet we have”, Leclerc was the one who ended up closing the distance between them, lightly tapping the other's shoulder for the joke. He then went on to take Sainz's hands in his own.

Well, maybe he was interrupting a scene that did not concern him.

“And look who's here, the golden boy from Maranello. Congratulations on your big debut, Ollie”, although, he dismissed that thought quickly. Of course, they would not turn his presence away no matter how enclosed they were in their bubble.

Eagerly he ran to the Spaniard. “Carlos!”

He was about to hug him. However, he remembered the problem the pilot was bringing with him, so he abruptly stopped his action. Nevertheless, Carlos gave him a nod, indicating that such a hug was welcome.

“Go ahead, Ollie. Just don't push too hard.”

Oliver hugged him with a little less intensity than he hugged Charles, but with the same enthusiasm and appreciation he showed for him. He was still grateful for the advice he provided before the race, even in a state of recovery he made sure to instruct him as best he could to get the most out of the car.

How can you not love Charles and Carlos?

“I'm still sorry to hear about your operation. Also, I'm so glad you're doing well.”

‘And that you're here with us.’

Sainz just denied. “Nothing to be sorry about, Ollie. You did amazing out there and you were able to get the most out of the car. I'm very proud of you.”

Proud of you.

Something throbbed inside Bearman's chest. His eyes misted over again.

“Of both of you. You did a great job.”

“Thank you, Carlos”, he murmured, trying to hold back tears. He gave them both his big smile that exposed his pearly teeth, typical of when he was very happy.

They accompanied the Spaniard to take a seat on the couch in the motorhome, settling in to have their own post-race chat without interruption from third parties and in the intimacy of their circle.

“You know, I would have really liked him to be here.”

Both pairs of eyes stared at him, instantly picking up on who he was referring to.

“You haven't talked to him?” Carlos asked, surprised.

“Curiously, from him was the first message I received on my cell phone congratulating me on my performance. He beat my whole family, even”, mention to them incredulously, but bubbling inside with raw emotion at the gesture.

“Well, I think it's time to give this to you...”, Charles mentioned, as he stood up to get a marbled gift bag. He handed it to him without further thought.

“What?”, Oliver's astonished intonation echoed through the room, still taking the gift in bewilderment. A maroon sweater, a box of biscuits, and a pink rose lay inside.

“Arthur sent it to you. He strictly told me to give it to you as soon as we finished our routine post-race activities. Oh, and he also said there's a surprise waiting for you at Maranello. Apparently, he stayed up late into the night working on this”, he held out his cell phone, showing him his gallery.

A picture of a Ferrari cap with the number ‘38’ stitched on the side of the visor, revealing the face of a small teddy bear woven with brown threads on the inside, was all over the screen. The sender? None other than Arthur Leclerc.

Ollie's eyes opened wide, intensifying that characteristic gleam in them. With trembling hands, he picked up Charles' phone, trying to process the situation. He swallowed in a vain attempt to undo the lump in his throat.

‘Oh, Arthur...’, he mumbled in his head, being a teary mess inside.

“Charles, I think that was only for you to see, not the boy”, Sainz catches his eye, pointing out the obvious detail. The Monegasque froze in place.

“Aïe... I'm sorry? Please pretend I didn't show you anything and act surprised when he gives you the cap”, a nervous laugh bursts from his lips, apologizing for the oversight over and over again.

But, for Oliver, it is more than clear that he will not be able to forget that fact so easily. If he felt his heart was already filled with so much affection for the people around him, it undoubtedly overflowed with love when he learned of the gift Arthur had painstakingly prepared for him, in addition to what he had made him get with his brother.

How to stop the growing infatuation for his former academy classmate if he took great pains every day to surprise and entertain him, even when he did not know the effect it has on him? An impossible mission that he has no intention of stopping.

“And I want to hug Arthur so much because of that...”, He added in a dreamy tone, forgetting for an instant that he was still in company. “No, I...! I...! Now you pretend I didn't say that about your brother, please”, he pleaded with a wail, the color of his cheeks matching the color of the Cavallino Rampante car.

“Now I'm supposed to call him ‘brother-in-law’?”, Carlos annoyed him with a clearly amused tone.

“Carlos!”

“Mmm... I think the four of us should have a dinner party, don't you, Ollie?”, his partner followed his lead, laughing softly.

“Charles!”, implored the Englishman, flushed with embarrassment.

Leclerc only let out another small laugh at Oliver's embarrassed expression. He wasn't going to lie; he was enjoying the somewhat familiar atmosphere that spread between the three of them. It was almost the same feeling witnessed being with his own family and he didn't dislike it at all. He liked it.

Now recomposed from his sultry moment of the day, he approached the red-clad couple and enclosed them both in a final embrace, feeling that last thread that held him fastened to the illusion that this race was a mere fantasy finally break and the bucket full of reality spilling over him.

He felt warm and very happy.

“It's good to have you on the team, Ollie”, Charles whispered, returning the hug. Carlos nodded at his words.

‘It's good to have you two with me.’

[First time posting a fic here jaja! Spreading the Arthur/Ollie propaganda, tho -gets hit-. I really enjoyed writing a fluffy moment between these three, so, I hope you like it! ^^💖]