#meme-constructor

[pitstoplexi]

The difference of Charles and Lewis post race

[tofifee789]

I dont think anything bad actually happened guys

(live reaction to it)

OSCAR WINS THE AZERBAIJAN GRAND PRIX-

(didn't realize george looked kinda funny in this shot lmao)

pretty helmet hair <3

There was no major crash in azerbaijan GP....

[rissahs]

shoutout to my friend who messaged me 'i dont know whats happening but i hope your favourite guy wins' the last time i was livetweeting the f1 race and quickly spiraling into misery. a shining ray of light in my bleak posting-the-same-meme-every-time-my-team-fucks-up life

[jayzfort]

He's more excited for GTG than he is for his pole position, his wins, or the mclaren constructors.

oscar taking gtg way too seriously: part 18256924

[charlotteking27]

Pursuing the Journalist

Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: Max makes his intentions clear, that he wants to pursue you, so much so that he's already planning your future with him.

Warning: This is part two of The pretty Interviewer.

The next morning in Monaco, the paddock buzzes with energy. You barely reach the Sky Sports tent before your producer rushes up to you, smiling like she just won the constructors’ championship.

“Don’t look now,” she says, “but there’s already a crowd outside. They want to see if Max will charm you on live TV again.”

You bury your face in your notes, trying not to blush. “He’s just playing with the media. He loves stirring things up.”

Your producer laughs. “Right, and I’m really Toto Wolff. You two broke the internet last night. Even the official F1 account is in on it.” She holds up her phone, showing you a meme: Max in his race suit, captioned, “Find someone who looks at you the way Max looks at the Sky Sports reporter.”

Suddenly, the crowd outside parts with excitement. Max appears at the paddock entrance, scanning the area until he spots you. Before anyone can react, he jogs over—helmet in hand, a big grin on his face.

Reporters and fans begin to murmur, cameras turning your way. Max doesn't care. He reaches you in an instant, taking your hand, warm and confident. The world seems to pause as he pulls you beside him, walking through the paddock together, fingers intertwined as if it’s perfectly normal.

Cheers and whistles follow you like confetti. Someone shouts, “Go on, Max!” He just squeezes your hand, glancing down with that charming, lovestruck smile that makes your heart skip.

“You didn’t think I’d let you handle this chaos alone, did you?” he whispers, just for you.

Your producer’s jaw drops. The Sky cameras are rolling. It’s Monaco, and for a moment, it feels like the whole world is watching Max Verstappen stroll hand-in-hand with you to the biggest race of the year.

You’re still groaning when Max shows up, surprisingly relaxed for someone about to race in Monaco. He flashes you a grin that promises trouble—except this time, there’s a softness to it, one that doesn’t fade when the cameras are on.

“Ready for your exclusive?” he asks, keeping his eyes on yours, ignoring the crowd of reporters pretending not to listen.

You try to remain professional. “Max, you’re starting on pole for the Monaco Grand Prix. Any nerves?”

He leans in close enough for you to catch a hint of his cologne. His eyes linger on your face just a beat too long. “Only if you’re nervous. I think that’s the only thing that could throw me off today.”

Your producer, clearly done with professionalism, whispers in your ear, “He’s got it bad for you.”

You push on. “What’s the plan for turn one? It’s usually chaos.”

“Stay ahead, avoid chaos, and maybe—” he pauses, giving you a slow look that makes your cheeks flush, “convince you to have dinner with me again after I win. Monaco’s stunning, but you make it unforgettable.”

You choke, and Max’s grin spreads wider. He leans in, his voice dropping, “Honestly, I’d race here every weekend just for a chance to see you.”

“I’m trying to do my job,” you hiss, covering your mic.

He shrugs, completely unruffled. “So am I. Just… my job’s a lot more fun when you’re around.”

The interview becomes a blur—a mix of technical talk and playful flirting, with Max teasing hints about post-race plans and you doing your best to act like you haven’t already agreed to a late-night stroll by the harbor. When it ends, Max lingers as if he’s forgotten there’s a race to win.

“You know,” he says, lowering his voice, “I used to hate interviews. Now I look forward to them. You’re the only one who makes me nervous.”

Your stomach turns. “Because you enjoy being the center of attention?”

He shakes his head. “Because when you look at me, I feel like I’ve already won.”

Before you can say anything, he strides back toward the garage, leaving you flustered and the entire F1 Twitterverse moments away from a meltdown.

The race is pure Monaco: tight, intense, impossible to predict. Max leads from the start, but a late safety car changes everything. You watch, holding your breath, as he navigates through the turmoil, the world focused on him.

He wins. Of course he does.

As the Red Bull zooms past the checkered flag, Max’s radio crackles with his engineer's euphoric shouts. He barely catches his breath before grabbing the radio, his voice filled with adrenaline.

“Max, you legend! Monaco winner! That’s how you do it!” his race engineer exclaims.

Max’s laughter is full of disbelief, almost boyish. But then he shifts his tone, warmer and more thoughtful. He knows everyone is listening—his team, the fans, the world.

“This one’s for someone special,” he says, steady as can be. “I want to dedicate this win to the Sky Sports reporter who survived my flirting all weekend. You know who you are. Thanks for making Monaco unforgettable.”

The team erupts with cheers and laughter. The crowd, hearing the dedication over the loudspeakers, goes wild.

Max grins into the radio, barely hiding his mischief. “Honestly, the car’s quick, but not as quick as my heart every time you ask me questions.”

His engineer groans, half-laughing, “Max, mate, you’re killing us.”

Max just laughs, a bit smug. “What can I say? She’s my lucky charm. That dinner offer still stands, by the way. Monaco’s beautiful at night—almost as beautiful as her smile.”

The paddock buzzes with chatter. Social media is already going crazy.

When he finally walks into parc fermé, covered in champagne and smiling, he looks right at you. The world’s cameras may be on him, but he finds your eyes first.

Later, the post-race interview turns into a frenzy. Reporters jostle, microphones wave, but Max waits, arms crossed, until you stand in front of him. Everything else fades away.

“Congratulations, Max,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Thank you.” He gives you that look that has sparked countless tweets. He leans in close enough that only you—and possibly millions of viewers—can hear. “You know, if I’d known winning Monaco would get me this interview, I would’ve tried even harder.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You just won Monaco. Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your team?”

Max shrugs, still only focused on you. “I’d rather celebrate with you. Maybe you’ll finally say yes to that dinner. Or do I need to win another race?”

He leans in, whispering in your ear with that grin. “Careful, or I’ll have to dedicate every win to you. Might make the other drivers jealous.”

The cameras capture it all—your laughter, his easy smile, the way he leans in as if he’s about to share a secret. The clip is already being shared, meme’d, and picked apart by the time you both slip away from the paddock, hearts racing, the world watching.

By midnight, Monaco’s streets have quieted down. You and Max stroll along the harbor, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of the sea. This time, there are no cameras, no microphones—just two people trying to figure out what happens next.

He stops, gazing out at the yachts bobbing on the dark water. “You know, everyone’s going to have an opinion about this.”

You nudge his shoulder. “Since when do you care about everyone?”

He laughs, soft and genuine. “I don’t. I only care about you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s already leaning in, gentle and certain. For once, you forget about the world watching, the noise, the chaos, and the next race.

What began as just another paddock interview now feels like the start of something entirely new.

And you wouldn’t trade it for pole position—not even on a street circuit.

Taglist: @bowielovesyou and @lilypat

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Kutning's Dag - Max Verstappen x reader

cw: dubcon/ cnc, rapeplay, intox kink, unprotected sex, creampie, public, perv! Max, icky! Max

At this point in the season, Max Verstappen needed a miracle. He had heard it all, at the start. That the car was so fucked he dragged it first to podium, then to the points, but what happened when this was not the case. Amateur theorists- that's what he called F1 podcasters- had predicted that it would be sooner than later. And he had shut them down in Japan. Suzuka was a dream. Fourth consecutive pole there in the last seconds of quali. Fourth consecutive win there, the return of the F1 outro, as the fans dubbed it. But the Dutch anthem didn't stick around the podium for long. There were a few hiccups after, but not for the McLarens. His 1 point behind Lando was gradually increasing. He was feeling like a fish out of water, for the first time in his career. The retirement jokes he so brazenly made during previous months were now met with hushed whispers. It didn't help that the Redbulls were down in the constructors championship too. They took Liam, and with the way Yuki was driving, Max could bet one of his cats that Hadjar was getting fitted for a seat soon, whether the rookie driver wanted it or not. Verstappen's fake Instagram even liked a few Helmut Marko as the 2nd driver memes, a bunch of Daniel cursing the thing too. But it seemed to be true now.

So Max Verstappen desperately needed to win the Miami Grand Prix. After a triple header that started promising and two weekends of pure hell, something needed to be done. Whatever. Literally anything. He remembered last year how Lando's first victory in the sunny state triggered this chain of events. This championship contender narrative that was heating up between the two since. Lando then, with his little nose scar, who had been partying in the Amsterdam canals before. A metaphorical lightbuls sparked up above Max’s head. If you can't beat them, join them. He was going to celebrate King's Day for the first time in a while.

Of course, he used to honor the holiday as a teenager. Which 17 year old doesn't go across the border to the Netherlands to drink copious amounts of alcohol in the streets. He was lucky that his mom and sister brought him in at the end of the night. It was a fun time. Lots of bad beer. Crowds of loud people dressed head to toe in orange. Music that everyone knew shouted at the top of one's lungs. Then, with the years, he was too busy racing for such frivolity. But now the calendar was smiling up to him, a nice little break between Jeddah and Miami. It was a nice opportunity for him to fly back to the Netherlands, try the "Lando method," and come back. Copious amounts of gin tonics and a few kebabs never hurt anyone. Especially on King's Day. It was an incredibly stupid thing to do. Nevertheless, Max did it.

Once his plane touches down on Dutch soil, he realizes this was a mistake. He's forced to take a train and be packed like a sardine in first class. "No, I'm not him, but I get that a lot," he says, ad naseum, eyes glued to the maroon seats around him. Once he makes it to Amsterdam, he all but scours the city, going from store to store, trying to see if there's any alcohol left. He piles premixed cans of gin and tonics into his Alpha Tauri backpack. He sure is an ambassador now. But his quest isn't just a way for him to grab some booze. No, he's strategically scoping out areas where he won't be spotted. Where the crowds were just drunk and rowdy enough to ignore him, but not thay quiet and sober that he'd be bored. One would try to rationalize that most people didn't bat an eye at Lando. Who knows, Max could even accidentally spot the Britton on his way, dj skills being tested on a party boat. And people wouldn't care. We'll that was a bit harsh, there would be many overjoyed fans. But not as many as Max's. It was the fucking Netherlands, we was treated as the second coming of Christ. Or the first, depending on the province. Amsterdam was definitely not on the Bible belt, so that was that. Still, the Dutchman took some precautions. He hid out, going over to long lost friends' houses. People who he had known since karting, all drinking together, wearing orange, and treating him like a normal guy. Yes, there were some offhand comments about F1 and the Redbull performance. There's a few people trying to get him to help them with their fantasy team too.

He offers them a pass at his own ranking if they beat him at a drinking game. And those he never loses, always choosing to go for reflexes or showing feats of physical strength. After all, those hours in the gym aren't for nothing. Max is more than pleasantly buzzed by the time they have to leave. It's past 10, and people are already plastered. Of course, this was strategic. It was more plausible that people got a mass hallucination of Max Verstappen after a few dozen beers. He steps out through the crowd, shoes already sticking to the pavement. The smell of sweat and vomit and beer is in the air.

Max reflexively pulls the orange army cap over his own face, especially when they play anything by Maxx Power. He grins when they play 5 remixes in a row, the dj shouting something about a 5th WDC incoming. Max is happy that at least the fans are happy they believe in him, albeit delusionally. He relaxes, the tension sliding off of him like dirty air. He's too relaxed, almost, and now his mind is wondering how. Yes, the 6 pack of gin and tonics helped. He almost sniffs the air and gets hit with a string smell, similar to the one from the house. He reluctantly takes a hit of this green electronic thing and coughs. It's good, but weird.

"Didn't know vapes were this popular here?" He shouts to his friend, who deadpan that it's weed. Of course, Max almost smack his forehead. He's contact high, just like half the grid was in Vegas. He remembers that day, letting the flashbacks warm over him. Yep, he was fucking fucked.

Max decided that he'd fight the weirdness and tingliness of his body by people watching. What better way to be distracted by analyzing others. He blends into the crowd, only because people are packed like sardines. Mostly friends, big crowds of people dancing, drinking and shouting with each other. He doesn't miss the rowdier ones. There's couples making out and dry humping all around him.

He feels like a teenager all over again, that awkward virgin 17 year old at house parties. Hormones not as contained as he'd like to, popping a boner at other people's activities. If he listened very hard, everything was sexy. He'd hear the little moans and groans of the couple, the pleas for more. Everything made his cock stand up and throb painfully in his pants. And now, 10 years later, it's the same. Max never pegged himself as a voyeur. But now, with every sensation in his body heightened, he couldn't help it. And with his dick needing release and fast, he sets out to find someone willing to do that. His gaze searches, he's like a hawk looking for a bunny. And his eyes land on you.

You hated King's Day. It was a stupid holiday, a Saw trap thing made to torture you. You hated the gaudy orange color. The public drinking. The stupid songs you didn't know as a foreigner. You should've stayed home. But here you were, freezing in a two-piece set. You hate the flimsy fabric of the thing. You only ordered it last minute to impress an ex, who you knew you'd run into. You didn't expect to find them with their tongue down the throat of a mutual acquaintance. But you made a vow that you'd make out with someone. So far, your lips only touched the bottle. Whatever they were drinking was strong, made you feel woozy and light. At least you were doing King's Day right, getting very intoxicated. You didn't even flinch when you felt a pair of hands glide dangerously close to your ass. The whole night, it kept happening, accidentally, sometimes not. It was the crowds, you reasoned, because you were practically sandwiched between many backs and elbows. Then someone did really feel you up from behind. God, his fingers were deliberate. Groping, touching, all short of clawing. Needing you, needing this, and it was gross. The man apologized, a faint sorry from under the rim of an orange hat. You had mentally prepped a joke about redbull giving him more than wings or an aggressive overtake. And then he does it again, this time his hands loop against your hips, seemingly trying to move you out of his way. His fingers hook against the straps of your orange thong and snap them. You want to scream, yell, to tell him to stop. But it's as if you've swallowed cotton. And the warmth of someone's touch against you was clouding your judgment. The stranger lets his fingers move up your bare stomach until your tits. He flicks at your already hard nipples, a little hum of appreciation. He comments that you're practically asking for it by not wearing a bra.

The voice is familiar, even though you can't exactly place it. Didn't all Dutch men all kinda sound the same. This one's hands were kneading your breasts roughly, more for him than for you. He was whispering absolute filth in your ears, the brim of the hat he won't take off digging into your shoulder. He smells like a gin brewery that was next to a coffeeshop.

"Look at you, just letting me touch you. Aren't you ashamed that a total stranger's groping your tits. Right in the middle of Amsterdam, mind you, with thousands of people around you. I think you like it. I think you're a little whore. Because if you wanted to, you could have asked for help. Look there, bimbo," he says as he grabs your chin and tilts your head towards the police at the edge of the crowd. "You want me to stop? Let's walk over there, and I'll let you report me. Hell, I'd even turn myself in. Yeah? Go tell the nice cop about me, I'm right behind you."

You try to move, and he follows. The stranger even lets his hands fall from your chest. But with every step you take, you end up going 3 steps back. It's a Sysyphean challenge. You stop suddenly, and the guy stops with you. You two are surrounded and pressed against each other. You're not sure who makes the first move again. You just know that you're rubbing your ass against his hard cock like an animal in heat.

He rolls his hips against yours, lifting your skirt with every movement. He can't help but knead your ass, feeling your skin prickle under his touch. When the stranger hears a low wolf whistle, you're dragged, literally through the crowd. He's taken his cap off and he's barking orders in Dutch and English, parting the people like they're the Red Sea. He ducks with you in an alley and you swear your drink was laced.

"Max Verstappen? What the fuck are you doing here?" You say, still unsure of what was happening. He shuts you up with a kiss, a bit sloppy and needy. You kiss him back, but then it all starts to be too much. He was a renowned athlete, a role model. Not someone who got a bit too handsy. That dawns on both of you at the same exact time.

"You could ruin my life. You could actually go to anybody about this, and they'll strip me of everything. It'll be Mazepin again, but this time with consequences." He says, and instead of stepping away, he begins unbuttoning his jeans. Sliding his boxers away and taking out his cock. Sizing it up against you. You plead with him.

He pretends to think as his hands go in your panties. He tells you how he's in deep shit as his fingers rub your clit. He goes on about how you should report him, how despite his celebrity status and the inebriated state you're both in, he's going down. You try to mention police injustice, how the odds are against you, even bring up Christian Horner. Your body betrays you as you talk. Your hips snap to match his movements.

"They'll come up with some bullshit excuse. That I was too wet or something. No signs of struggle, no bruises on you or something of the sort." You chastise, as he slides his fingers inside of you. One, then a second, in a hooking motion. He moves them with precision and you blush. In the small alley the sounds of your wetness echo. Max knows exactly how to press his fingers inside of someone to make them fall apart. You cum against him, despite yourself. You press yourself close to him, shut your eyes and let the orgasm wash over you. You're limp, letting him tap the head of his cock against your clit. Allowing him to thrust inside of you, burrying himself to the hilt. Telling you that "if he's gonna go down for this, at least he's gonna make it worth his while."

He tells you how good your cunt feels, how well you take his cock. He holds you down, muscles pressing into you, keeping you in place. He goes on this tangent about coming inside of you, leaving you something to remember him by. You don't have the heart to tell him he's the first and only man to fuck you raw. That his blue eyes and all of today will haunt your dreams. You can't express that what he's doing to you terrifies you, yet thrills you. That you just might be sick in the head for not hating this. Your warm wet cunt was drawing him in. Wanting him. Needing him. You bite your lips bloody. Yet he still catches your whisper of "please, come for me." His thrusts become faster, and he spills inside of you. If this were real life, he'd leave after that, blend into the crowd, and accept his fate. He'd wait for the other shoe to drop and get what was coming to him for being a disgusting pervert who touches women.

But it wasn't real life. Max was in a stupidly expensive Monaco sex club. Their new marketing ploy - get you in the door for a free visit and impress you so much you come back. He had to hand it to them, they followed up with him like a champ. Getting extras to play the drunk and disorderly dutchies. Even the set of the alley was good. Max casts a glance at you, his throughly fucked out girlfriend. You're sleeping with a grin on your face. He remembers the day you told him about your unusual kink. How the two of you would dabble in it, occasionally. He'd pretend to break into your shared apartment and rape you. You had been so loud and rowdy that night that your neighbors called the cops on you. But just before the sirens, you had come on Max's cock so hard, he swore he could marry you right then. After he was done politely explaining the misunderstanding to the policemen, he started googling. And a couple months later, here you two were. Completely immersive experience. And no sheets to wash. Max feels bad for the person who has to clean the floor after you squirt on it. In his defense, you didn't even know you could do that. He lets himself be photographed leaving the club with you in tow. Shoots off a few messages to his friends and the other drivers on the grid to also try it out. If he creates enough buzz, they'll give him a discount. And it's not as if his hefty paycheck doesn't allow him to visit sooner. Especially after he wins Miami. Because he has several bets going on - one with Christian, one with GP and one with Lando. He gets them all, collects the cash and says he'll invest it. He puts it on another night with you. Because the true key to Max Verstappen's winning strategy was a well fucked girlfriend.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Feels Like Sabotage | Charles Leclerc x Red Bull! Reader

Summary: The Grid have decided that this is the season to see who can injure Yn the most. (Not intentionally, they all feel terrible about it). Fed up of seeing his girlfriend injured, Charles decides to enact revenge. 

Pairing: Platonic! Grid x reader. Charles Leclerc x Reader (slight)

Warnings: swearing, slight injury 

Word count: 3.3k

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

#1 Lando Norris

Cheers thundered throughout the track, vibrating through the floor and buzzing into the bodies of the podium winners. Max Verstappen stood in the middle, arms raised high as he bared his Grand Prix trophy to the roaring crowd. Another successful race, another win under his belt. The Dutch anthem was still ringing in his ears, and his smile widened as he turned to his left, finding his teammate beaming with her P3 trophy in hand. A double podium for Red Bull and another step closer to the Constructors Championship.

Jumping down from the P2 podium, Lando raced over to his friends, eager to share in their victories. He threw his arms around Max and Yn, dragging them both into a hug and shouting congratulations into their ears. Disentangling herself from the papaya racer, Yn turned to face the crowd, eyes scanning for a dark-haired Ferrari racer. Dimples deepening as he made eye contact with her, Charles blew his girlfriend a celebratory kiss. Unimpressed that Yn was distracted and not listening to his overjoyed shouts, Lando waved his arms about in front of her, hoping to garner her attention. Miscalculating his movements, his face morphed from delight to terror. Around them, cameras caught the moment that Yn’s face morphed from heart eyes to pain as the trophy came into contact with her skull. 

“Oh, fuck! Yn, I am so sorry! Oh, no. That was so hard.”

Recoiling from the McLaren driver, her free hand came up to nurse the red mark forming on her forehead. Lando chased after her, apologies spilling from his mouth. Yn beat him back with her elbow. 

“Did you just hit me with your trophy?” Yn asked in shock. “I didn’t even beat you.”

“I didn’t mean to. I was waving it about and…”

“And they say F1 drivers are coordinated,” chuckled Max, walking over to his teammate to inspect the damage done to her skull. He winced jokingly, fingers prodding the dark bruise forming. “Oh, dear, you have a bump.”

“Your protective P instincts are kicking in.” She teased, jerking back as pain lanced down the side of her face. “You going to put a Disney princess sticker on it next?” 

Max laughed, the melodic sound breaking through the ringing in her ears. “No, no. I will save those for Lando after Charles runs him off the track.”

The three winners glanced down at the aforementioned Ferrari driver, although Lando quickly looked away. Fury blazed in his blue eyes at the dark mark on her forehead. 

Sighing deeply, Yn placed the bag of ice (long since melted into water) on the table in her driver’s room. Post-podium interviews were always draining but it seemed to drag more so today. Although that might have partly been due to the pounding headache and the dull ache behind her eyes. After the disaster on the podium, the journalists had focused less on their momentous success and more on the injury she had sustained at the hands of Lando Norris.

The internet had already turned their moment into a meme, laughing at the incident, but the journalists decided to take a different route, complaining that Lando had done it deliberately. Fielding those questions was always soul-destroying, especially when they liked to twist whatever you said. Three short knocks sounded at her door, and it clicked open before she could turn from the mirror. 

“Mon amour.” Charles’ head poked between the gap before wincing slightly at the look on her face. “Does it hurt? I can’t believe Lando hit you.”

“He’s like an excitable toddler.”

Charles pulled her into his arms, glancing down at his bruised girlfriend. “You look like an œuf.”

“Saying it in French doesn’t make it any less insulting, Charles.” 

“You are the most beautiful egg I have ever seen,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to the wound Lando had left. 

#2 Daniel Ricciardo 

Sweat ran down the back of Yn’s neck as she gripped the steering wheel harder, flying through turn six. She tapped the brake slightly as the back of a Ferrari came closer, slowing down. 

“What is he doing?”

“Leclerc seems to be having an issue.”

“No shit. He fucking slowed right down.”

“Overtake when you can.”

“Tell me how to do my job, why don’t you?”

Pushing the car forward, she inched past the Ferrari as they approached the next turn. Her teeth clenched tightly together as he faded from view, running right alongside her. She felt sweat run down her cheek as her heart pounded in her chest and tried to focus on her breathing. She could do this. Just a little more.

“Fantastic job,” her engineer praised. “P5 now.”

Glancing in the mirror, she startled at the sight of Charles skidding off the track and onto the gravel, coming to a stop just before the barrier. 

“Is he okay?”

“Gearbox malfunction. Leclerc is fine and out of the car. Car behind is Ricciardo, two seconds.” 

“Okay.”

Relieved that Charles was fine, Yn returned her attention back to the track, doing her best to keep the McLaren behind her. 

“Defend. He’s going to try and overtake.”

Turning the corner, Yn kept on the inside, yanking the wheel in order to achieve the tight turn. Despite pulling left, she felt the car veer off to the right, ignoring her command as she slammed her foot down on the brake. Her body snapped forward as the car came to a sudden stop, smacking into the foam barrier. The plastic coating with Pirelli splashed across it broke, landing atop her head. 

“You okay?”

“What the fuck was that?!” 

“Ricciardo made contact.”

“No shit. He fucking shunted me into the wall!” 

“Obviously we’re going to have to retire the car.”

The cameras honed in on the Red Bull racer as she pulled herself out of the car. The crowd sighed in relief, pleased that she was alright but recoiled as she turned, violently kicking part of the plastic barrier. “Fuck!”

Storming over to the McLaren garage, Yn called out for the other driver forced to DNF. Behind them, the race was continuing, only another ten laps left to determine who would find their way onto the podium. And Yn wasn’t one of them. 

“What the fuck was that! Do you know how to drive?”

“Me? You turned into me!” 

“Don’t give me that shit! I was ahead of you, I was doing my turn first! You fucking clipped my wheel because you didn’t leave enough space and you want to blame me.”

Flashes of light went off around them, capturing the furious racer as she yelled at the sheepish Australian. 

“I am sorry but coming in here to yell at me won’t put you back in the race.”

“No, it won’t because my car is fucked! Learn to fucking drive next time.”

“A pleasure talking to you as always, LN.” 

“Suck my dick!” She yelled back, ignoring the numerous journalists smirking to themselves over their next juicy headline.

Debriefed and dismissed for the evening, Yn dragged her weary body out of the Red Bull motorhome. Despite having been cleared by medical, she was covered in bruises and looking forward to a night off. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Charles teased, taking his hand out of his pockets and holding it out for her. Lacing her fingers through his, Yn’s broke out in a smile when he pulled her closer. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“What sort of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t drive you back to the hotel after your accident.”

“But, my car-”

“Will be dropped off later. I’ve already sorted it, mon ange.”

“You take such good care of me.”

Charles bent down, lips tracing her ear. “It does not end here. What do you say we take a bath when we get back?”

Yn laughed, leaning into him as his breath tickled her neck. Before she could answer, the pair of them were out of the paddock and assaulted by the media. 

“Yn. Yn. How are things between you and Daniel after your argument today? Things looked to be quite heated.” 

“Daniel and I will be fine. We haven’t spoken since our argument but it’s very hard to remain mad at someone like Daniel.”

“Charles, do you feel the same way? After all, it was your girlfriend he crashed into.”

“Obviously there was a bit of anger at seeing someone you care about crash. Um, but Yn is a driver much like anyone else. These things happen. If she forgives him then that is all that matters.”

The two drivers excuses themselves, walking past the rest of the media without stopping. Charles’ arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close. A muscle in his jaw ticked and he was relieved when they entered the safety of his car. 

“You handled that very well.”

“Could you tell I was furious?”

“No. You were very diplomatic.”

“Just another name to add to my list of people to hit with my car.”

“Char, you can’t say things like that,” giggled Yn.

“Only to you.”

#3 Lewis Hamilton

Waving at the crowd, Yn made her way across the paddock, eager for the day ahead. Another Sunday, another race, another chance at the podium. Stopping every now and then to take pictures with fans, Yn chatted animatedly with her PR manager as they discussed her upcoming media obligations. Unlike her teammate, she was much more amiable towards media appearances but only enjoyed the ones that didn’t feel more like a conference. 

“Beep beep,” a British voice called out behind her, alerting the two women clad in Red Bull polos that he was approaching. “Good morning, lovely ladies.”

He pulled up alongside them, foot slipping off the brake. Instead of coming to a stop, he felt the scooter roll over a bump in the end. Jumping off the two-wheeled contraption, he winced as his on-track rival hopped around clutching her left foot. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realise your foot was right there.”

“Why can’t you walk like everyone else?” She grumbled, wincing at the throbbing sensation when she put her foot flat on the ground. 

“Because it’s slower?” He offered weakly, looping her arm around his shoulders and helping her hop the remaining feet towards the Red Bull garage. 

Interested in the laces of her shoes, Yn shuffled in her seat. The top half of her racing suit had been discarded, tied around her waist, but when she sat down the sleeves had created an uncomfortable mound. P4 had been a helpful finish for the battle for Constructors but she couldn't help the disappointment at her finish. Lando, noticing her movements, asked if she was still in pain. One of the journalists called her name, preventing her from answering. 

“We noticed you limping earlier when you got out of the car. Was that in relation to the videos of Lewis helping you into the Red Bull garage earlier?” 

Lewis shifted awkwardly in his seat, offering the young woman another apologetic smile. 

“Uh, yes. Unfortunately, earlier today, Lewis ran over my foot with his scooter. I have some lovely bruising to show for it.”

“Do you blame Lewis? Do you think that was what stopped you from achieving P1? Perhaps it was deliberate.”

“Both Lewis and Toto made their way down to the Red Bull garage to apologise personally. It absolutely wasn’t sabotage. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunately, yes, my boot was tied looser than usual, and putting pressure on my foot was painful in terms of braking. However, the onus is on me in terms of my performance. I don’t feel like I gave it my best today, and Max is very fast,” she finished with a laugh, earning scattered laughter from the room.

A buzz sounded in her pocket and she discreetly slipped her phone from it, checking the notification. The little race car next to the name had her smiling. 

Charles: You. Me. Celebration later? I’ll find the greasiest food

Yn: I miss you. This conference sucks

Charles: No, you miss being in the podium conference. Don’t lie to me x

Yn: That too

#4 Max Verstappen

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is another perfect 1-2 for Red Bull! I imagine it’s smiles all around in their garage.” 

The Dutch anthem was still ringing in her ears when the 2nd place trophy was placed in her hands. Grin plastered across her face, Yn raised her trophy high in the air, relishing in the roar of her team, watching down below. Once Charles’ trophy had been securely handed over, and the presenters had scurried off the stage to safety, Max lunged forward for the large champagne bottle. Shaking it profusely, he popped the cork and aimed at his teammate.

Not even having time to reach for her own bottle, Yn was waterboarded by the bubbly liquid. Spluttering violently, she clapped her hands over her face, trying to ward off the onslaught of champagne. It was up her nose, down her throat and, most painfully, burning her right eye. 

“Max, you bastard,” she hissed, stumbling towards the edge of the stage where her engineer was waiting with a damp towel. Pressing it tight against her eye, she grumbled to herself about the dangers of champagne. 

“Oh, bebe, not another injury.” Charles murmured, glancing at her bloodshot eye. Champagne rolled off the tip of his hat, flicking the tip of her nose. 

Max bounded over next, laughing in elation at his win. He apologised at the sight of her eye but it felt a tad insincere when he followed it with, “They should call you the driver’s champion of non-race related injuries.”

“More like the champion of idiotic work colleagues.” 

“Don’t be like that. You love me really.” Max pulled her in for a headlock, wet arms wrapping around her head. Yn stomped on his foot when another drop of champagne rolled into her stinging eye. 

Fiddling with the cord of her microphone, Yn’s high from achieving P2 faded with each passing moment. Winning a podium was euphoric until she remembered it entailed a ninety minutes press-conference afterwards. Ignoring how badly she wanted food, Yn leaned over, whispering to Max, who looked as equally bored as she.

Charles’ hand slipped from her thigh as she moved, and he shook his head with a smile when he caught her gossiping. Her teammate grinned at whatever she said before the pair of them heard her name being called. Snapping to attention, Yn pulled away from Max and sat upright in her chair.

“Apologies but would you mind repeating the question?” Yn asked sheepishly. 

“Following your recent accidents at the hands of your fellow racers, there’s rumours flying around that the male members of the Grid are opposed to your presence on the track. Care to comment?” 

Yn leant forward towards her mic. “I must admit I’m starting to believe these rumours,” she let out a small laugh, informing everyone she was joking. “No, no. In all seriousness, I do seem to be getting attacked an awful lot by my fellow racers this season - uh, most recently was being blinded by Max after the podium - but I don’t believe there is any animosity behind it. They’ve all been very apologetic. I’m just unfortunate.” 

“Mon amour maladroite,” whispered Charles but the microphone picked it up regardless. 

Fake frowning at him, she reiterated for the crowd. “There’s a lot of love between me and the rest of the drivers so these are all just inCHIdents.” 

Charles looked at her in shock, offended by her mockery. “Hey!” He whined. “I’m the only person not trying to sabotage you.”

Yn pressed an apologetic kiss to his cheek and the cameras lapped up the rare glimpse of affection between the two during a race weekend. 

Charles' Revenge

A race in Monaco meant that the majority of drivers were able to spend the week beforehand at home. Padding across the living room barefoot, Yn made her way towards the kitchen. Wrapping her arms around Charles’ waist, she pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. He turned in her arms, beaming down at her in his oversized hoodie. After her racing suit, this look was his favourite. 

“Thank you for helping me with this, handsome.”

“Help you? It was my idea, mon coeur. Especially because you would not let me run them off the track.” 

“Because that is…” she prompted.

“Dangerous,” he finished with a pout. 

The doorbell alerted them to the arrival of their first dinner guest, and she smirked to herself before flitting over to the door. Max stood there nervously, a bouquet of flowers in hand. She stepped aside to let him in, and thanked him when he handed the large flower bunch to her. 

“To apologise for blinding you, and to thank you for dinner.” 

“That’s very sweet of you, Max,” she inhaled the sweet fragrance of the flowers, almost feeling bad for deceiving him. He probably deserved this the least but her boyfriend needed a way to release his anger. “I’m going to put them in some water. Charles is in the main room with some sport thingy on the television. Gin and tonic?” 

“Just one.” He nodded, placing his discarded shoes on the rack before sloping off in search of the brunette driver. 

Hands clasped, Charles and Yn placed dishes of pasta in front of Lando, Daniel, Lewis and Max, smiling when they thanked them. Yn was well-known for her cooking throughout the paddock, often cooking sweet treats in the week and bringing them in for the Grid to share. Having a birthday on a racing weekend was a much coveted holiday because it meant a homemade cake from the Red Bull racer.

Watching as each of them took a big mouthful, she watched them all grimace in disgust when they swallowed. Taking a sip of wine before speaking, she informed them of the true reason behind their meal. “I lied to you. I didn’t cook dinner for you this evening.”

The four of them turned to face the devious Ferrari driver looking innocently at them, horror plastered across their faces. “Charles did.”

Friday - Practice 

“Four F1 drivers are reportedly suffering from food poisoning. Perhaps a racing dinner gone wrong? They’re still set to race on Sunday, just two days from now, but images of them have emerged from today’s free practice, and the four look particularly under the weather.”

Seated opposite her Team Principal, Yn fiddled with her fingers as Christian berated her. Shame crept up the back of her neck and for the fifth time that day, she wished Charles was with her. Hands perched on his hips, Christian stared down at her, waiting for an explanation. 

“I didn’t think they’d be ill for this long?” She defended weakly. “I just thought they’d suffer through a gross meal and that would be the end of it. I bought pizza afterwards!”

“You let them eat Charles’ food! What did you think would happen? The boy can’t cook.” 

“Oops…?”

Christian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You could’ve at least left Max out of it.”

“He blinded me!”

“And I’d do it again!” Max groaned, clutching his stomach. Sweat beaded his forehead despite the cool compress resting atop it.

“The alternative was Charles pushing you off the track,” she shot back.

“He’d have to catch me first,” argued Max. 

The two drivers broke out into good-natured bickering, voices raising as they got more heated. Sighing yet again, the Red Bull principal sank into his chair and muttered to himself, “I’m working with children.”

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

A/N: I'm not sure what this is (laugh) I apologise but writing fics isn't my strong suit. I should probably stick to smau's lol

On that note, requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

[cheftsunoda]

beauty and brains

(part five)

smau + real life

wedding planning chaos with something old, new, borrowed and blue.

Charles Leclerc x !Doctor Sister Reader X Platonic F1 Grid

Leclerc Reader x Lando Norris

part one here:)

part two here:)

part three here:)

part four here:)

tag list : @klauslovemepls , @omgsuperstarg , @msliz , @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 , @goldenstrawberryx , @hannahmotors10 , @alireads27, @1800-love-me , @htpssgavi , @cmgmikealson , @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog, @glow-ish , @just-tingz-virgo, @majapapaya4, @lina505

—

dr_jules_leclerc added posts to her story!

seen by lando, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux & 4,368,464 others.

charles_leclerc : you are a Ferrari fan everyday…just somedays you need to act like you like your..fiances (🤮)..team I guess

dr_jules_leclerc : my fiances (❤️💘😚❤️) team won the constructors last year….what did Ferrari do???

charles_leclerc : whose side are you even on here????

dr_jules_leclerc : the winning one

charles_leclerc : return my girlfriend and my child to me this instant

dr_jules_leclerc : alex said she’d rather stay with me

charles_leclerc : the UTTER betrayal today is disgusting

lando: id say i hate seeing you in red but you look stunning in every color so…

dr_jules_leclerc : love you sm mon amorrrr

lando : do i get you for quali tomorrow??

dr_jules_leclerc : absolutely pumpkin

lando : pole it is then

liked by dr_jules_leclerc

lewishamilton : let’s gooooo we get you in the garage today??

dr_jules_leclerc : absolutely lewww (after all, you are the only reason im a Ferrari fan)

liked by lewishamilton

—

alexandrasaintmleux added to her story!

seen by lando, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc & 358,368 others.

lando: she is so fucking beautiful

lando : and YES YES I CAN FIGHT

lando : but honestly she’d probably pick you😞

alexandrasaintmleux : sadly you proposed first so i think you got her bud😞😞

dr_jules_leclerc : oml the 2nd pic is so cute thank u for my new wallpaper 😭

dr_jules_leclerc : and i love you sm my angel (we still have time to run away together)

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

charles_leclerc : wait why is she in the mclaren garage??

charles_leclerc : WAIT - why are YOU in the mclaren garage too???

alexandrasaintmleux: 😁😁

arthur_leclerc : can you guys grab me a croissant from the mclaren hospitality?? theirs are better 🙏🏻

alexandrasaintmleux: jules already grabbed you two

arthur_leclerc : wow i feel so loved

—

f1gossipgirls posted!

liked by dr_jules_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and 234,638 others.

f1gossipgirls : George Russell was seen involved in a juicy conversation with his girlfriend Carmen, Charles Leclerc’s Girlfriend Alexandra and Charles twin Sister/Lando’s Fiance, Dr Jules Leclerc. Wonder what the gossip was about?? ☕️🫖

—

dr_jules_leclerc : can confirm GR is the paddock gossip queen

liked by georgerussell63 & carmenmmundt

georgerussell63 : and meme king don’t forget

georgerussell63 : no gossip today ladies…i am on the wedding planning committee 😁😁

carmenmmundt : I hope you are this excited when we have to plan our wedding

alexandrasaintmleux: why did george actually have some good ideas??😭

georgerussell63 : what can I say? I stay up to date with the trends

username5 : this is absolutely killing me I can’t -

username10 : so iconic of George tbh

—

The paddock buzzed with its usual pre-race rhythm—mechanics, media, espresso cups and tire chatter. But I wasn’t thinking about sector times or strategy meetings today.

I was thinking about table settings.

“Outdoor ceremony or something inside?” Alexandra asked, eyes hidden behind her sunglasses, but her focus very much locked onto the Pinterest board on my iPad.

“I’m torn,” I groaned, sitting back against the low couch in the hospitality suite. “I want something timeless but also… not boring. Lando keeps saying he ‘just wants to marry me,’ which is sweet, but zero help.”

Alexandra grinned. “Classic man answer. You need a wedding committee.”

And like the universe heard her—

“Wedding committee for what?”

We both looked up to see Carmen strolling in like a vision—perfect white linen pants, hair swept back effortlessly, smile knowing. Behind her, George followed, sunglasses on, drink in hand, already looking like he regretted walking into this conversation.

“I heard the words ‘ceremony’ and ‘not boring,’” Carmen said as she took a seat next to you. “So obviously, I had to insert myself.”

“God, please do,” I laughed. “You and Alexandra might be my only hope.”

Alexandra turned the screen toward Carmen, who gasped softly. “This dress board is stunning. And those florals… wait—are you thinking Italy or Monaco?”

“Leaning Italy,” I admitted. “Somewhere that still feels connected to home, but gives us room for… everything.”

“Everything meaning ‘half the grid and your entire family,’” George muttered, dropping into a chair and sipping his drink.

I grinned. “Exactly.”

Carmen elbowed him gently. “You’re not getting out of this, George. You’re going to be in a tux and clapping by the aisle like a proud uncle.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Uncle? At my age?”

“You give off ‘I help the ring bearer tie his shoes’ energy,” Alexandra teased.

I burst out laughing. “It’s true. You’re the responsible one.”

George looked mildly offended. “I’m fun. Ask anyone.”

“Sure,” Carmen said, patting his knee. “Fun with a checklist and backup champagne flutes.”

I looked around the circle of people—two women who had quickly become my inner circle in a world full of chaos, and one slightly flustered, extremely well-dressed F1 driver who was already checking flights to Tuscany on his phone.

“God, I love you all,” I said, genuinely.

Carmen leaned closer, nudging me with her shoulder. “We love you too. And we’re going to make sure this wedding is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

“And maybe just a little bit dramatic,” Alexandra added, sipping her iced espresso. “Because let’s be real—Charles is going to cry.”

George made a noise like he was trying not to laugh and failing.

“Oh, he’ll cry,” I said, smirking. “But only after Lando does first.”

“Wait—who’s walking you down the aisle?” Carmen asked suddenly.

My face softened, and I shrugged. “We haven’t decided yet. Might be Charles. Or maybe we walk together. You know—twins, born together, life-long chaos.”

“Ugh,” Alexandra said, fake-sniffling. “That’s going to wreck everyone.”

Carmen wiped under her eye with her pinky. “I’m crying already.”

George stood up dramatically. “Okay, I’m going back to tires and brake ducts where things make sense.”

“Bring us cake samples next time,” Alexandra called after him.

“I’m not your wedding butler!”

“Yes, you are!” all three of us replied in sync.

—

I later received a text from Carmen talking about how George hadn’t stopped talking about wedding venues and had called at least 3 already.

—

dr_jules_leclerc

italy 📍

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, alexalbon & 5,368,568 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : trip to italy with the wedding committee—ft a dress I did not buy:)

& thank you to my whole wedding committee— I wouldn’t be able to do it without you❤️

extra special thanks to kika and both my lily’s who showed up to surprise me right before the dress fitting this morning (I cried so hard)

—

alexandrasaintmleux : you looked so beautiful in each and every dress— I am so excited for this beautiful day 🤍

liked by author and lando

dr_jules_leclerc : my beautiful maid of honor <3

username : OHENSNHX she made alex her MOH - her and charles and def endgame

username2 : omg george went

georgerussell63 : of course I did and I am like the lead planner

liked by author

georgerussell63 : I take my title very seriously

georgerussell63 : wedding planner extraordinaire first, f1 driver second

liked by author and lando

lilyzneimer : you looked absolutely stunning, my love! so happy to be a part of this wedding💘

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : thank you sm for making the trip—it means so much to me ❤️❤️

lilyzneimer : thank oscar- he managed to find the flight last minute 😚

dr_jules_leclerc : oscarpiastri I love you. thank you for giving me your beautiful girlfriend

liked by oscarpiastri and lilyzneimer

oscarpiastri : Anything for the bride!

liked by author and lando

charles_leclerc : i just came because i wanted to eat some pasta and i was jealous arthur was going

charles_leclerc : oh and to see where my money is going

dr_jules_leclerc : your money??

charles_leclerc : yes, my money. you are the bride..you will not pay for a thing, princesse.

dr_jules_leclerc : i alr paid for my dress

charles_leclerc : no you didn’t, i had alex give the attendant my card.

alexandrasaintmleux: 😁😁😁

dr_jules_leclerc : alex !!!! well thank you cha,, i love you so much

liked by charles_leclerc

leclerc_pascale : So much fun!❤️

liked by author

flonorris1 : you looked SO beautiful- mom and i love the dress ❤️

liked by author and lando

dr_jules_leclerc : you guys making this trip absolutely means the world to me— i love you both

ciscanorris : We would not have missed it for the world. Love you!

liked by author and lando

lilymhe : Such a beautiful bride! I am so happy for you and even happier to be part of such beautiful day.

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : I love you so much—thank you for making the trip 🥹🥹

lilymhe : Absolutely, anything for you😚

liked by author

lando : so excited to make you mine forever

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : i love you more than anything

carmenmmundt : Genuinely had so much fun on this trip. I am so excited for you and honored to be such a big part of your special day🤍

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : thank you so much for all your help— i love you carms

francisca.cgomes : wouldn’t have missed it for the world !! ily angel

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : my keeeeks 😍

scuderiaferrari : You look stunning, Jules!😍

liked by author

formula1 : So excited for an F1 wedding!

liked by author

arthur_leclerc : Can’t wait for this epic party and to watch Charles cry his eyes out

liked by author

charles_leclerc : I’m not going to cry, Arthur.

alexandrasaintmleux: yeah right

lando : anyone want to make bets on how long it’ll take him to cry??

maxverstappen1 : put me down for 30 seconds

pierregasly : he will be crying before the wedding even starts

charles_leclerc : guys this is rude

—

Alexandra, Carmen and I were all sat at a local cafe in Milan—sipping away at cappuccinos and conversing about the special occasion. The boys were at the beach for the day and Maman and Cisca were off having a motherly speak. My dress fitting was in about two hours and I could not be more excited. I snapped out of my thoughts as a taxi stopped in front of the cafe. I noticed Alex and Carmen give each other a look. Out of the taxi came Kika and both Lily’s. I stood up in shock and they all gave me a huge smile.

“Surprise!” They shouted as Kika came over and pulled me into a hug.

“I can’t believe you guys.” I mumbled into her shoulder as I started to cry.

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Lily Z said as she pulled me into a tight hug.

“I love you all so much. I am so happy you’re here.” I said and Lily squeezed my hand.

“Let’s go find you a dress, beautiful!” Carmen cheered.

—

The boutique was tucked away in a quiet corner of Milan—private, sunlit, and impossibly elegant. The kind of place where time felt slower and fabric whispered secrets.

Our group made it into the boutique now including Maman and Cisca as well.

“Dr. Leclerc, so great to see you! Welcome ladies!” The attendant stated and reached out to shake my hand. I gave her a warm smile and extended my hand.

“Thank you, thank you.” I said and looked around in awe.

“Take a seat on the couch ladies and I will bring out the champagne.” She said with a smile. She quickly brought out a large cart with several champagne bottles and flutes. She popped open the first bottle and started handing out champagne.

“You ready to try the first one?” She asked with a warm smile. I nodded and followed her back. I slipped on the dress and she helped zip me up.

It was beautiful, sure. Layers of delicate tulle, floral embroidery, a sweeping train. When I stepped out, everyone gasped—Carmen actually clapped.

“Oh, wow,” Lily said. “That’s really—princess.”

I looked at myself in the mirror. It was sweet. Dreamy. But… maybe too sweet?

Alexandra tilted her head. “It’s beautiful, but not you yet.”

Kika nodded. “I agree. I want something that makes Lando forget how to speak.”

“Or breathe,” Carmen added.

I laughed, “Let’s try the next one.”

It was modern. Clean lines, low back, subtle shimmer. I stepped out and heard Cisca suck in a quiet breath.

“Mon dieu,” maman whispered, hand on her heart.

Alexandra’s mouth dropped open. “Oh. Oh, we’re getting somewhere.��

But I looked in the mirror and didn’t feel that spark. It was almost right. But not quite.

I turned to the stylist and said, “One more?”

I knew before you even saw myself.

The way the fabric hugged and flowed, the way the lace trailed along my arms like ivy, the tiny pearl buttons down the back. A soft champagne hue that made my skin glow, and a structured bodice that made me feel—powerful.

When I stepped out of the fitting room, the whole room went silent.

Even Alexandra lowered her phone slowly.

Maman’s hand flew to her lips. “Oh…”

Cisca teared up immediately. “That’s it. That’s you.”

Carmen had her head tilted, her mascara already smudging. “He’s going to be a puddle.”

Kika reached out and gently took my hand. “This is the one. You can’t even pretend it’s not.”

Lily was already snapping photos, but her hands were a little shaky.

I turned to the mirror, and finally… finally, I saw it too.

Not just the dress.

The day.

The moment. The aisle. The vows. Lando.

I stepped down off the platform slowly, and when I turned back to them, my voice wavered.

“I think I just found my forever dress.”

—

The villa was quiet now.

Everyone had left to go explore after the wedding dress try-on. The laughter, the teasing, the champagne—all had settled into the soft hum of evening. The golden haze of the sunset spilled into the living room, casting warm light across the walls.

I found Charles and Arthur on the balcony, where they always seemed to end up—two silhouettes leaning against the railing, shoulders almost touching, quietly watching the sea.

I stepped outside, a sweater wrapped around my shoulders, something small and delicate clenched in my hand.

Charles noticed me first. “Hey,” he said gently, like he already knew something was on my mind.

“Hey,” I replied, voice quiet. “Can I sit?”

Arthur gestured to the seat between them. “You don’t have to ask.”

I sat, pulling my knees up just slightly, looking out at the horizon with them. For a moment, none of us spoke.

Just the three of you. Together.

Just like it had always been.

Until it wasn’t.

“I was thinking about Papa today,” I said softly. “When I put on that last dress, I just… I pictured him. Standing at the end of the aisle. Looking proud. Crying before I even reached him.”

Arthur’s breath hitched quietly beside me.

Charles didn’t say anything at first—but I could feel the shift in his presence, the ache he tried so hard to keep tucked beneath the surface.

“I miss him,” I whispered. “Especially now.”

Charles reached over, took my hand gently. “So do we.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, glancing down at the small object in my other hand—a silver cufflink of your father’s. I had found it last week in a drawer I hadn’t opened in years. His initials were still engraved on the surface, slightly worn.

I set it between the three of us.

“I know he can’t be there,” I said. “But I still want to feel like a part of him is walking with me.”

Arthur reached forward slowly, thumb brushing the cufflink. His voice was thick. “You don’t even have to ask, Jules.”

I looked up at him.

“I want you both to walk me down the aisle,” I said, the words finally leaving my chest, full of meaning. “You’re the men who’ve always been there for me. Always protected me. Made me laugh when I couldn’t breathe. Helped me be strong when all I wanted was to break.”

Charles’s eyes were glassy now, but he didn’t look away. “We would be honored.”

Arthur cleared his throat roughly. “You sure? We’ll probably cry like babies.”

I smiled through the tears that were now freely falling down my cheeks. “I’m counting on it.”

Charles leaned over, wrapping one arm around me, the other reaching to tug Arthur into the hug too. “Papa would be so proud of you,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper.

“And of you both,” I added, holding them tighter. “He raised the best men I know.”

We stayed like that—arms looped around each other, letting the silence hold the memories, the grief, the love, and the promise of what was to come.

And when the sun finally dipped below the water, it didn’t feel quite so heavy.

Because I was not walking into forever alone.

I was walking with my brothers.

With him.

With all the love in the world at my side.

—

something blue

The sun had long dipped beneath the Monaco horizon, but I am out on the terrace, wrapped in a blanket.

Charles came outside a little later—quieter now, less joking, more thoughtful. His hair was windswept from the breeze, and in his hand, he carried a small, square velvet box.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just sat beside me and placed it gently in my lap.

I blinked lightly, “What is this Cha?”

He didn’t look at me right away, just watched the waves below. “I’ve had it for a few weeks. Was waiting for the right moment.”

I slowly opened the box.

Inside was a necklace—thin, delicate rose gold, with a single pendant: a deep blue diamond, oceanic and vivid, nestled in a subtle halo of tiny white stones. My breath caught in my throat.

“Charles…”

“It’s your something blue,” he said, softly. “And a little piece of Papa, too.”

I looked at him, eyes already burning.

“It’s Corsican,” he continued. “Found a small jeweler near where he used to take us every summer. I told her what it was for. She helped me design it.”

The tears welled without warning, spilling over as my fingers brushed the smooth edge of the stone.

“I just thought…” Charles swallowed hard. “If he can’t be there to walk you down the aisle, he should at least be with you. Close to your heart.”

I threw my arms around him before he could finish the sentence.

“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered, voice cracking.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he murmured, holding me tightly. “I’m the lucky one. I get to be your twin. Your best man by default.”

We both laughed through the tears, leaning into each other like we always had—two halves of one whole, shaped by grief, love, and the promise of a new beginning.

As he helped me clasp the necklace around my neck, the blue diamond settled just above my heart.

And somehow, it felt like our father was right there.

Watching.

Smiling.

Proud.

—

something new

I hadn’t expected to run into Arthur this afternoon. I was just popping by my childhood home in Monaco—checking in on maman, sipping coffee in the warm spring sun—when the front door creaked open and my youngest brother stepped inside.

“Hey,” he smiled, setting down a paper bag from the bakery. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

I grinned and opened my arms without hesitation. “Lucky for you then.”

He hugged me quickly, but tight, like he always had. His own quiet way of saying I missed you without using the words.

Over coffee at the kitchen counter, I caught him up on the latest wedding details—Lando’s bizarre obsession with cake flavors, Charles’ stubborn opinions on music for the reception, my near meltdown over the seating chart.

Arthur laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like it’s going to be a beautiful disaster.”

“Pretty much,” I smirked.

Then he hesitated.

“I, um—actually brought something for you,” he said, standing and reaching into his bag again. “It’s early. Way early. But I’ve been working on it for a while. Wanted you to have it before all the chaos starts.”

I tilted my head as he placed a slim box in front of me, wrapped in soft white paper with a navy blue ribbon.

Slowly, I unwrapped it.

Inside was a silver bracelet—delicate but clearly handmade, etched with the tiniest constellation along the band. And in the center, a single charm: a tiny star, inlaid with a pearl.

My chest tightened immediately.

“The constellation,” I whispered. “It’s…”

“It’s the one over Monaco the night you were born,” Arthur said quietly. “I had it engraved. It’s your something new. I know it’s not super fancy, but…”

“Arthur,” I breathed, reaching over to grab his hand. “It’s perfect.”

He flushed slightly, giving my fingers a squeeze. “I just… I know I’m the one walking you down the aisle. But I wanted you to have something from me..just me. Something that’s just… ours.”

I didn’t even try to fight the tears this time. I stood and pulled him into a full hug, burying my face in his shoulder.

“I love you so much,” I whispered.

“I know,” he mumbled, hugging me tighter. “I love you more.”

I slipped the bracelet on right then and there, the star charm resting just above my wrist.

It reminded me of the brother who saw me clearly, always had.

And on my wedding day, it would be my something new.

From someone who had always been part of my heart.

—

something borrowed

It was just the two of us in the quiet of her bedroom—the soft hum of old music playing from the radio in the background, the faint scent of lavender clinging to the air like it always had.

I was only available for the weekend, a short visit tucked between hospital shifts and wedding preparations. But Maman had insisted: “There’s something I want to give you, ma chérie. Something important.”

Now, I sat across from her on the edge of the bed as she opened an old wooden jewelry box. The hinges creaked softly, like they were remembering too.

“I was going to wait until closer to the wedding,” she said, fingers gently lifting something from the velvet lining. “But I’ve been holding onto this for so long, I think it’s time.”

She turned, and in her hands was a lace handkerchief, delicately folded, with the tiniest embroidery in the corner—faded blue thread stitched into a small heart and some initials.

“This was mine,” she said softly. “I carried it the day I married your father. It belonged to my own mother before me.”

She placed it gently in my hands. The fabric was worn but soft, the lace fragile but intact—timeless.

“I cried into this when I said my vows,” she added with a small smile. “And when you and Charles were born. His first F1 race. And the day you first wore your white coat.”

I blinked quickly, my chest tightening as I clutched it carefully.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. “Are you sure?”

“I want you to borrow it,” she said, placing a hand over yours. “For your day. Tuck it into your bouquet or wrap it around your wrist—just keep it close. It holds more than just tears, Jules. It holds love. Generations of it.”

I leaned forward instinctively, pressing my forehead to hers, just like you used to when you were small.

“Thank you, Maman.”

I smiled through misty eyes, cupping my cheek. “You carry all of us with you, ma belle fille. Always.”

And as I tucked the handkerchief back into its box with careful fingers, I already knew—it would be with me when I walked down the aisle. A piece of her heart, of her story, gently folded into my own.

—

something old

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon at the Norris family home. I was curled up in the sunroom with a cup of tea, sunlight streaming across the floor, and laughter from Flo and Lando echoing faintly from down the hall.

Cisca entered the room like she always did—soft-footed, composed, with that light in her eyes she often reserved just for me. I looked up, smiling.

“You okay?” I asked, shifting slightly to give her space on the couch.

She nodded. “More than okay. Just… a little sentimental today.”

She sat down beside me, her hands gently clutching a small cream-colored box wrapped in a pale ribbon. She offered it to you with a soft smile.

“I’ve been holding onto this for a while,” she said, her voice quiet, almost shy. “And I think now is the right time.”

I looked at her curiously before unwrapping it.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a vintage silver locket—slightly weathered by time, with intricate floral etching across its surface. I opened it carefully, and inside were two tiny photographs: one of a young Lando, barely four, with his bright smile already unmistakable… and on the other side, a picture of Cisca as a young woman, her eyes looking almost exactly like Lando’s.

“This was my grandmother’s,” she said gently. “She passed it down to me when I had Lando. It’s been through every important moment in my life—tucked into my pocket when I left the hospital with him for the first time, worn at his karting races, even held in my palm the day he left for his first Grand Prix.”

I looked up at her, eyes stinging.

“It’s beautiful.”

She gave me a smile that wavered with emotion. “I want you to have it, for your wedding day. As your something old. It’s a small piece of our family, of the love that’s shaped Lando into who he is. And now… it’s part of yours, too.”

I reached over without thinking, wrapping her in a warm, tearful hug—the kind that went both ways. The kind that meant thank you for loving me like this.

“I promise I’ll take care of it,” I whispered. “And him.”

“I know you will,” she murmured, her voice soft against my shoulder. “That’s why I’m giving it to you.”

And as I sat there, fingers brushing over the locket’s surface, it felt like a promise stitched in silver—one that tied the past to my future, with love resting gently in between.

—

dr_jules_leclerc just posted!

liked by lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux, lilyzneimer & 5,356,134 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : bach weekend with my angels

tagged : alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe, lilyzneimer, carmenmmundt, francisca.cgomes, charlotte2304, flonorris1, ciscanorris1

alexandrasaintmleux : so so much fun celebrating the most beautiful bride on the planet

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : so blessed to have a beautiful maid of honor who planned it all

charlotte2304 : Cannot believe my beautiful sister is a bride!!🤍

liked by author

lilyzneimer : love you j<3

liked by author

georgerussell63 : still petty I didn’t get an invite

liked by author

arthur_leclerc : same

charles_leclerc : same

lando : same

georgerussell63 : I HAVE BEEN DOING SO MUCH PLANNING - YOU ALL HAVE DONE NOTHING — I DESERVED IT

liked by author

lando : hey buddy i gave her the ring in the first place

charles_leclerc : I’m literally her twin bffr

dr_jules_leclerc : you guys literally had a party..why so jealous?

arthur_leclerc : it was not as much fun as you guys had and Lando was just whining because he missed you the entire time

dr_jules_leclerc : aw lan

lando : come home now pls

dr_jules_leclerc : getting on the plane now bub

lilymhe : sad ur not marrying me but so so happy to be your bridesmaid 💘

liked by author

carmenmmundt : omg we are so close to the big day!! i love you bunches

liked by author

flonorris1 : genuinely so much fun- so excited to have you as a sister (officially)!

liked by author

francisca.cgomes : i love you to the moon and back— prettiest bride ever

liked by author

—

part five — complete 💐💐

thank you to @1800-love-me for the great idea of something borrowed—blue etc

let me know of any requests and any ideas of another series as this one will probably be coming to an end soon

thank you for all the support loves!

[carlando4lyfe]

Summary: you and Lando are in a relationship and your Oscars sister but you haven't told him but he finds out by the end of the season

A/N: This is legit my first fic so take it easy on me but request open and so yeah im also super busy so i can't post every day but ill try

Warnings : hate comments basically light cussing

Y/NPiastri

liked by: Yourbff, OscarPiastri, McLaren,LandoNorris and 700,613 others

Congrats Oscar to winning his home race and thank you McLaren for letting me see my favorite driver on the grid!

comments

⬇️

(btw when i did this all of my progress got deleted so im just gonna cut the comments cause i want to sleep 11/26/24 11:03)

*Lando started following you*

Y/NPiastri

Liked By: YourBff, LandoN#4, Lando Norris, Oscar piastri and 500,734 others

Found This cute boy

comments

⬇️

OscarPiastri: Who is this random man Y/N

↪️ Y/NPiastri: no comment

User1: Lando in the likes 🤨

↪️ User2: omfg stop tryna make nothing happen bro 🙏🏻

CharlesLeclerc: Hello daughter now who is that boy i need some explanation.

↪️ User2: Oh my god mate stop draging that meme no finds it funny no more 😐

Lando Norris

Likes by: McLAREN, OscarPiastri, Y/NPiastri,Yourbff and 700,164

what a greatfull season winning the world constructors' championship! it was an amazing season coming second in the driver's world Championship and can't wait for next season. I hope you all enjoy your break and I'll definitely be enjoying mine

OscarPiastri: YOUR THE MF WITH MY SISTER 😭🙏🏻

↪️ LandoNorirs: yeah.. oops

User1: HAH I WAS RIGHT! @user2

↪️ User2: yeah wtv 🙄

well that was a fun fic i hope but so I would have had a longer story but the app makes it only 10 pics so i can make a series but go into more depth?

[f1-disaster-bi]

Charlando anon heree <33

Because Lando is back on twitch again (finally 🥹). Maybe you could write something where Lando is live on twitch again, but with Charles in the room where it’s just them talking to the chat basically? <3

I loved seeing Lando back streaming again 🥹

"I know, chat", Lando sighed, rolling his eyes but he was smiling, "It's been a long time. I was kinda busy...."

"Busy stealing a constructors from me", Charles chimed in, leaning over the back of Lando chair, resting his head on Lando’s curls with a cheeky grins, "Very unfair of him guys"

The chat exploded with comments, making Charles laugh at the ones that were freaking out over him being there.

Meanwhile, Lando was rolling his eyes and lifting a hand to try and smack at Charles's head.

"You guys want him to join? And do what?", Lando laughed, managing to pat Charles face, "Sit there and look pretty"

Charles dug his chin into Lando's head just to be a little bit mean as Lando grumbled, but he didn't refuse when Lando gestured to the extra chair and headset.

He settled easy next to him, leaning into Lando's pace comfortably. He joined in when he needed to or when he wanted to tease Lando for messing up in the game he was playing.

Mostly he just watched, hand resting on Lando’s thigh out of view, squeezing encouraging every so often when Lando looked a little frustrated or a comment wasn't deleted by the mods last enough.

Occasionally he spoke up, helping or reading comments, giving soft encouragements to Lando and fans.

Once, he called Lando by a pet name. The endearment slipping from his lips so easy that he didn't notice he had said it until there was a blush on Lando’s cheeks as he tried to keep playing and the comments were exploding.

He knew he'd probably pay for it later. There'd be memes and screenshot. He could already see Max's name popping up on his phone in his lap, no doubt teasing him for being a simp on a stream but Max could wait.

Nothing could pull him away from supporting Lando like this.

[inchidentally]

@ the anons I’ve accrued over this year who brought up Oscar not being embraced by the media team I’m still not going to post the asks bc there’s a lot of doom etc in there but like…

(and even tho it’s easy to find out who it is I’m not including who posted it bc do NOT want hate or anything in their comments and fandom issues =/= relevance to real life teams and their jobs)

“carland0 won the McLaren constructors… Oscar was there ig anyway remember when I staged a puppet show to commemorate carland0” LIKE SHSBSBVSBSBD

and I get that to a media person the subjects are mostly valuable for how good they are on camera bc even Andrea only gets a passing mention in this post compared to a bromance and he’s the actual architect that Lando himself says is behind this win - but he’s also famously deer in the headlights when a camera is on him.

it does possibly explain why the quality and quantity of McLaren content took a sudden nosedive not long after Oscar joined. (side note that Joe also moved on from McLaren early this year who was on the media team and spent a lot of social time with Oscar and posted him more) it’s a lil sad bc if you watch any of Oscar’s Prema content where he feels comfortable and friendly with the people behind the cameras he’s hilarious and willing to “dance” and yap and be silly. even in Alpine he was actually known by broadcast teams for being funny and a sardonic yapper and meme guy. but I think the McLaren ppl mistook Oscar coming into the team in the worst possible way PR wise and clamming up as a result as that being his real personality. Nicole saying how she wanted more people to see his real personality and ironically Carlos himself warming so much to Oscar despite the on track rivalry and not rly hanging out like… I hope the media team maybe start this next season fresh and realize that people who aren’t naturals on camera are still worth putting in effort to help them relax and be themselves. and if one of the people who’s been there for so many years put in that effort then it would have a big ripple effect !!

again I am not gonna post those asks bc a)do NOT support any harassment (however well intentioned) of employees just doing their jobs and b)in the grand scheme of things socmed does not matter and c)Oscar thankfully is blissfully unaware and/or does NOT care. he brings up Carlos and Daniel and carland0 totally on his own and he is utterly free of ego about his perception or presence in McLaren media.

and while it definitely means less Oscar and therefore landoscar content per capita or whatever the phrase is, the whole landoscar dynamic is that it’s so completely not slick fun millennial YouTuber ready PR content and they’re funny and cute and have their own unique chemistry even in the under 2 minutes allowed them for each video. and ofc Oscar has his own social media to put his dry humor and chronically online references <3

but as I saw in comments on a different post, Oscar might take longer to win over the media people but the people who matter most like Andrea and the ppl in the garage and factory and crucially !! the women working directly with him all utterly utterly adore him. he’s quietly there just being a hard worker and proving himself <3

and ultimately ofc the people who don’t like that Lando said he’s decided to not joke or perform as much for media (and saying he picked up from Oscar to just be himself and relax more) can always go back to the old content! and since Carlos creates the same fun bromance atmosphere with all his teammates I mean we all know Team Torque is about to become one of the best parts of race week media. Williams media team is going to eat him UPPPP

anyway yea none of it is deep it just got me thinking about how Oscar post alpinegate withdrew so much and so many ppl haven’t looked up who he was before to realize what a fun silly chatty kitten he is and that ofc he must be bc Lando holds him in his hand lovingly for a reason - and I do think when the ppl who got used to the Carlos and Daniel school of media warm up to Oscar and learn him more we’ll get that high res DSLR filmed content again instead of portrait iPhone instagram <3

(side note the whole thing if Unboxed dropping bc of DTS got debunked. DTS hasn’t stopped any other teams content and if it were true then Lando wouldn’t be allowed to make Landologs. this was definitely a media team decision made midway thru 2023)

[revelauver]

⌕ quali review!   ֢֢֢ ◝﹝australia [ 03/15/25 ]

🏎️_⠀ my first-ever qualifying! i'm still trying to catch up on all the f1 terminology but quali got me soo hyped for the season i just had to yap about it unprompted

i swearr ollie has the worst luck. first the crash that took him out of fp1 and fp2. then getting beached in the very first lap of fp3. and then immediately retiring from quali because of a gearbox problem 😭 u cannot make this shit up

my devastation for kimi is unparalled but guys i swear his pace is fine 😭 car went over a curb and started going off w fireworks and was losing 3 tenths on the straights. i'm praying he can fight back up into the points from p16 🙏

but wait i can't even be mad because gabi dragged the sauber into q2 with nothing but spiderman instincts and spite towards the fossil that is helmut marko

yuki tsunoda and jack doohan can also be spotted giving the fossil the middle finger 🖕 i cannot believe we saw the rb knocked out in q1 with a vcarb in p5

the liam-checo memes will never not be funny i'm sorry lmao

isack hadjar i did not forget you 🫡

ferrari has the best driver lineup, all the hype, and the delusion of thousands of honorary italians on their side and still gave a car that somehow both oversteers and understeers according to both drivers. next year is our year 💪 /hj

alex albon p6, ❪somehow outscoring both ferraris❫ and carlos p10 williams better be setting of fireworks bigger than the ones from kimi's car tonight 💃

merc has the pace even in the heat which russell proved 👏 kimi avoid the gravel and u have A Car

u have no idea how much the final lap of q1 gave me 💀 watching lando and oscar fight for pole. they were so close too and oscar was just b a r e l y off 😫

i now realize i would sooner watch max win a 5th consecutive title than lando sweep in with an easy wdc in the mclaren rocketship 💀

i rly like max but i need merc to eviscerate rb in the constructors so... go george russell ig 💃🤪💪 btw hilarious that max and george are sharing a row

in conclusion, my delusional ass wants an albon podium, kimi in the points, and oscar home race win above all 🙏 genie those are my 3 wishes and i promise next week i'll use them all on ferrari

contact me @ ⠀꒱⠀ . ⠀ 1-800-hot-n-fun ⠀ —— ⠀ ✧ !

[f1-ferraero]

F1 2024: A Summary

Silly season boogaloo, episode 1: Lewis to Ferrari

Ollie Bearman reserve driver ft. Appendicitis subplot part 2

No spare Williams Chassis? Not a problem! Just kick out your 2nd driver <3

Valtteri Bottas: Very Famous Racing Driver

And the WAG of the year award goes to... Joris Trouche

Ferrari drivers having a "big kiss on the mouth" to make up after an argument

Norris first win

Adoptiongate

Charles winning Monaco ("we won it! finally!" "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES")

Ferrari winning Le Mans AGAIN (not f1 but it's IMPORTANT. To me)

Lewis winning Silverstone <3

Oscar first win

Oscar Piastri maybe getting a national holiday? Perhaps?

Also the first shots fired in the McLaren civil war

Max getting his video game privileges revoked for finishing 5th. Also got a contractually binding bedtime

Local kart race being broadcasted during rain delay (shoutout to the poor kid who spun out at the worst possible moment. villain origin story)

Spa umbrella cryptid (how did he get up there? and how did he get down???)

Honourable mention of Charles asking Max for his strategy post spa qualifying. And Max immediately going "medium medium hard". No hesitation whatsoever.

Haas f1 team being held hostage in the Netherlands by Russian oligarchs subplot (lmao rip)

Charles winning Monza ("ma come mi fai sognare! COME MI FAI SOGNARE!!!")

Illegal McLaren (boooooo👎)

Papaya rules (BOOOOOO👎)

Franco Colapinto driver swap (goodbye Logan! Wishing you the best🫶)

Kmag race ban (insert Substitute of the Year Ollie Bearman pt.2)

Liam Lawson driver swap (goodbye Logan Daniel! Wishing you the best🫶)

Alonso with Franco vs with Liam: Gordon Ramsay "oh dear, oh gorgeous/you FUCKING donkey" meme

Checo with Franco vs with Liam: Gordon Ramsay "oh dear, oh gorgeous/you FUCKING donkey" meme

Don't forget the Ferrari civil war

Also don't forget the French civil war

So many inter team battles...

So many broken cars fixed with duct tape

Max-Charles fucking allegations by McLaren fans (? Insane actually)

Whatever Brazil was

Great 17->1 recovery from Max! Have a gold star⭐️

Kmag illness (insert Substitute of the Year Ollie Bearman pt.3)

Whatever the FIA and the stewards were smoking

Whatever the press and media were smoking

Whatever McLaren was up to all year

Sauber actually just there for the vibes

Haasbands (Kmag knight in shining armour. Martyring himself for Nico every other week)

Silly season boogaloo, episode 2: 6 maybe 5 technically 4 also technically 3 rookies for 2025 (who even knows anymore)

7 different race winners

7 different multiple race winners

4 constructors with multiple 1-2s

GPDA drama

Williams committing group suicide every other weekend (suffered more than Jesus fr)

Mercedes being generally confused about pretty much everything

Aston Martin not bringing a single update that worked

RedBull self-reporting a technical loophole that almost all teams were taking advantage of because they didn't want McLaren to make a fuss about it. McLaren had no idea the loophole existed

FIA imploding. They have zero employees left now. Only Muhammad Ben Sulayem in various wigs and hats

ZOINTS!🇨🇳🕺🏻🎊

Max-George drama (choose your fighter: "lying two-faced backstabber" OR "violent bully, he threatened to murder me!")

Hi Jack👋 welcome to the circus! (goodbye Logan Daniel Esteban! Wishing you the best🫶)

McLaren somehow constructors champions

Great 19->3 recovery from Charles! Have a gold star⭐️

Alpine somehow p6 in the WCC after crossing the finishing line a week after everyone else in Bahrain

[elenadoeslife]

I'm gonna keep a journal this 2025 F1 season! 🏁

I've been prepping all afternoon, writing down ideas and sketching page layouts. I saw someone do this two years ago, but last year I forgot to start on time. Today a TikTok reminded me and I ordered a journal immediately.

There will be a seasonal point counter for drivers as well as constructors, a race calendar, team overview, two page spread for every race weekend (23), and of course there will be stuff sprinkled in there to read back on later, like radio checks, fastest laps, DOTDs, weather, crashes, memes, notes and so forth ❤

[punk-with-glasses]

Oh and for the record I’m going to put all my useless theories here from now on because i fucking predicted Lewis leaving and I’m so pissed because i have zero proof

So here are some theories for the 2024 season:

Redbull will win the constructors and Max will win the drivers championship (thats not even really a prediction at this point) but i think its going to be much closer fight, yes redbull will continue to dominate but not nearly as much as they have.

I think Ferrari will be second because 1 Leclerc is loyal but he is not stupid (despite what the memes may tell you) he knows he has potential and so do the other teams and if hes committed to ferrari that means the car has to good, at least good enough to possibly be able to challenge the redbull car and 2 lewis fucking Hamilton think the car is good enough THIS YEAR to leave 11 years of history at Mercedes in possibly the biggest driver switch in the history of f1 and sure it could be for the money or the fact that they are willing to make him an ambassador or because everyone is a ferrari fan but he has proven that he is still willing to go for that 8th championship and i don’t think he would switch if he didn’t see something in that car

Mercedes and McLaren are going to battle for third and i do not know who will end up on top. Some people think mclaren will be a championship contender this year but i don’t think so in a few years yes norris is good and reliable and piastry is really good like its unbelievable that this was his rookie year and I’m very sure he will be a champion someday. Norris and piastri also seem to have really good solid team work and thats kind of underrated rn

I think Williams are going to be good this year and probably rb (i refuse to call them anything beyond that) if sargent can get his shit together then Williams have two strong drivers and as of right now tsunoda kind of needs to prove himself if he wants to stay in the game and well riccardo is riccardo you cant get rid of him.

Some more specific things im betting on a Leclerc win this year idk when but it will happen and im putting my money on norris getting his first win as well and one last win for alonso before he announces his retirement (not necessarily for next year but i think it will be announced soon ish) i also think redbull will get one dnf or disqualification or something like that at some point

Anyways what do you guys think

[umgeorge]

George Russell Prepares For Life As Mercedes F1 Team Leader - Memes and All

George Russell parked his Mercedes car behind the P1 board in parc ferme, removed his steering wheel, and hoisted himself from his cockpit to stand before his cheering team. Russell had scored pole for Mercedes in Canada, his first in nearly two years. He had already planned how he was going to celebrate. Russell thrust his arms out to either side and flexed his hands outward to recreate his iconic 'T pose' from the 2023 F1 intro sequence, which has quickly become ingrained in the sport's meme culture. "That took off a lot more than I expected, that pose and the funny memes that came around it," Russell said with a laugh two weeks later in Barcelona. "I actually said before the session, 'If I'm on pole, I'm gonna do that.' I had a feeling it was coming." Russell's pose delighted the internet, but the result was what mattered. After a slow start to the year suggested Mercedes hadn't changed course after two rough seasons, Russell was finally in a position to feel pole was possible - and he actually made it happen. Nor was the performance a one-off. Russell led the opening stages in Canada before finishing third, and also led the two laps in Spain after a rocket start before ending up fourth behind teammate Lewis Hamilton at the flag. After Mercedes's false breakthroughs in 2022 and 2023, this surge feels different as it closes on a return to the front. It's there with McLaren and Ferrari in the hunt to catch Red Bull. "It definitely feels like something has clicked," Russell said.

The belief Mercedes has turned the corner

Russell got his long-awaited chance to race for Mercedes full-time in 2022 after three years at Williams. Given the team's streak of eight constructors' titles from 2014 to 2021, fighting for poles and wins looked set to become his norm. However, Russell's arrival coincided with Mercedes' performance downturn, as it lagged behind Red Bull and Ferrari under the new technical regulations. Suspected turnarounds, such as his maiden grand prix victory at Interlagos in 2022 or last year's brief mid-season revivals, proved misleading. Even entering the third season under this ruleset, Mercedes looked far from the front. But the picture has changed in recent races, fueled by Mercedes' recent updates that appear to have resolved some of the W15's greatest issues. "We've maybe been too big and bold with our decisions over these last two years," Russell explained. "We've almost just wound it in slightly with this last set of upgrades. On the simulator it's really performing well. I didn't believe it at the start ahead of Montreal because the gains felt too big, and then in Montreal we were flying." According to its rivals Mercedes was the quickest team in Canada, which left Russell feeling like he'd missed an opportunity to get his second win. He admitted to being "a bit hard" on himself over his mistakes in Canada, like the one that allowed Lando Norris to pass him or taking too long to overtake Oscar Piastri. Given Norris and Max Verstappen, the eventual winner, also struggled for mistake-free races, Russell couldn't feel too bad about missing out on the win. "It's the way the cookie crumbles sometimes." Following Canada up with another strong weekend in Spain, a very different kind of track, gave Mercedes further encouragement. Russell and Hamilton didn't have the pace to challenge Verstappen or Norris ahead, but they were a clear step ahead of Ferrari. This uptick has whetted Russell's appetite for the performance steps and opportunities that could follow in the coming races. "That's why we're all sat here in anticipation of what these next couple of weeks are going to bring," he said.

Handling social media negativity

As amusing as Russell may have found the memes surrounding his intro pose, he refers to social media as a "double-edged sword." It's not solely fun and banter. "There's a lot of hate and negativity," Russell said, "and it's almost impossible to avoid." That hate emerged after Canada when Russell was subject to abuse online and wild allegations of favoritism towards him after he beat Hamilton to the podium. It ran so far that an anonymous email was sent to high-ranking F1 personnel and the media, in which allegations of sabotage on Hamilton's car were made. Hamilton was quick to condemn the negativity shown toward Russell, while Mercedes has since referred the email to the police. Russell deleted all social media from his phone a while ago, not because of any particular incident or spate of abuse, but because he didn't feel it added anything to his life. He still signs off the captions and photographs posted to his official accounts and re-downloaded Instagram to watch F1 videos from races, only to be shocked by the number of negative comments on every single post. "It doesn't matter who it's about, I'd say fifty percent of the time it's negative," Russell said. "I find that quite tough to comprehend." He said platforms were going in "a very challenging direction" and "somebody really needs to take control of regulating it better," mainly to protect younger generations. Until then, Russell continues to limit his usage of such apps. Getting in a good headspace is something he has worked to prioritize more throughout his career. For the past four years, Russell has worked with a psychologist to help him deal with the mental demands of being an F1 driver. "I find it really beneficial," Russell said of having space to "just let my feelings out" and discuss race scenarios where having strategies in place can help. "This sport swings so quickly," he said. "One minute you're a hero, the next you're zero, and it can swing as quickly as from FP3 to qualifying or from race to race. I've been in a position where I've been on a roll for a couple of races, and then suddenly, the next race, I'm off the pace. And it's like, 'Shit, how am I dealing with this?' What's going on? And most of the time, it's up in your head." Russell feels stronger about handling setbacks, particularly from a race like Canada. "I feel like I'm able to bounce back very quickly from a tough weekend, or even a tough session," he said, putting it in part down to his growing experience. "You learn as you get older what you need as an individual," Russell said. "It doesn't work for everyone; Lewis and I are two very different characters as well, and we do things differently. You've just got to find what works for you."

Stepping up to lead Mercedes

Russell relishes racing alongside Hamilton at Mercedes. In their final season as teammates, he is 8-2 up in qualifying and 6-3 up in races, the kind of record few have gotten close to enjoying over the seven-time world champion. "I know that if this was a different era, I'd probably have eight poles to my name this season and a number of wins," Russell said. It's an encouraging sign that Russell is ready to lead Mercedes upon Hamilton's move to Ferrari next year, but Russell claims not to have felt any difference in the dynamic in the build-up to the change, with all the signs pointing to Mercedes' 17-year-old protege, Andrea Kimi Antonelli, becoming his teammate. "There's often a lot of noise externally, but from within, my job when I put my helmet on and walk into the garage, I try to drive as fast as possible," Russell said. "That's always been the case. It doesn't matter if I've got a seven-time world champion alongside me or if I've got a young rookie next to me or nobody next to me. It's how you deal with that external noise." Russell's confidence in Mercedes' leadership to build upon the recent turnaround is evident. He described team principal Toto Wolff and technical director James Allison as a "killer pairing." Allison returned to the F1 frontline last year as part of a reshuffle of the technical department at Brackley in response to its on-track struggles. "With James at the helm, steering the direction to allow the hundreds of people in the design office and aero department, and manufacturing, to do what they do best, it feels like something is clicking," Russell said. "It's taken time, but between James and Toto, I really believe in it." It fuels hope for the chance to fight for the wins and championships Russell long dreamed of achieving in Mercedes colors. But right now, he's willing to take more risks - like in Canada, where he admits to "pushing way beyond my limits, as I felt this was one shot at victory." "If I was in a championship fight against Max, I'd probably have said P2 is the result today, and I accept that, and I need to dial down the risk-reward of how hard I'm driving," Russell explained. "Whereas at the moment, in the race, that dial is turned up all the way because I want to get a victory to my name. That's the mentality I'm in at the moment." Ambitious? Yes, but not exactly comfortable, or, as Russell conceded, enjoyable. "I'd rather be more consistent like I was in 2022, but six years in I don't take the satisfaction from consistently finishing just in the top five," he said. "In 2022 I finished in the top five more than any single driver on the grid, but I'd prefer finishing P6 every race and having two victories rather than finishing P5, P4, P3 every race and not get the race victory. I hope that mentality can change next year if we have a car that can fight for the championship."