weekendlusting

[weekendlusting]

Rhiannon: Don't you just hate men sometimes? They can be so useless! Imogen: Right? They're terrible! Jesinia: *signs* 100% Violet: Definitely. Xaden, Garrick, Bodhi, Ridoc, Sawyer, and Dain: Liam: Violet: Not you Liam, you're perfect! The other girls: Honestly, he is! The boys: Wh-

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Little rant.

Gabriel said that Lando wrote him a congratulation text after getting his seat.

Franco said that Lando was the first one to contact him and that they organised a lunch with him and his manager to talk about what were Franco’s preoccupations.

Susie said that Lando frequently visits the F1 Academy paddock.

Multiple fans at multiple races or F1 events said that Lando went out of his way to greet them and give them as much time as he could.

As of recently, fans said he even went to the fans that were outside of the very expensive red carpet.

And the thing that I love the most about all of this is that it’s never Lando saying these things, that we always hear it from third parties. It’s simply amazing.

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ੈ✩ drivers sending you pictures of bf! lando ੈ✩

warning : fluff, chaos

a/n : sooo, i saw this on tumblr AND A LOT OF OTHER PALCES, THIS IS NOT COPYING, I AM JUST INSPIRED TO MAKE MY OWN! phew, anyways enjoy watching!

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

let me know if you want to be added or removed

permanent tg: @isotopemylove @chair-things @justaf1girl @bibblemiluvr @blushmimi @nikfigueiredo @amz824 @ivegotparticulartaste @raizelchrysanderoctavius @freyathehuntress @piastri-fvx @sadiemack9 @ilivbullyingjeongin @cherry-piee @luvleylisen @sweate-r-weathe-r @jxnellat @loveofmylife12 @budgetcupid @lilaissa @scorpiodiosa @wondergirl101ks @nichmeddar @hoeforlifee @urfavnoirette @lily-ann-b @okcurran @miniboast @teti-menchon0604 @motorsportloverf1 @formula1-motogpfan @capricornito @star73807-blog @isagrace22 @unstablefemme @lovestruck-sky @celiacallsitcausal

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HIII omg i love your writings!! got this idea while i was in the bathroom blasting alchemy by taylor swift and you were the first writer i thought of that i know would slay this! Reader is a known singer but she doesnt really write love songs which charles is completely fine about. His friends ask and tease him about it and he brushes it off then one night on one of her tours she sings alchemy for the first time while charles is watching from the crowd. His whole world stops and maybe even tears up then he just goes on for days bragging about it. HUMOUR AND FLUFFF WHATEVER U WANT THANK YOU SO MUCH

WHERES THE TROPHY?

Charles Leclerc x Singer! Reader | fluff

SULI: hiii omg you have no idea how much it means remembering me first🥹 thank you soooo much!!!!! — very cool because I actually do have a singer!readers series coming up but none of the love interests is Charles sadly— but I really love singer au's and this was so much fun to write! Thank you so much for requesting, love you, hope you enjoy🫶

I'm absolutely obsessed with this song — stream "The alchemy" now!!!

Warnings: none, short and sweet, Twitter post at the end

Charles liked to think he had you figured out.

At least, the version of you the world didn’t get to see — the quiet one, the tired one after long studio nights, the version that wore his hoodie to bed and snuck kisses onto his shoulder when you thought he was sleeping.

He liked being the silent inspiration, the person behind the curtain. You were his in private — that was more than enough.

"She doesn't write love songs."

That was the line Charles Leclerc had come to know and love. He’d heard it in interviews, read it in headlines, and smiled through every late-night talk show where someone inevitably asked, “So, do you really not write about him?”

The camera would zoom in, the crowd would laugh, and you’d flash that sly little grin. “Don't worry, if I wrote a love song,” you always said, “you’d know it.”

Charles didn’t mind. In fact, he was fine with it.

You were his.

Even if the rest of the world liked to think you belonged to them.

The fans, the cameras, the interviews — they all wanted pieces. But Charles had long made peace with being the part no one else got to hear in the songs.

Because you didn’t write love songs.

Everyone said so.

You said so.

And Charles believed it. Until the night you didn’t.

...

back, first year of dating

“You still haven’t written a song about me,” Charles teased from the couch, bare feet on the floor, one arm lazily slung around your waist. His eyes were half-lidded, lips curled into that soft smile he only gave you when the world was quiet.

You rolled your eyes, brushing your fingers through his curls. “You say that like you’re not already in every other one.”

“Yes, but I want the main character treatment,” he said, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest. “The standing ovation. The bridge that emotionally ruins people.”

You just laughed, kissed his cheek, and said, “Maybe when you win Monaco.”

He groaned. “Cruel woman.”

...

He hadn't told you he was coming.

You were in the middle of a sold-out run through Europe, and Charles was drowning in simulator sessions and car debriefs. But when he saw the gap in his schedule, he booked the ticket quietly, packed light, and told his engineers he was leaving for “something more important than tyre degradation.”

Barcelona was a quick flight from Monaco. Your show there had been sold out for months, and he knew better than to try and sneak in through backstage. So he did what no one expected:

He lined up like everyone else.

He didn’t tell you. You were always happiest on stage, and he wanted to be just another face in the crowd that night. Just a quiet, anonymous dot in a sea of lights and sweat and noise.

Hood up, cap low, a simple black tee that did nothing to hide how gorgeous he was. He bought a pit wristband from resale (triple the price, but whatever), pushed into the crowd, and waited.

His heart beat harder the closer it got to showtime.

He didn’t know why. He’d seen you perform dozens of times. Hell, he’d watched you rehearse in sweats with a tea bag hanging out of your mouth. He lived with you.

But something about tonight buzzed different.

The lights dimmed.

The crowd erupted.

And then you appeared.

...

You always had a certain way of standing still — calm, rooted, like you didn’t need fireworks to be the most magnetic person in the room. Charles felt the shift the second you stepped up to the mic.

“This one’s new,” you said softly.

The crowd stilled.

“I wasn’t planning to play it live yet, but…”

You paused, and smiled.

“He’s here tonight.”

The girls around Charles screamed.

He went still.

No.

You’re not—

The opening chords were simple, soft. A rhythmic pulse like a heartbeat.

"Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads, Champagne sticking to the floor"

The lyrics felt so close, so personal, Charles swore you were staring right at him, even though you couldn’t see him through the crowd.

"Cheers chanted, cause they said, There was no chance, trying to be The greatest in the league"

And then.

Then.

“Where’s the trophy? He just comes running over to me.”

Charles’s knees nearly buckled.

The lyric struck him like a punch to the gut.

He didn’t even breathe for a second — chest tight, hands shaking, mouth parted in stunned silence.

You remembered.

Monaco.

That day.

The crowd, the flags, the win — his first home win. The one he had chased like a ghost for years.

He remembered the noise, the champagne, the cameras flashing. But more than anything, he remembered you, standing behind the barrier, tucked to the side — quiet and glowing and waiting.

He hadn’t even thought.

He just ran.

Straight to you. Through the crowd. Past everyone. Helmet barely off.

You caught him in your arms like you’d been waiting there your whole life.

“Where’s the trophy?” the reporter had asked him after.

And he’d smiled before glancing over at you.

...

By the time you hit the final chorus, Charles had completely given up pretending he was okay.

His eyes were glassy. His cheeks were damp.

A teenage girl next to him elbowed her friend and whispered, “That guy is, like, sobbing.”

He didn’t even notice.

When you sang the last line and let the guitar fall quiet, Charles couldn’t move.

The stadium exploded in sound.

You bowed.

The lights went out.

And he just stood there — one hand pressed over his heart, whispering the lyric under his breath like a prayer.

...

Backstage, everything felt like static.

You were mid-change when a tech knocked on the greenroom door.

“Uh… sorry, there’s a guy trying to come back here. He says he’s your boyfriend? Hoodie, cap, extremely beautiful—kind of panicked?”

You laughed, heart already racing.

“Let him in.”

Charles barrelled into the room like a man possessed.

“You—” he said, voice raw.

You turned, makeup still smudged, hair frizzing from sweat, and barely had time to open your arms before he was there — pulling you into him like he hadn’t seen you in years.

“Monaco?” he whispered.

You nodded against his chest.

He pulled back just slightly, hands cupping your face, eyes red-rimmed and earnest. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did.”

“You wrote about it.”

A breathless laugh. “You wrote about me.”

You shrugged playfully, nose brushing his. “Guess you’re the main character now.”

His grin cracked wide and helpless, and then he kissed you. Soft, slow, deep — the kind of kiss that says thank you and I love you and I’m never letting this go.

“You’re screwed now,” he whispered, grinning against your mouth.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to brag about this forever.”

...

And he did.

The next morning:

And for the rest of the season, no matter how many podiums he earned, Charles had one answer to every post-race interview:

“Where’s the trophy, Charles?”

“She’s probably watching from home.”

Taglist, comment to be added;

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[weekendlusting]

"Toto Wolff: Susie's husband" EXACTLY.

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ONE FINGER PAINTED YELLOW!!?! ITS GIVING DUPLICITY WTFFF

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Harry casually holding my whole life's savings in his mouth. Also i'm thinking of writing a fanfic anyone have ideas???

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For me it's how Lando is supposedly this villain and yet people are like "hello sir would you like to join another family?"

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Who I Choose - LN

@diya-dln request - so i’m the person that’s never been in a relationship before. usually the guys i like don’t like me, or are talking to me since they are interested in my friends and my friends feel the same. can you write something like this but driver chooses reader

Word count: 2.8k

A life altering moment for y/n was when she watched the movie the DUFF because she realised how heavily the label applied to her. By the time she hit adulthood, she's resided to the fact that her love life would likely be forever dry and she'd likely become a cat lady.

Somehow life did deal her an amazing group of friends who never leave her out and always hype her up even if she feels like it's a hopeless effort.

"Hey, what happened? I thought you were going out tonight?" Laura frowns seeing y/n appearing at her door.

"He cancelled. It felt weird going on a blind date anyway" Y/n smiles trying to mask her pain. She can't help but feel like the man sensed just how desperate her love life is for anyone.

"You were going to miss a good night out anyway. Come on. Let's make use of that amazing outfit. You look so gorgeous." Laura smiles not wanting to allow y/n a moment of y/n feeling low about it. "Plenty of other men to catch the attention of."

Y/n has long since bothered with the effort of trying to inform her friends that she's a lost cause and is just willing to admit the defeat to the fact no man is going to choose her.

-

Y/n had, as expected, found herself feeling quite the odd one out. Her friends have paired off either with men they've met tonight or their boyfriends who tagged along. Either way she finds herself alone and sipping at her drink as she has found herself on many a night out.

"Hey. Good to see I'm not the only one who was left alone." A man states making her look away from the busy dance floor. "I'm Lando. Friends with...half the men that your friends have gone off with."

"Oh right, I thought I recognised you. I'm y/n." Y/n laughs then feeling a little defeated.

Someone who looks like Lando clearly has a girlfriend who just isn't present so he's being friendly enough to just say hi to the fellow odd person out.

"You don't have to look so upset about being left with me. I promise I'm not that bad." Lando states making y/n smile a little as she looks at him again. "Or did you just want to be alone?"

"No. It's not that. I'm just...It's nice that you came over. I'm used to being left to my own devices when everyone pairs off." Y/n explains then shrugging and trying to shake it off but she can't help her wince at how pathetic she's starting to sound.

"So you're single?" Lando asks making y/n actually snort at how ridiculous the question feels from her perspective. "What? What's the little snort over?"

"Oh just if you knew me. You'd know how silly of a question that is."

"Did I miss a ring..." Lando questions making y/n's eyes bulge as he leans to look at her left hand and she tucks it away as if it's embarrassing for him to see how naked her ring finger is.

"No. The opposite. I'm eternally single. It's like a chronic condition." Y/n states while Lando frowns a little at her. "What about you? Surely you have a very loyal and loving girlfriend somewhere. Can't imagine someone like you could be single."

"Work makes it hard." Lando sighs and y/n wrinkles her nose since while she's never had to hear a man say that directly to her before she's heard the stories from her friends. Primarily about finance bros who seem to believe work falls above and before all else and use it as an excuse to let women down time and time again.

Despite the turn of conversation, the two end up talking to each other for the rest of the night until y/n is retrieved like a child from a daycare by her drunk friends who have a "no man left behind" policy on nights out. Although y/n has always found she's the only reason it exists.

"It was nice meeting you." Y/n states making Lando nod.

"You too, I had fun. Not your average night out."

Y/n nods not even sure what that means but she leaves with her friends and doesn't dwell too much on her night as she returns home having heard all the girls relay their evening and how they got some numbers, how they're going to be making the most of the whole thing. Y/n sort of tuned their plans with the men they spent the night with out. As much as she loves her friends, she knows that hearing about their sex lives and love lives does trigger some mild jealousy because her life just doesn't work out like that.

It's not their fault, but some days it's a harder pill to swallow that she'll probably be alone.

Especially when someone like Lando is actually nice to her. Somehow it's easier to accept being single when men are just assholes. Nobody wants to date an asshole who treats them badly. But when a guy is nice and friendly, that's when it's harder to accept when she has to remind herself that he's just being nice. He's not interested in dating her, he just had limited other options and noticed she was alone so made conversation.

-

"Y/n! You won't believe it. That guy, the guy you were talking to the other night. What his name? Ally what the fuck is his name?" Laura gasps actually having broken into y/n's apartment on a Saturday morning at 6:30.

"Lando Norris." Ally states brightly while y/n groans digging her head under the pillow.

"Yes. Lando Norris has sent us tickets over to Italy! Italy y/n! Free hotels, free flight, free everything! And that includes you. We're going to see the race."

"Race? What race?" Y/n mumbles from underneath her pillow.

"Formula 1. Don't you realise you were talking to a millionaire race driver. Now get out of bed. The flight is in 4 hours." Laura laughs pushing y/n out of the bed making her land with a thud.

"I hardly even remember talking to him." Y/n grumbles as she looks up at the two and Ally offers her hands to pull her up. "I was drinking that night."

It's lies, she remembers every detail. Not only of the night, but of Lando. Not that she was aware he was a F1 driver, because in all honesty she avoided allowing herself to stalk him online and get over excited about it.

"Why has he invited us?"

"Do you always ask questions when good luck falls into your lap? Who cares. We get to go befriend millionaires. Maybe a sugar daddy is finally going to be on my agenda...Is Fernando Alonso still single? I feel like Lewis Hamilton has commitment issues but I could easily be seduced by a Spaniard." Laura states thinking out loud while y/n and Ally look at her in disbelief.

-

It was a surreal experience getting business class over to Italy and then getting to the track. Laura did as much research as possible and learned that it's the Imola race. It has a longer name but apparently no one calls it that. The rest of the group were eagerly getting themselves to the paddock club seating.

Y/n is happily sitting just waiting to see what the hell happens on an F1 weekend on a Saturday and she is enjoying the whole thing a lot despite having no concept of what qualifying means, why it happens 3 times with less people every time. But it's fun to watch with everyone else getting excited.

But eventually they do leave and y/n sighs returning to her hotel room in the Hilton, moving to just collapse onto her bed. But she doesn't get much chance to do anything more than that before there's a knock on her door making her frown but assume it's her friends coming in for a debrief of the day.

Laura did manage to spark up conversation with Fernando, somehow, y/n is still trying to figure out how the hell she did that. Not that she bagged the older man but she definitely tried and credit has to be given for that much.

"Hey, y/n." Lando greets making y/n jump a little, completely caught off guard.

They hadn't seen Lando the whole day and y/n just assumed he's working so they'd not see him at all.

"Lando?" Y/n mumbles then leaning out the door to look for some others. "Is...everything ok?"

"Yeah, thought I'd drop by see if you wanted to grab something to eat."

"Oh...yeah, I could eat. Is everyone else already there?"

"No. Just you and me." Lando smiles making y/n raise an eyebrow feeling her subconscious act stupidly trying to raise her hopes for a bad to have an interest. "We can invite them if you'd rather though."

"I'm pretty sure they've all gone out on dates to enjoy the free tip to Italy. So we can have a singles meal." Y/n smiles before she moves back while Lando looks like he's got something to say on that but bites it back quickly when she walks back inside. "Let me just grab my stuff."

"No problem."

And that's how y/n ends up at dinner with Lando.

"Should you not be getting a good night of a sleep before you race tomorrow? I might not know much about Formula 1 but I know every athlete is meant to be well rested before they compete."

"I have plenty of time for that." Lando shrugs while y/n smiles a little at him. "So you're not a fan of the sport before now?"

"No. I...didn't even know who you were-are-but in my defence I didn't think you'd like my friends so much you'd invite us all to a race a week later." Y/n confesses and Lando doesn't miss her choice of wording.

"Well I didn't really get to know your friends."

"They're great people. Though if you want to get to know them more you might have to invite them to dinner." Y/n laughs while Lando frowns not being able to ignore it this time.

"Y/n, I invited you all because I wanted more time with you." Lando states and he could've sworn he's never felt the temperature between two people drop so suddenly. Her whole mood visibly drops with he smile disappearing in an instant and she almost takes a grey tinge. "Everything ok?"

"I don't really get it..." Y/n mumbles then feeling the fight or flight finally kick in. "Will you excuse me? I'll be right back-lady's room."

"Are-Yeah, yeah. Sure take your time." Lando frowns about to question her but clearly something happened as a result of him admitting her wanted to spend time with her.

Nearly 10 minutes pass before a waitress appears.

"Sorry, y/n asked me to tell you she's just out for some air."

"Thank you. Is she just out front?" Lando asks deciding he's more than willing to chase the woman if that's what he needs to do. After all he literally got her here for the purpose of wanting to get closer to her.

He moves out searching before he finds her leaning against the building off to the side from the entrance.

"Hey, are you feeling alright? Looked like you got spooked in there?" Lando comments trying to keep it light-hearted but y/n looks at him almost with a helpless expression. "Did I say something?"

"Guys don't choose me, Lando. I'm the friend, I'm tolerated by men and befriended as a result of their interested in my friends. But I'm single for a reason and the universe has made it clear that I'm meant to live and die alone and I've accepted that so you can't come in and mess up that...fate." Y/n states hating how cringy she sounds about everything she says.

It definitely sounds worse out loud than it does in her head and the expression of Lando trying to not to laugh immediately makes her groan.

"I don't expect you to understand. I saw how many fans you have here. You're hardly a man who has to do the chasing."

"Really? Because I just chased you out here and you can tell me about how blind and stupid other guys have been towards you but that doesn't mean I'm going to be like that. I invited you to dinner because I want to speak to you again. I had a good time when we met because of you and I came up to you because you seemed nice and gorgeous and then we talked and I could've spent the rest of the night talking if your friends didn't interrupt."

Y/n actually feels like this is some sort of cruel joke, like he's going to kiss her and then say "sike" as if they're in some sort of cheesy American teen romcom.

"You can say no...but I want to take you on dates. I was drawn to you from the moment I saw you and it might be a dick thing to say, but I'm glad I'm not fighting other guys for your attention because I don't want you to date other guys and it might be too much, too soon to say that but that's how I feel and I'm saying it so you understand."

"You might change your mind when you know me better."

"I might...but I might not. I think there's a higher chance of might not. But if you want to completely eliminate risk of that then you can tell me to leave you alone."

There's a loud vicious voice screaming at her to do exactly that. To eliminate the risk of being hurt and ending up completely devastated because after years of rejection and hurt and acceptance over how alone she'll be. The fear of feeling love only for Lando to change his mind later is enough for her stomach to churn.

"But you could give me a chance and you won't regret it." Lando offers making her swallow, yanked back from her aggressive thoughts as Lando looks at her for a moment. "I'm not that evil."

-

It took a couple months, a lot of travelling, amazing dates, hours of talking, flowers, weekend trips, countless facetimes and some pretty incredible sex. But eventually y/n began to accept that Lando really is the real thing.

She feels like she might've really found her person and she's...so happy.

She's never felt the type of love towards or received from someone else and it almost feels all consuming. The fear she had is long forgotten and the rejection she felt for years has faded away. It lingers, sometimes it rears it's ugly head and y/n feels herself panic a little but Lando reassures her without trying and settles any nerves that she has without being aware she has them.

"For you." Lando states casually presenting her with some red roses. "Happy 3 months."

"You are the only man on the planet to celebrate 3 months. You know that?" Y/n laughs as Lando moves behind her hugging her tightly as he kisses her cheek and lifts her up.

"I love you and you deserve flowers anyway, but this way I have an excuse too."

"Well thank you...they're amazing...like you."

"Gotta make sure you always know how I feel." Lando shrugs then sighing. "And we are going out, golf first and then we'll go to a restaurant like I know you actually want to."

"I like watching you golf, I just don't like failing so badly when I attempt too participate."

"Yeah, but you make me look good." Lando jokes then feeling her elbow dig back into her. "I deserved that. However, I also deserve a shower to get ready with my girlfriend for golf and our anniversary plans. So...put the flowers down, they can be taken care of later."

Y/n laughs as places the flowers down and then gets tossed up over his shoulder, she knew it was coming but she still scolds him for the action playfully only to receive a smack on the ass while Lando laughs getting them into the bathroom where he once again proves just how happy he is to ravish the woman he had to do some fighting for but he got her and that's what matters.

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Meeow.. 🫠🫠🔥

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alex albon the man that you are

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When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔

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max has been trying to tell everyone who is willing to listen that the issue is not the drivers but the fuckin car

he was vocal last year when everyone, including the team itself was shitting on checo every weekend

he is apparently also now being vocal with the team that sacking liam is not the solution, fixing the car itself is

but for whatever fuckin reason rbr refuses to listen to max and i genuinely can not figure out why

[weekendlusting]

No Boys Club | Dad! Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando Norris has a very public freak out when his daughter comes home with flowers from a boy.

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, overprotective dad behaviour 

Requested: yes by anon. i made them about 5 instead of 3 because the pictures i found are a bit older

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

landonorris just posted

liked by danielricciardo, alex_albon and others 

landonorris someone tell this little lady to stop growing up

189,856 comments 

carlossainz55 wait, what happened to the little baby you used to swing around the paddock? who allowed this to happen?

→ landonorris don’t get me started. i keep telling y/n to figure out how to make it stop 

georgerussell63 still have no idea how you ended up with such a cute, calm kid

→ its_yn that was all me

→ landonorris hey, i contributed 

→ maxfewtrell for like two seconds liked by its_yn

→ landonorris you take that back! 

user1 i love how every pic of little norris with y/n is really cute and serene but any time we see her with just lando, it’s chaos 

→ user2 she matches each parent’s energy perfectly 

maxverstappen1 i might need you to teach me how to do hair bows 

→ landonorris bring P over, we’ll have a hair afternoon

→ user3 i love girl dad lando so much 

→ its_yn me too 

oscarpiastri were the hair bows y/n’s choice?

→ its_yn nope. lando made a whole drawer just for her hair bows, and he picks them out the night before so i have to plan her outfits around them 

→ mclaren guess who’s telling the design team to start making hair bows asap 

its_yn posted a new story

alex_albon replied you didn’t put a bow in her hair today? → lando is going to freak → its_yn he’s too busy freaking out about his little girl getting flowers off a boy  → alex_albon i know 😂 he was in the middle of the paddock having a fit  → i’m sure you’ll see gifs of it later on twitter 

alexandrasaintmleux replied of course they were orange flowers  → its_yn setting me up for a lifetime of orange → alexandrasaintmleux at least little norris’ new boyfriend has taste  → its_yn reacted with “😂”

charles_leclerc replied has lando seen this yet? → never mind. i’ve just heard a high-pitched screech come from the mclaren garage  → i’d like to thank you for sabotaging lando in this way, so ferrari can get ahead in the constructors  → its_yn forza ferrari sempre → just don’t publicly thank me 

landonorris posted a new story

carlossainz55 replied why are you threatening children  → landonorris because they’re trying to take my baby away from me → carlossainz55 how you managed to get a woman pregnant, i will never know 

maxverstappen1 replied do you want me to help you beat up a child?  → landonorris thank you. you’re the only one understanding my crash out  → maxverstappen1 i don’t think that’s the defence you think it is 

its_yn replied baby, you can not attack a child → landonorris why not → its_yn well, for one, you’re on the other side of the world → landonorris hence why i’m learning how to teleport!  → i thought we understood each other → its_yn i thought i understood how insane you are → but every day you show me new levels of crazy 

its_yn just posted

liked by lilymhe, carlossainz55 and others 

its_yn when dad’s away 

76,334 comments 

landonorris wtaf, babe

landonorris when i told you to take care of my girls, that meant keeping the both of you away from the male species 

landonorris can’t believe this is what you do when i go away for a race 

landonorris this is why i didn’t want to go 

landonorris gonna throw myself in front of max’s car

→ maxverstappen1 i’m not cleaning you off my visor  

user4 i can’t tell if it’s the style but yn’s top seems to stick out a bit 👀

→ user5 ugh. don't be one of those people

mclaren we’ve seen enough. little norris can have lando’s seat next year 

→ its_yn so i can listen to him whine about that? no thanks 

charles_leclerc i hear the italian anthem calling me

→ its_yn shhhh. we had a deal 

landonorris i’m actually going to end it all

→ its_yn i gave you a baby. what more do you want 

→ landonorris for my baby to never look at another man

→ its_yn i’m leaving you 

→ landonorris i’d like to see you try. you won’t run very far 

maxfewtrell it’s nice to see she didn’t inherit her father’s talent. she smoked me

→ landonorris is my suffering a joke to you? have i not been punished enough?

→ maxfewtrell yes

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

requests open

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury  @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @justaf1girl @piastri-fvx

[weekendlusting]

drive to survive bf moments | lando norris

୨ৎ : featuring : boyfriend!lando x reader ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested or not) : compilation of boyfriend lando moments if you were in dts with him <3

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : in honor of lando p1 !!!! so proud <3

boyfriend!lando who is constantly caught on camera teasing you in the paddock.

boyfriend!lando who is tugging at your sleeve during interviews, poking your cheek mid-media session, or making funny faces at you when you’re trying to be serious.

boyfriend!lando who unknowingly starts a viral soft launch fail when dts cameras catch him absentmindedly fixing your hair in the background of an interview. the internet explodes when he casually kisses your temple without realizing the cameras are rolling.

boyfriend!lando who panics live on dts when he nearly crashes during a race, caught muttering under his breath like a stressed-out boyfriend while you watch from the mclaren garage.

boyfriend!lando who hijacks your dts interview by walking by and loudly whispering, “tell them i’m your favorite driver.”

boyfriend!lando who grins like an idiot when you deadpan into the camera, refusing to answer.

boyfriend!lando who is oblivious to the cameras when he wraps his arm around you after a race.

boyfriend!lando who is holding you close while talking to his engineers. it only hits him later when twitter is flooded with screenshots.

boyfriend!lando who sends you ugly selfies while away, which dts editors unfortunately include in a montage of “how lando spends his free time.” one clip is just a zoomed-in picture of his forehead.

boyfriend!lando who is too proud when you wear his #4 merch, caught pointing you out in the crowd during fan interactions.

boyfriend!lando saying, “that’s my good luck charm right there.” everytime he sees you in the crowd. the netflix editors make it ten times funnier by cutting to oscar rolling his eyes.

boyfriend!lando who collapses onto you after an exhausting race, full weight, head buried in your chest, groaning dramatically for the cameras.

boyfriend!lando who says, “i’m dead. you have to carry me home.”

boyfriend!lando who gets called out by dts producers for always whispering to you during serious team meetings. the subtitles just read: [unintelligible flirting] while zak brown sighs in the background.

boyfriend!lando who, when asked in an interview who his biggest supporter is, glances at you off-camera and grins softly before answering, “i think you already know.”

boyfriend!lando who laughs nervously when dts confronts him in a confessional, playing a supercut of every single moment he’s been caught staring at you. “alright, alright, i get it. i like them, okay?!”

boyfriend!lando who, despite all the teasing, all the joking, and all the chaos, is caught in a rare, unguarded moment...dts cameras filming him looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[weekendlusting]

A TALE OF FAME

pairing ꪆৎ charles leclerc x ahaana patel ᥫ᭡. f1 driver x bollywood actress au

chapter ꪆৎ 6

summary ꪆৎ she's everything, and he just drives.

note ꪆৎ no hate to any characters used in the story, none of what i write reflects on how they actually are. all my love, happy reading.

characteraesthetics | socials&intro | one | two | three | four | five | six |

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Monaco, 3:47 AM

The city that never truly slept had fallen into an eerie stillness, a hush settling over the winding streets of Monte Carlo as if the world itself had exhaled after holding its breath for too long. The neon lights flickered faintly against the rain-slicked pavement, the ocean beyond whispering secrets only the waves could understand, and yet, Charles Leclerc felt none of it.

The usual hum of the world—the comforting rhythm of engines revving in the distance, the quiet murmur of conversations slipping from late-night bars, the occasional hum of an expensive car rolling down the empty streets—felt muted, as though reality had blurred at the edges, leaving him stranded in the echo of something unfinished.

His hands remained deep in the pockets of his hoodie, fingers curled into tense fists as he walked with no real destination, feet carrying him away from the alleyway where he had kissed her, where she had let him in—just for a moment—before she had torn herself away like it meant nothing at all.

He had tasted hesitation on her lips, felt the unspoken weight in the way her body had leaned into his before she pulled back, seen the ghost of something in her eyes that had almost convinced him she didn’t want to leave. And yet, she had still walked away. She had still chosen distance over whatever this was, still left him standing there, heart pounding in his throat as she disappeared into the night like a passing storm—fierce, consuming, and gone before he could hold onto her.

It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did.

He barely knew her.

That was the part he kept telling himself, the rational voice that tried to shove sense back into his head, reminding him that she wasn’t some great love story, not some part of him that had been missing. She was just a woman.

Just Ahaana Patel—brilliant and impossible, sharp edges softened only by rare flickers of something she didn’t let the world see. Just a Bollywood starlet with secrets tucked so deep inside her that they had turned her into a fortress, someone who smiled and bantered and let the world believe she was invincible while something haunted lived behind her eyes.

Just someone he had met by chance, by accident.

And yet, somehow, she had burrowed into his mind like she belonged there.

Charles exhaled harshly, jaw clenching as he stopped at the edge of the waterfront, gaze fixed on the endless stretch of dark waves. The sea had always been an anchor for him, something that steadied his thoughts when they threatened to spiral, but tonight, it felt restless, shifting beneath the glow of the moon, reflecting back at him the same frustration tightening in his chest.

She was gone.

And she hadn’t looked back.

The realization twisted something in his gut, the kind of unsettled feeling he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before—not like this, not this sharp, not this visceral. He wasn’t the type to dwell on what he couldn’t control, but this—**her—**felt like something he should have fought harder for, like something that should have meant more than just a passing moment.

And yet, what had he done?

Nothing.

He had let her leave, let her convince herself that whatever had happened between them was something insignificant, something that didn’t deserve a place in her life.

And for the first time in a long time, Charles felt like he had lost something he didn’t even know he needed.

Mumbai, 8:55 AM

The makeup room smelled of rosewater toner, setting powder, and the faint bitterness of coffee left untouched for too long. The bulbs lining the mirror cast a golden glow, painting everything in warm, honeyed light, but the illusion of comfort was just that—an illusion. The space felt hollow, filled only by the steady hum of the AC and the quiet rasp of Ahaana’s own breathing.

She sat in front of the vanity, staring at her own reflection as if she were looking at a stranger. The woman in the mirror looked like her—same dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, same sharp jawline softened by the gentle curve of her lips, same kohl-lined eyes that had learned long ago how to mask what they weren’t supposed to reveal. And yet, something was missing. Something felt wrong.

Her fingers curled into her lap, nails pressing crescent moons into the flesh of her palm, but the sting wasn’t enough to ground her.

She had spent the entire flight back to Mumbai convincing herself that she had done the right thing. That walking away from Charles was what was best. That she couldn’t afford another mistake, another misstep that could drag someone else into the wreckage of her past.

And yet, no matter how many times she repeated it to herself, the weight in her chest hadn’t lifted. If anything, it had only grown heavier, settling beneath her ribcage, curling around her lungs like a vice that made it impossible to take a full breath.

He had kissed her like he wanted to unravel her.

Like he had already seen through the walls she had built around herself, like he knew exactly what she was trying to run from and was daring her to stop.

And she had let him.

For a moment, she had let herself forget—let herself feel the warmth of his hands on her skin, the way he had held her like she was something precious rather than something broken, the way he had looked at her, as if he wanted to memorize every detail before she could slip away.

And then she had remembered.

She had remembered who she was.

What she carried.

What would happen if his name ever became tangled with hers.

Ahaana let out a slow, shuddering breath, forcing herself to shake off the memory before it swallowed her whole. Her gaze flickered to the half-finished coffee on the table, to the neatly stacked script pages she had yet to go through, to the soundless buzz of her phone lighting up with messages she wasn’t ready to read.

She was here, back in Mumbai, back in the industry she had fought so hard to reclaim, back in the world where she had once been powerful, untouchable—before she had seen too much, before the truth had nearly cost her everything.

The room had not changed. The air was still heavy with the scent of rosewater and setting powder, the bulbs around the mirror still cast their artificial glow, their warmth trying to convince her that everything was fine.

The untouched coffee beside her remained a stagnant pool of bitterness, its surface undisturbed, the steam long since faded. Nothing in this space had shifted, not the arrangement of brushes meticulously laid out before her, not the faint hum of conversation filtering in from beyond the closed door. Nothing—except her.

Ahaana sat motionless, hands gripping the edges of the vanity as if it were the only thing tethering her to the present. The tension in her jaw was sharp, the tightness in her chest suffocating, and no matter how many times she blinked, the image in the mirror refused to align with who she was supposed to be. Her reflection felt foreign, like something sculpted rather than real, a carefully curated illusion bathed in soft lighting.

Her stomach twisted, a slow, sinking feeling crawling up her spine. It was happening again. The pull. The unraveling. The ghosts creeping in through the cracks.

She had spent so long convincing herself that it was behind her, that she had left it in the past, that it no longer had its claws in her. But monsters do not live in the past. They live in the quiet moments, in the space between breaths, in the solitude of a makeup room where no one is watching. They wait for the silence, for the stillness, for the precise moment when there is nowhere left to run.

And then—just like that—the past was no longer the past.

FLASH.

The hallway had been dimly lit, the golden sconces casting flickering shadows along the polished floors, stretching long and thin, curling against the walls like unseen eyes watching her move. The door at the end of the corridor had been left ajar, just enough for the faintest sliver of light to bleed through, a subtle invitation, a whispered warning.

She should have left. She should have turned back. Every instinct had screamed at her to do so, had coiled tight in her chest, urging her to walk away, to pretend she had never stepped foot in this place. But curiosity had always been a dangerous thing, and before she could talk herself out of it, she was already inside.

The air hit her first. The thick, unmistakable scent of aged whiskey, its sharpness mixing with the tang of burning tobacco and something else—something more illicit. It soaked into the furniture, into the expensive carpet, into the very foundation of this place. The room itself was an exhibition of quiet, unassuming luxury.

Polished mahogany, gold-trimmed glasses resting on the bar, a decanter half-emptied beside them. Smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling, exhaled from cigarettes perched between fingers that had never known desperation.

And then, at the center of it all—him.

Reclined against the deep leather couch, legs spread apart in an easy sprawl, one arm resting lazily over the backrest, his fingers poised around the cigarette in his hand.

His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to hint at the sharp cut of his collarbone, the sleeves of his tailored suit pushed back slightly, revealing the gleam of an expensive watch against his wrist. He looked effortlessly composed, a man who never felt out of control. A man who owned every space he stepped into.

She had walked in on something she was never meant to see.

The stacks of cash sat in neat piles along the coffee table, crisp and untouched, half-counted but never hidden. A fine dusting of white powder clung to the glass, its presence as casual as the low murmurs of conversation filtering in from the other side of the room. The men in pressed suits did not stop speaking. The transaction did not pause.

Her presence had not disrupted the world moving around her, because in this room, in his world—she did not matter. Not yet.

And then—he looked up.

His gaze met hers, sharp and assessing, but void of any real surprise. His cigarette lingered at his lips, the ember burning faintly in the dim light as he took another slow drag before exhaling, the smoke curling around him in delicate tendrils. He let the silence stretch between them, unbothered, amused, as if he had been expecting her all along.

"You shouldn’t be here."

The words were smooth, casual, as if they carried no real weight. But the way his eyes held hers, the way the men around him didn’t react, didn’t even acknowledge her presence, made it clear—this wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t even a warning. It was a fact. A truth that had already been decided for her.

She had swallowed, her pulse hammering against her ribs, the sharp edge of fear sinking its claws into her throat.

This wasn’t indulgence.

This wasn’t just wealth.

This was something else.

Something irreversible.

And she had just stepped right into it.

Ahaana sucked in a breath too fast, too shallow, her body jolting as if she had just resurfaced from deep water, lungs desperate for air. Her nails dug into the smooth wood of the vanity, grounding herself in the present, reminding herself of where she was. But the echoes of the past still lingered, wrapping around her ribs, refusing to let go.

She squeezed her eyes shut, breathe, just breathe, but the memory was still right there.

FLASH.

The glass had shattered against the floor, the whiskey spilling in slow-moving rivers, soaking into the Persian rug beneath his feet. The sound had sliced through the heavy silence, a sharp contrast to the otherwise measured stillness of the space.

She had flinched.

He had not.

He only watched.

Unblinking. Unmoved. Unbothered.

Then—he stood.

She barely had time to take a step back before he was in front of her, his presence filling every inch of the space between them. His fingers found her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to look at him, his touch deceptively soft, his lips curling into something that wasn’t a smile.

"You saw something you weren’t supposed to see, jaan."

The endearment dripped from his tongue like silk, smooth and practiced, but it was a lie. He was not speaking to her like a lover. He was speaking to her like something to be handled.

She tried to speak, to deny, to lie, but his thumb brushed against her lower lip before she could, silencing her before the words had a chance to form. His touch was light, calculated, a quiet reminder that control was no longer hers to claim.

"You think you can just walk away from this?" His voice was velvet and venom, each syllable wrapping around her like a noose. And then, lower, quieter, final—

"I’m going to ruin you."

A sharp knock at the door sent a jolt through her chest.

"Ahaana!"

Karan Johar’s voice, warm and familiar, real, cut through the suffocating weight of the memory, pulling her back.

"You’re not dead in there, are you? Vedang is already on set, and Vasan is running out of patience. Move it, superstar!"

Ahaana exhaled, her fingers still trembling, the weight in her chest still heavy. The past had tried to pull her under, but she had clawed her way back to the surface. By the time she reached for the door handle, the ghosts had been locked away, hidden behind the mask the world had never seen slip.

Ahaana Patel—the woman the world knew, the one who did not break—had returned.

And she was ready to pretend again.

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ᝰ.ᐟ sixth part! hope you guys like it!

so sorry for the wait, but ive been dealing with some health issues and slightly difficult for me to update. so thankful to anyone who reads this, i love you <3

next

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tags @seonghwaexile @bookishprophecy @justadesirebel @peterholland04 @bakingpiastries @ricciardosheart @mikefaistgf @sp1rl @charlesgirl16 @leila-030304 @uhcalli @blahblechblah @phobiccneel @blushmimi

comment to be added to taglist

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© weekendlusting

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[weekendlusting]

i promiseeee im gonna update soon you guys, just dealing with some health issues <3 it makes my day seeing likes and comments on atof, cant wait to write charles and ahaana again !!