Silvo wore me out so much that I have posted a single thing about it (partly cos I used up so much phone storage with videos I had to delete tumblr) but I MUST log on briefly to show off the view of my sweet orange kittens
oh, you want some galex fic recs? well, my favorite galex fanfiction is that one very very very long childhood friends to lovers AU that is still ongoing and updating pretty regularly.
i still remember that one chapter where george and alex went to portugal and there was a reverse there was only one bed trope. they had two beds and decided to push them together and then george woke up with a throat infection. the angstiest chapter was where alex had a complication and got put into a medically induced coma and his parents called george to be prepared of the possibility of alex passing. it made me sob into my pillow. it was pretty cute that alex's family basically became george's second family with him being over for dinner at alex's parent's house more than alex himself. also the parallels in the fic were amazing. my favorite parallel was alex helping george get into the intrepid driver's program for karting and george later helping alex get his williams seat. the fact that george was such a supportive boyfriend that the williams board told alex they can't consider the opinions of george since he was campaigning too hard was so funny and sweet. it was also so cute that both george and alex had pictures of each other. but sometimes, i got second hand embarrassment whenever they kept flirting on their social media. like when george asked alex's girlfriend lily for nudes but then lily called him out by saying that "if anyone has them it would be you" and alex reposted an edited photo of george wearing lingerie which was a weird thing to do on main. man, i miss their streaming era so much. also of course we can't talk about this fic without mentioning the collarbone mountain biking incident where george drove alex to the hospital. i also kinda felt bad for lily though since george was super biased towards alex during the cooking competition during one of alex/lily's first dates. the recent chapters were pretty amazing too. some of the most memorable highlights from the ongoing 2025 chunk of the story were monaco and the dinner date afterward where alex paid for george's lobster pasta, george ignoring alex's hangout request in favor of going on a yacht, and--
oh wait. sorry, i got my notes mixed up. this is just real life, not fanfiction. never mind. i'll leave.
this is literally Georgeâs dream scenario, snatching pole by pulling a lap out of his arse right at the end of Q3 and then getting quizzed on the rules and regulations live on tv
Did Lando not cast the first stone on the norstappen house when he said "its not talent it's just luck" đ„
iâm consumed with visions of lando eating pussy today so i donât have the capacity to get into my full thoughts on it but imo max and lando had been toxic situationshiping long before that. also i do think while poorly worded, lando never meant to bring down max specifically with that. it was more about the team strategy call.
sorry @monacobby to co-opt your inbox but this ask is such a good example of why i hate posting on here about norstappen. like i donât know what it is about certain max fans but they just cannot fathom max ever being wrong or abrasive or contributing to an interpersonal conflict. heâs like this perpetual victim and itâs so weird and out of step with everything about him. whatever itâs just annoying and makes a lot of rpf about him really uninteresting because his fans canât see him as a full and complex person and the ways other drivers might respond to the sharp edges of his personality. ok off my soapbox
write the first sentence of a fic in my inbox and i'll finish the paragraph:
It was one of Oscarâs favourite parts of race day (especially on the days when neither of them had made it to the podium), when the two of them find that coveted half an hour breather after media duties to slink off to one of their drivers rooms and just be for a little while, together but in a way that somehow still held the same peace as being alone - though maybe Oscar was beginning to crave his brief stolen moments with Lando, thighs touching on a cramped little sofa, a little too much, a little more than was wise.
write the first sentence of a fic and iâll finish the paragraph
He couldnât remember when it had started; when the two of them had begun to steal away together, rather than separately. There had never been a discussion about it, that much he knew. They went from friendly words of parting at each door, to one of them following the other into their room without question, almost overnight. It felt natural now. The whole action of peeling himself out of the cockpit and moving down the serpentine corridors with Lando pressed closely alongside was like one uninterrupted movement to him; car to sofa, no concept of anything that happened between those points.
Itâs his drivers room theyâve wordlessly chosen to convene in today. Theyâre already settled beside one another on the sofa that is really only intended for one, the press of Landoâs thigh against his own, their arms brushing whenever one of them so much as breathes too deeply. Oscarâs come to crave this closeness, drinking in the warmth that emanates from Landoâs body like it might be the elixir of life. He shifts his sneakered foot millimetre by millimetre as the tv screen plays out reruns from a pitiful race, until he can feel it reach the outer edge of Landoâs shoe, another point of connection for him to revel in.
Itâs surreptitious, he hopes, something Lando will hardly notice. Heâs already mid spiel about the unfairness of a moment replaying on the screen, where he was edged off the track by Lawson, and Oscarâs making the appropriate noises, sympathetic and understanding even as he barely listens; too busy focused on the knock of their elbows, heart reaching a staccato rhythm when Lando brings a hot, large, heavy palm down onto Oscarâs thigh instead of his own.
A moment passed, slow as molasses, like wading through the stuff. The only sound is the low buzzing emitting from the television, a blur of nothing to Oscar. He canât seem to do anything but stare at Landoâs hand on his thigh, the heat thatâs bleeding through his fireproofs and scorching the skin beneath.
âOsc.â
It takes him another moment to drag his gaze back up to Landoâs. There concern in the tightness around his eyes, his tone one that tells Oscar this isnât the first time heâs said his name; probably not even the second or third.
âHuh?â Oscar replies unintelligibly, brain soupy and still stuck on the feeling of Landoâs hand on his leg. Itâs still there, a weight he canât seem to forget.
Lando looks less concerned now. If Oscar was a betting man, heâd wager that Lando looks smug, almost. An expression he knows well, but it strikes an uncomfortable fear in Oscarâs chest here.
âYou alright?â
âYeah,â Oscar nods hurriedly, feeling his cheeks flush, undoubtedly a lurid pink already. He hopes he can blame it on the closeness of the air in here, the post-race glow, but he knows without questioning that itâs a lost cause. âCourse.â
âHm,â Landoâs eyes are narrowed as he stretches back against the sofa. He doesnât move his hand still; if anything, Oscar would swear his fingers clench tighter, the pads digging into his quad.
He wets his dry lips. âWhat?â
Lando shrugs. âNothing.â
Dragging his eyes back to the television, as though heâs paying any attention to whatâs playing out on the screen, Oscar wills his heart rate to settle; his blush to diminish. Thereâs a quiet few moments where he thinks maybe heâs gotten away with it â even though he doesnât know what it is. But then Landoâs speaking again, slow and deliberate.
âIâve noticed, you knowâŠâ
âWhat?â Oscar asks tiredly. Heâs not in the mood for Landoâs games, patience wearing thin already. âNoticed what?â
Lando just stares at him. âYou looking.â
Something cold and heavy drops into the pit of Oscarâs stomach, a tonne of ice that leaves him feeling instantly adrift.
Swallowing around the sudden lump lodged in his throat, he tries to keep his voice level. âI donât know what you mean.â
Lando makes a sound that Oscar canât parse, before saying, âyeah, you do.â
And Oscarâs tired, suddenly, of all of this. Of the want that burns hotter than a flame inside him, of the desperate needs he feels to be near Lando; of the knowledge that it canât and wonât ever mean anything.
âYeah?â He says roughly. âAnd what about it, then?â
If Landoâs surprised by his reaction, he doesnât show it. He cocks his head to the side like heâs contemplating something, before shrugging.
âBeen waiting,â he chooses each word carefully, the way he does in interviews now, stepping stones across a river with a violent current. âFor you to make a move.â
Oscar canât have heard him right. He canât have. His head whips up, eyes wide and pinned on Lando in an instant, uncertainty flooding his chest alongside another emotion; something painfully dangerous.
Hope.
âWhat kind of move?â
âWell,â Lando half smiles at him. âThatâd be up to you, wouldnât it?â
For once, Oscar thinks fuck it. Be it recklessness or weariness with the whole situation, he decides to let his baser instincts kick in; only realises heâs kissing Lando â and Landoâs kissing back, enthusiastically so â when itâs already too late, when theyâre already locked at the lips. Itâs desperate, like a downpour after a drought, Oscarâs hands reaching for Landoâs waist, pulling him in. There are fingers twisting in his hair, fingers he knows must belong to Lando but it doesnât feel real, doesnât feel plausible.
They only part when someone raps at the door, a five minute warning before their media duties, the two of them springing apart as much as the cramped sofa will allow.
Eyes catching, they both share a quiet, relieved laugh when the person at the door doesnât try to come in, footsteps sounding their departure. The laughter slices through any lingering awkwardness, with the knowledge that they donât have time for the debrief they need right now.
âLater?â Oscar tries not to feel embarrassed at the breathy sound of his own voice.
Itâs easier to swallow when Lando nods, cheeks golden rose.
âLater,â he affirms and it sounds like a promise.
Iâm gonna be so real, if who tops and bottoms would keep you from reading a non smut centric, long fic reevaluate your life. I can understand for one shots because like okay youâre trying to get off to it, but when the story encompasses so much more and the most concerning thing to you is who takes it up the ass, get a life
This but also⊠do people not enjoy different dynamics and tropes and kinks and ships like theyâre an array of offered delicacies at a scrumptious fanfic buffet??
Why close yourself off to so many delicious flavours?! Of course you might not be hungry enough for a dando teammate dryhumping fic all the time, but you never know when youâll be extra peckish! You might fancy top osc/bottom lando dom/sub friends to lovers every lunchtime, but why not treat yourself to top lan/bottom osc praise kink omegaverse for dessert? Just because you usually play it safe with Italian cuisine (dom top max lestappen) doesnât mean you shouldnât take a chance to enjoy the varied delights of Asian cuisine (omegaverse alpha charles, service top max, whiny bottom max, cocky top charles). Try a bite of something exotic looking, just to test the waters (bottom toto wolff? does this exist??). Some of my most beloved and reread fics are with ships I wouldnât usually spare a second glance, nevermind changing my usual shipâs dynamics.
Like I will go through small bouts of preferences over dynamics just like I go through phases regarding being in the mood for fluff or auâs or miscommunication etc, but Most Importantly I am Remi in Ratatouille cooking up a storm of different flavour profiles in absolute bliss.
Except that instead of strawberries and cheese itâs like⊠the hot athlete you didnât expect getting fucked in the ass, and the hot athlete you didnât expect to be fucking them. Or whatever.
I just think if youâre truly feral and embarrassing over your favourite pairing, as god intended, then youâre doing yourself and some excellent writers a disservice by closing yourself off to incredible character studies and stories that offer so much despite them breaking the fictional rules youâve given them in your head.
I didnât add a lot of them bc I donât know the lore/didnât even know so many of them were happening lol but I snagged the link from @foxlaren đ„°
I donât think this accurately represents my takes exactly but whatever! do it and have fun! :D
Not me doing this and being smacked in the face with the knowledge that somehow two of my top four pairings are⊠Pierre Gasly??
Like I do not know that man.
(I love flirty/mean/pathetic/yearning/adoring Pierre in rpf, while in reality he wouldnât make my top ten on the grid.)
My theory is that because those pairs are more niche Iâm more likely to devour what morsels of them I come across? Whereas I actually often love Lestappen fic but only certain specific vibes/dynamics and theyâre so oversaturated that I bypass a lot of their content.
Anyway Iâve chatted lots of shit in the tags please come have discourse and make barbie dolls kiss with me, Landoscar forever peace out <3
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