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vivwritesfics · 1 day

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Eepies

Self indulgent, based on THIS request that I've already written lol

Norlestappen x reader

Warnings: talks of anxiety, mentions of dom/sub dynamics (no smut)

Max and Charles were like two large, overprotective dogs. Especially when it came to their partners. The scene was always the same, she and Lando walking along in front of them or doing something goofy with Max and Charles behind them, watching over them.

(Max and Charles stood there, arms folded over their chests as they watched Lando give an interview. It was unprofessional to have her there with him while he was being interviewed, but nobody could deny them of each other. It took everything in Max and Charles to let them do it alone, to not step in and take control of the conversation when it turned to their relationship).

Their protective nature wasn't just reserved for the track. It happened in their Monaco apartment, too. Like when she was climbing on the counter to get something out of the cupboards, or when Lando fell asleep while he was gaming (usually found by Max, who stayed up later than any of them). Or when she was feeling that mysterious sense of anxiety that she couldn't understand.

She didn't need to understand it, because they were happy to take care of it for her. It was always the same routine when she was feeling like this, Charles holding her on the couch, keeping the fluffy blanket wrapped around her shoulders while Max made her something to eat. Lando did whatever she needed of him, usually following Max and Charles's lead.

They loved their partners, loved being protective over them. But, with the boys driving for different teams, it wasn’t always possible.

She was more attached to Lando. It wasn't that she loved Max and Charles any less than she loved him. It was just easier to trail after Lando than it was to trail after Max and Charles.

(Maybe it was because, when it came to sex, she and Lando were submissive compared to Max and Charles. Sometimes they let them 'take control', but it wasn’t real control. It was easy to let those dynamics slip out of their sex life, especially with how protective Charles and Max were.)

She followed Lando to the McLaren garage. Charles and Max weren't offended. They kissed their heads and sent them on their way, with the promise to meet outside of the McLaren garage after the practice session.

They were too busy during the practice session to see each other, even to exchange a quick kiss. But they could see them stood together when Lando wasn't in the car.

They were so goddamm cute, Max and Charles couldn't help but feel their hearts swell.

The service practice session really took it out of the both of them. Even if she wasn't driving, she was still yawning as she sat in Lando's drivers room.

He yawned with her, falling on the sofa beside him. "We need to go meet Maxie and Charlie," she mumbled as she leaned against him, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Lando kissed the top of her head. "In a minute," he mumbled, wrapping his arms around her.

They quickly fell asleep. Neither of them had meant to, but they'd been so tired, so comfortable leaning against each other. Lando snored softly against the top of her head and she gripped his shirt and drooled against his chest.

They couldn't know that Max and Charles were desperately running around searching for them. Max and Charles knew how sleepy the both of them got (they'd started calling it 'Eepie', which drove Max and Charles crazy), knew they must have been sleeping somewhere.

But they couldn't get into the McLaren garage to check. The employees at McLaren wouldn't let them in to check. As desperate as they were to find their sleeping partner, they couldn't well storm into the garage.

But then a member of staff found them sleeping in Landos drivers room, curled up against each other. The staff at McLaren realised that, in order to get her and Lando back to their hotel room, they needed Max and Charles.

So, Max and Charles were led through to Lando's drivers room. Max knocked softly on the door and pushing it open.

"They look like angels," Charles whispered as he leaned against Max. Max nodded in agreement. They really did look like angel, but they couldn't have been comfortable.

As they usually did, Max and Charles played a game of rock paper scissors to decide who carried who. The loser attempted to carry Lando.

Charles grinned as he scooped her into his arms. It had taken a moment to get her to let go of Lando but, as soon as she was in Charles arms, she was holding his shirt.

Max took several attempts to pick Lando up. He was small, but he was packed with muscle and he wasn't light. Max tried several different ways of carrying him before he settled him over his shoulder.

"Let's get our angels home," he said and leaned forward to give Charles a kiss.

The wonderful, incredible @biancathecool has requested more about their dynamics so expect that later lol.

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il-predestinato · 9 months

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Behold! My 3 favourite himbos: 🥰

@F1: Here's when you can expect Grill The Grid over the next few weeks! 😍

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #lando norris #norlestappen #❤️#jkjk only 2 of these are himbos #max fighting against those dumb blond stereotypes since forever #grill the grid 2023

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adventuringblind · 3 months

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Unrequited Understanding

Norlestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Her father comes back into her life as a replacement race engineer. Now she can't escape him and his voice when she does the one thing she thought he couldn't touch.

Warnings: eating disorder, abuse, past child abuse, sef harm, suicide attempt

Notes: for @ashiekins, I hope you like it! I'M SORRY FOR THE ENDING I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

January

The new year had never felt so sweet. Her victory with Max and Redbull had been a dream. Max taking another championship, had the entire team walking on cloud nine.

She spent new years with her boys. It's tradition at this point to messily kiss all together as the new year comes around.

They'd done so much for her. She's come so far in her journey.

"What are you thinking about, Love?" Neither her nor Lando could sleep. Most nights, they end up talking to get the heavy thoughts to lessen a bit. It's why they get one half of the bed to themselves.

"How nice it feels to know I'm still here and loved." She rests her head on Lando's chest, the steady rythme of his heart lulling her into a restful state.

"Life wouldn't be the same without you." He kisses the top of her head as her mind finally gives into sleep.

February

Her and Max sit together at the large conference table. The factory is preparing for the new season. Energy is running high, and she can feel it crackling in the atmosphere.

Christian talks about how excited he is for the new season. 2023 is going to be theirs to dominate. Adrian has been working tirelessly to give them a title worthy car.

"We have had to make some last-minute changes to the team, unfortunately." Christian makes eye contact with her, and the good feeling she had dissolves. "Your race engineer has fallen terminally ill and is being hospitalized. The good news is we've found a last-minute replacement."

The door opens, and she feels the air leave her lungs. Her body shakes in fear of the man who takes confident strides to his chair.

Christian introduces them, clearly not understanding that they know each other very well. The man is her father, after all.

She has her mother's last name. Intent on separating herself from him entirely. He'd been doing Indie car for years. She never thought he'd make the switch after how they left things.

Max shoots her a concerned look, but she shakes it off. None of the boys had ever seen what her father looks like. They don't know she changed her last name.

She has no intention of ruining a good season because of her petty emotions. So, she says nothing.

March

It's not as bad as she thought it would be. They don't interact much aside from talking about data and while she's in the car.

The underhanded comments make her thoughts reel. The constant questioning of her skill while she's driving makes her think she's crazy. Her father is too good at making it look like a joke. People laugh with him, not understanding he means what he says.

He talks over her, cuts her off, bosses her around like she's still a child. She shrinks in on herself every time he cones around.

Stay silent and listen. That's what got her through her childhood. Just don't make him angry.

He lashes out when he's angry.

Charles is there when a nightmare causes her to be sick. A memory of her childhood that haunts her still.

The Monegasque holds her hair up and rubs her back as she sobs. He makes her a warm drink and holds her, letting her wet tears soak into his shirt.

"Do you want to talk about it, mon chéri?" He whispers gently against her forehead.

She inhales, breath catching in her throat as she does. "My dad, he - well - he used to say I'd never be anything. I sometimes dream about the memory."

"Your father and Jos can fuck off." Charles cups her face with his hands. "You are amazing. Whatever he told you is a lie. You've proven yourself to the world. Your younger self can rest knowing she got you here, that you are safe and loved and enough."

April

It's getting worse by the day. She's not sure where her father got the idea that he could order her around like she's still five and karting. It's getting annoying and ridiculous.

He's taken to snatching any food out of her hand and tossing it away into the nearest bin. What a waste. He could've eaten it himself.

He keeps telling her the car is too heavy. The data doesn't show that, but whatever. Her food being taken from her like when she was young was not how she expected the season to go. She takes to not eating because it's easier than fighting with him.

Her physio keeps asking her about why her weight seems to be plummeting recently. Even trying to get it back on her with altered meal plans. The concerns get brought up later in a meeting with Christian. The severity of her condition being made apparent.

Max watches her sob over a salad. She can tell he wants to push, asked what is causing the relapse. Understand where her head is at.

He hands her a water bottle and waits until she drinks the entire thing. "It's okay to struggle, but please don't shut us out. You don't have to do this alone, alright?"

She doesn't respond, simply collapses into his patient arms.

May

Lando and Charles happened to be passing by at the worst time. The Redbull garage still buzzing with the excitement of Max's podium and her mediocre result compared.

They saw her race engineer laying into her about every mistake. No other staff around to hear the conversation. Her head hung in shame as he pointed out every flaw.

Charles interrupts with such ease. He says her PR officer was looking for her earlier. It gets her to excuse herself from the conversation, leaving the two boys with her engineer.

"Mind your own business next time," scoffs the older man. He leaves the younger two confused.

Charles takes in Lando's mildly anxious body movements. "Something isn't right, Charles. She had that same look from when we were rookies."

Charles hums in agreement. "We'll have to wait for her to come to us for now."

June

The underhanded comments are getting progressively worse. People have started noticing that something is off about her race engineer and his behavior towards her.

Meetings are difficult and the team is walking on eggshells. Max looks ready to explode and has been ripping her father to pieces after every comment. He gets in trouble, so she asks him to stop.

She doesn't mind. Her whole life has been taking this kind of behavior from him. Max knows better than anyone that it's best to respect that kind of ask.

"I'm here if things ever get to a point where you want it to stop. I will always be here for you."

July

Her wight combined with her self-harming habits are making it harder to drive. Somewhere in her head she knows she can't continue like this. The car no longer works with her.

Christian keeps pulling her into his office and asking her about where she's at. Warning her the if she continues down this road, she won't be able to drive. That he'll be forced to find a replacement.

She cries as the boys hold her. She tells them she's not sure if she can do it anymore, that she's not cut out for this sport. They comfort and reassure her that's a lie.

Her thoughts remain stuck on being a burden to them. She gets better just to fall once more into her old habits. They have careers and goals that would be easier to achieve without her around.

Maybe her father is right about her after all.

August

The summer break brings them a much-needed reprieve from the fast-paced world they live in. She gets to spend time away from the incessant voice of the man she hates. Her boys occupying her mind instead.

There is a finality about this that she can't explain. Like things can only get better from here on out. That something in her future is going to bring her the one thing she's looking for.

Swimming in the ocean and eating what they want. They laugh and joke like nothing has changed. It's the first time in months that she feels normal.

This is how things should be. The smile on her face is genuine and the boys can all tell.

September

The cuts line her skin in an unorganized fashion. Angry, red, and bleeding. Her race had been ended early due to a collision. She'd been collateral damage; it wasn't her fault.

The media didn't see it that way. Her father definitely had no mercy when he mercilessly explained how she will never be good enough as a driver.

Hidden away in her drivers' room now, watching the blood pour from her skin. The boys know, they've seen the fresh lines. They are trying to find a way to get her to stop, but these feeling are fighting back harder than ever before. She's not sure how to fight them anymore.

Disappearing seems like the best option. The only way she'll be able to escape the dark thoughts swirling in her head. The one place her father won't be able to touch her anymore will be in her death.

She moans as the blade digs deeper. The ecstasy that accompanies addiction is a feeling she will always crave. Sick satisfaction bubbles in her throat and pour out on her eyes as red stains the floor.

This wasn't her plan, but it's okay. The pain makes all her thoughts go away. Lessens the weight on her chest. Forces her mind to focus on something else.

Everything is spinning and then it goes dark.

Warm hands and comforting words. That's all she's ever wanted.

October

The boys can see how sick she is. Max won't let her be alone in the garage. Not after she almost died.

Her physio is with her when none of the boys are. They keep asking her questions that she won't give answers to.

It's not until an altercation with her father is finally caught. He's condemning her over the radio while she's driving. They'd had an argument earlier about how she should be taking turn three.

The public execution is miserable. Still, she puts her head down and drives.

The second-place trophy has never felt heavier. It drags her arms downwards as she heads to the garage with Max. He doesn't know about what happened yet and she hopes it stays that way. She screams as she puts it away in her room.

She avoids her father as much as possible on the way to the press conference. The glimpse she does get of him leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. Christian looks angry as he presses a finger into her father's chest.

She's zoned out majority of the conference. Until A journalist with a soft voice is asking about her feelings towards her race engineer.

"It's just how things are sometimes. I wasn't listening to instructions, and he was frustrated. It happens." She shrugs it off like this is the most normal everyday occurrence. Which, in her defense, it kind of is.

Every media outlet seems to want to know more about it. Her emotions are struggling to remain contained. the inevitable sobs escape after a particularly worded question about whether his actions could be considered abuse or not.

She breaks, collapsing in the middle of the media pen. Her boys are there blocking the view of the cameras as her body fails to move.

They know now what has been happening. Her secret is out there for everyone to see.

November

Her father is fired from the team with immediate effect. Christian apologizes relentlessly for not knowing and not seeing it sooner.

The media is asked to refrain from asking about the incident and anything regarding her past race engineer. They respect it, probably wanting to avoid another meltdown in the middle of an interview.

Max, Lando and Charles are with her through every step of the way. They encourage her to talk to them and she does. It feels nice not having to hold in her family secrets.

They want to help her, and she wants to be helped.

Her race engineer for the end of the season ends up taking the job for next year. He's kind and keeps his voice calm. Her last few drives amaze everyone.

The top step of the podium has never felt so good. She didn't need to prove herself to anyone, but the confidence it brings her is hard to deny.

Closure feels even better.

December

Her therapist is proud of her for opening up to the boys more. They don't push her to spill everything, but they encourage her when she does.

The end of the year pulls them closer together. After everything that happened, she wasn't sure she was going to see 2024 come around. She's glad she does though.

She fought to the end. She made it to her peace. A place where her father can't touch.

Warm hands and gentle words for all of eternity.

January... Again

Three boys stand in front of a grave. Her favorite flowers in hand. The silence stretches between them. None of them know how to proceed.

The memory of finding her on the floor replays in Max's head. He should've known to find her right after the race. That cold September afternoon in Zandvoort. The day she bled out for one final time.

Charles and Lando assure Max it's not his fault. IT hadn't been her plan. There was no note, not even a warning sign aside from her mental health declining.

Her father, who they now know was the catalyst for her relapse, is in jail. Christian made sure to get him put away so the boys wouldn't have to worry about it.

The other drivers came to the funeral. The journalists respect their wishes not to speak on the matter. They need to heal before they can even think about trying to explain how all three of them had taken time off.

The FIA pushed the races back since Redbull needed to sort things out. The memorial on the track has been visited by everyone on the team.

They tried so hard. They wanted her to stay. They can only hope that she found what she needed in whatever lies beyond this life.

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blorbocedes · 4 days

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ethical nonmonogamy king refuses to pit his omegas against each other 🥰🥰🥰

#norlestappen #only real norlestappies get it

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zazhitigertasha · 7 months

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y'know fuck it. eizouken norlestappen.

(day 1 of litzelart f1 artober)

#f1 #f1 art #lando norris #charles leclerc #max verstappen #norlestappen #f1artober #keep your hands off eizouken!#zazhiart

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vroomvroomsposts · 6 months

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I need the top 3 to stay the same. I don’t care what positions. But I need a Norlestappen podium!!!

#f1 #max verstappen #charles leclerc #lando norris #lestappen #norlestappen #norstappen #charlando #austin gp 2023

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jussst-lurking · 10 months

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CAN I REQUEST A COMBO, QUESTION

"Are you ok?" "Yeah I'm fine. *immediately faceplants because their legs can't support their weight anymore*"

Stopping their heart (cue the team scrambling to drag their dumbass friend back from death)

sending you lurvvvvv LIVE LONG AND PROSPER <3<3<3 MWAH

Heyyy💖, so uhm, this really got out of hand and I wrote like 2.3k for it in one sitting! I'm putting it here, but I also posted it on ao3 because I thought it would be more convenient to read, I hope you enjoy! 🖖

Charles feels the exact moment Lando’s magic runs out. It’s like a seal breaking, like a hand pulling him further into darkness, calling to something much more sinister within him, a carefully held balance being knocked off-kilter, scales tipped too far in one direction.

He whips around to where Lando is fighting down at the river, where he can feel his presence rapidly fading.

No.

No, no no, not now. Not when they’ve almost made it out of this fucking death trap unscathed. (Not ever, he can’t bear the thought, couldn’t stand to lose him.)

A dark figure, cloaked in purple robes, face hidden behind a mask like the others, looms over Lando, a runic blade aloft, ready to strike. A rune spinner, hells no. Lando is shrinking, stumbling backwards, his life force waning, ever closer to joining Charles’ side.

Everything around Charles goes silent, blurry, hazy like a fever dream. His entire focus zeroes in on Lando and his opponent. With no regard for the consequences, he abandons his own battle - his servants will make short work of it now the balance has tipped in their favour - and storms through the trees, down the rocky riverbank into the waters of the shallow river. In one fluid motion he pulls out his dagger and draws it over his left forearm, cold blood gushing from the wound, flowing down to his scarlet-stained fingertips, singing with new warmth as magic thrums through it. A prayer tumbles from his lips, barely registering, and the shadows surge forward, rising from the water, peeling themselves off the bark of the surrounding trees, springing from the rocks that make up the river bed. The figure turns, notices him too late, they always do. That’s the thing with shadows, no one pays them any mind until they’re not where they’re supposed to be.

Darkness engulfs the rune spinner, a roar vibrating in Charles’ chest, the howling of a hundred dogs, triumphant, satisfied. When the shadows dissipate, nothing’s left. Not the robe, nor the mask or the sword, nothing. Charles’ wrath ebbs off, lazy satisfaction spreading through him, warm and soothing like healing tea. It doesn’t last.

Coming back to his senses, Charles rushes over to Lando, who is barely keeping himself upright. He wants to touch him, wants to cradle his face between his hands, but he can’t, not right now, not yet, not when his blood is still running warm.

“Chéri, are you ok?”, Charles rasps, worry eating a hole into his chest. If Lando really used every last drop of his magic… he doesn’t want to think about it.

Lando’s skin is pale, his posture sunken in, eyelids drooping shut, body trembling like the icy grip of death is stealing all his warmth. Deep down Charles knows that is exactly what’s happening.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, he whispers, voice thin, shaky, not complying. The moment the words leave his lips, Lando collapses to the ground.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Charles kneels next to him, his robes soaking wet with river water, as he desperately searches for a pulse. Thank magic, he finds one. It’s weak and Lando hasn’t got long, but it’s there. If only- He needs- Frantically, Charles looks up at the sky, searching, where in the seven hells is- there. A glint of gold, high above them, Max’s wings glowing in the sun. He must have felt the disturbance too, which can only mean… Charles’ heart sinks when he sees two purple-robed wind riders circling Max, throwing daggers and blasts of wind, locked in fierce combat. Max shoots arrows at them, dodges their attacks with no way out of there.

Charles takes a deep, steadying breath. Max will be fine, he always is, and if not, Charles has enough blood left to make him stronger, give him all the power he needs. His attention focuses back on Lando, who is fading further and further, losing warmth. The shadows are waiting for him, ready to pounce like a horde of hungry dogs, but Charles forces them back. He’s still in control here.

What now? Max can’t help them, he would have arrived here long ago if he could.

Damn it.

Charles’ powers weren’t made for healing, all he knows how to do is take, take the warmth of others, destroy them, drag them down the icy pit he crawled out of. But magic be damned, if Max can hone his healing touch into a deadly weapon, then Charles bloody well can do the opposite.

One chance.

One way.

Charles knows in his core that there is one thing he can do to save Lando.

Blood, shadow, sacrifice, they’re his daily bread.

How do you save a life?

Charles only has himself to give. He’s had his second chance, and Lando, he’s so young, so fragile, so mortal, has barely lived, not like Charles and Max have… if anyone deserves a second chance it’s him.

Charles scrambles for his dagger, draws another gash over his arm, deeper this time, the blade burning as it slashes his skin. The blood runs over his palm, gathers at the tips of his fingers, warming up one last time. One life for another, that’s how it goes. He rips Lando’s shirt open, draws an intricate sigil over his heart, blood soaking into ashen skin. There is no incantation this time, no prayer. Charles leans over Lando, taking his hand in his bloody one, and kisses him. One last time.

“Take me, not him”, he whispers, before he draws back and lays down next to Lando, their fingers still entwined.

He knows it’s working the moment the words leave his mouth, his heartbeat slows, cold and shadow draw nearer, a mob of wild dogs coming for their master. It’s all the magic he had left, all the life. They’re both leaving him, oozing out of him like the blood from his wound. He wishes Max was here, Charles would love to kiss him goodbye. At least he’s not leaving Max alone like last time, he’ll still have Lando… Both his loves, living happily ever after because of Charles’ sacrifice. There are worse ways to go.

The shadows are close. His heartbeat slow. Somewhere, a lone crow sings for him. The pull in his gut drags him away from here, down to a cold, damp place. Charles knows it well. He listens to the final notes of his heart, the drum of death accompanying him home. It was nice while it lasted.

Thump.

***

Max knows the second the balance tips that Lando is in danger, mortal danger. Heat burns through the seal like a cigarette bud through a napkin.

No. Fuck, no!

Every fibre of his being screams at him to turn his back to his two remaining enemies, rush to Lando’s side and heal him before it’s too late, but every time he tries to make an escape, one of the wind riders blocks him, takes a strike at him with a storm dagger. Max parries it with his wings, molten gold gleaming in the sun as he barrel-rolls in mid-air, dodging another attack, shooting a golden arrow with his next move.

“Where are you trying to go?”, one of them giggles behind her mask. It sounds like wind chimes.

“You don’t seriously think we’d let you leave”, the other taunts from behind him.

Max growls, a sound from deep in his throat, like boiling lava threatening to erupt from a volcano.

The wind riders shrink back, and Max is about to retaliate, when a shock of cold bites at him, snaps at his heels like a ferocious dog. Charles!

Max looks down, sees shadows gather over the river, drawing closer and closer to two figures lying in the shallow water. Naked panic grips him, halts him in his movements. Just what the fuck is happening down there? If he could just-

“They will both die soon”, one of the wind riders purrs close to his ear.

Where is she? Max can’t see her.

“And then we’ll finally have our way with you, golden boy”, the other adds, a sound like rustling leaves blowing over the back of his neck.

“You’re much stronger than them anyways. You don’t need them”, the first one continues, further away this time.

The two of them reappear, gusts of wind shaping into purple robes and silver masks, mocking him, mocking Lando and Charles. Lando and Charles who are dying. He drops his bow and arrows.

“You’re so much fun to play with.”

“And a lot more valuable than our other toys.”

Divine rage slices through the paralysing panic, lets it go up in flames, and Max’s vision goes white for a second, as waves upon waves of heat roll off him, singeing his enemies’ robes and hair, scorching their laughter away. He’s reached the tipping point, and without Lando to hold him in check no one stands a chance against him.

The wind riders writhe in agony, captured in the throes of Max’s heat, unable to move or summon soothing winds to help them, but it’s not enough. He wants a slaughter, he wants to hear their screams as their burning bodies bow down before him, begging for mercy. He won’t give it to them.

Max turns up the heat, the two rings on either of his middle fingers tingling as he draws on their power. Just a little more and he’s going nova. His wings are melting, droplets of gold dripping down, far to the ground below. He doesn’t care, doesn’t feel the pain. Gold is replaceable, Charles and Lando aren’t. He won’t let them die, won’t let some lowly elemental servants ridicule them. They are scum, sticking to the sole of his shoes, nothing more.

Max releases another heatwave. The smell of burning flesh fills his nose. He draws a deep breath, feasts on the offering, his veins ablaze with power.

The wind riders scream, muffled behind their masks, liquified metal melding with skin.

Max spreads his wings, spins in a pirouette, golden droplets hitting his enemies like bullets, hard enough to break skin.

He doesn’t stay to watch their lifeless forms fall to the ground, already going into a nosedive, rushing to Charles and Lando. Water rises up in clouds of steam, the shadows draw back when he lands next to them. The air is full of the iron tang of blood; Chalres’ magic.

Reigning himself back in as to not hurt the two of them any further takes all of Max’s self-control, but he manages to cool down to a non-lethal temperature before he approaches. He crouches down beside them, takes their pulses… one pulse. For fuck’s sake, Charles! Max’s throat goes dry, burning with tears he won’t cry. This is not over yet. He won’t let it happen.

At that moment, Lando opens his eyes.

Relief floods through Max, but it doesn’t do much to dissolve the lump in his throat or calm the furious beating of his heart in the face of losing Charles.

Nevertheless, he scoots closer, takes Lando’s hand, the one that’s not holding Charles’ lifeless one.

“Lando! Lando what happened, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help, I- we- we’re losing him-”, Max babbles, but the rest of the words get stuck in his throat as his gaze falls to Lando’s chest, the blood drying on it, the sigil seeped deep under his skin, a mark that won’t fade. His hands ball into fists. He exhales a shaky breath. Presses his forehead against Lando’s.

“The fucking idiot”, Max whispers, “baby, can you… balance-”, the words don’t come, Max’s body trembles, threatening to shut down. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take.

Lando shakes his head, a movement that shouldn’t be as small and barely perceptible as it is.

Of course he can’t, what is Max thinking? He presses a soft kiss to Lando’s temple.

“Ok, you just rest, baby, I’ll find a way, I’ll fix this.”

As gently as he can, Max moves over to Charles. Charles’ body, a voice in the back of his mind corrects. Max grits his teeth. Not yet. Not fucking yet. Not if he has anything to say about it.

He lays one hand on Charles’ chest, right over his unmoving heart, the other over his closed eyes. A warm, golden glow radiates out from his palms. With it the sun, a mild spring day, hope, life. Max soaks Charles’ cold body with it.

Cold. He’s always cold. This doesn’t mean anything.

Nothing happens.

Nothing happens, and that’s unacceptable, wrong, impossible.

The rings on his fingers burn, searing his skin. Next thing he knows, an earth-shattering scream rips from his throat.

“GIVE HIM BACK!!!”, his voice is thunder; power, life, magic thrumming through him like a solar storm.

Lando whimpers next to him. Max barely notices it.

A force, cold and dark, pushes back against him, familiar, like Charles, but older, stronger, hostile. Max forces it back, incinerates the claws stilling Charles’ heart through sheer force of will.

“GIVE HIM BACK YOU OLD CLAMMY BASTARD!”

Max pushes against the shadows, the biting cold with all his might, and finally, the presence retreats.

“You will come to regret this”, the frost hisses, before the last bit of it dissipates under the warmth of Max’s fingertips.

Thump.

A heartbeat.

Max collapses on top of Charles, face buried in his chest, listening to the slow beating of his heart.

“He’s alive”, Max whispers, voice completely wrecked, and finally gives in, lets the tears fall freely.

He kisses Charles’ cold cheek, folds his wings and rolls off him to lie between his lovers in the shallow water, takes both their hands, feels blood pulsing through their veins.

Lando turns to weakly pet Max’s hair with his free one.

“You saved us”, he croaks.

Max bites his lower lip, shakes his head. They all saved each other. They are alive, and they’ll make it out of here, reach the sanctuary further upstream and recover, but for now, he needs a moment to catch his breath and regain enough strength to continue this never-ending journey.

#prompts #writing #fanfic #f1 rpf #norlestappen #norstappen #lestappen #charlando #yes this is me pushing my winged max agenda #btw it’s 3am here

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coconutshygame · 2 years

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If we don't get at least 10 fics tonight about Max, Charles, that red velvet chair, and maybe Lando....what was even the point

#lestappen #norstappen #norlestappen #max on that red chair deserved someone on his lap #make them take that chair to the hotel room plz

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maxemilianverstappen · 6 months

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Max def has a type- curly brunettes with hazel(green) eyes😇

Maxie would lay them down on his lap one brunette head on each thigh and play with their curls. Wind them around his fingers and then massage their scalp. Lando would go to the snorkmimimimi land lightning fast, because Charles would hum a little song for them while Max would continue gently combing his fingers through their hair and listen to Charles, not actually watching the muted romantic comedy movie on the TV anymore.

#norlestappen

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vivwritesfics · 20 hours

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Charles,ax and lando ( I have no clue how to spell the ship name lol)

After care maybe some extra about their dynamics in their relationship and in bed 👹🫶🫶🫶

LOVE YOH

Warnings: smut, dom/sub dynamics, foursome

You never really expect to have three partners, right?

Max certainly didn't

Charles certainly didn't

She and lando couldn't say they were surprised

How had it happened?

Well, that's a tough question to answer

She and Lando were together

But they both wanted dominating

It was something they couldn't provide each other with, so it had them opening up their relationship

It was unclear whether they expected it to be a one time thing

Buy they both knew that they liked the feeling of Max abd Charles, their touch, their kisses. They couldn't get enough of it

So, when it happened again, there were no complaints

The way Charles had her bouncing on his cock while Max endlessly teased Charles

The two older drivers (even though they weren't older by much) fully expected to be invited back to hers and Landos hotel room

Maybe that was why Max kissed Charles

Maybe that was why Charles kissed him back

When they were invited to the couples bed the third time, they decided that they didn't want to leave

Even after they'd pulled multiple orgasms out of the couple

Even after they'd cleaned them up, gently moving soapy loofahs over their skin, forced them to drink a glass and a half of water each, they didn't want to leave

They got the two into bed, cuddled them between them

She and lando clung onto each other, legs entwined as they snored lightly

Max played with her hair as she laid against his arm

He looked at Charles who slept behind Lando

Yeah, they weren't going anywhere

Thing's pretty easily fell into place

From the moment they woke up the next morning, they established communication

It was the only way this was going to work

At first she stayed by Lando's side constantly

Needed an extra push before she found the same sorta comfort in Max and Charles

She remembered the first time she kissed the two of them

The first time she threaded her fingers through Charles's hair

The first time she climbed into Maxs lap

It was new territories and she had her first love there to navigate it with her

The sex only got better as the four of them opened up to each other more

She and lando fell into a more submissive role in the relationship

Lando loved it

He loved being able to let someone take control

Holding her hands, kissing her slowly as Max and Charles fucked them

Aftercare though

It was their favourite

Their collective favourite

Max and Charles loved how plyable their bodies were

How easy it was to carry them to the tub

To sit them down together as they cuddled up, Charles washing their sensitive bodies while Max made the bed and got them something to drink

Once they were clean and dried, they got dressed into loose pyjamas (that Lando would definitely discard in the night) and climbed into bed

As Max and Charles showered, she and lando watched a movie,but they weren't much paying attention

Holding each other

Playing with each others hair and fingers

Coming back down

But nothing sated them more than having Max and Charles in the bed with them

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maxcuntstappen · 7 months

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i am once again asking for a norlestappen top 3 thank you

#japanese gp 2023 #norlestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #lando norris #text-f

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xiaoluclair · 1 year

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☕️my unpopular opinion (fanfic related) is: lestappen are so vanilla they have never even tried the simplest of kinks! And when they do they end up crying cause "just so wrong"

Also Lando is the kinkiest of the entire grid! He absolutely gets them the most horrifying (to them) gifts for literally any occasion just to watch them try to figure out how it works or what it does!

warnings: implied/referenced smut -- implied/referenced kinks -- my writing

word count: 826

Everybody knows the drill by now. Lando, Max, Charles, and - Lando is almost three hundred percent certain - Sassy. She's eyeing them from around the flowered E on Charles's piano (Present #3 - Max couldn't handle the feeling of petals getting in the way of Charles's skin apparently), tail looped through the end of an emotion she definitely isn't feeling. Jimmy is somewhere - probably out on the balcony playing with discarded solo cups. He's a macho man. Lando might join him at some point.

"Okay." The cushions sink beside him and Lando twists to throw his feet into Max's lap. Fingers fit to the bones of his ankles, warm through the white ankle socks. "Get this over with, mate."

Max sounds about as uncasual as he can sound while trying to sound casual. Which is to say, the air is practically tripping over the trepidation. Lando grins and grins wider when he hears the footsteps.

Charles pulls to a halt by the piano seat. "Oh no."

"Oh yes," says Lando with glee. He sits up straight, sliding free of Max's fingers. With a groan, Charles drops onto the floor by Max's feet (Present #11 - the smell of cheese was simply too persistent for Charles's fragile nose).

"Okay," he says, a man readying himself for the final fatal blow of a bludgeon. Regardless, the words bite out of him in punctured monagasque sounds. "What is it?"

Lando remains, wordlessly scratching an itch behind his ear.

"Mate," says Max. "Lando."

Continuing to the edge of his jaw, Lando hums, a laugh thrashing against his teeth as he keeps his face cool. Then his nail catches on a pimple, startling a wince out of him and completely ruining the jaded vibes he was going for. Fucking puberty.

"Lando," snaps Charles.

"What?" drawls Lando. Or, what he thinks is a drawl, and not simply the impression of someone with a swollen tongue. The other two are glaring shiftily at him now, and Max even twists to look behind the couch, hand disappearing between the cushions while Charles's gropes underneath.

"Where is it?" demands Max. "Lando, where-"

"Oh my god, is it already inside?"

The laugh is torn, rather viciously, from Lando's throat.

Suddenly scandalized, Charles's groping flies to his own ass, his ears, his crotch. Max watches, a sort of horror in his features and fingers floating in the air as if unsure whether he should help or stuff his own ears to block out voices.

Lando cackles. "No, you idiot. How the hell would I manage that?"

The look Charles throws him communicates enough, palms poised around his nostrils (Present #25 - pegs are for hanging clothes only, got it).

Max arms are raised defensively when he speaks. "Is it in this room?"

"Yup," says Lando cheerfully. This is going even better than planned, to be honest. The build up - teasing, edging, whatever the word - is, as always, the best part. (Present #26 - subsequently, rings are for specific purposes only. More specifically, Not This One, Lando!)

"Is it small?" asks Max, eyes flicking around.

"Hmm ... averages would suggest no."

"Can we see it?" presses Charles, over the sounds of Max threatening averages. He's still pressing fingers to his body, as if his subconscious still hasn't stopped believing the notion Lando could somehow squeeze an entire dildo into it completely inconspicuously.

Lando nods.

"Is it yellow?"

"A bit."

"Black?"

"Uh ... technically no, but also yes?"

"What the fu-"

"White?"

"Ha, yeah."

"Green?"

"A small bit." He makes the symbol with his fingers for the hell of it. Max and Charles fit like two floating heads of aggravation in the space between his index and thumb, shared glance of exasperation flying across the fingerprints.

"Red?" asks Charles, only then Max says, "Hang on," and his face starts to twist.

Lando raises his eyebrows. "Yes?"

Squinted, wide, blinking, narrow and protruding are the five emotional states Max's expression cycles through as Lando and Charles wait. Lando enjoys it particularly. Charles just touches Max's knee, looking so anxious it's almost not funny. But then Lando remembers the reason for it and it's not funny at all.

It's hilarious.

"Max," says Charles, gaze flitting over to where Lando is getting comfortable against the arm of the couch and Lando's pretty sure it lingers. "Are you-"

"He-" is all Max manages to get out, before simply twisting Charles cheek around and waiting for the message to sink in.

To help, because he is nothing if not helpful, Lando cheerily spreads his arms as far as they will go. "Surprise!"

The twin looks of terror are priceless and do nothing to hide the heavy swallow of Max's apple, nor the sharp dip of Charles's eyes.

This, thinks Lando with a grin, is going to be great.

(Present #31 - one small step for man, one giant orgasm for- JIMMY WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING GET INSIDE BEFORE YOU CATCH A COLD-)

(*Present #31 - purge the earth of cats cockblockers.)

#xiao: writes #xiao: asks #asks: prompt #aya my beloved #this took agesss to finish lmao #but you said you like to be surprised to HA bet you weren't expecting THIS today ;P #ficlet: mv1.ln4.cl16 #norlestappen #f1 rpf

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f-ferrari-forever · 1 year

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our dreams, the fairy’s tale

Pairings: Lestappen and building up to Norlestappen

Status: Ch 1/3

Summary:

“Two years in a row, eh?” His boss says, and Max tries to smile, he really does. But it’s hard to smile when you’re the only one who knows there’s something missing—that you aren’t really whole.

Most of the time, Max pretends.

Not in Monaco, though. Never in Monaco.

The blacksmith makes to congratulate Christian. Max recoils. To their right, red-clad mechanics are finishing up for the day. One side of the Ferrari garage is constantly deserted.

It shouldn’t be.

The Once Upon a Time Norlestappen AU I've been meaning to write since the 2022 season started.

Read on AO3

#lestappen #norlestappen #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 rpf #pi finally posts about her fics on Tumblr

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adventuringblind · 3 months

Text

Rest

Norlestappen X Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: Reader is struggling badly with a flair up but doesn't want to admit it.

Warnings: unspecified chronic illness, collapsing in exhaustion, worried boyfriends

Notes: another Nonny request!! Love this one so much! (Comments feed my praise kink and give me motivation to write... if anyone was wondering...)

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The heat had been driving her insane. Qatar is a nightmare. It's so humid that it's difficult to breathe.

Her body despises the heat. It pulls every ounce of energy from her system. Make the pain soar to ungodly levels.

But she's not the one racing.

Max, Lando, and Charles are the ones racing. It's not fair to them that she needs their help when they have to endure whatever hell this is in a death machine for two hours.

She forces her mask back on and pretends she's fine despite her protesting body.

She checks on Charles first. Max and Lando are on the podium, so it gives her some time to see that he's alright.

Which, truth be told - he doesn't look. He's drenched in sweat mixed with cold water. He's panting and trying to peel off his fireproofs.

"Charlie? Are you okay?" She peeks her around the corner, and he shakes his head no.

She helps him get out of the drenched clothing and into a shower. Her phone buzzes violently in her pocket as Charles steps out. She kisses his cheek and dips out to see Lando, the culprit of calling her non-stop.

She drags her body to McLaren. Aching bones won't give her any reprieve as she walks. The heat is unbearable, smothering her mind in a deep fog she can't escape.

The McLaren staff barely bat an eye in her direction. Most give her pitiful looks, probably whispering about how she looks like a zombie.

She'll rest later. Her boys need her right now.

She taps Lando's door with her knuckles. He looks bright-eyed when she opens it. Smells of champagne sweat nearly knock her over. She has to bite back a gag.

Instead, she returns his smile and throws herself at him. "I'm proud of you!"

"Was a good race, wasn't it? A but jealous of Osc and proud at the same time."

She hums and closes the door behind her. Immediately going back to draping herself over the Brit. Effectively using him to help keep her upright.

"Are you alright, love? You look a bit out of it..."

"I'm fine, Lan, just been a long day, is all. Had a lot of cheering to do, you know!"

Lando manages to run around the small room, tugging off his wet clothes, rinsing his hair, and throwing on his team kit.

She grabs something to style his hair with, Lando will be in shambles later if he sees his hair looking wrecked.

She swears they both almost fall asleep to the repetitive movments. A small intimate thing shared between the two of them.

A much louder knock then her earlier one hits their ears, startling the two out of whatever trance they’re in. “Lando! You’ve got interviews to do!”

The Brit groans in disappointment, but gets up regardless. “Thank you, love.” He leans down to where she is still sitting and kisses her forehead. “Will you be alright?”

“I’m going to see Max next, I already saw Charlie.” She throws him a reassuring look. “I’ll be okay, promise.” She even holds out her pinky finger for him to wrap his own around.

That promise, however, is getting harder and harder to keep as she drags her weary bones to Max. Her body is screaming at her to stop moving, find somewhere to sleep for a couple of years before it goes back to making life difficult.

She shakes her head. No, she wasn’t the one driving in the hell today. She can wait until her partners are squared away.

Max greets her outside of the energy station. His face drops when he sees her. Her smile, although genuinely happy, is lopsided. Even the muscles that show her happiness are tired. That should be a red flag, but she continues forward.

Her and Max make their way to his drivers room. His arm wrapped around her waist in much ended comfort and support. She hopes he hasn’t caught on to the way she’s leaning into him to keep herself up.

they flop onto the couch together. “Lando told me you were on your way. He’s a bit worried about you.”

“I told him I’m alright, I promise. The heat is just difficult.”

“Tell me about it.” Max rolls his eyes.

Max’s presence and her comfortable position on the couch do nothing to help her fatigue. The drowsiness is slowly taking hold and she’s not sure how long she can hold it off for.

“You can sleep now, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She hadn’t even noticed she was asleep, slumped against Max’s body. Not until she cracks her eyes open and sees her lovers laying spread out across the room.

Ice packs are strewn across their bodies. Lando is drooling on Charles’ chest, Max has a hand dangling of the side of the sofa that looks like it was previously in charles’ hair, and Charles is sleeping with his body sitting upright.

She wants to giggle at the sight. They all look comfortable despite the chaotic positioning.

Her body moves on its own accord. the ice packs should be refrozen and she might be able to get her hands on some new ones while she’s at it.

She gets nowhere as Max’s arm wraps around her, pulling her back down on top of him. Lando and Charles stir awake from all the movement.

“Nice try, but you’re not going anywhere.”

She pouts at Max. “But I’m fine now. Just needed a nap, is all.”

Charles turns enough so that both him and Lando are able to see her, even if it’s not well. “The circles under your eyes say otherwise.’ He reaches up to hold her hand. “Thank you for taking care of us, but now it’s your turn.”

She would probably be crying s she had the energy to. The compassion they all have for her, even when she lacks it herself. It’s overwhelming at times. especially when she feels undeserving, like she hasn’t earned it.

Lando shimmies his way out of Charles’ hold and fixes himself. His arm coming up to wipe away the trail of drool. “Now that we’re all awake, I’ve tasked Oscar with bringing us popsicles, anybody want ‘em?”

A course of happy cheers fills the room at the mention of a cold treat.

Her smile doesn’t feel tired this time.

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