politecat81
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There are a hundred reasons George Russell hates his job, but the one that takes top spot, without an inkling of doubt in his mind, is Alexander Albon.
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some of the grid as teachers in a british secondary school + a school play that is begging to go wrong.
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They were two racers who had chosen different roads to survive the same obsession.
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Lando is a Formula 1 driver, Oscar is not. But he still drives fast.
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drive on, dreamer (you can't leave her) by champagne_for_breakfast
Fandoms: Formula 1 RPF
11 Sep 2025
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“If you were stuck in a timeloop, and you knew you had to stop something from happening, what would you do?”
“What 10-questions-to-ask-your-teammate-to-get-to-know-them site did you get that one from?” Lewis laughs, as he moves to pull the balaclava over his head. They have 5 minutes until they have to be ready in the car and admittedly, this moment might not be the best time to ask this kind of question.
“No, I mean it,” Charles insists, lifting his helmet from the stand, but holding it awkwardly in his hands, maintaining eye contact. “If you were stuck, what would you do?”
Lewis places his hand on his shoulder lightly, squeezing once. “We can talk about this after the race, yes?”
There won’t be an after the race, Charles thinks bitterly, but he nods his head anyway. “Yeah,” he agrees, “after the race, sure.”
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or: max crashes, charles deals with it more or less well, and the universe decides to meddle by having charles relive the same day over and over again
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Bookmarked by politecat81
23 May 2026
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“If you don't mind me asking, what exactly do you need an eggplant and two zucchinis for at two am on a Wednesday?”
Lando shot him a look. “I was gonna cook.” Obviously?
“Right.”
“Ratoutille,” he clarified.
“Ratatouille?”
“Yeah that. Whatever.”
Oscar looked at him, amused. “And why did you need to do that now, of all times?” he asked, intrigue seeping into his words. Lando had half a mind to tell Oscar to mind his own damn business but thought better of it. Weirdly, he was enjoying their odd little interaction.
Maybe it was something about how the supermarket felt like its own small little world, near-deserted in the middle of the night and somehow separate from the rainy London outside, or maybe it was because Oscar was the first person in days who didn't look at Lando like he was fragile, like he needed to be pitied.
“Because it's life changing,” he said, stupidly.
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OR: Lando decides to prove to the world he is single and thriving. What better way to do that than cooking healthy French-sounding food for himself? At two am, needless to say.- Language:
- English
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Bookmarked by politecat81
12 May 2026
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“No, I am sure it is him.” The first man insisted, the grip around Max’s shoulder tightening painfully as he was heaved forward and onto his knees. “I have seen him before.”
Max’s whole body slumped in, his eyes falling shut. They refused to open again, every breath a strain on his lungs.
There was a hand seizing him by the back of the hated steel collar around his neck, ripping on it so his head was tilted upwards, calloused fingers gripping his chin. The small pain the rough treatment caused was nothing compared to the one in the rest of his body, Max barely felt it.
“It is him. Max Emilian Verstappen.”
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Or Max is the evil knight haunting the lands of Europe during the dark ages, but when he's caught and presented to the young Prince of Ferrari, Charles figures he might not actually be that bad
Series
- Part 2 of Medieval F1 (Fic&Oneshots)
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- English
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Bookmarked by politecat81
10 May 2026