These Two Are The Prime Examples Of Black Cat & Golden Retriever Duo ✨️✨️

happy pride to iceman and his batshit crazy twink that produces undeniable results with extremely questionable methods and flirts with anything that moves while driving/flying something that goes vroom vroom

Another angsty Launt ficlet with an open (not so happy) ending

Longer than the previous snippets but filled with angst to the brim. Maybe I’ll expand it a bit and give them a happy end since I’m really not that satisfied with this version so far.

Anyways I’d love to know what you guys think of it and I hope you enjoy!

“Niki!” James’s voice was a whip crack through the pits, causing multiple heads to turn. Niki looked up, his expression hardening as he met James’s furious gaze.

“What is it, James?” Niki asked, his voice cool and detached.

James’s fists were clenched at his sides, his knuckles white. “You know damn well what this is about. Your team’s pathetic act of getting me disqualified. You couldn’t beat me on the track, so you had to get rid of me some other ratty way? That’s a fucking coward’s move.”

Niki’s eyes narrowed. “Cowardly? Your car didn’t meet the regulations. We followed the rules, and the officials agreed. If anyone’s to blame, it’s your own team for not building a legal car. But it's easier to blame others than admit you fucked up, huh?.”

James took a step closer, his voice rising with every word. “Don’t give me that technicality bullshit, Lauda. Just because you drive a Ferrari, you think you know everything! You and Ferrari couldn’t handle losing, so you took the cheap way out. You’ve always been obsessed with winning, but this? This is a new low. Even for you”

Niki stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “We played by the book, James. Racing isn’t just about driving fast; it’s about discipline, precision, strategy. Qualities you clearly lack.”

James laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. “Discipline? Strategy? You’re so wrapped up in your calculations that you’ve forgotten what it means to really race. To feel the car, to embrace the danger. I should’ve listened to the others. You’re a machine, Niki. A cold, unfeeling machine.” He looked down at the German with a mocking scoff “I don’t even know why I called a backstabbing, ugly little Rat like you my friend.”

The words hit Niki like a slap, but he kept his composure. “And you’re a reckless fool. You risk your life and everyone else’s for the sake of your ego. You don’t respect the car, the track, or the people who depend on you. You’re so busy being the charming playboy that you don’t care who you hurt along the way.”

James’s eyes blazed with fury as he stepped closer to Lauda. “At least I’m living, Niki. At least I’m not hiding behind a wall of fear and rules. You’re scared. Scared of losing, scared of taking risks, scared of really living. Face it, rat. You’re nothing but a coward.”

Niki’s vision blurred, his emotions a mess of hurt and and anger, and he's pushing James away from him before he's actually even realized his arms were moving. “You think I don’t know fear?” he said, his voice shaking and his eyes not daring to meet the Brit’s. “I live with it every day. But I don’t let it control me. I use it to make me better, to make me smarter. That’s what keeps me alive.”

"Coward." James repeats, trying to slap Niki’a arms away. "You can't even look me in the eye." Niki shoves him back with a force that surprised them both and there's a glint in James’ eyes. "You gonna hit me? Is this how you sort out your fights? Punch them in the face and walk away, Rat, Mr Robot and no fucking emotion at all? No. You’re weak. You’re a pathetic excuse of a man and a driver-"

"Shut up!" Niki screams. He's shaking, on one hand he wants to cry, on the other actually plant his fist in the smug grin of the Brit but he knew he wouldn’t stand a real chance in a physical fight with Hunt. He's stepping back from James, his voice trembling as he tries to speak, "If you hate me so much then just leave me alone! I don't need you, just fuck off for all I care." The tears that welled up in his eyes finally spilling.

"Are you crying?" James laughs incredulously. “Oh, poor Niki,” he mocked. “Always the victim, always playing the martyr. You’re pathetic.”

Niki couldn’t take it anymore. The pain, the fury, the shame—all of it boiled over in an instant. With a choked sound, he pulled away, turning and walking swiftly out of the garage, ignoring the startled looks of the mechanics and team members.

Idk why but I thrive on angst and hatred centered fics so that’s probably what I’ll post here the most 🥰💅

I'm sorry but is this supposed to look like they were NOT just fucking in one of their driver rooms? nico tucking in his shirt does not help with the allegations.

When it comes to writing ff I always have to create a playlist for it first to be really able to put my head into the situation but if I’m just out and enjoying my day while I come up with the (in my eyes) best ff idea I’ll just write it down like a mindless scribble on a post-it and that shit looks like this:

Something changed him. Ofc people say it’s the fire. The hot inferno that cost him half of his face and almost his live but there was something else. Those blue eyes you could feel like needles in the back of your head whenever he was close, where colder, all traces of any human emotion, even if some people would argue that there weren’t any to begin with, seemingly gone and replaced with pure hate and rage.

A shudder ran down James’ spine as he watched him, those blue eyes piercing into him and making him feel more than uncomfortable. The stare caused a wave of physical sickness spread through his body.

He knew he fucked up and he tried to apologize at the hospital, only to be stared at and sent away. Hunt hasn’t heard him say a word since the beginning of that race on August 1st. It’s as if the man had gone mute. Tho he was already saying enough with his eyes, causing everyone to avoid him as if he had a shield or an aura that made everyone shit their pants if they’d got too close. Burning everyone who tries to come close.

He averted his gaze with a slight nod but he could still feel the rats eyes on him.

His stomach was almost betraying him in keeping his breakfast down as he silently regretted every choice he’d ever made in his live. His hands were trembling as he looked down at them, grabbing his helmet in an attempt to busy them and stop the shaking. James forced myself to stay rooted in place, though every instinct screamed at him to run.

Hunt doubted he’d get out of this race alive, not if those eyes would follow him.

English isn’t my first language and I think German grammar goes into this a bit too much so bear with me

I might start to post my little launt notes if the fandom is still alive.

First time actually actively using tumblr so idk how this really works.

I think I’ve read almost every Launt ff on ao3 and I need more so I might as well add to the collection

After fighting with my Notes app and Tumblr I finally got it. The spicy (nsfw) confessional Launt ficlet I promised!! Although it’s not really a ficlet anymore. I got a bit carried away.

Anyway…! I hope you enjoy and just some warnings:

Minors do not interact!!

There’s no explicit consent (in this doc they are both horny for each other so I count that as consent)

And if there are any spelling, grammar or formatting mistakes please do let me know!

Hope you enjoy!

It was a sweltering night in Monza, and the post-race celebrations had carried on longer than usual. James and Niki had found themselves in a bar not far from the circuit, downing shots and beers as if tomorrow didn’t exist.

By the time they staggered out into the moonlit streets, they were laughing loudly, the alcohol making them forget everything that existed around them. They wandered aimlessly, their laughter echoing off the silent buildings, until they came across a small, dimly lit church.

“Look at this place,” James said, pushing the heavy, surprisingly unlocked, wooden door open. “An open invitation” He flashed a wide grin towards Niki “Never been in a church while drunk before.”

Niki chuckled, the sound echoing softly in the empty nave. “You’re a terrible influence, James.”

He shook his head but followed James inside. The dim light from the stained glass windows cast colorful patterns on the stone floor, giving the place an ethereal quality. They wandered around, whispering jokes and daring each other to do silly things.

James spotted the confessional booth and a devilish idea sparked in his mind.

“Hey! Hey, Niki, Niki! let’s have some fun! You get in one side, and I’ll be the priest. Time to atone for your sins!” James grinned, his voice slurred as he staggered into the confessional.

Niki laughed, a rare, genuine sound. “Atone for what sins, exactly?”

“Oh, I’m sure we can think of something,” James replied with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Niki, too inebriated to resist the absurdity, followed suit and entered the other side, closing the door behind him. He slumped down onto the wooden bench, the small window between them allowing their voices to carry clearly.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” James intoned, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “It’s been… well, never mind how long it’s been since my last confession. Let’s hear yours, Lauda.”

Niki leaned back against the wooden wall, his laughter dying down. “Fine, fine. I’ll play along.” He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

James stifled a laugh. “Tell me your sins”

At first, Niki did play along, joking about minor indiscretions and taking a swig of his booze every now and then. But as the alcohol loosened his tongue, the mood shifted.

“You know,” Niki began, his voice quieter now, “there’s someone I like… someone I shouldn’t”

“Are you going to tell me about your wet dreams now?” James asked with a loud laugh as he shifted on the wooden bench to lean against the parting frame, making himself more comfortable to continue sipping on his booze.

Niki joined in on the laugh “I thought I was supposed to confess my sins, so will you let me finish?” He asked without thinking, his mind completely cloudy from the alcohol

James, intrigued and slightly more sober, pressed his face against the window that was separating the two “so you do have wet dreams?? Niki, no feelings at all, Lauda?” He chuckled and settle down into a proper sitting position again.

“Tell me more about the lucky girl” he urged, his voice a mixture of amusement and genuine interest.

Niki hesitated, took another sip of alcohol, then continued “It’s someone close to me. I think about them a lot. About us, together. It’s… intense.”

James felt a jolt of surprise, his amusement fading into something more intense. “Them?” he repeated, with a strange feeling rising in his chest. Hope?

There was only silence coming from the other side and if James wasn’t sure he didn’t hear the door open and close, he would’ve thought Niki had left.

On the other side Niki sat staring at his hands, moving only after a few seconds to finish his bottle and continue talking. He couldn’t stop himself now even if he wanted.

“Him. I think about him a lot.”

“A man?” James felt a flush rising to his cheeks, his curiosity piqued. “What do you fantasize about, Niki?”

The confessional’s darkened interior seemed to close in on them as Niki’s voice grew more detailed, describing his desires with a candor that made James flush. He felt the growing heat in his own body and started to fidget with the loose label of his bottle, trying to distract his mind from the images Niki was painting.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide the effect Niki’s words were having on him.

“I imagine touching him, tasting him, feeling his body against mine,” Niki said, his voice deepening with desire. James squirmed, trying to remain composed but failing miserably. His breath quickened, and he couldn’t resist the urge to touch himself, his arousal overwhelming.

“Fucking hell” he let out with a deep sigh, almost groan, as he wrapped his fingers around his aching length. Too lost in the feeling James didn’t register how loud he actually let out that sigh and that Niki fell silent.

It took him three whole strokes before he noticed the silence. Thinking Niki was just in thought or hesitant to continue, he spoke up “don’t get shy now, tell me more.” James tried to sound as composed as possible but he had to bite the back of his free hand so he wouldn’t let out an obscene moan.

Niki chuckled slightly, already suspecting that James was getting off to his confession and maybe slightly enjoying the thought of it.

He continued to share more fantasies, this time far more detailed “Its gotten so bad that I have to leave press meeting early because thoughts of him fill my mind. Of me wanting him to just shut up and finally take me, fill me up.” His tone growing more intimate, until he was certain of what James was doing on the other side.

“I want him to take me in my garage. The motorhome. Everywhere. I imagine leaning over the workbench with him behind me, me with my back pressed against the cold wall, legs wrapped around his hips as he comes deep inside of me.” Niki continued before going silent again to listen to James ragged breaths.

“Are you enjoying this, James?” he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and something darker.

James froze but then whispered a small “Yes” followed by a whine he wasn’t able to suppress.

There was a long pause. Then, without warning, Niki exited his side of the confessional and re-entered on James’s side. James was too stunned to react, his face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire.

Niki looked down at him with hooded eyes “look at you, cramped in a confessional booth with your cock out and hard, getting off to your best friends fantasies about getting fucked by a man”

He leaned down, pulled James hand back and replaced it with his own. “Tell me, James, do you imagine yourself in my place?” Niki whispered, his lips only inches away from James ear “no… you imagined yourself as the man I was talking about. Weren’t you?” He asked with a slight chuckle as he let his thumb slide over James leaking slit.

James leaned back, surrendering to the moment as Niki took control. “Niki. Please” He pleaded, the sacred silence of the church was filled with their hushed voices and James moans.

Niki pushed James thighs apart and slowly lowered his body until he sat on his knees between them.

“Do you want to know who the man in my fantasies is?” He asked, not daring to break eye contact as he lazily stroked James length.

When James nodded hastily, the hand between his teeth preventing him from letting out any sound, including words, Niki grinned.

“It’s you” he whispered before licking a broad strip over James entire length without hesitation “it has always been just you” Niki continued but hastily went back to sucking and licking at James dick.

James let out a chocked moan “fuck. Tell me that’s really true” he said, panting, as his hand moved into Niki’s hair to tug him closer.

“I would never lie in a house of god” Niki placed a kiss on the tip of James dick before wrapping his lips around it and swallowing him as deep as he could.

As Niki worked, James’s fingers tangled in his hair, his mind a whirl of emotions. The reality of what was happening crashed over him, but there was no room for regret or hesitation. In that moment, all that mattered was Niki and the way he made him feel.

Minutes later, as they both sat in the afterglow, the reality of what they had done settled in. After zipping his pants back up James looked at Niki, who was still kneeling, his eyes full of a mixture of satisfaction and uncertainty.

“Are you alright?” Niki asked, his voice soft.

James nodded, reaching out to cup Niki’s cheek. “Better than alright,” he murmured before leaning down to place a soft kiss on Niki’s lips. “Guess we both had some sins to confess”

Niki laughed, a genuine, carefree laugh that felt like a release as he leaned into the touch “Yeah, I guess we did.”

James laughed softly, pulling Niki up to have him sit on his lap and kissing him once more with a content sigh “I dreamt a lot of this.”

“Of me sucking you off in a confessional?” Niki snorted, about to add something, but James cut him off. “Hey! You know exactly what I mean so just shut up and come here.”

Before Niki could respond, James closed the gap between them again, this time capturing Niki’s lips in a firm, demanding kiss. Niki melted into it, his hands finding their way to James’s neck, gently tugging at the hair there as the kiss deepened.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, and James rested his forehead against Niki’s. “See? Sometimes it’s better to just shut up and let things happen.”

Niki laughed softly, his fingers tracing patterns on James’s back. “You always know how to get the last word, don’t you?”

James shrugged, pulling Niki closer. “Not always. Just when it counts.”

Niki let out a light chuckle, leaning his head against James’s shoulder. They sat there in the confessional booth, the world outside forgotten, lost in the unexpected intimacy of their shared confession.

Sebastian Vettel on Donald Trump: "I don't think that's a good person."

Breaking Point - Valewis FF

Valewis fic i talked about earlier!

Won't be able to finish it today but decided to post the first part of it anyway! Please read the warning!!!!

TW/CW: eating disorder, Vomiting

And as always: Any mistakes please ignore or let me know. Thank you!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Valtteri sat at the long table, the buzz of voices around him fading into a blur. The air in the meeting room was heavy with the usual technical jargon, the upcoming race strategy, tire choices, and performance analysis, but none of it sank in. Valtteri was staring blankly at the figures flashing across the screen. The lights where too bright, and the words spoken by the engineers and team principal felt distant.

He hadn’t eaten properly in days, and his body felt it. The tight knot in his stomach was a familiar companion now, gnawing at him relentlessly. The hunger was always there, but the idea of eating, of trying to force food down when everything inside him felt twisted and wrong, seemed impossible.

At least he was weighting less than Lewis now.

His chest tightened as the pressure built inside, a familiar gnawing feeling creeping in. No matter how hard he pushed, how much he trained, it never felt like enough. The weight of never being enough—never quite living up to the expectations, to the dominance of his teammate, Lewis—sat on his shoulders like an unbearable burden. He had been struggling with this for months—long, agonizing months of trying to control something that seemed so utterly out of control.

He was drowning in it, struggling to stay afloat.

But it's his own fault, no? It's what he signed up for all those years ago. Valtteri should be used to it by now. It was part of the deal.

He glanced at Lewis across the table, the man who made everything seem effortless. Lewis, always calm, always composed, with a confidence Valtteri could never seem to find in himself. His thoughts raced, louder than the voices around him.

It's not his fault. I just need to be better. Why can’t I be better?

The room felt smaller.

His palms grew damp with sweat, and his pulse quickened.

His stomach churned, a twisting pain that had become all too familiar. The pressure of racing, of constantly being compared to Lewis, of always feeling second-best, had chipped away at him. The pressure had seeped into every part of his life, his mind a relentless critic.

He could feel the room spinning. His throat tightened, and he knew if he didn’t leave now, he wouldn’t be able to hold it together much longer. He needed to get back into control. Quietly, almost cautiously, he rose from his seat, quickly moving toward the door. His legs felt shaky beneath him, but he forced himself to walk, head down, hoping no one would notice. No one usually did, after all.

Of course they don’t care.

He headed down the hallway, heart pounding in his chest, his footsteps growing faster as he neared the stairs leading up to his Room, a place where he could break down in peace. But his body betrayed him. He couldn’t hold it back any longer.

The nausea surged, and he darted into the nearest restroom. Slamming the door behind him, he fell to his knees, hunching over the toilet. His whole body trembled as he gagged, trying to keep what little food he had managed to eat earlier from coming up.

---

Lewis had noticed.

He always noticed when Valtteri disappeared. He had been watching him for weeks—how his mood shifted, how his energy seemed depleted, how his once hearty laughter had dwindled into almost nothing. At first, he thought it was just the stress of the season, but there was something more, something darker lurking beneath the surface.

It wasn’t until he saw Valtteri’s hunched shoulders hastily leaving the room that a sinking feeling settled in his gut.

Lewis followed.

---

Valtteri knelt on the cold floor of the small bathroom, his hands gripping the porcelain edge of the toilet. His body trembled, the shame of what he was doing hitting him in waves, but it was the only way he felt in control. He hated it. He hated himself for it. But he couldn't stop.

He felt utterly alone in that moment, as he always had in the shadows of the team. But then, through the haze of sickness and shame, he heard the door creak open.

"Valtteri?" Not now. Not him. It was Lewis. Of course, it was Lewis.

His chest ached, too late to hide, too late to pretend everything was okay. He heaved, gagging as his body rejected the little food he had forced himself to eat earlier, his body convulsing as he struggled to breathe between violent retches.

"Go away," Valtteri choked out, his voice hoarse. His knuckles turning white from the force he held onto the porcelain with. He heaved again, his body shuddering as another wave of nausea hit.

Lewis stood frozen in the doorway. His breath hitched at the sight before him. Valtteri, the strong, composed teammate he had always admired, was hunched over in a position that spoke of agony and desperation. His heart clenched painfully in his chest.

"Valtteri…" Lewis's voice was a whisper, filled with concern but to Valtteri, it felt like a stab to the gut.

Valtteri lifted his head but didn't turn around. He couldn't. He couldn’t face this—couldn’t face Lewis. Not now, not like this. His eyes were wide, chest tight, as if even breathing hurt. He wanted to tell him to leave, to walk away and pretend he hadn’t seen any of this. But the words caught in his throat, choked by the raw shame and exhaustion.

He swallowed hard, trying to compose himself, to act like it wasn’t what it looked like. But it was. He knew it, and Lewis knew it too. He couldn’­­t help it. His body trembled as he hunched over the bowl once more, dry heaving, retching with nothing left to give. His stomach was painfully empty, but still, he gagged, his throat burning from the bile coming up in harsh waves.

Lewis stepped forward, the weight of the moment hanging between them like a thick fog. "Val, what—" Valtteri could feel the concern radiating off him, but he couldn’t bear it.

His body was still shaking, and he could feel Lewis’s presence close behind him. Why did he follow me? He had always tried so hard and managed to hide it before, always kept this side of himself locked away. He couldn’t bear for anyone, especially Lewis, to see him like this.

"Don't," Valtteri cut him off, his voice hoarse, raw from the strain. He didn’t want Lewis to see him like this, vulnerable, broken. "Please, Lewis, just-" His body convulsed, another dry heave shaking him as more bile rose in his throat. He gagged, coughing, the sound echoing in the small restroom. His whole body ached, exhausted from fighting this battle for so long.

"Just… go," Valtteri croaked, his voice ragged, barely audible "please."

I feel like I have to thank my 7th grade German teacher for watching goodbye Lenin with us and with that making me realize that I was hella gay (and maybe in love with Daniel Brühl)