“How Was Lewis’s Lap, Nico?“

Jason: I’d fold Batman like a paper towel.

Duke: So why don’t you want to fight with Bruce, then?

Jason: Are you on crack?

i fully believe that luffy was the most clingy kid ever after the incident

this little flashback scene was too cute

Toto Wolff pseudo-advocating gaslighting, manipulation and inflicting psychological distress upon young adults to chase a world championship? Fork found in kitchen.

tom: “what will you miss about him?”

james: “the days when he would just produce total magic that would make you go, oh my goodness. putting a car on a road with such precision that just left all the other drivers around him with no option but to sort of surrender to what lewis was doing on the road. the ability to make a tyre last and last and last, even while telling bono it wouldn’t. […] the drama that goes along with having him as a team mate. just the delivery of brilliant, brilliant performance. i’ve said before i think he’s the best racing car driver there’s ever been, and i still believe it.”

tom: “and that’s coming from a man who has worked with michael schumacher!”

james: “another utterly remarkable person. it’s a parlor game we can all indulge in endlessly without resolution. but if i, gun against the head, had to choose the best person, i would pick lewis.”

nico rosberg calling lewis the GOAT multiple times in under two seconds

i wish you’d write a fic where max and lewis get interviewed by nico r babyy

baby!!! just for u? consider me on it.

So picture me this. Lewis and Max have been out for approximately five business days. They legitimately broke twitter. Like, the birds carrying the whale picture and everything. Lewis is, in all honesty, a little smug about this--if he's gonna be out he's gonna do it in style, thanks.

Max is a little less pleased with this turn of events, but Lewis would be hard-pressed to find a time in which Max is pleased with media attention, so Lewis isn't overly concerned.

They have an interview with Sky Sports scheduled--just him and Max, softball questions, racing focused. Or at least, that's how Angela pitched it. Max agreed to it on the grounds that all questions about their relationship would be henceforth banned. The PR teams agreed, and that was that. Lewis's little battering ram. He's precious, really.

Lewis puts on his best shades, drapes himself in silk and jewelry. Max's RedBull polo has a stain on it. That's his man right there.

They walk to the setup hand in hand, Max's glare daring anyone to say jack shit about it. Lewis is just doing his best not to grin like an idiot about it--Max makes him feel a little stupid, like, all the time. Lewis is learning to roll with it.

The cameras are being adjusted, Lewis dutifully lets some scared little intern powder his face, Max's death glare stopping her from even attempting with him. "Any question you do not like," Max says seriously, blue blue eyes boring into him, "I will of course deal with."

"I've dealt with worse," Lewis soothes, because he has. But still, it's sweet of Max.

"And it was stupid then, too," Max says stubbornly, jutting his chin out. "It is stupid, the things they call you. You maybe let them get away with it, but I will not. In general, okay, you are a driver, fine. But here you are my boyfriend. They will treat you with respect."

Lewis has to swallow hard against the lump in his throat, gives Max's hand a tight squeeze. "Yeah, okay."

"Good," Max nods tightly, then squares his shoulders to face the cameras. Lewis gives himself thirty blissful seconds of staring at Max's profile before he, too, turns to face the music.

It's--fuck. Fuck. Because, see, Lewis knows those eyes. Lewis knows those eyes and he knows that face and he once knew that man better than anyone else in the world.

Because standing there, holding the presenter's mic and looking like he'd rather suck off Christian Horner, is Nico fucking Rosberg.

Fuck.

So, even though you have broken my heart yet again. I wanted to say…

what is up with this guy