Just Watched The “F1” Trailer, And It Looks SO SHIT

If I had the chance to start over || Launt

It got out of hand. I got lost in my own writing while listening to chances on repeat. I startet writing this fic at around 10:30pm and its now 3am so please excuse any mistakes etc and let me know if there are any!

Summary: James has had feelings for Niki for a long time now. He never ends up confessing tho and one day the despair hits him so hard he gets himself so fogged with alcohol and drugs that Niki has to come and save the day once again. Meanwhile James finally opens up about his feelings.

Silverstone

The roar of engines filled the air at Silverstone as James Hunt pulled his helmet off, shaking his golden hair free. James leaned against the pit wall, he glanced across the pit lane as his gaze fell on Niki Lauda, cool and composed, discussing strategies with his team. There was a magnetism to Niki that James couldn't quite shake off, a quiet strength and an enigmatic presence that drew him in.

James found himself watching Niki more than usual. Every precise movement, every calculated decision, and the sheer determination etched on his face fascinated James. He wondered if Niki ever noticed the stolen glances, the lingering looks. It was a fleeting thought, quickly buried beneath a brash smile and a casual shrug. James Hunt wasn't the type to dwell on feelings, especially not feelings as confusing as these.

"Hey, Hunt," a voice called, snapping him out of his reverie. It was one of the mechanics. "We filled her up. Ready for another round?"

James smirked, masking the tumultuous feelings inside. "Always am."

But as he climbed into his car, his mind still kept wandering to Niki.

Monaco

The glamour of Monaco was intoxicating, with its sun-soaked streets and opulent yachts. The competition was fierce, the stakes higher than ever. Yet, James found his thoughts straying towards Niki. They had become rivals on the track and, somehow, confidants off it. There were late-night conversations, hushed and intimate, where they shared dreams and fears over drinks.

One such night, James almost blurted it out. They were on the deck of a yacht, the sea breeze ruffling their hair. Niki was talking about his plans for the next race, but James couldn't focus. His mind was racing with words he couldn't say.

"I admire you, Niki. More than you know," He managed, his voice thick with unspoken emotions.

Niki smiled, a rare, genuine smile. "I know, James. I feel the same."

The words hung in the air, open to interpretation. James' heart pounded, but he said nothing more. The moment passed, leaving him with a bittersweet taste of what could have been.

Belgium

There was no reason for him to be this happy. After McLaren made changes to the car it became difficult to drive and James ended up lurching all over the track, holding other drivers up, and eventually retired with gearbox failure.

As the race ended and Niki emerged victorious, James found himself clapping louder than anyone else, his admiration barely contained while his engineers just scoffed at him in disbelieve. He didnt care though. He stopped doing that a long time ago.

Zandvoort

James often caught himself watching Niki, thinking about what might happen if he took the leap and confessed his love.

But he never did. Instead, he masked his feelings with a reckless lifestyle—partying, women, and substances. Each time he saw Niki's determined face, the longing in his heart grew stronger.

The celebration after James's latest victory was in full swing. Champagne flowed, laughter echoed, but James felt a hollowness inside. Across the room, Niki was engaged in conversation, his sharp features softened by a rare smile. He was talking to Marlene, a beautiful woman who seemed to be the only one who could break through Niki's stern exterior.

James's heart ached. He downed another glass of champagne, trying to drown the jealousy and longing that gnawed at him. What if he had taken that chance, back in '73? What if he had told Niki how he felt?

Watkins Glen

James stood in the shadows, watching Niki with Marlene, her laughter ringing out like a melody. He turned away, unable to bear the sight, and retreated to his hotel room. He saw them together often, and each time, a part of him shattered, and James cursed himself for never having the courage to confess his feelings. He never dared to hope.

Trying to numb the pain, he drowned his sorrows in alcohol and drugs. The party raged on, but James felt increasingly isolated, lost in his thoughts.

Tokyo

The neon lights of Tokyo painted the city in vibrant hues. The race was over, the celebration in full swing, but James was nowhere to be found.

In his hotel room, James poured himself another drink, the alcohol mixing with the drugs he'd taken earlier. The room spun around him, memories of races, laughter, and stolen glances merging into a painful blur.

He wondered what might have been if he had confessed his love. "What if I told him?" he muttered, downing most of his freshly poured drink "What if I just told him I love him?"

What-ifs and could-have-beens crashed over him in relentless waves, each one more unbearable than the last. His vision blurred, hot tears spilling over and streaming down his cheeks.

James collapsed onto the floor, staring at the ceiling as a sob ripped through him, raw and guttural, shaking his entire body. He tried to wipe at his eyes, but the tears kept coming, a torrential flood that refused to be stemmed. His fingers brushed against his cheeks, smearing the tears, mixing them with the alcohol he spilled.

Each sob grew louder, more desperate, as if he could cry out the anguish that had settled deep within his soul. Arms wrapping around his knees, he curled into himself, rocking back and forth in a futile attempt to find comfort.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, the pain in his chest tightening with every exhale as the room around him seemed to dissolve into a haze of sorrow, the shadows closing in, suffocating him with their presence.

The desperate banging on the door was muffled at first, almost as if it were part of the whirlwind in his head. James barely registered the noise, consumed entirely by his grief. It grew more insistent, a rhythmic pounding that seemed to match the frantic beat of his own heart. He heard voices calling his name, but they were distant, like a dream slipping away.

The door swung open with a force that startled him, and there, framed in the doorway, stood Niki Lauda, breathless and wide-eyed. Niki’s face was a mixture of confusion and concern, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him.

James looked up, his vision swimming through the tears, and saw Niki standing there, silent and stunned. For a moment, everything froze. The banging on the door had stopped, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Seeing Niki there, so vividly present when he’d only imagined him in his sorrow, was both a comfort and a fresh stab of pain.

Niki took a step forward, his eyes never leaving James’s. “James,” he said with a forced calmness, the name hanging heavily in the air. “Scheiße, James, what happened?”

"I'm sorry," he choked out between sobs, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm so, so sorry."

He didn't know who he was apologizing to—Niki, himself, the universe. It didn’t matter.

James tried to speak once more, but the words caught in his throat. He could only stare up at Niki, his emotions laid bare, his sobs a stark admission of his despair. He wiped at his face, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but the effort was futile. The weight of his sorrow and regret was too much to bear.

Niki knelt beside him, his expression a mix of sadness and empathy. He reached out a hand, carefully pulling James into a sitting position, supporting him with a firm but gentle grip. “I’m here, alright? We’ll get through this.” he said, his voice steadier than James’s own trembling hands. “Just… just breathe. In Gottes Namen was tust du dir nur an.”

James clung to Niki, his sobs finally quieting and his breathing slowing down. The room still spun, but now there was a lifeline amid the chaos.

Niki stayed with him, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them, but in that moment, the silence was enough. They sat together on the floor until Niki was convinced James wouldnt fall over or start sobbing again as soon as he let go of him.

He helped James to his feet and guided him to the couch, ensuring he was seated comfortably before moving to fetch a glass of water and some painkillers.

“You can't keep doing this to yourself. Ich kann nicht immer da sein um auf dich auf zu passen." Niki murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. " You need to stop this—drugs, alcohol. You’re destroying yourself."

James’s eyes followed every movement of Niki’s. His gaze was unwavering, even as he struggled to stay conscious. He was too weak to respond verbally, but his eyes spoke volumes, filled with a mix of regret and adoration.

Niki moved about the room, tidying up and picking up the discarded bottles with a practiced efficiency, cleaning the mess and making sure James was well enough to avoid a trip to the hospital. Despite his frustration, there was a tenderness in his touch, a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave James in this state, no matter how much James had hurt himself.

As Niki worked, James began to whisper to himself, his voice barely audible over the sound of Niki’s movements and his own ragged breathing

"If I had the chance to start over… the first person I’d seek out would be you, Niki."

Niki froze for a moment, his hand hovering over a dirty glass. He looked down, catching James’s eye for a split second. There was something in James’s gaze that made Niki pause, his heart aching despite the anger he felt.

“I should’ve... I should’ve told you, should’ve taken the chance while I could” James continued as he looked up into Niki's eyes “I would’ve done it right this time. I would’ve told you everything. I would-”

"You need to drink your water." Niki interrupted harshly as he turned to put the glass and the empty whiskey bottle on the counter.

“I’m sorry,” James whispered again, his voice breaking. “I didn’t... I didn’t know how-”

Niki leaned in to check James's pulse once more but remained silent, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of James’s emotions. The weight of the words that James had never said lay heavily in the room.

In a halting voice, he continued, "I... I love you, Niki. I've always loved you. And I know I've messed everything up, but if I had another chance, I'd do it all differently. I'd do it right."

For a long moment, Niki said nothing, just knelt there, processing the words that hung heavy in the air. He finally shook his head slightly, as if to clear his thoughts, and resumed tending to James, his movements a little gentler now.

Making sure James was settled in bed, his head resting on a pillow and a glass of water within reach, Niki turned to leave, casting one last glance at James.

“Rest, James. We'll talk more when you're sober. I’ll be around if you need anything." he said softly, his voice lacking its earlier harshness.

He turned off the light and quietly left the room, leaving James alone in the darkness.

James lay in the darkness, tears streaming down his face once more. He had finally said it, but it felt like he had lost everything. He clung to the hope that maybe, somehow, he could fix things. But for now, he was alone, begging the universe for a chance to turn back time.

The room was silent, save for his whispered plea, "I didn’t mean for it to be this way. Please. Please, let me go back. Let me fix this."

But the past remained unchangeable, and James was left to face the consequences of his silence, his heartache echoing in the empty room.

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

I’m in a good mood so here’s another little thingy I wrote.

Not entirely satisfied with it but I hope you guys enjoy nonetheless!

Retired Kimi hears about Seb crashing at a race nearby. Panicking he makes his way to the track and tries to call him but for obvious reasons he’s always ending up at Seb’s voicemail.

Voicemail 1:

[16:23]

Kimi: "Seb, it's Kimi. I just heard about the accident. Where are you? Please call me back. I'm on my way."

Voicemail 2:

[16:23]

Kimi: "Seb, it's urgent. Are you alright? Let me know what's going on. Call me back as soon as you can."

Voicemail 3:

[16:25]

Kimi: “Seb, this is Kimi again. I’m on my way to you. Stay calm, buddy. We’ll sort this out. Just let me know where you are.”

Voicemail 4:

[16:31]

Kimi: "Seb, please pick up. I need to hear your voice. I'm almost there. Hang in there."

Voicemail 5:

[16:35]

Kimi: "Seb, it's Kimi. I'm at the track now. Seb, please pick up. I’m getting worried here. Let me know you’re okay. Please.”

Voicemail 6:

[16:37]

Kimi: "Seb, I see the crash site. Are you okay? The team won’t tell me anything. Please answer me, Seb."

Voicemail 7:

[16:40]

Kimi: "Seb, it's Kimi. Help is on the way. They won’t let me go with you in the ambulance. Stay with me, buddy."

Voicemail 8:

[17:38]

Kimi: "Seb, I’m at the hospital. They still won’t tell me if you’re okay. Please talk to me. I’ll wait here."

Voicemail 9:

[20:13]

Kimi: “It’s me again. They won’t tell me how you’re doing and they won’t let me see you as well. I’ll stay and wait. Please call me back”

Voicemail 10:

[01:17]

Kimi: "Seb, they send me home. Didn’t want to but the doc said you're going to be alright. Just focus on getting better. I’ll try to be there when you wake up. See you soon."

End of voicemails.

Voicemail 1:

[06:24]

Sebastian: “I’m all right. Don’t know if I can say the same about you. The doctor told me you were pacing up and down the hallway all night so I hope you sleep well. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Voicemail 2:

[06:25]

Sebastian: “And please bring me a good coffee. The ones from the hospital suck”

End of voicemails.

None f1 Fanart

Instagram and Details below, would mean a lot if you’d check it out and maybe leave a like!

Papa V!!

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p/DG85k1lMT4a/?igsh=MTdmc21yYWVzZjZmMQ==

Details:

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

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

Seb having a Niki Lauda helmet and Kimi a James Hunt one is the definition of couple goals ❤️‍🔥🫶🏻

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.

Mentally preparing for writing a tragic love story about Niki and James atm (I’m listening to sailor song by Gigi Perez on repeat)