#pretty sure this was 2022 season | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leclsrc · 1 year

Text

you know it ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn WITH plot (for once?! everyone cheered), humor, bit of fluff... oh inaccurate depictions of the 2022 season sorry

word count: 7k

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... degradation, praise, charles is a bit switchy here lol, penetrative sex, a bit of ass play sorry...., oral (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

Joris insists there’s some big present waiting for Charles in his car, to celebrate the middle of the season that has, and will no doubt continue to stretch into a period of conflict and strategy woes. He yanks off the beanie sitting on his head, listens to small talk drifting between Joris and Carlos as they all walk toward their cars to alleviate the bubble of nerves in the low of his stomach.

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming box lying on the driver’s seat. Joris slides into the passenger seat after Carlos drives away with his girlfriend, his grin shit-eating and mischievous. The door is half open when Charles takes the box to inspect it. White, with the Ferrari logo printed neatly on the centre (very classy touch), the sides are signed by different members of his team. He scratches through the seal and pulls the flap open.

He’s been given a quasi-official Ferrari box of condoms.

Thirty-six condoms, at that, small squares neatly lined up next to each other. Talk about a welcoming present. Not a camera, not racing memorabilia, not a new pair of shoes. Just condoms. Thirty-six of them.

“A mid-season pick-me-up,” presses his friend, giddily. The shorter male lounges comfortably on the seat, a blissful look of pride on his face. Laughing with exasperation, Charles wedges the box shut and tosses it carelessly into the backseat, preparing to drive. This isn’t his first rodeo with weird gifts—he’s half-sure he got adoption papers from an especially excited fan once before.

“You are such an asshole.”

“It’s also a congratulations on winning literally every race so far present,” Joris adds. It’s hyperbole but has a ring of truth to it. As the season closes, Charles’ chances of holding up the trophy this year increase.

Despite himself, Charles has a better outlook on his chances for the remainder of the season, driving-wise. He’s given it his all so far, and the rest looks promising enough. He only hopes he’s right. Netflix also increased the amount of people getting into the sport, so he’s dealing with tons more fans and nosey DMs, but it’s not too much of an impediment to a hopefully stellar season.

Charles makes a right. “Do you plan to use them?” Joris asks then, a teasing tone taking on his voice as he scrolls through his phone.

“No, not really,” Charles says, lying straight through his teeth.

“You’re a fucking liar, you are.” He whips his head toward Charles, observing his stoic side profile. “You’re single, haven’t gotten laid in months—”

“—weeks.” Corrects Charles with a cough, the defense coming at an embarrassing speed.

“…Case in point. And sports gets everyone horny. And if you didn’t know, Mattia actually OK-ed the condoms, so you’ve basically been greenlit by your boss to fuck half the world. Thank me later. I’m proud of myself.”

“Sports gets everyone competitive. Because it’s sports. Which, you’re conveniently forgetting, is my life profession.”

“Loosen up,” Joris whistles lowly. “You think Lewis got seven titles by being a closed-off celibate? It’s practically tradition to fuck around if you’re single in sports. And, for others, being in a relationship is barely an obstacle, anyway.”

Charles hates to admit that Joris is right—because he is. Racing isn’t racing without the extravagant parties that follow, and the girls and guys brought back to hotels for reasons known to everyone. People from everywhere come to the paddock and the clubs—models, influencers, actors. The pent-up energy has to go somewhere, he supposes.

But even if the little shit is right, Charles still maintains a level of dignity. Ergo, he’s steadfast in his belief that he will not be sleeping around or putting this godforsaken box of condoms to any semblance of use while the rest of the season progresses. He just hopes he won’t eat his words.

—

Monza kicks off with a 1-2 and secures Charles with a comfortable lead ahead Max.

He is high on adrenaline all night, toasting and chugging to the win, snapping pictures with Carlos, proud out of his mind. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, a quench to the thirst he’d developed over the season, a slap in the face to his doubters, a kiss on his. He texts his family, friends who aren’t present, some other people who he feels are deserving of a personal announcement, and pockets his phone.

“Now would be a great time to put that gift to use,” Carlos says at some point, when everyone in the garage is kicking back alcohol and slowly preparing to move the celebrations someplace else.

Charles cringes visibly, having almost forgotten about the dreaded gift, and totally forgotten Carlos’ knowledge of it. Even with the recent win, he’s already thinking of the next, the promise of a two-peat, another podium, hell, another 1-2. The condoms were honest to God the last thing on his mind.

They break apart an hour later, when Charles is heading to the hotel and Carlos is headed somewhere else. He’s almost to the exit when someone calls his attention in a curt English voice.He turns and finds Lewis jogging toward him, outside of his race suit and back in the fashionable apparel Charles merely wishes he could pull off.

“Lewis,” he waves, pacing toward him to save the extra few seconds of waiting.

“Amazing, amazing race, man,” the elder compliments. “You’ve got the best chance at the title here.”

Warmth melts into Charles’ body and he offers praise back, which—praising Lewis is just about the easiest thing in the world. Nerves bleed out of him as the conversation continues, the atmosphere of a finished race a welcome accompaniment to their strategic talk.

“Headed to a party, yeah?” Lewis asks when they’ve both exhausted the topic. Charles gives a half-hearted shrug, already energized enough from such a momentous win, and he nods in response. “Nah, I get it. Sometimes you just gotta sleep. But hey, if you’re ever free, we should go get dinner sometime.”

—

The “dinner sometime” happens in Singapore. Having gotten P1 beside Lewis and therefore once again high off the adrenaline, Charles claps Andrea on the back and retrieves his phone to view two texts. One reads Put the condoms to use yet, champ? from Joris, and the other Can I take you up on the dinner? from Lewis. One goes answered and the other goes muted on his iMessage.

A little something he failed to remember was Lewis’ plant-based diet, a fact that hurtles back toward him when he can’t find steak on the menu of this classy, hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. Of course Lewis would know these types of places, he thinks. He’s a millennial semi-hipster with a separate Instagram account for his dog.

Charles ends up ordering pasta, and Lewis beside him orders a cacophony of very vegan, hippy sounding meals, the quantity of which could feed the two of them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Lewis says when the waiter departs, “but a friend is actually joining us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles says honestly. As long as it’s not some deranged hyperfan, he does well in social situations. Right then, Lewis calls someone over. Charles looks up, squints through the dim mood lighting to try and make out the nearing figure. And then you’re sitting down across them, smiling softly, exchanging hellos with Lewis.

A little something Lewis fails to remember is his “friends” can just as well be called “celebrities,” because he is, after all, a sporting legend. So if Lewis says “friend,” Charles will assume it’s a “friend,” and not a world-famous model whose face is plastered everywhere on and offline.

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

You introduce yourself, sliding easily into a bout of questions, apologies for missing the race, you’re impossibly jetlagged, it’s crazy. Lewis chips in with something about how he’s already ordered food for the both of you, and this and that, and Charles is hopeless, staring at your face the entire time. He hopes he looks more sexy than aloof or, worse, starstruck, because it’s turning out to be the kind of situation where he looks like the deranged hyperfan, and not the other way around for once.

To be clear, Charles isn’t a fan of you. He just knows of you, because honestly, who doesn’t at this point? You’re talking on and on about how your latest shoot with Jacquemus was a pain because you shot in a tank top in sub-zero weather, but you express it like it’s the most profound topic on Earth.

Lewis turns to him and, in an (eventually successful) effort to include more of Charles in the conversation, goes, “She’s a big Formula One fan, Charles.”

Okay. Common ground. Charles lifts both brows smugly, his eyes flickering back over to you. “Really?”

You meet his eyes and smile, looking downward and blinking owlishly. You’re so pretty, long lashes fluttering as you blink and try to find an answer. Christ, you’re so painfully his type.

Lewis chimes in again—“Really. And not just because she and I are friends. I mean she was into racing before we got acquainted. Honestly. Quiz her and everything”—then excuses himself to “take a call.” (His phone wasn’t even ringing—total bullshit—but Charles is ultimately grateful for it.)

You make a face of shut up toward the departing Lewis, and Charles exhales a quiet laugh at your defiance. You clear your throat and come up with an answer.

“I’m not a big fan,” you say. “I’m more of a casual, ‘every once in a while’ type of fan.”

“That’s what every big fan of sports says,” Charles says smoothly.

“Is it?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, making a tch noise. You chuckle before going, “Well, if you insist, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to come to this, but okay. I am a fan… of Red Bull.”

Charles fakes extreme offense, his jaw dropping as if totally scandalized. You laugh, throwing two hands up in faux surrender. “Not Red Bull,” he says, his tone making him sound even more devastated. “You’re telling me you—don’t tell me you think Max Verstappen is attractive.”

“I mean, a bit!”

Charles makes sarcastic sounds of disapproval, and you laugh. Charles leans forward, and you do, too, both of you smiling. “So you’re into the angry drivers?”

“I’m not into a specific kind of driver,” you say casually, your tongue peeking out to lick over your bottom lip. Your voice is as soft as it is firm, slow and demure, matching the way your eyes glint. You’re impossibly pretty. He almost can’t handle it.

“So who’s making the cut?” He prompts, interested.

“Well, for starters, drivers who are my age,” you say slowly. “I turned twenty-four this year, so anyone within that bracket.”

“Oh?” Charles pretends to delve into deep thought, teasing. “Maybe Stroll? He’s very funny, speaks good English. You can never really say no to a Canadian.”

Your face warms, and you hope your flustered state isn’t too obvious as you shake your head. “He seems fun, but I prefer somebody a bit… a bit older.”

“Older…” he hums. “Pierre, perhaps? Tad bit older, real charming, great driver. I can introduce you. We’re good friends, you know.”

You click your tongue, smiling shyly. You bite your lip and it takes everything in Charles to not turn on his horny gears when he sees you, big eyes and lip bite, look so pretty. “You tease me,” you say meekly. Charles covers a cough with a chuckle and adjusts his position on the seat.

Later, after Lewis comes back in (“Long call, eh? It was about Roscoe.” Bullshit again) and you all get to order drinks, and you’ve departed in your private car, pressing an air kiss to Lewis and waving goodbye to Charles, he turns to the Mercedes driver and hums.

“Next time you have one of these”—he points to the restaurant, gestures to the front door—“dinners, let me know, okay?”

“Ah.” Lewis winks, smirking. “I’ll be sure to.”

—

Understandably, your schedules never seem to mesh well together. Lewis ends up giving Charles your number as compensation.

He stares at the contact longer than he’d like to admit, when he’s marinating in the sweltering heat of Austin. He’s finished much of his work for this half of the day so he’s mostly watching the engineers work on the last bits of modification for Sunday; he cherishest the free time and drafts, reads, and rereads texts, scours Google and Instagram for pictures of, and anything related to, you.

There’s a few new articles about buying a new car (a Benz, much to Charles’ chagrin) and new photoshoots intermittently scattered across Europe, with all sorts of brands. He sees a picture you’ve posted of yourself smiling at the camera and thinks of how pretty it would look as his lockscreen.

Am I seeing you soon? He texts finally. He hopes it’s enough to let you know who he is.

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

You’ve been texting and calling almost everyday, conversations stretching continents. He only sees you next in Mexico, Friday night, at a club Lewis has rented out for a crazy price that will no doubt be replenished in days anyway. He’s dropped to second here, but the thrill riding in him makes up for his disappointment. The place is so crowded—everyone and their mums seem to have been invited here—room blinking purple and blue, each step vibrating with the heavy bass of EDM. He catches you right as you exit the washroom area, and you look pleasantly surprised to see him.

He saw you earlier, when you were doing shots of tequila and chatting with with Bella and Lewis, but just as quickly as he spotted you, you’d dipped back into the sea of people. Now is better, he thinks. You two are alone.

“Charles, hi,” you say casually. You’re wearing a tight top and a short skirt that, despite Charles’ best efforts, always cast his gaze downward. He wonders what’s underneath, hungers to get his hands there. But he’s nothing if he’s not patient, willing to play the long game.

He takes a step forward, his gaze steady on you. Charles isn’t the tallest driver, but he’s got a big presence. You swallow, taking a step back to accommodate him. He smirks. “You look pretty.”

“You flatter me,” you say thickly, smiling, inviting him closer. The air is hot around the both of you—when your eyes flit around, they see nobody. You’re alone together. His eyes pierce into yours so deep you feel like breaking eye contact, exhaling as you take another step back—evidently, you’re distracted, because you stumble.

His arm circles around your waist, and once you steady, the hand moves down to your hip. It stays, a reminder of what you might be getting soon. You smile curtly, wondering what this might look like to a bystander, a stranger. Somebody might want to piss and walk in to see the strongest world champion contender’s hand on Chanel’s poster girl’s waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly against your ear.

“More than.” You say, breath shaky. “It’s more than okay.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d hate if we couldn’t fuck before Abu Dhabi.”

Your finger traces down and wraps around the belt loop of his jeans. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Charles exhales a laugh, his lips curling upward into an amused smile. “Ah? I can’t fuck you, then?”

“I’ll let you fuck me when you’re holding up the world champion trophy,” you say sweetly, tugging him closer. “That’s okay, right?” You stare up at him, blinking, pouty. He wonders, is this how you might look with your lips wrapped around his—

“That’s about a month away.” His composure barely wavers, his hand traveling lower, blunt nails digging into your ass. Your breath hitches.

“I’m aware,” you say lowly. So be it, Charles thinks—he’s got thirty-six condoms for a reason.

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

“Penetration.” You’re quick with it, cocking your head to the side. You lean back confidently, testin him, eyes batting flirtatiously.

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

Daytime weather is hot and the paddock is swarming with people, but Charles has his sights set on somebody sitting in the Mercedes hospitality. He manages to get out of morning meetings earlier, wedging himself out of the room and passing by a mirror to fix his hair with admirable concentration. He’s in the middle of combing through it when a force tugs at the hem of his polo, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Uh—Carlos? What the hell?” He asks, brow raised defensively. Facing him are Carlos, Joris, and Pierre, arms crossed over their torsos and amused expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing?” Asks Pierre, cocking his head to the side.

“Fixing my hair.”

“Pussy appointment?” Joris interjects; the vulgarity of his statement earns him a poke on the side from Carlos, who clicks his tongue.

“Wh—I don’t—”

“You are shit at lying, mate,” says Pierre, his lips curled into a devious smile. “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

“Charles,” says Lewis suddenly from behind them, waving his arms to get the former’s attention, “are you going to go over and say hi?”

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s been caught. “Well, well, well,” Carlos starts, mischievous.

“Guys—” Charles says, attempting to make an excuse.

“Looks like your vow of celibacy isn’t so far off after all,” Pierre adds. “That one over at Mercedes is going to break it, eh?”

“Yeah.” Joris says, smirking. “Lucky George, huh.”

The three face him, incredulous. “I was kidding,” he fibs, once he realizes his epiphany is wrong. “Kidding.”

Charles walks off, and ends up seeing you right where he expected you, sitting beside Lewis in a tiny dress with your hair pinned up into a bun. Almost naturally, your words fall into the flirtatious back-and-forth you’d started at the dinner, hyperaware of the cameras snapping your pictures. At some point, the Brit excuses himself to “take a call” (again, bullshit) and leaves the two of you alone.

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with a teasing smile, head cocking to the side to gauge his reaction. He chuckles.

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

“Only a ton.” You pause. “And Daniel, too.”

“Ah, you’re just crushing on the whole paddock, now are you?” He pokes his tongue into his cheek, leans forward.” Uh, Checo?”

“Pass,” you say with a nose scrunch. You’re so fucking pretty.

“Lewis.”

“God, pass. He’s not ugly, but he’s my brother at this point.”

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

“Are you not into the French?” He smiles. “Good to know. Hmm—Carlos.”

“I’d be stupid to say anything other than smash.” You narrow your eyes, licking over your lips. “I’m into the Ferrari guys, is the thing.” His gaze travels to your crossed legs, long and disappearing into the hem of your dress.

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free from work for now,” you say casually. “Any recommendations on what fun things I can do here?”

“I can think of…” he says, smirking a little. “A few.”

—

Stupid places to have sex, number one: a motorhome.

Still, Charles is crowding you up against the wall of the room, swallowing the whimper that leaves your mouth with his own. And still, this isn’t sex. At least not the kind he wants the most. He mentally praises Carlos for being able to decipher the typo-laden text he’d sent out on the way here, one hand around your waist, the other barely capable of typing with how fast his brain ran. Clesr the fuckng room npw now npw it read. Thank God.

Your mouth tastes like champagne, and everywhere else smells divine. Your hands roam impatiently over his shoulders and you make muted noises of frustration at your inability to pull his shirt off. You settle for letting your hands crawl underneath it, stroking over his abs.

“D’you remember what I told you,” you pant, his lips insistent on your neck, “at the club?”

“Yeah,” he says, grunting at the memory.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Let me suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus. Okay. Fuck.”

You giggle, and he watches intently as you drop onto your knees, looking up at him through thick lashes. You’re insistent, pulling the zip of his jeans down and tugging his cock out. It’s pretty, thick like the rest of him, already hard.

He’s at his limit, having you here like this, on you knees and stretching your lips around the tip of his dick. Your eyes barely leave his, fluttering as they tear up when you take him in your throat.

He throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, lets a hand unpin your bun and thread itself into the untangled hair. If he looks at you, he’ll see your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and he genuinely needs to hold off the orgasm first.

He rocks forward into your mouth and feels your throat close up around him. That’s enough to weaken his resolve, send grunts out of his throat that he can’t keep quiet.

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling every part of your mouth and throat around him, warm and tense. He can’t help but thrust harder, steady but not too rough, growing more aroused with every sound of you choking on him.

His gaze flickers toward you. You’re teary-eyed, lips dotted with spit, choking yourself on his cock. Just for him, here in public. You pull off, blinking tears away from your face and looking up at him smilingly.

He laughs, guiding his cock back into your mouth, watching the way your brows knit together, pleading, almost. You're at his mercy, he thinks, thrusting harder, listening to your coughs. He loves seeing you like this, innocent face messy and slick with spit and precum, eyes big and needy.

“You like that?” He grunts. “Look at me.”

You nod the best you can. Yes, you want to say. Give me more, I love it.

“Yeaaah, fuck. I know you do,” he says through his teeth, staving off his orgasm the best he can before he releases all over you. The image alone of streaking you with his cum, claiming you all over-eyelashes, tits, cheeks splashed with cum-is enough to send him closer to the edge. “Gonna cum,” he grunts.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his eyelids to flutter. You shake your head, pulling off and wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking slower. “Not yet,” you say sweetly, watching him throw his head back in pleasure and frustration. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, exhales shakily.

“Shit.” He whines. “Come on, baby. Make me cum.” He cups your jaw, stares down at you.

You stroke him faster, lip between your teeth. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “Cum for me, Charles.”

He stops staving himself off, falls into the pleasure and relief of your hand around his cock until he’s tense all over, knitting his hand into your hair and pushing you backwards so he can press his tip on the flat expanse of your tongue and let his cum shoot there. It drips from your tongue and lips onto your chin and you giggle, swallowing it, scooping up the rest to push into your mouth.

You stand, licking your lips slowly. “I owe you,” he pants, zipping himself up. Already he’s thinking about what he can do to you in return. Tease you, like you did him, bend you over his lap or sit you on it and make you whine and writhe and wait and cum.

“I’ll hold you to that, champion,” you murmur, kissing his cheek and slipping back outside.

—

Ferrari’s advice is shit and despite his good mood and quick-witted driving, Charles finishes in fifth—not too shabby, but disastrous for his overall standings.

He suffers through a horrible debrief where attempts to defend his honor go unheard, his mood wilting and wilting until he’s at the media pen and ushered in front of some network he hasn’t heard of. They’ve probably paid to get a good seat here.

He’s in a shit mood, he hasn’t seen Joris or Pierre or you in hours, and has only faced red-faced frustrated superiors and now, wide-eyed journalists with loose mouths. The media’s done the mandatory speculation between the two of you, so he already expects questions of that variety, but it’s still hot and angry when he does.

Are you banging the Marc Jacobs model? The Irish reporter asks with a wink, so very unprofessional and not at all belonging to reputable media. The hot leggy one who has fuck me eyes?

Charles clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes, says fuck off mate and shoves him backward a little, then walks away and readjusts his cap. The clip makes Twitter and he feels even worse with the amount of troll accounts telling him to Jeez, take a joke.

After the ordeal, in your hotel room, you sigh softly and run your hands through his still shampoo-smelling hair. “You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a bit strictly. He knows you’re grateful, though, and a bit proud.

“I wanted to,” he insists softly. He forgets to leave before morning; when he does, he forgets his official Ferrari shirt hanging on the seat, leaving in a spare one instead. It’s got his number across the back. You don’t tell him.

—

In between Mexico and Sao Paulo, he manages to catch a flight to New York to peek into one of your photoshoots. It’s for Chanel and he’s half-sure he’s taken more pictures of you than the official photographer did. At this point your vague relationship status has caught onto headlines everywhere, and he doesn’t miss the curious murmurs from paparazzo that follow him as he enters your apartment later to greet you.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a tank top when you open the door, greeting him with a tight hug and leading him inside with a loose grip.

“Wine?”

“Please.” He eyes the wide area, the big floor-to-ceiling windows and the art on the walls. “Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hum, sliding a glass toward him. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Something else.” You smile. He tears his eyes away from your tits, poking out of the thin cotton, and coughs.

The both of you end up on the couch, your legs draped over his as you talk about racing.

He’s ranting about how he’s neck to neck with Max now, and the final verdict will likely be decided at Abu Dhabi, a fact that sends nerves all through him. You’re listening, you really are, but it’s difficult to keep listening because his hand, big and rough, is stroking your bare calf as he talks absentmindedly.

You offer the occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh and even the oh really to sell it, but he doesn’t seem to be conscious of how many sparks are coursing through you because of his hand on your leg. He just talks and talks, accent curving into curse words elicited by the competition.

And his voice, rough and deeper when he slides into Italian phrases, gets in your head, reminds you of the way he’d moaned when you had his dick in your mouth. You like that? he’d said, panting, heavy, hot. His hand remained in your hair, controlling you the same way you did him. Fuck.

When you blink, he’s stopped talking, and has likely noticed your wandering imagination if his teasing smile is anything to go by. You cough, clear your throat, adjust your thighs. You’re thinking—you can’t stop thinking—about what happened in Mexico, not just in the motorhome but in the club where he’d let his hand sprawl over your ass and stay there, possessive.

The tension rises. I owe you. He really does. You reach over and grab your phone from the coffee table, snap a few pictures of him. “—Hey!” He protests, scrabbling to grab it from you while balancing his half-full glass. “I look god awful.”

You stand up, review the picture. He looks so impossibly handsome. “You’re right, you do,” you say, pouting.

He reaches over again, chuckling, and you avoid him. “Foul play!”

“Tch. At least show it to me,” he says defeatedly, so you do: presenting your screen to him.

Quickly, he makes a grab for it, but you just escape his grip, ending up right in front of him and leaning over. You’re losing your balance, digging your toes into your carpet to maintain stance. He spares a glance at your shorts, riding low on your hips, showing a bit of thin lace.

Charles tugs you forward by the hem of your top and then takes your wrist into his grip—the force of his grab makes your tits shake underneath your flimsy tank top. It’s dragged down so far your tits are spilling out. His eyes flicker down to them, dark, and a pretty smile spreads across his face.

“Come on, give it,” he challenges, eyes narrowing a little. You bite your lip, inwardly liking this a little too much—being at his mercy, trapped in his strong grip. You’re flustered and it shows.

He wrestles you onto his lap with ease, his arms steady around you. You stare downwards, dark eyes meeting his, hand on his broad shoulder for leverage. He’s so pretty, you think, so hot and handsome and you need him right now. Through his jeans you can feel how thick he is, his dick growing, getting hard and huge under you. It feels big even through a few layers—you can’t help but imagine how it might feel inside you.

Your phone clatters to the carpet behind the couch. “I win,” you say breathlessly.

He grabs your hips and jerks his upward, letting his stiff dick press up even more against your shorts.

“I think I’m the winner here,” he says gruffly, hands feeling you up all over. He thumbs at your chest, rubbing over your tits. You shiver—it feels good having him on you like this, your mind turning to mush.

“Shut up,” you laugh, shakily. A hand wanders in between your thighs, another coming to squeeze your barely-covered ass. You can’t focus on much, just his hands roaming everywhere and his hard dick pressing against your core. He shoves your hips downward again, his cock hard and perfectly against your pussy.

“You feel that?” He asks; it leaves him in one low breath.

“Yeah,” you say, whimpering. “I want it.”

He grinds up against you again, his thumb teasing the hem of your shorts. Closer to where you want it. “Don’t think you could even take it, baby.”

“I hate you,” you say. “You know I can.”

He laughs. “We’ll see, yeah?” You find a rhythm of grinding down against his cock, nestled right against your ass. He’s everywhere and you can’t handle it anymore, finding yourself craving him more and more.

You moan against his neck—and then come to your senses. “No.”

He smirks when you pull away. “Tempted, were you?”

“Not…” You pause. You’re sweaty, flushed all over, and your panties are sticking to you from how wet you’ve grown. “Not very.”

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

It comes with meetings, meetings, debriefs, calls, meetings. Everything is riding on the night’s race, the flurry of social media a welcome source of anxiety for him as he watches the hours whiz by. You’d missed seeing him, understood he was busy; you send a selfie to compensate and it gets him calm enough to last the pre-race buzz.

Time speeds by with lunch, coaching, drills, talks with Carlos and Mattia and even Max, who displays support as strongly as competitiveness. Before he even realizes it, he blinks and he’s in his suit, adjusting his balaclava, inhaling, exhaling. Everything is just the way he likes—needs—it to be.

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

All else seeps into him, natural method, natural routine. He flexes his thumbs. Through the team radio his engineer goes good luck, and Charles’ practice bleeds into his subconscious. The air is heavy, with tension and excitement, the division of blue and red. Everyone’s eager to see who claims the title.

The lights go off and everything is left to skill, blurring into noise and turns and expletives yelled into the team radio. He can’t even feel himself think, turning with dexterity and overtaking with the kind of vengeance he hasn’t let out in a while.

For all his trying, Max keeps up just the same, keeping a neck and neck level for the relative entirety of the race. They’re milking out the last few laps together, and Charles feels every fibre of his being work toward this, just this, nothing but this right now. Nothing but the finish line.

You got this, Charles, says the engineer, voice heightening. Maiden world championship.

He nods to himself, trusts his instincts and when he catches sight of the finish line, he thinks: he’s the best driver on the grid.

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

He’s smiling when he approaches the reporter, who’s already holding the mic with wonder. He asks for a message in Italian, then reminds him—and the crowd—that, in case he forgot, he’s world champion. Charles thinks he genuinely can’t ever.

“What are you doing to celebrate?” He asks then, smiling.

Sweaty, with damp hair and shiny skin, he smirks and leans closer. “Someone, I hope.”

—

“Hey there, champ.”

You’re already leaning against his hotel room door when he gets there, after the chore of wrestling himself free from the rest of the team pressuring him to get drinks. Carlos helps out, babbles something or other about Charles being “busy with something else”—which isn't wrong, not at all. He offers a smooth wink, bending down to kiss you.

Your mouths meet, softly first then increasingly messy as he pins you against the door. You push away, breathing heavy. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don't want the top floor of this hotel seeing us fucking.”

“I wasn’t into that, but now that you brought it up…” You swat his arm and he laughs, unlocking the door and pulling you inside. You’re clinging onto him—his arms, his chest, anything, kissing up his neck and jaw. He groans at how needy you are. All for him, he thinks. Probably soaked through your panties and it’s all because of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says gently, voice low as he leads you to the bed. He catches sight of your shirt and a brow raises. “Did you buy that?”

“Hmm?” You look down, following his gaze and blinking. The shirt you’re wearing is loose, hanging off your shoulders and hastily tucked into your miniskirt so it looks like you actually have trousers on. “Oh. No, this is yours.”

“Mine.” He smiles a little. “You look so good in it, princess.” His hands mindlessly grope at you, hungry, sneaking underneath your skirt to feel at the lace there.

In retaliation, you lean forward, unbutton his jeans and tug at it.

“You left it at one of my”—you gasp, feeling his finger sneak its way beneath your panties—“my hotel rooms.”

“Pretty girl, pretty shirt, pretty lace, yeah?” He tugs, lets the garter of the skirt loosen and fall off your hips on its own. “Red.”

“You take too long,” you groan.

“You’re just eager,” he laughs, thumbing at your clothed cunt.

You’re so wet, evident even in the lazy circles he rubs over your entrance. You’re aching, desperate, begging almost. So he gives you what you want, maneuvers you onto his lap and pushes your (his) shirt up to stuff your mouth with it.

It won’t work for long, but it’s enough. He pushes your panties to the side and pulls his hard dick out. You’re sitting against it now, leaking slick onto it, at his mercy, branding his name and his number across your back. It’s hot.

He stares at the way you rock softly against him, hungry eyes meeting yours. “You’re so pretty, baby. Ruined.”

“Fuck me already,” you say, voice throaty, innocent.

“Can you take it?” He asks, teasing you, slapping his dick against your clit softly. You whine.

“Please,” you insist. “I want it. Make it fit.”

He’s a massive tease with it, his breath fanning against your skin, hands sticky on where they’ve hiked your shirt up. He lowers you, slower, against the tip of his dick and he watches your eyes flutter when you sink onto it. After ages of waiting. Your grip’s like iron on his shoulders, moans leaving you in quiet bursts of pleasure.

You’re far away, dumb from the feeling, you barely register the way he shoves the shirt back into your mouth to keep you quiet. “So fucking tight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. It’s muffled, barely intelligible. “For you.”

You’re only able to take it because you’re so wet, so turned on, face and brain filled with nothing but pleasure. He can’t take it.

“Mmmfh,” you say, muffled by the bite of cotton in your mouth. You’re sweaty, flushed, overstimulated—you don’t know where to focus. On his lips against your jaw, his hand on your neck, the way your pussy swallows his aching dick. “It’s so big, I—”

“You okay?” He asks, breathily. Smiling. He’s in control, but still he sounds whiny—almost, if not as desperate as you. “You’ll take it all for me, won’t you?”

“Oh god,” is all you muster, letting him stretch you out even more, gushing all over his cock. “I, I—”

He moans, his grip tight against your waist, watching his dick bury itself in you. “You’re getting me so full,” you whine. “So deep, I feel it—” you taper off into a moan again when he presses hs thumb to your clit, distracting you from the stretch as he finally, finally bottoms out.

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

You grind against him, let the shirt fall out of your mouth. “You’re getting my dick so wet,” he comments, breathless. “So pretty for me, too.”

Growing antsy, he attempts to move, but you whine. Your turn to tease, you think, after he was a dick to you just now. “Not yet,” you say, lip caught between your teeth. His hands are tight around your waist. Desperate.

You squeeze around him, watch his brows knit together, a grunt leave him in a frustrated exhale. “You wanna fuck me?” You tease against his neck, blinking innocently.

“Yes,” he replies, not missing a beat. You pout, like you’re empathizing with the problem you’re causing; you grind slowly against him and he lets out a guttural fuuuuck. He’s so big, so hard—you can feel every inch of him inside you.

“Tell me again, Charles,” you say with a giggle. You’re so hot like this, face flushed and timid, hips moving slowly. He could cum just from the way you bite your lip, the way a whimper slips out of you when he hits the right spot.

“—Yeah,” he says, sweetly. “I want to—please, let me fuck you. C’mon, baby, can I?”

“Aww,” you tease.

“Can I?” He asks again, voice deep and thin with the need to fuck you, thrust up into you and make you the dumb one. His face is flushed and desperate. “Can I move, baby? Let me, please.”

You’re not stupid. You know—if his flushed, pleading face and big green puppy eyes are anything to go by—that he’s going crazy, growing antsy. But you’re not complaining.

“Hmm,” you say, feigning genuine thought. “I don’t know, Charles. Feels good just like this. And you want to make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” You repeat, staring into his dark eyes. He’s frustrated, desperate, flushed all over and sweaty. His fingers dig into your hips. “I’ll make you feel really good, baby, if you let me.”

“Go ahead,” you say softly, “fuck me, please.” And he’s thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. It’s knocking you out, almost, the pleasure of it, the dizzy onslaught of euphoria. He’s stretching you out so well, whining softly into your neck and yeah, you two have waited far too long to have this. You

“Fuck,” he grunts, lids squeezed shut and head rolled onto your shoulder. “Go on, baby, ride it, make me cum.” He cups your jaw, reaches his thumb into your mouth. It’s too much, all of it. He makes you suck on it while thrusting up, dizzying you with his cock.

He grabs handfuls of your ass, teases his thumb at your tighter asshole just to watch your eyes flutter, feel your cunt grow wetter. “I’ll fuck you even fuller next time,” he says; the implication gets you hot.

You bounce harder, chasing release as his thumb teases over your ass, the tip of it just thrusting in enough to elicit strings of moans out of you. “Come on, ride me,” he goads. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” you pant, “cum in me, please.”

You cum first, writhing around him and riding your orgasm out in lazy grinds over his hard cock. You want to see him cum, see his eyebrows knit and his mouth release pretty whines, feel him claim you inside, hands hot and heavy on your ass. He does, with a guttural fuuuuck, shoving his dick up in you to the base and spurting all his cum in you.

He thrusts, watches his cum leak out of you, fucks it back in, in a vicious cycle. You shiver, blinking coquettishly and watching along—and then you’re both crumpling over each other on the bed behind you. You pant heavily against his chest.

“Hey.” He muses out loud, drumming against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I have thirty-six condoms we need to go through. Wanna go on a date?”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

4K notes · View notes

keeterz · 4 months

Text

Time to make an updated post on the Guilty Gear artwork I've made up to this point!

First things, gotta include Bridget and Elphelt since these were made this year in 2023. Baiken, Testement, and Giovanna were done back in 2022. I think I'd like to do a Jack-O illustration at some point, and a friend of mine wants to help fund a Ramlethal print, so those might be coming up in the future at some point.

I've made some updates to the chibis as well to include a handful of the male cast! A few noteworthy mentions include an Axl that was inspired by an animation that my friend DoovadHohdan made, a Potemkin that works as a Pot Buster when you use it as a sticker on another sticker, as well as the husbandos in general being paired with plushies of their partners (well, missing Nago and Elphelt because that wasn't a thing at the time)

A little after the Elphelt illustration I also made an Elphelt chibi as well! This one will be double-sided once I convert it to a charm~

Finally, a sneak peak at something that isn't Strive related...well, not yet, at least (maybe). Here's a value comp for an ABA illustration I'm working on based on her Accent Core design! Hoping she makes it into Strive at some point.

I might want to explore doing some Accent Core related artwork in the future. Accent Core is a lot closer to the point of when I first got into the series in my middle school/highschool days, and there are some designs from the older games that are still hecking rad. Plus the music is awesome :D

It's kind of funny; I have to confess that I actually don't play Strive. Truth be told, the GGST movement and limited combo structure never clicked with me when the game first came out (and I was always more of a 3D fighter guy for gameplay with games like Tekken and Soul Calibur). And even though I am pretty sure I would actually thoroughly enjoy playing I-No and Elphelt with the season 3 changes, I just don't really do as much gaming these days since I'm more enamored with making art (and a few other things like biking). Plus I'm kind of just waiting for Tekken 8 at this point (dear god I hope the online is good just this one time god).

But as an artist? You bet your butt I hecking love coming back to Guilty Gear. I've been a fan of the series since the early 2000s (back when I stumbled across an abandonware PC version of Guilty Gear X and became sold on the series). The characters from this series check a lot of boxes for things I love to draw, from the way they are designed and all of their classic rock references all the way down to their zany personalities and backstories. And I feel like Guilty Gear is really special in this regard for me. Even though I'd rather play other fighting games (like Tekken or maybe even SF6), Guilty Gear is probably the one fighting game fandom I want to do art of the most.

If you are a Guilty Gear fan stumbling across this art collection post, hope you are enjoying the art! I will enjoy the series vicariously through you as I get back to working on some Tekken 8 artwork for Frosty Faustings, lmao. And if you're someone who is new to the series, give Strive a try! It's neat and the characters are great.

787 notes · View notes

fazcinatingblog · 2 years

Text

so good reading dan christian's book because he goes through the IPL season 2021, describing all those games and the in-between stuff in detail, which is great because i barely followed it at all except to wake up to maxi's team winning or losing

#laura reads dan christian's book #also the IPL seasons for april 2020/october 2020/april 2021 all blend in together for me #actually add april 2022 to that as well #pretty sure RCB made finals in all those seasons but fell short of the final #which means all seasons are the same to me #all seasons involved maxi doing well and covid going rampant #i hope india are doing a lot better with covid #has any country got rid of covid altogether???? are there countries celebrating donut days over and over again???? i hope so #fingers crossed there's a way out of this

0 notes

il-predestinato · 5 months

Note

hello beautiful elle

since it is going to be a long 3 months without our boys could you please recommend some fics that you liked? cause i really like your writings and how realistic they are and i wanted to get some of you suggestions for the break!

love you loads

Thank you, lovely anon, for your very kind message! 🥺 I must admit I have fallen behind in reading fics. I am sure I am forgetting some excellent Lestappen fics/writers, but these are some of my all-time favourites!

Lestappen Fic Recs:

And in the end I will seek you out amongst the stars by mandzilkos (@geeeooorrrge) - rating: G, 22k words

Soulmate AU where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate, and the world goes back to black and white after your soulmate dies. This is ALWAYS the first Lestappen fic that comes to mind whenever anyone asks for a recommendation, and it is probably my all-time favourite. The fic that inspired me to write Lestappen, if I'm honest.

getting half of you just ain't enough by shybear_styles - rating: E, 20k words

The friends with benefits story that spans the 2019 season. The only thing better than amazing smut is amazing smut with feels. For sure a top 5 fic in the Lestappen fandom for me. Also, this author is simply amazing in general and you should read all of her fics! I haven't given up hope that she will return one day and write more Lestappen. 🤧

you feel the mornin' feel by shybear_styles - rating: M, 3.3k words

Remember that time Sebastian Vettel asked Charles, "Is he [Max] pretty?" And we never got an answer because Charles descended into gay panic? Well, worry not! We get an answer in this fic.

Monaco Malaise by ProngsfootxJily (@cupidskissx) - rating: E, 8k words

Rivals with benefits, takes place after the 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Yes, this one is delicious smut but also a character study. Both of them are written so well, and it leaves you begging for more. Don't forget to check out the equally amazing sequel! (Don't worry, I have been relentlessly harassing her to write the sequel's sequel.)

algorithm by Anney (@badboy-george) - rating: M, 17k words

In a world where F1 uses simulation-based compatibility tests, five times Max doesn't find the right partner and the one time he does. Black Mirror ("San Junipero" and "Hang the DJ") vibes in the best way. Another one of my absolute favourite fics. If you've read any Lestappen fics, you've probably read "Every Other Sunday." This one is simply a masterpiece by the immensely talented Anney; definitely check out her other fics!

panem et circenses by Anney - rating: E, 13.2k words

Wow - simply devastating, haunting, an ode to these two as drivers, set in a dystopian future AU. The world building is absolutely incredible, but at its heart is such a beautiful story of love and hope. This one doesn't get enough recognition. (TW: implied non-con, not between Lestappen.)

Unlearn by wantinghopingwriting (Tazza1993) (@lightsoutfullhearts) - NR, 45k words

This is another all-time favourite, a must-read. Fake/pretend relationship to lovers multi-chapter story that is ever so satisfying; both of them are so well characterized. Set in a parallel-ish 2022 season. I really cannot recommend this one enough.

the edge of what can be loved by Ledger_m (@the-last-jedis) - rating: T, 13k words

The third wheel fic from the perspective of Max and Charles' various "Steves." It's funny, heartwarming, and everyone on the grid is nosy as fuck.

Charles Leclerc vs Red Bull caps by Ledger_m - rating: T, 6.4k words

Charles is the hero we all need, as he goes on a mission to get rid of all of Max's stupid Red Bull caps. This is REQUIRED reading! Kami is a genius. Go read all of her fics.

If You Don't Play, You'll Never Win by antimonyandthyme (@antimonyandthyme) - rating: T, 4.1k

Post 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Max wants to take their relationship further; Charles... doesn't. Oh my God, where do I begin to describe how much I love this fic. The language is beautiful, both of them are so well-written, and I feel punched in the gut over and over again in the best way. The ending (well, the whole thing) is so damn satisfying.

all's well that ends well (to end up with you) by stylestappen (@stylestappen) - rating: G, 3k words

Max has a meltdown in the cereal aisle (yes, the cereal aisle) at 3 am when he realizes he is in love with Charles despite the latter's questionable taste in cereal. Dani has an absolutely wicked sense of humour! (Although I don't understand what she has against cocoa puffs 😭.) She also wrote a banger of a Lestappen soon-to-be teammates fic, so make sure to check out her profile.

Max Verstappen: Spotify Extraordinaire by frnndtorres - rating: G, 26k words

Max makes Spotify playlists for the grid. Fluffy, funny, care-free, liberal use of nicknames, with a healthy dose of feels between Max and Charles. A really fun read.

i love the way your green eyes mix with that malibu indigo by altissimozucca (@altisssimozucca) - rating: G, 11k words

Max and Charles spend summer of 2020 together in Malibu and try not to fall in love. Spoiler alert: they fall in love. I feel the urge to explain something: When I first started reading Lestappen, there were less than 250 fics in their entire tag (yeah I know, we are currently close to 3000 fics, which is insane). From 2019-2021, we truly lived off crumbs. So trust me when I say that we owe so much to altissimozucca, who wrote something like 40% of the fics in the Lestappen tag and nearly single-handedly kept us fed in those days. It's so hard to pick one of her fics to recommend, so make sure you check out her profile for more!

#803442 by altissimozucca - rating: M, 1k words

Max and Charles celebrate the end of the 2019 season in a hotel room. So soft, so fluffy, so satisfying.

Bruises by eefiplier - rating: E, 5.1k words

I think of this one as THE Lestappen smut fic. Oh my God, it's 5k words of amazing established relationship smut with all the feels. A classic. I can read this one over and over again.

outside the box by playclock (@endowataru) - rating: M, 6.1k words

Max falls in love with Charles' driving... oh and Charles himself too. They are ultra competitive idiots who are madly in love. There aren't enough established relationship fics out there, but this one is simply amazing. And don't forget to check out this author's profile for additional Lestappen fics. I promise every single one is a banger!

i made it link by link by purpleglasseswrites (@f-ferrari-forever) - rating: M, 4.2k words

Charles and Max try to be kinky, but who are they kidding - they are far too vanilla for that stuff. 🤣 This one is so sweet, and don't forget to read the sequel!

One man's trash, another man's treasure by AzziNow (@track-terror-apologist) - rating: T, 4.2k words

Charles turns into a raccoon and terrorizes everyone except Max. (Well, he terrorizes Max too... slightly.)

Call it madness, call it love… by AzziNow - rating: M, 3.5k words

Ferrari auctions off Charles for charity. No angst, just fluff. Alpha!Max/Alpha!Charles. So I confess that I never read A/B/O fics. There's nothing wrong with it - just not my cup of tea. But I really enjoyed this one. Al has such a chaotic sense of humour.

it all reminds me of you by grandprix (@grandprix-ao3) - rating: E, 3k words

Secret relationship Lestappen with flashbacks. Oh the yearning, the desire, the smut - incredibly satisfying. I must put a plug-in for this author's other Lestappen fics as well. Never misses - make sure to check them out!

burning you into my mind by thightattoos - rating: E, 4.1k words

Porn with feels and possessiveness. You cannot ask for anything more. I must have read this one a dozen times.

an evil plan or two by witchee_writer - rating: T, 5.2k words

Max and Charles are roped into a plan to get Brocedes back together; they come to a few realizations along the way. The only thing better than a Lestappen fic? A Lestappen AND Brocedes fic!

Fine Line by empireoffclouds - rating: NR, 7k words

One of the more light-hearted enemies to friends to lovers fics. I absolutely adore their dynamic here - it's snarky, warm, but also so them. The incomplete sequel is also a super fun read.

Into Darkness Of Thought by flamingosarepink - rating: T, 1k words

After the 2019 Japanese Grand Prix, Charles thinks Max isn't coming back to their shared space.

steal softly under castle walls by untouchableocean - rating: G, 521 words

Max gets home late from Milton Keynes and Charles has already fallen asleep. Short, tooth-rooting fluff of the best kind.

Zoomies by greeny1710 (@maxlambiase) - rating: E, 2.2k words

This one is just hilarious. A (mostly) naked Max walks into Charles' team Zoom call during the COVID lockdown.

...and many, many more that I'm sure I have forgotten! 🙈 You can also check out my AO3 bookmarks (the first few pages are pretty much all Lestappen fics).

Please remember to leave kudos and comments for these amazing writers. The talent in this fandom is absolutely incredible. They all deserve so much recognition. Happy reading!

#max verstappen #charles leclerc #lestappen #lestappen fic #fic recs #elle.ask #anon #a list of incredibly talented people #for reference #fave

683 notes · View notes

vettelsdarling · 9 months

Note

Hiiii can I get a request for Lando basically a sunshine x grumpy where the reader is a new driver that wants 0 distractions and ruled out dating any drivers and so she gets along with everyone but is more distant with Lando because she knows if they get close she’ll fall in love with him but she can’t afford any distractions but he still puts in effort to get to know her and making her smile etc despite her pushing him away and they have this moment and idk you can finish it however you like plsss and thanks!

𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

Lissie note… Hey there! This is a really cute idea, I love the thought of Lando pining!! Thank you for the creative freedom to finish it off however I feel!

Things to note:

This is set in the 2022 season, but not in the same timeline(?) you'll see

Reader isn’t completely new to Formula One, but it’s her first time on the grid as a driver (she’s been a reserve driver)

Reader is a few months/a year younger than Lando

Reader is a Red Bull driver

Pairing: Sunshine!Pining!Lando x Grumpy!Serious!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some cursing, Pretty angsty, J*s Verstappen

Word Count: 6.5k+

Recommended playlists: 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭💔, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗, 𝐋𝐍𝟒

Formula One. A bloodsport, really. Vicious and dangerous. Somehow you’d managed to rise through the ranks and get there. Even earning a place next to Max Verstappen, the second-youngest world champion. Christian Horner, your team boss, was the kind of person who nursed his drivers as if they were his own children. You yearned for the proud look on his face. Not just for him, but for yourself.

Growing up in a middle-class family, you weren’t as privileged as other kids in karting. Your mother worked tirelessly to support you, whilst your father took you to each race. Now that you’d finally made it to Formula One, you wanted to do everything you could to pay them back. They had given the better part of their lives up so that you could live yours the way you desired.

Winning a championship in Formula One had always been a childhood dream of yours.

… and you were not about to give up on that dream anytime soon.

You, Max, and Horner had come to an agreement: Max would help you win as much as possible. Nobody and absolutely nobody was to get in your way. Max promised to make sure of that. Since you were younger than him, he treated you like a younger sister, whilst still treating you as an equal. Given the fact that he had a sister, he was great at it.

You were in your car. It was the first qualifying of the season, and you felt all of your nerves tense up. It was your first ever feel for Formula One besides sim racing. You’d been stuck as a reserve driver for nearly 2 years— safe to say, you were relieved to finally get a seat. Max and Lewis had just been dominating too much. However, this year was yours and yours alone. You were determined to shine, and you would take down anyone who so much as breathed a hint of threat your way.

You were released and you started your out lap. The tyres felt smooth and the car was completely in sync with you. It was nothing like sim racing, and nothing like Formula 2 either. You’d done practice runs several times before, but there was something about the real deal that elevated the experience that much more. You knew there was a lot of pressure on you for qualifying. Mainly due to the fact that Max had no way of helping you. It was every man for himself, and there was no way you were going to get kicked in Q1.

“You doing alright?” You heard your engineer say. It made you get distracted, and you accidentally exceeded track limits.

“Well, now I’m not! Shut it, please.” Well, shit. You knew that blunder would be noted immediately. It was surely a deletion of your time. Therefore, you decided to push. Hard.

The next lap was a go, and you worked your way meticulously around every corner, hitting every apex just right. You were determined to make it into Q3. No matter what it took.

You got one final time in, and it was announced by your radio that you made it into Q2, placing P5. You weren’t the type to scream out with joy, so you merely thanked them for the notice.

Q2 began, and you barely made it through to Q3, placing P10.

What nobody expected was your spirit. If you wanted something, you were going to get it.

“Okay, we’ve notified Max that he should try to slow down a bit, to possibly get you a pole position. This way, we can also help you from behind in the race.”

“Copy.” Your chest felt ticklish with adrenaline, and you pushed harder than before. You did everything you could. Your body felt as if it had been fused to the car. You were getting the fastest sector time left and right. It was exhilarating.

“That’s a pole! Great job! We did it!” Your engineer screamed into your ear with excitement. It was deafening, but that didn’t matter. It felt so good.

“Thanks for the help, guys.”

The front row consisted of you, Max, and Lando Norris; a driver from McLaren. You hadn’t really conversed with him much before. Except one time. Max had invited you to attend the end-of-year party a year back. Lando barely managed to introduce himself before he was interrupted by the Dutchman.

After Lando finished his interview, he moved back to where you were waiting patiently for your turn.

“I hear you’re into brunettes?” You were, but you hadn’t told anyone. Which could only have meant that it was his go-to pick-up line. Lame, if anything.

“Did you also hear I’m into guys who don’t bother me?” It wasn’t a matter of teasing him or playing hard to get. You simply had no time for something as frivolous as dating on the grid. It was pointless and would only serve as a distraction when you had to stay focused.

“Cute.” It almost felt repulsive to hear him say that. You’d never really been in a relationship other than the many situation-ships you’d allowed yourself to fall victim to in your Formula 2 days.

When your turn finally came, you shook David’s hand with a smile. Adrenaline was still making its rounds throughout your system.

“You did an amazing job today, surely you must be excited!” David was such a gentle and warm soul, so you decided to lay off the colder side for a little.

“I feel amazing, really, I’m over the moon!” You grinned. He asked you some generic questions and you gave him appropriate responses for each.

“You’re the first woman in a long time to have raced in Formula One, you should be proud,” he finished off, before letting you go.

Max slung his arm over your shoulder as the two of you walked back to the Red Bull motorhome. Christian greeted you at the door on his way out, pulling you into a big bear hug and thanking Max for the sacrifice. The two of you made yourselves comfortable on the leather couches in front of the small flatscreen that was inside.

“Max, I really hope it’s okay for you to do all of this for me…” You looked over at Max who was scrolling through the channels.

“Of course, I’ll do it for you. We’re teammates. Besides, it would’ve been wrong if you weren’t talented and couldn’t actually take me on… but you can… so…” He started trailing off as he got a phone call. It seemed to be his father, so he immediately answered it. Of all feelings, you were definitely not surprised by the angry bickering coming from his father through the phone. The look on Max’s face was all but whipped with joy.

When the call ended, you tried to find the right words to comfort him. It was rather hard though, as you’d never really experienced his situation before.

“… I’m here if you want to talk about it?” That was really all you could offer. But your support meant everything to Max, who had made quite the impression on track. Fans saw him as a hot-headed brute, with nothing on his mind but winning.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t anything. Don’t worry about it.” His demeanour had completed a full 360°.

“Well, in any case, if you ever happen to need someone… you know I’ll always be right here.” Without warning, you pulled your brother figure into a warm hug, rubbing his back gently. You’d only ever met his dad a couple of times, but both times were horrible. The man was stone cold. He was intimidating to you.

To celebrate your pole in qualifying, Max had invited you out for dinner with a couple of friends. He said you knew who they were, but still, you felt off about it.

Your hair cascaded down upon your shoulders, masking your exposed collarbone from your little black dress. It was a simple dinner dress you’d brought along for the trip. Your makeup was light but accentuated your features to the fullest extent. Your shoes were designer and matched your padded Prada mini-bag. You threw on a black blazer to complete the look. Flawless.

Max had texted you the address of the restaurant along with the time. You jumped in a cab and gave the driver the information. The cab driver was chatty. He talked about his family, mentioning the fact that he had twin daughters who had just started middle school. You zoned out on the rest of his chatter though. The thoughts of dining with Max’s friends felt daunting somehow.

When you finally arrived, you were already late. You’d been too busy zoning out to notify your teammate. Upon walking in, you saw a fancy vined wall with several pictures of celebrities who’d visited the establishment. Amongst them was a picture of Max and the Brit who’d tried to hit on you. Lando Norris. A waiter approached you with a polite smile and a guest list.

“Oh, um… Max Verstappen?” You also made sure to mention your name so as to not stir any confusion or suspicions. You could’ve easily been mistaken for a fan.

“Right this way, miss.” He led you to a quiet room in the back. It was likely reserved for the restaurant’s VIPs. There you laid eyes on Max and Daniel Ricciardo… but Lando Norris too?! A wave of relief washed over you, as you realized you knew them somewhat.

“Max, you didn’t tell me she would be here?” Lando took the view in with delight, smirking as you noticed it. You rolled your eyes and took a seat beside Max. Unfortunately, that seat was across from curly-haired Brit.

“It was a surprise. We’re actually celebrating her first pole today.” You felt slightly embarrassed, almost like people singing you birthday songs.

“Max, isn’t this just rubbing another Red Bull win in our faces?” Asked Daniel. He was obviously joking, so you shot him a playful glare, chuckling shortly after.

After a while, Daniel and Max had gotten deep into their conversation, which left you to deal with Lando. He’d stolen several glances of you throughout the dinner and it didn’t seem like he was planning to stop. You took it as your opportunity to strike up some small talk. All in hopes to get him to stop staring.

“You should stop staring, my image might get burned into your retina.” He didn’t even bother blinking. His eyes moved from your figure to your eyes.

“I think that’d be a blessing, no?” You scoffed at his reply. You saw it as nothing but a foolish attempt at flirtation— which you didn’t appreciate. Sure, you were off-track, but that didn’t mean you had time for meaningless distractions. Lando gave off a clear vibe that he was nothing but a hindrance to your ultimate goal of becoming a champion.

“You’re playing hard to get. I like that,” he smirked and slightly leaned back in his seat.

“Could you be any more obnoxious?”

“If that’s what you want me to be.” He was truly impossible to communicate with. Every sentence was a pick-up line to some degree.

“I’m not interested in you, Norris.” He seemed to completely disregard the message you sent, as a smile grew on his face the moment you uttered his last name.

“Glad to know you know my name, Miss Red Bull.” Admittedly, he was pretty easy on the eyes, and his small chuckles were cuter than you wanted to acknowledge.

“You should let me take you home after this.”

“You don’t even know me.” Contrary to your belief, that wasn’t true at all. He knew exactly who you were. He and Max were close friends after all. But the real kicker was; he’d been into you for much longer than he led on.

His infatuation first started in the early stages of the 2021 season, when he’d see you wandering around the tracks on weekdays. He’d seen you in the Red Bull garages, usually deep in conversation with one of the engineers. He’d asked about you from multiple people. That included the big man himself; Christian Horner. Though, Christian encouraged him to stop asking around and just strike up a conversation with you. However, Lando never actually found the time to approach you. You were always surrounded by mechanics and the media. It was simply impossible to get to you. It was almost like you were a national treasure. Pretty to look at, but that was all he could do.

“Trust me, I know you.” For a moment, you got lost in those dashing eyes of his. He returned your gaze, only looking into what would be considered the windows to your soul. Could he read you? Could he understand that you didn’t want him? Did you want him?

“You’re incredible up close.”

“Excuse me?” You snapped out of whatever trance you’d been stuck in as soon as those words left his pouty lips. That statement was creepy if anything, and not flattering in the slightest… or was it?

“That’s a pretty off-putting thing to say, you know?” This luckily caught the attention of Max who’d finished off with Daniel. The two of them turned their heads your way to join in.

“What’s off-putting?”

“Oh, we were just talking about how obsessed Lando is with me.” You said it in a joking manner, but everyone’s faces went semi-pale. Especially Lando’s.

“So he finally talked to you? I’m glad I don’t have to answer any more of his idiotic questions.” Your mouth went dry at his words, and Lando’s face turned a rose colour. As if all air conditioning had been turned off on a hot summer’s day.

“Excuse me?” You’d lost your appetite, making your curiosity the only reason you had to stay. That and your appreciation for Max having paid for the dinner that was supposed to serve as a celebration.

“I- um…” Lando was reasonably hesitant to say anything.

“Well… I was just referring to his constant flirting. I didn’t believe it was deep or anything but… um… you know what? This was nice, Max. Truly. I think I’d like to get home. I’m absolutely drained.” You sighed with a screwed smile on your lip. You gathered your things and pushed your chair in. Despite your friend’s heavy protests, you left and got a cab for yourself.

Leaving on an empty stomach hadn’t been the plan, so you had no choice but to stop by a grocery store. Many in the area had salads ready to go. It was no five-star meal, but it had to suffice.

Of course, you felt awful for leaving early, but you knew you couldn’t let yourself stray away from your goal. Lando was attractive, you couldn’t stand there and lie to yourself, but that was all the more reason to stay away. Well, besides the point that you barely knew the guy. The flirtatious comments and borderline creepy behaviour were nothing to you. It wasn’t anything you wouldn’t be able to ignore. As long as he stayed out of your way.

Except he didn’t.

The following morning, you had a couple of missed messages from Max. He’d been worried after you took off. You were too frazzled and in a hurry to respond. There was no time left before the briefing back at the motorhome. Being punctual meant that you showed an interest. It meant that you showed passion. You were not going to let some silly McLaren driver ruin it for you. That was simply not your style and would never be.

When you got there, everyone was already gathered. They’d been waiting for you to arrive. Honest, but embarrassing mistake. You wanted to let out a slew of self-insulting jabs. Lucky for you, it didn’t last too long, and you were on to start prepping for the race.

“Hey, are you okay?” A certain Dutchman tapped your shoulder and spun you around when you weren’t responsive. The look he saw in your eyes spoke volumes. Notes that you wish weren’t easily revealed. The eyes didn’t lie. They never did.

“I’m fine, I just really want to focus on winning. I don’t have time for whatever Lando is trying to drag me into.” You sighed as the two of you walked to the motorhome.

“Look, I know you haven’t known him for long, but maybe try to get along with him? You don’t have to accept his shitty flirting. He’s my best friend and so are you… it’s really awkward that you can’t even be around him.” True. You had acted somewhat irresponsibly, but you certainly weren’t the only guilty party in that.

“Fine, but under one condition. You tell him to stop being so flirtatious with me. I hate it.”

“Deal.”

The race ended with a lucky pole position. Somehow, you’d gotten away with defending yourself from none other than your little McLaren fan. As much as you enjoyed your national anthem being played and spraying champagne— you felt so empty. It felt like a worthless celebration. All because you knew you’d been underperforming. You hadn’t given it your all, yet Lando still kept behind you. Of course, with Max behind him, there was nothing for you to worry about. Both drivers were amazing when it came to defending their place, but you just couldn’t understand how he hadn’t gone for the win. It was right there. Right within reach. It was so close, his beautiful curved lips could touch it. It didn’t make sense to you, nobody would be stupid enough to sacrifice coming out on top. You didn’t believe it. You simply didn’t even want to.

Lando became unavoidable. As more races were won by you and some by Max, it was finally time for the summer break. 3 weeks of much-needed rest.

… what you thought would be a relaxing 3 weeks, turned out to be the most stressful weeks of your life.

Max had texted you on short notice to come over for dinner, as Kelly had made too big of a batch of gnocchi. Since you lived walking distance from him, you didn’t see any harm in coming over. Kelly wasn’t exactly your favourite person in the world, but it wasn’t like she was insufferable. She was still a nice person… somewhat.

Max greeted you at the door, having Penelope run up behind him to say hi. You might’ve not been the biggest fan of her mother, but she was such a cute little thing. You took her up into your arms and smiled,

“Hi there ‘P’!”

Your smile quickly faded though. The Brit from McLaren came into view from behind Max, and it was almost as if all of your spirits had been sucked out of you like the marrow of a bone. It was something of a consolation, however, that he stayed silent. He just stood there and watched as you played around with Penelope. The toddler was full of energy.

“Come come, the gnocchi is ready.” You put the girl down and followed them into the dining room. Kelly had plated everything and had taken the liberty to sit across from Max. You had no choice but to sit next to her. It wouldn’t exactly make sense for her to be sitting next to Lando.

“Kelly, I must say you are an amazing cook, this looks fantastic!” Fake it until you make it. In all honesty, though, she was a great cook.

“Thank you. I’ve been practicing lately.” It felt like deja vu when the couple got into talking. There was just you, Lando, and Penelope.

“I think I should apologize for… everything?” Lando suddenly spoke. You scanned his face, his hair, his outfit. Were you in trouble? Perhaps.

“You know what, Kelly? I think I’ll help tuck Penelope in!” You got up from your seat and politely put down your cutlery.

“Oh, sure. Thank you. It’s way past her bedtime.” She smiled at you and signalled for Penelope to come with you before she turned back to Max.

Lando had the guts to follow you into Penelope’s bedroom. He watched as you lifted the little girl up into your arms and placed her carefully on the duvets that covered her bed. She was already in her pyjamas, which made your job all the more easy. He took the chance to sit next to you on the bed, as you stroked the toddler’s cheek.

“Are you really going to avoid me forever?” He said in a quiet whisper, not wanting to disturb the girl from dozing off into the gentle night.

“You’re a fool if you let relationships taint your path to victory… in my opinion.” You turned your head to look at him. The moonlight shining from the gaps in the blinds complimented his dancing eyes. They looked at you. Your figure. Your facial features. They admired you as if you were a priceless piece of art at a gallery.

“You must’ve led a pretty sad life up until now.” He wasn’t right. You’d been around love and laughter for the better part of your life. You weren’t that lonely… were you?

“Lando… we don’t even—”

“Don’t tell me we don’t know each other. You know me and I know you. This isn’t like all those months ago. We’ve been in social settings together more than I can count on my fingers. You and I know each other.” He was obviously desperate. It made sense when thinking of the massive crush he’d had on you thus far. You did feel a tinge of guilt knowing you had to turn him down no matter what.

“Lando, please don’t do this.”

“I apologize for being so forward, okay? How about we begin with a friendship, huh? That’s what Max would want anyway.” He wasn’t wrong. That’s what Max had asked of you several months ago, but you’d only been distant.

You got along with everyone pretty well. Mick was someone you would chat with every time you saw him on race weekends. Sebastian was like an older brother. Lewis, although your biggest competition, was a good buddy too. You were always hanging around Pierre and Kika too. There were no hard feelings between you and pretty much all of the other drivers. Except for Lando.

As much as you hated admitting it, Lando’s charms had taken a massive effect on you. His flirtatious little comments were nothing short of annoying, but you loved the banter. You loved his energy, his radiant laugh whenever Max would hurl jokes his way. You loved his smirk whenever you rejected his advances.

Over just a couple of months, you found yourself needing to avoid him. So you did. As more time passed, Lando must’ve started to notice, because he dialled his game up by the tenths. Avoiding him became an impossible mission. He seemed to be everywhere. If you went to the Red Bull motorhome, he was there with Max. If you went to the garage, he was there with Max. Even on-track he was right behind you in your slipstream. He was always chasing you. You only had one other option left— to act completely apathetic and aloof. Which brought you right to the confrontation in front of a little toddler trying to fall asleep.

“Just leave me alone. I don’t want you here. Just go, okay?” Your heart clenched as he gave you a disappointed smile.

“If that’s what you want.”

That night you couldn’t fall asleep. It was impossible. Whilst you didn’t harbour any real feelings for Lando, you knew you’d fall hard if you spent any more time with him. Your mind was supposed to be focused on winning, but instead of that— you were stuck on him. You didn’t want to fall for him. You didn’t have time for that. There was only one person that mattered, and that was you. Only you.

“Is he really that bad?” Kika asked as she took a sip of her coffee, placing it on the plastic coaster on the wooden table. You’d invited her over for a sleepover of sorts. Mainly what became an accidental therapy session,

“You know, I came here to Monaco to explore. Why are we sitting here and sulking? Lando isn’t all that bad.”

“Yes, Kika, he is! He keeps trying to get close to me, and when I reject him he makes me feel so guilty for doing so.” Your face was squished against the table, signalling your utter defeat in the matter. You were at a complete loss. You didn’t know what to do anymore.

“Sounds to me like you have a thing for him, no?” Kika was a voice of reason in many situations, but this was not acceptable to you. Denial and delusion was the only solution.

“Never. I want to win a championship, not go fool around with some British guy from a midfield team.” Harsh, but you had to say it. Saying it didn’t exactly have an effect on the situation, but it made you feel better.

“I don’t see any quick fix to this, honestly.” You groaned at her words, wanting your misery to end.

“Come on, relationships take time. I should know, I’m with Pierre.” Pierre wasn’t Lando though. She and he were meant to be. It was as if they were put on the planet to be with each other. You, on the other hand, were put on the planet to win. Lando was nothing but a meaningless distraction.

“Fine, I’ll help you out,” she finally said and sighed. You sprung up and looked at her with wide eyes,

“Really?”

“Really. Now listen. I’ll set up a double date thing, okay?”

“Wait what? No! Kika, no. That’s only going to make it worse. Why would you do that?” Your head dropped again.

“Look, do you want my help or not?”

“I do…”

“Then let me do my thing, and sit tight.” It was her win. You just wanted to get Lando out of the way. Any lengths were necessary if it meant being able to blow right past the Brit.

A week passed before the supposed ‘double date’, and you were not feeling it one bit. Lando wasn’t even all that close with Kika and Pierre. Not as close as you were. You’d end up being the only reason he’d have to stay.

Sadly you realized that fact too late. You were sat with Kika and Pierre at a fancy seafood place down by the harbour. Lando had noted that he’d be late, which gave the three of you some time to discuss some last-minute details. It was imperative that he’d be completely out of the equation by the end of the date.

It wasn’t so much the question of whether or not you’d fallen for him. No, it was whether you could ignore it altogether. Completely shut out any little squeak from your heart when it tugs at the sight of him. Which is just did.

You saw him walking through the door with a casual, but not too casual outfit. His curls were slightly slicked back and his smile was as radiant as ever. You couldn’t stand the sight of him. It was repulsive. Was it not? It made you sick. Did it not?

When he took a seat next to Pierre, across from you, it was hard to not look at him. Oh, but how badly you wanted to. Then again— you didn’t. You hated the fact that Kika had some diabolical plan in mind. One that probably went against everything you stood for.

“Well! Now that Lando’s here, we should order appetizers!” She pulled out the menu and casually looked through the variety of foods.

Whilst she ordered for the four of you, Pierre gave you a nervous look and slightly peered over at Lando, who luckily had his nose buried in his phone. Likely some business stuff. You could only mouth ‘What do I do?’ to which the Frenchman replied with a shrug and a miserable look on his face. He knew just as much as you, that this date would end up in a knot of awkward silences and unfinished sentences.

“Lando, I didn’t think you’d actually show up. You know, given this girl’s obvious distaste for you.” You nearly snapped your neck, as she pointed at you. Oh, how you wanted someone to interrupt your date. Anyone. Lando put his phone away, sighed, and looked at you with a small smile, before giving her a reply,

“I don’t care if I’m being completely honest. I’ve done it for months. I can go for years if I have to.” Kika had seriously misinterpreted Lando’s intentions and how badly he actually wanted you. Your version of the situation had him painted in an entirely different light after all. You made him out to be some meaningless player. Which, by the sound of things, wasn’t his style at all.

“I was under the impression he was trying to play you! That’s why this date would’ve worked out to get him off your back. What is this?!” Kika whisper-yelled. Everything was messed up. Way off course. The plan had gone to shit within less than an hour.

“Well… I really don’t like him, so isn’t there something you can do?” You whispered back. The two of you both realized that the guys were able to see you whispering back and forth, so she hauled you into the ladies’ room. It was quiet and nobody would disturb you.

“Do you want the truth or a sugar-coated lie?” She asked, resting a hand on her hip.

“The truth?” You were conflicted though. Did you actually want the truth? Did you already know it? Did you perhaps just bury it deep within the darkest chambers of your pitiful little lonely soul? Were you so obsessed with rising to the top, that relationships truly didn’t matter?

“You like him. No, it’s more than just an infatuation. You’re head over heels for him. The way you looked at him when he walked in? I saw it. Pierre saw it. The waiters saw it! Open your eyes.” Hearing it from another person really put things into perspective, and it didn’t sit right with you. All your life you were used to pushing people away. Silly little childhood crushes would stay exactly that; crushes. You never let anything go beyond the first stage.

“Kika… I don’t know,” you groaned and turned on the faucet, splashing some water on your face.

“Come on, let’s get back to them. They’re waiting for us.”

After sitting back down, Lando tried to give you a curt smile. It was awkward and the pressure was rising. It was hard to stay within 10 feet of the guy.

“I remember when I first started falling for Pierre. It was really something… how about you, Lando? When did you start having a thing for her?” Oh please, Kika seemed too determined to let it go. A part of you liked that, but the other part felt its gut screaming in agony.

“It’s been more than a year or so now, actually… it’s a little hard to explain.” With that, you couldn’t handle it anymore. You apologized and left the setting abruptly. It was far too much for you, and you just knew your heart would give out.

As you walked out of the restaurant and started looking for a cab, you heard footsteps running after you, with the calling of your name soon following right behind. You knew exactly who it was, but you didn’t know if you were ready for that conversation.

“Please don’t. Don’t leave again.” You turned around to see a very desperate-looking Lando.

“Lando, do you know how embarrassing that was for me?” You sighed and rolled your eyes as if you were a bratty teenager being denied the latest fashion statement dress.

“What?”

“Even I didn’t know it had been a whole year and more than that! You were seriously going to tell them all about your weird little obsession with me! Don’t you see how embarrassing that is for me?” The curly-haired brunette looked reasonably upset by your words. They cut deep like a dagger to the chest.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was just being honest. It felt like an interrogation. I was uncomfortable and just had to say something… well… the truth. It was really as if Kika wanted to know my intentions, though.” How was the guy so spot on?

“Lando, just leave me be and go back to the others. We can live our separate lives. I don’t want to be near you right now.” You didn’t want your face to reveal any underlying feelings, so you buried your gaze in the asphalt.

“Why don’t you go ahead and look into my eyes whilst you say that.” Your heart stopped. Lando was simply impossible.

“Lando, just let me go. I don’t want you and if you can’t accept that— I don’t think there’s any space for a friendship either.” This time, he went to hell with it and cupped your face with both hands. You could feel the warmth pulsating in each palm, sending jolts down your spine.

“There’s no reason to treat me like this if you can’t even say it straight to my face.” He held you too tightly for you to look away from him. All you could see was the genuine despair in his eyes. The little hope he had left was slowly slipping the more you denied and denied and denied.

“Lando if you don’t let go of me right now…”

“What are you going to do? Distance yourself from me? Isn’t that what you've been doing this whole season? Do you think you’re invisible? I’ve seen you. I saw you on the podium. I saw you on the screens. I saw you in the magazines. Just because you run away, doesn’t mean you get to go the easy way out. No, you’ll know that I—“ Fuck. Your brain was struggling to scramble everything together. All you could think about was those sweet eyes of his. Those curly locks. That desperate look on his face.

“Just let me go… please.” The overload of sensory input sent a single tear streaming down your face. Lando, seeing this, immediately let go of you, making sure he hadn’t hurt you in some way.

“I’m so sorry. I really am.”

“I know…” You quickly wiped the salty drop of truth away and put on yet another jester’s face.

“Please, can you tell me why you hate me so much? I just need closure. I just can’t find it in myself to believe that it’s because of my flirtation.” He’d given you space to breathe and space to think.

“I don’t hate you…”

“Then why do you keep leaving? Why are you avoiding me?”

“Because I’ll fall in love with you if I don’t… and that’s not what I want to do.” It was hard to read his face, but it was certainly portraying some kind of relief. You confirmed it when he pulled you into his chest. The sound of his heartbeat matched the pace of yours. Fast and relenting.

“Please, could you give it a chance? Give us a chance?” He pulled away, grabbed you by the hips and looked deeply into your eyes. The window to your soul.

“I just told you… that’s not what I want, Lando…” You were just about to give the ground another look at your face when Lando grabbed you by the chin,

“I know you’re obsessed with winning. I heard from Max. I won’t compromise that. I promise. It’s just… I need you in my life, and now that I know you feel the same way… I can’t just sit back and watch you slip away.” He was making it harder than you wanted him to. He had a point and you chewed on it.

“Fine… but you better let me win. At least for the remaining races of this season.”

“Sounds like you’ve got yourself a deal.” He smiled. It was as if time stood still, as you’d eyes closed with his— your lips touched his with a certain birding falling off your back along with it. His lips were like a cure. They were soft and delicate. Not something you expected, but the feeling was certainly welcome.

The season had ended with you as the champion. The party that was held was unlike the others. It was your party. Not Max’s. Not Lewis’. It was yours and yours alone. People cheered your name and toasted in your honour. You felt like you were on top of the world. More than anything though, Lando held you in his arms that same night. He showered you with congratulations and compliments. Even going as far as buying you a bouquet of roses. The club smelled of alcohol and cheap perfume, but all you could smell was the woodsy and warm scent of Lando’s cologne. You were practically engulfed in it throughout the entire night.

He took you on an official date a week later, waiting for the season to fully conclude. Mostly due to the stress of packing and making it back home.

It was a picnic in one of the many British marshes. Everything was home cooked. Well, you’d cooked everything and he had bought the wine. It was a win-win. You’d done everything overnight, as you wanted to arrive early into the morning.

You’d spread out the checkered tablecloth for you to sit on, opened the basket, and prepped everything. Lando opened the aged wine and poured you a glass before he poured his own— a true gentleman. You swirled your wine around, watching it hit the rim of your glass before you took a sip.

“For once, you aren’t running off before we eat. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dine, even with all the dinners we’ve had together,” your boyfriend chuckled and handed you a chocolate-covered strawberry. You took a bite of it to show off that you, in fact, were able to stay and eat. It stirred a little chuckle from him. He then mimicked the exact way you ate it and gave you another one after you finished yours.

You leaned against your lover’s shoulder, feeling his arm wrapped around your waist. The two of you watched the yellows, the oranges, and the reds in the sky as the sun started its ascension far into the horizon. It was mesmerizing. Truly. You admired the view, taking in all of life’s pleasures, and listened as the mourning doves cooed the same old nostalgic tune from your adolescent years. There was no place you’d rather be, and nobody you’d rather be there with, than with Lando Norris. The one, who through one too many races, was right in your slipstream.

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

926 notes · View notes

thisismeracing · 6 months

Text

Super shy | MS47

SOCIAL MEDIA AU

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x plus size!reader (she/her) ― Warnings: mentions of food, shy!reader, and tooth-rotting fluff. ― Summary: The one where your boyfriend is your biggest fan to the point of turning his account into a fan account or something of the sort. Or, Mick and Yn's relationship through the years. ― A/n: none of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps, but the work is and I do not allow it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

✷ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon masterlist ✷ you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment(don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

2020

ynusername

liked by ginaschumacher, jackdoohan, and others

ynusername what a beautiful season! super proud of my blondie :)

view all comments

mickschumacher thank you for being by my side through it all! I love you, pretty ❤️

user2 Yn you're amazing, but coffee with ice and milk is a crime!

collegefriend congrats, mick, the whole class was rooting for you!! 🥳

⤷ collegefriend2 the whole class: our friend group that happens to have seven people in it lol

jackdoohan send me the pics you took 🙏🏻🙏🏻

mickschumacher

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and others

mickschumacher Yes, we decided to adopt! Meet Angie Yln-Schumacher 🐶❤️

view all comments

jackdoohan omg you two look like a fifty years old couple sometimes 🥸

⤷ mickschumacher that sounds so single of you, I might have to ignore 🤨

ginaschumacher omg bring her to the ranch asap!!!!!! (also, you look perfect on this set, yn!!! ❤️❤️❤️)

⤷ ynusername love you, G 💖

user05 can Yn please share her skin care routine with us? home girl is glowing!!!

ynsfriend the shirt omg hahahaha I love you guys sm

username1 Angie is so cute!!

ynusername 🩷🩷🩷

2021

ynusername

liked by estebanocon, ginaschumacher, and others

ynusername went vroom vroom this weekend 💙

view all comments

user03 I am so ready for the paddock pics aaaa

mickschumacher love you, pretty!

⤷ ynusername love you more, blondie <3

oconzinho31 omg so this is his gf?? She’s stunning!!!!

mickschumacher

liked by estebanocon, lewishamilton, and others

mickschumacher had a great week ❤️

view all comments

estebanocon it was nice catching up with you guys

⤷ ferrarifanatic he says as if they weren't together every weekend lol

⤷ schumashoes nah but they were gossiping I'm sure, during the weekend the focus is racing

ynusername 💞💞

lancestroll 🥂🥂

charlesleclown I wanted to be Yn sm. Can you imagine being this pretty and also dating Mick Schumacher?!

2022

ynusername

liked by franciscac.gomes, lilymhe, and others

ynusername 💛 a little throwback time to Angie a year ago

view all comments

ginaschumacher omg I'm so used to seeing Angie that I didn't notice she lost her puppy face

lilymhe 🤍🤍🤍

1directionpaddock all of her dumps are so aesthetic, I'm in love

yukilover Yn you should show your face more, you're so pretty 💘

mickschumacher my princess and my queen ❤️

⤷ ynusername yeah, Angie is our little queen 💗

⤷ mickschumacher you're my queen, silly 😜

mickschumacher

liked by sebastianvettel, carlossainz55, and others

mickschumacher week's dump

view all comments

lancestroll where am I? 🤨

⤷ estebanocon you were gossiping with Yn and Albon

⤷ ynusername as if you weren't gossiping in the last pic huh

⤷ strollingaround LMAO get them, queen!

hamiltontouch can someone make a fan account for Yn clothes? I need all of her sets, they're too perfect!!

lewishamilton ❤️❤️

rbrvettel can we keep seb forever please? :(

ynusername

liked by georgerussell63, lilymhe, and others

ynusername It's the most beautiful time of the year 💚❤️🤍

view all comments

ginaschumacher one more xmas together 🥰

mercmick I WANNA LIVE ON THIS DUMP!

jackdoohan 💚

mickschumacher every time is the most beautiful time of the year as long as I'm with you

⤷ ynusername you're so cheesy

⤷ mickschumacher just for you 😚

monzasainz I wanna cry they're so cute

2023

mickschumacher

liked by lancestroll, danielricciardo, and others

mickschumacher month dump: sza concert, we adopted a sister for Angie, and we're moving to a bigger place 🤍

view all comments

estebanocon now you're a father of two

interlagoshamilton Mick account is actually a fan account for Yn I said what I said 🏃🏾‍♀️🏃🏾‍♀️🏃🏾‍♀️

⤷ tauritsunoda and you’re right, bestie!

happyricciardo I wanna be loved the way Yn is, get flowers, and praises, and have a man obsessed with me the way Mick is with her *crying in single*

hammert1m3 THEY'RE MOVING TO A BIGGER PLACE CUZ NOW THEY HAVE TWO DOGS, AND DKGJDKHJD OMG IM SO HAPPY BUT IM CRYING

ynusername I love you forever, blondie 💗 here to many more years together

⤷ mickschumacher I love you the most, Schatzi

lilymhe 🤎🤎 ily guys!

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! I hope you guys like this piece! I wanted to write something fluffly, but didn’t have the biggest idea so I went with just fluff, that’s all there is to the piece, but I hope you like it! 🤍 make sure to let me know your thoughts by reblogging and leaving me an ask!

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mickslover @fdl305 @lunnnix @saintslewis @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @smiithys @crimeshowjunkie @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @f1kota @wondergirl101ks @shhhchriss @leclercsluv @karmabyfernando @baby-is-crying @crashingwavesofeuphoria @v1naco @cixrosie @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @thatgibbsygirl @the-depressed-fellow @darleneslane @skepvids @goldenalbon @nichmeddar @buckybarnessweetheart @nzygftoji @fastcarsandshit @scopeiguess @jamie2305 @balekanemohafe @callsign-scully @schumacheer @dearxcherry @princewis

✷ check here my main masterlist | patreon masterlist and my taglist if you wanna be tagged on my pieces

#ms47 #mick schumacher #f1 x reader #plus size!reader #mick schumacher x plus size!reader #f1 x plus size!reader #f1 x black!reader #formula one imagine #f1 smau #op: smau #f1 social media au #mick schumacher social media au #f1 fandom #mick schumacher x black!reader #mick schumacher x reader #formula 1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

496 notes · View notes

wlwcatalogue · 3 months

Text

Chinese GL Webseries & Shorts for the Wuxia-Uninclined

Have you ever wanted to venture into the world of Chinese GL webseries and short films, only to find yourself at a loss about where to begin, or intimidated by the unfamiliar tropes and terms of the wuxia genre?

Well, worry no more! Here's a selection of non-wuxia webseries and short films curated by yours truly. Now you too can enjoy the lavish costumes and location shoots of these Chinese productions, so rarely seen in F/F works outside of feature films and the occasional TV series~

By the way, these are all translated and subbed by the inimitable Douqi (@douqi7s), whose immense contribution to the English-language baihe fandom is surely in breach of anti-monopoly laws. Offer up your thanks at her Tumblr and Twitter!

At-a-glance list

Webseries:

Ye-Mu Season 2 (1 hr 20m total, 2023) - standalone

The Vampires (41m total, 2022)

Ye-Mu Season 1 (27m total, 2022) - standalone

The Lost World (1hr 5m total, 2023)

Short films - order corresponding to the pictures above:

A Tale of Yearning (5 mins, 2022)

"She Brought Colour Into My World" (2.5 mins, 2023)

"I'm Her Weapon" (3 mins, 2022)

Miss Shen and the Woman Warlord (6 mins, 2023)

Women's Script (5 mins, 2023)

The Caged Canary (5 mins, 2023)

The Beauty of the Law (6 mins, 2023)

Flowers Bloom; Flowers Wither (9 mins, 2022)

Commentary under the cut!

FYI, I've opted to link directly to the subtitled versions since they're probably more difficult to find than regular anime, TV series, movies etc. If a link is broken, please refer to Douqi's blog directly.

Important note for the uninitiated:

It’s a bit difficult to talk about canonicity in relation to live-action works made in the PRC, as things which would normally be used as evidence of canonicity all fall under the censorship regulations— explicit references to romantic relationships or queerness, declarations of love, kissing etc. are all off the table. So while these may not look canon in the most traditional sense, they are intended to be read as such and should certainly not be dismissed as queerbaiting or yuribait. Also, the creators can get very imaginative, so this is less of a problem than you may think – see the entries on Ye-Mu Season 2 and The Lost World in particular!

1. Ye-Mu Season 2 / 叶穆 2 (32 episodes / 1hr 20m total, 2023, dir. Zhang Zhiwei) - MyDramaList

(Note: Despite the name, Ye-Mu Season 2 is completely unrelated to the first season; the only thing the two share is the cast, crew, and focus on Penthouse-style melodrama.)

Determined to take revenge for her mother's death, Xu Baiqing (Sheng Wei) marries a wealthy and much older businessman in the hope of finding evidence to put him behind bars. But first she must assuage the suspicions of his cheerily hostile second daughter, moody youngest son, and estranged eldest daughter (Ye-Mu Zhixia, played by Wang Laoji), the latter of whom Xu Baiqing dated in university and who is currently seething at the sight of her former girlfriend marrying her father...

If you want to get a sense of the potential breadth of Chinese GL webseries, this is a pretty good place to start. It does a decent job of matching the tone and presentation of a melodrama you might catch on TV (and in fact looks higher-budget than some I can think of), while committing to something that can’t be done on TV yet— namely, featuring an F/F exes-to-stepmother storyline and delivering on the drama inherent in such a premise. Of particular note is how the framing and behaviour of Ye-Mu Zhixia is very much consistent with that of a male romantic lead; thanks to some clever writing, it’s basically impossible to deny the nature of her relationship with the main character. They don’t even lean on the plausible deniability afforded by the label of “friendship”— in fact, in an early scene she is incensed when the protagonist refers to her as “[her] only friend”. There are a few caveats – the main character ends up in a lot of scrapes that her ex-girlfriend has to save her from, the reveals are often rather unsurprising, and the story shifts more to a mystery focus around halfway – but it’s still worth checking out if a Korean-style melodrama with an F/F take on a romantic storyline sounds appealing.

(CW: violence, murder, attempted sexual assault)

Note: See The Lost World (below), from the same creative team, for an even more impressive example of Chinese GL pushing the limits of censorship.

Links: MEGA / Internet Archive (compilation)

2. The Vampires / 吸血鬼鬼盲盒 (7 episodes / 41m total, 2022, dir. Zhang Zhiwei) - MyDramaList

(Note: Spoilers for the first 15 minutes or so, because otherwise the summary would be “They end up locked inside with the monsters on board”, which wouldn’t tell you much more than the title already does)

Every night, Tianyue (Ye Miao/夜喵) has been having dreams about the mysterious cruise ship docked at the pier. Convinced that there is treasure hidden inside, she and her exorcist-cultivator girlfriend Xiao Ling (Wei Miao/微渺) sneak on board only to find that they are trapped there until the sun comes up. Things don’t seem too bad at first: although they run into two vampires – the cute, cheeky Xingming (Yang Fuyu) and her elegant mistress Su Tanya (Sheng Wei) – they are able to call a truce, on the condition that the humans help search the ship for the latter’s beloved (Fu Cha, played by Wang Laoji). But when Fu Cha wakes up without her memories, it is clear that something is terribly wrong, and that the ship and its inhabitants harbour more secrets than expected.

For a webseries, The Vampires takes a while to get started— it’s a bit difficult to tell what kind of story or indeed what kind of tone it’s going for just based on the somewhat campy and comedic first section. But after that wobbly beginning, it manages to pull itself together to tell a compelling – and sometimes genuinely tense – tale about a motley band of humans and vampires, and the truths they have to face together. While the ending is no happily-ever-after, I found it satisfying and hopeful, and surprisingly affecting. Also, a bunch of the characters have real polyam energy, and this is reflected in the narrative beyond mere flirting!

(CW: abusive parents)

Links - MEGA / Internet Archive (compilation) / YouTube (compilation)

3. Ye-Mu Season 1 / 叶穆 (12 episodes / 27m total, 2022, dir. Zhang Zhiwei) - MyDramaList

(Note: Ye-Mu Seasons 1 and 2 are standalone stories; each season is entirely self-contained and the second season is not a continuation of the first.)

The head of the Ye-Mu family has died, leaving the next generation to squabble over the inheritance. It's a web of secrets, lies, and hidden resentments, as the characters dig out old grievances and fresh accusations in a desperate attempt to one-up each other. They're tangled up together to an almost incestuous degree, and indeed, the F/F subtext here is the ambiguous relationship between eldest daughter Ye-Mu Nanzhu (Sheng Wei) and second daughter Ye-Mu Nanmo (Wang Laoji) (rest assured that they are at least not biologically related).

Those who prefer darker stories and don't mind the pseudo-incest or other content warnings will find a melodrama which makes good use of its short runtime to deliver on twists, turns, and an explosive - if tragic - conclusion. That being said, the story is about the family drama in general, so do note that while the relationship between Nanzhu and Nanmo is narratively important, it is not fleshed out in great detail and certainly not the focus of the series.

(CW: suicide, ableist trope (spoiler – disabled character turns out to have been faking it), ableist language)

Links - MEGA / Internet Archive (compilation)

4. The Lost World / 夏夜知道风的甜 (1hr 5m total, 2023, dir. Zhang Zhiwei) - MyDramaList

(Note: Spoilers for the purpose of flagging triggering content, as it’s particularly easy to trip into for this show. Also, some vague spoilers for later episodes in order to highlight in order to highlight the themes etc.)

This webseries feels like two shows smushed into one: apart from the very beginning, the first half is a gritty, bullying-focused take on university life, while the second is a true-blue romantic comedy (aside from one blip – see the note below for details). But even if you’re wary of the bullying, I would still recommend watching the back half – which is basically standalone – as it’s a very funny and heartfelt story about two childhood friends finally getting their act together. Without further ado, here’s two blurbs!

From episode 1 onwards: After saving a classmate from the class bully, popular college student Xia Huaichu (Yang Fuyu) is subjected to a lengthy harassment campaign by the latter. She is suddenly faced with having to protect her reputation in the face of false allegations and fake nudes– despite the fact that all she wants to do is focus on reconciling with another classmate, a high school best friend whom she had previously lost touch with (Mu Qingfeng, played by Wang Laoji). From episode 14 onwards: Childhood friends Xia Huaichu (Yang Fuyu) and Mu Qingfeng (Wang Laoji) are caught in a weird gay purgatory where each has feelings for the other, and suspects that the other has feelings for them too. But both are exceedingly stubborn and want the other one to take the initiative in confessing, leading to ridiculous displays of I-don’t-care-isms and lots and lots of UST. (Does anybody use that term anymore??)

As you may have guessed, I’m not too keen on the first part of this show, nor the decidedly unnecessary attempted rape segment, though that’s partly on me for not checking the content warnings beforehand. And yet I’m very glad to have stuck with it, because the second half is not only hilarious, but also a masterclass in censorship-dodging that needs to be seen to be believed. Not just in terms of the suggestive scenes, of which there are many, either— the story is literally about two women starting a relationship and having to reckon with parental disapproval, homophobia, and other obstacles which platonic friends wouldn’t have to deal with. I honestly don’t know how this ever got approved, and can only applaud. Bravo.

Note: For those who want to avoid the triggering content, I’d recommend starting at episode 14, but make sure to skip episodes 19 and 20 as there is a foiled rape attempt.

(CW for entire series: bullying (incl. violence, fake nudes), sexual harassment, attempted sexual assault, fatphobic language, homophobia

CW for episodes 14-24: attempted sexual assault in episodes 19-20, homophobia)

Links - MEGA / Dropbox

SHORT FILMS

Quick note: Click on the English titles for the subtitled versions, and the Chinese titles (which are really just the video titles) for the originals. And yes, although the majority of these are shampoo commercials, they really do hold up as short films in their own right. Give them a try, you might be surprised!

A Tale of Yearning / 一见误终生，不见终生误 (5 mins, 2022, dir. Liu Yun Rui/流云蕊) – A bittersweet story about a literature-minded young woman (Sheng Wei) and a Chinese opera performer (Ai Ye) who bond over their love of fiction, only to be torn apart by harsh reality. Tragic ending, but I liked the more literary turn of the dialogue. Shampoo ad. (CW: homophobia)

“She Brought Colour Into My World” / “她走后，我的世界又失去了颜色” (2.5 mins, 2023, dir. Zou Hui Qu Le/走回去了) – A very restrained short film (actually, more like a music video) set during the late Qing era, wherein a sheltered young woman (Xiao Yu Za/小宇咂) falls for her female neighbour, recently returned from studying abroad (Sheng Wei). Lovely use of music and visuals to create a dreamlike atmosphere. Tragic ending. Not a shampoo ad.

“I’m Her Weapon” / 我是你手里的一把刀 (3 mins, 2022, dir. Liu Yun Rui/流云蕊) – A moody, interior piece about an assassin (Ai Ye) who yearns for some sign of affection from her handler (Sheng Wei), only to be left devastated by her new assignment. Surprisingly not a shampoo ad.

Miss Shen and the Woman Warlord / 我们是孤独行走的钟，但也要做敲响希望的钟 (6 mins, 2023, dir. Liu Yun Rui/流云蕊) – I’d like to describe this as being inspired by the story of Mai Jia’s novel The Message and the aesthetics of Kawashima Yoshiko (1990), but most Tumblr users would probably find those references deeply unhelpful. Basically, a female spy (Sheng Wei) disguises herself as a male soldier and infiltrates the mansion of a Republican warlord. There, she meets the warlord’s daughter (Ai Ye), who quickly realises that there is more to the promising young officer than meets the eye. Shampoo ad.

Women’s Script / 纵使“科考”无女子，无碍红袖书香，星辰有光 (5 mins, 2023, dir. Liu Yun Rui/流云蕊) – While sailing down a river, a girl (Zhi Chun He/至春禾) catches sight of a woman writing poetry on the riverbank (Sheng Wei), and is fascinated by both her beauty and her flaunting of the rules against women’s literacy. Shampoo ad. (CW: domestic violence)

The Caged Canary / 如果这是一场骗局，那我也只愿意输给你 (5 mins, 2023, dir. Liu Yun Rui/流云蕊) – The protagonist (Ai Ye) is sent by her parents to beguile a wealthy young man into marriage, but ends up developing feelings for his modern-woman sister (Sheng Wei) instead. Shampoo ad. (CW: attempted sexual assault)

Flowers Bloom; Flowers Wither / 她们一个被铁链禁锢，一个被男装束缚，直到救赎彼此 (9 mins, 2022, dir. Qian Li Min/千里明) – Takes the romance between a cross-dressing noblewoman (Du Ruo/杜若) and her supposedly-mad stepmother (Rou Lian Cheng/肉脸橙) to tell a story about the restrictions placed on women in historical times, and how resistance, even when futile, can still have meaning. Tragic ending, obviously. Not a shampoo ad. (CW: domestic violence, misogyny, accidental misgendering, gender dysphoria)

219 notes · View notes