mdni 🃏
thinking about luke as your mom’s friend’s son who only comes over when your parents hang out…yk the one….anyway here’s a shitty drabble
being all awkward smiles and painful small talk for the first hour of whatever family event your parents had dragged you to this time.
indulging in more than a few cocktails that your older cousins snuck to each of you from the bar.
(the dodgy bar in the dodgy events building that had been hired out for whatever birthday party/baby shower/bat mitzvah was happening. you didn’t really care all that much, anyway.)
the liquid courage fuelling the conversation, pulling up old memories you had buried and bubbling over the giggles you shared as you drank in the corner.
getting progressively tipsy, sharing secret smirks when your mom passed a comment about how “it was as if you two had never been apart!”
luke’s hand in yours — older, mature, callused; so different from how they used to feel when you were kids, although those memories were fading, being replaced with something much more carnal. something you were less likely to share over a cocktail at a family party.
sneaking away from the crowds — easy enough, everyone was drunk.
cutting through hallways, passing the drunkards who lingered outside of the chaos. they were smoking, arguing on the phone, waiting for a cab, looking for the bathroom. you?
you were being pressed against the wall of an empty stairwell, gasping quietly at luke’s mouth on yours. his hands on your waist, then your back, your arms, the sides of your neck. everywhere he’d been thinking about touching since he knew what touching meant.
and you were the same. fingers under his blazer, dipping into his waistband for a teasing second before returning to the outside world — but he noticed. how could he not? the firm pull of your body against his was response enough, his right hand coming down to hitch your leg around his hip.
your crotches burned with desire, rubbing against each other with every small movement of your bodies. aching for more whenever you paused for just a second because you thought you could hear someone passing the bottom of the stairs a few feet below you. all they would have to do is ascend the first set, and they’d spot you there. but neither of you cared.
luke inching a hand up your dress, dipping his fingers beneath your panties and huffing into your ear when your wetness coated them after one stroke. your own hand, fiddling with his belt and making sure nobody heard the clanging of the buckle as you undid it with fervour, eagerly searching for his cock once you could stick your hand in there to your wrist comfortably.
moaning in each-other’s ears. grinding on each-other’s hands. sucking in deep gulps of air whenever you got too loud, whenever the slurring speech of an uncle you’d never met faded in, and then out of shot.
luke cumming in his underwear, your hips spitting and sputtering against his palm only moments later.
cleaning yourselves up, catching your parents at the bottom of the stairs just as they passed by in search of you. sharing a look.
in the years you’d known him, you’d never exchanged socials. you didn’t need to. you just hoped he would be at the next family function.
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My Roman Empire is the way Emma and Regina were so clearly made for each other and that them falling in love would have made an incredible/influential storyline, but the writers were so afraid of success and good writing that they decided to turn two independent, powerful women into damsels in distress who base their happiness on the presence of men. And they did this for the sole purpose of proving to SQ shippers that Emma and Regina were straight.
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Who’s your best friend inside the paddock?
The guy I spend most time with is Blake [my manager] and his last name is ironically Friend. I would say that’s probably an obvious one because we spend a lot of time together. Lando [Norris] is one where like, our first year at McLaren, it definitely took us a little bit of time to probably get to know each other and warm to each other a bit. It’s probably no secret that it took us a little bit to become, let’s say, mates.
Who’s your best friend outside the paddock?
Actually, it’s funny. I laugh because I’ve got two Blakes who are very close in my life. Blake who works with me and probably my best friend is Blake who I raced go-karts with…
Do you call them Blake 1 and Blake 2?
Ha. He’s really tall so I’ve called them ‘Tall Blake’ and ‘Manager Blake’. But I raced go-karts with Blake so we’ve known each other since we were like nine years old and we always competed against each other for a long time. He’s always visited me, come to races, visited me when I was living in Italy and wherever I was, and remained a really close friend.
I think in those friendships it was easy for him to be like, ‘S**t, you made it, I didn’t’, and there could be like this weird kind of envy or jealousy, and he never had that, he always just stayed a really honest and true friend. We were coming up together and we were both trying to make it ultimately, and I think just the way he handled me kind of living our dream careers, that also could have made our friendship turn and it never did. I also really valued him for not letting that get in the way and we’re super-close.
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