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agendabymooner · 2 months

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SOMETHING REUNITED !!! SEBASTIAN V. X FEM!READER! X MARK W. (18+)

summary: sometimes a cat-and-mouse game of three can last longer than intended.

content warning: smut below the cut (minors dni), explicit language, mfm threesome, dom!sebastian and dom!mark (mentions rbr!mark and rbr!seb), multi 21, oral sex (m receiving) + deepthroat + facefucking, dumbification if you squint hard enough, double penetration + spitroast, praise kink, size kink-esque, age gap (with mark), unprotected sex (NOT RECOMMENDED)

💌re:moony's planner request: "pls more webberxsebxreader preferably smut"

note: i have a couple asks/requests sitting on my inbox for a while and this is the first thing i've written in a while 😭 i'm sorry to disappoint y'all but enjoy regardless xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

even ten years later, she still had them chasing after her.

working with red bull was anything but easy for her back in 2012, being a 22 years old woman and all. women in motorsports were something of a relatively new topic back then and when she made her presence known in the milton keynes factory, she would have expected things to be hard for her.

well… it was hard for her for a brief moment until a certain australian and german molded her into something more bold, giving her the attention and validation she desired.

yet she persisted, thinking of them as people who merely wanted her to feel comfortable in the formula one field. she didn’t think much of it before.

until malaysia 2013 happened. sebastian vettel won after he stopped following a team order, causing mark webber his p1 and in the process the ‘multi 21’ controversy occurred.

she was there to witness all of that - from mark’s radio to sebastian’s interview post-race, even their cooldown room segment. she was there.

that was also the same night mark finally snapped and bent her over his hotel room bed, with her allowing mark to fuck the frustration out of himself while she whined and cried about how big he was— and how full she felt.

it didn’t take long for sebastian to hear her whimpering and her pleading, as his room was situated next to mark’s. the german driver came knocking on mark’s door, and sebastian found his cock in her mouth and his hands gripping her hair.

mark, ever the dominant man that he was, demanded the woman to suck the race winner’s cock and condescendingly told sebastian it was a ‘congratulatory gift’ from the australian.

that was the last night they’ve ever seen each other in the same bed, but they saw each other a lot in the paddock.

in 2014, mark left for world endurance while sebastian continued to chase after her - to which she explicitly stated that she wasn’t going to do it again. but sebastian pursued her continuously anyway.

now, in 2023, both men were retired but they always found themselves coming back to the paddock or the pit lane. mark webber had been managing a driver who was a rookie this year, while sebastian couldn’t find himself to leave the scene as he was newly retired.

both had excuses, but no one really knew the real reason why they kept coming back. no one knew but themselves… and her.

the ten year build up led to her hotel room by the suzuka track, her tits were splayed out and pinched and caressed by both men and her knicker becoming more damp as they continued to tease her. she uttered nothing but a pitiful sigh, something that had both men groaning in delight.

“god, i fuckin’ miss that whining of yours, baby,” mark nipped her ear, his greying stubble grazing her neck and his grubby fingers nestling themselves between her legs. “miss the way you fuckin’ plead. you miss being handled like this, don’t you?”

sebastian chuckled darkly, his hand finding itself stabilizing her chin as he examined her desperate face. “and you thought those men you’ve been fucking were fulfilling your needs,” sebastian’s german accent thickened as he gave her an amused smile, “we’ve been waiting for this for ten years, liebe.”

it was a blur, having to figure out how she went from sinking down to her knees and choking on sebastian’s cock as the tip hit the back of her throat. she could feel a lot of things.

this included mark’s hand that held her hair up and bobbed her head back and forth. mark crooned sweetly and praised her, “there we go. that’s a good girl. keep sucking his cock like that, baby. you’re doing so good for him.”

mark nearly laughed when he watched her knees close and clench, fascinated at her submissive state as his eyes looked at her teary ones.

sebastian’s usually-bright-blue eyes were darkening as her mouth took in mark’s length, watching the way her tongue swirled around the aussie’s tip before her nose grazed the hipbone of the older man.

mark let out a guttural groan, feeling his tip at the back of her throat as she skillfully took him in. he let out a string of curses before he muttered, “good girl. keep sucking me off like that. ‘m gonna fuck this throat of yours, hm?” he peered down at her, waiting for her go ahead and witnessing her nod.

sebastian smirked as mark’s hips began to snap forward, lewd sounds of liquid escaping her barely empty mouth as she continued to indulge in mark’s cock.

“she can take us both so well,” sebastian crooned to the girl, stroking his cock at the same pace mark fucked her mouth with his length.

a few snaps of his hips after, mark finally pulled her mouth away and allowed her to breathe. she panted heavily, looking up at the towering man and still kneeling before them.

“think you can take both of us, schatz?” sebastian asked the woman as if she couldn’t comprehend a word anymore. her bruised throat didn’t tell them anything, earning an amused laugh from mark and sebastian. she was already fucked out and she only sucked their cocks.

mark could remember how desperate she was to suck him off after his loss at malaysia, wanting to please him after he grew frustrated with sebastian’s refusal of order in the track. all mark could think about was how ten years later he was going to feel her again. perhaps even better this time.

sebastian laid on the bed, gesturing for the woman to sit on his cock.

mark’s hand helped the woman up before slapping her ass, his mouth letting out a smirk when she let out a soft sigh at the impact.

soon, she sat on sebastian’s lap, sinking down on his cock as she let out a moan, “oh fuck…”

she adjusted, allowing herself to bounce on sebastian’s cock for a moment before she felt mark move and settle behind her. a splatter of lube escaped its bottle as mark spread it generously, in the process his fingers prodded her back hole as she let out a soft whine.

mark fucked her with his fingers while sebastian continued to thrust slowly, making her writhe and cry out for the two of them. they really had missed this— her pitiful and pleading moan. they missed making her cry like she hadn’t been fucked hard before.

“mm… so fuckin’ tight,” mark whispered in her ear, pulling his hand away to stroke his cock and lubricate it.

she nearly collapsed on top of sebastian when mark’s cock entered her slowly, both she and mark letting out loud moans. she felt so full while mark felt like she was hugging his cock tightly.

“fuck, mark!” she exclaimed, her head nuzzling sebastian’s shoulder for a moment as she babbled, “so fucking big. god, you’re so fucking big!”

“you’re so tight for us, schatz,” sebastian murmured and kissed her temple sweetly. “so fragile, we can barely fit ourselves in your holes.”

“seb,” she whimpered as she muttered, “‘m so full.”

“i know you are, bebe,” sebastian said, humouring her submissive state while mocking her in the process, “you’re so full that you can’t think anymore, hm? all you can do is be a good girl for us because you’re already fucked out.”

mark groaned loudly, now moving languidly alongside sebastian as the two men thrusted in and out of her holes. she couldn’t do much, she couldn’t even reminisce because of the sensations that she’s lost all thanks to their dominance and their primal urge to fuck her endlessly.

“you miss this, baby?” mark whispered heatedly, now moving rougher as she cried out their names. “missed this body of yours.”

“you had us running after you for years,” sebastian smirked, “now you’re a putty in our hands. such a shame you made us wait this long.”

“it’s a good thing we caught you eventually,” mark added as his eyes found her hands clawing at sebastian’s bare chest while she whined and squirmed in pleasure.

“because we’re gonna make sure you’re not gonna slip away anymore. gonna make sure you’re ours. gonna make sure everyone knows you’re ours — we’re gonna fuckin’ ruin every man for you like we did in 2013.”

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck

♡ moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness

#sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel smut #formula one smut #f1 smut #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one fanfiction #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut #mark webber smut #mark webber imagine #mark webber x reader #mark webber fic #sv5 #mw2 #💌 re:moony’s planner

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sebscore · 10 months

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could we get more lando and gzd moments? like them playing more into their marriage rumor and reeking havoc during races like pushing into each other on the track or chasing each other around the paddock, they’d be such a chaos duo😭 i love grids delight💗

SNITCHES GET STITCHES

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader

warnings: a collection of gen-z driver moments during the 2023 austria grand prix :)

author's note: i am so confused about this as well, but just enjoy our lovely gzd being chaotic and just as confused as us! thank you for loving the series, darling!! i appreciate it a lot!!!

• • • • • • •

''Okay Y/N, so we have a 5 second penalty for the lap track limits. Keep it clean from now on.'' Marco's voice came through the radio, notifying the driver.

She loudly sighed, momentarily lifting her hand from the steering wheel to show her frustration. ''What? Who snitched? Lando? Was it Lando? Oh, I bet it was Lando.'' Y/N rambled, glancing at the McLaren driver in her mirrors.

''Just focus on driving. They're giving a lot of drivers penalties at the moment so don't worry about it too much.'' He brushed it off, not wanting her to get distracted by which driver reported on her breaking the rules.

Y/N listened to his words and calmed down. ''Understood, Polo.'' She answered, trusting his judgement.

''Y/N, Sainz told over the radio that you're intimidating him.'' Marco informed her as she pressured Carlos, fighting for the third spot on the podium.

The driver frowned. ''Well… is the intimidation on the track with us right now?'' She chuckled.

''Push harder, we have better pace than them.'' Her engineer had laughed himself when the message came in, finding humour in the Ferrari driver's comment to his own team.

Y/N listened to Marco's instruction and intimidated the car in front of her even more, eventually passing him a few corners later. ''Marco, I passed him so he doesn't feel threatened anymore- aren't I such a good friend?'' She laughed, giving herself a pat on the wrist.

The commentators and analysts tried hard not to cackle as her radio message was replayed on the broadcast, still wanting to remain their professional attitude.

''Y/L overtakes Sainz from the inside with a nice message for the Spaniard attached to it- beautiful stuff we are seeing here at the Red Bull Ring.'' Crofty's voice sounded over the replay of said overtake.

''Charlie, you're in my chair again.'' Y/N walked into the cooldown room, immediately noticing the Monégasque occupying her seat. The situation had also happened in Baku when the three of them made it onto the podium.

The Ferrari driver glanced behind him, seeing her car number and team logo above his chair. ''Oh, sorry…''

He made an advance to switch seats, but she stopped him. ''It's okay- I'm P2 now.'' She teased, sitting down on his original chair.

''It's been a while since we were on the podium together.'' Max stated, standing up from his seat and grabbing one of the towels that were laid there for them.

Both Charles and Y/N nodded at him. ''Well, it's been a while since Charles was on the podium with us.'' The youngest corrected the Dutchman, chuckling at the Monégasque's unimpressed face.

''I'm back.'' He simply smiled.

While the second and third place drivers were joking around with each other, the RBR driver watched the replay of the race. ''A lot of penalties.'' He noted.

''I got one.'' Y/N admitted, raising her eyebrow in light annoyance.

The two men's heads shot up at that. ''Really? Track limits or what?'' Charles asked.

The young woman nodded. ''Yeah, Mr. Norris ratted me out.'' There was a sarcastic tone to her voice, indicating she was joking and wasn't actually upset with her British friend.

''Lando? That's funny.'' Charles had always been a fan of Y/N and Lando's friendship, their banter having made many great moments on the paddock and online.

Max pointed at her. ''You should get revenge.'' He grinned, knowing she most likely already had something in mind.

He realised he was right once he saw the mischievous smirk on her face. ''You know I will.'' She folded her hands together as if she was a villain in a superhero movie planning a grand scheme.

''I'm scared for him.'' Charles said, relieved he wasn't a victim of her humorous retaliation.

''You should be, Charlie.''

''YOU TOLD EVERYONE I PEED MYSELF SO HARD DURING THE RACE THAT THERE WAS A HOLE IN MY SUIT?!'' Lando stormed into her motorhome, his eyes widened in disbelief.

Y/N had a devilish smirk on her face as the McLaren driver walked in, having expected him to waltz in. ''Snitches get stitches.''

''Oh, come on! You would have done the same thing!'' He defended his actions.

''You,'' she pointed at him, ''think I,'' she pointed at herself, ''would have reported on you every time you went over the track limits? I would never, Lando.'' The way in which she was speaking sounded like that is exactly what she would do.

''And by the way, no one would believe a thing like peeing so hard that there are holes in your clothes- people aren't that gullible.'' She said, brushing the entire thing off.

Lando rolled his eyes. ''People are believing it! 'Lando peeing' is trending on Twitter already.''

Y/N snorted at his words, immediately covering her face as she loudly laughed in his face. ''L-Lan… pee- peeing…'' She couldn't get any words out, finding the situation too funny.

''Stop laughing, it's not funny!'' Despite his words, Lando had started grinning himself- the sight of his best friend completely losing it being too much for her 'I have to remain serious'-facade.

''I'm sorry, okay? I didn't think people would take it seriously.'' Y/N was still cackling while delivering her ''apology''.

The Brit sighed. ''This is gonna haunt me for a while, isn't it?''

''I'm afraid so, Rumple.''

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#f1 fic #f1 fics #lando norris x oc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x female driver #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x oc #f1 imagines #f1 oc

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 3 months

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Hello! Could you please write full headcanons on the M6 getting home one day to find MC dead? They're not actually dead, their body is just vacant after a spell went horribly wrong, but M6 have no way of knowing that.

Thank you!

The Arcana HCs: When M6 think MC is dead

~ @arson-the-ace oh, this. this is going to hurt, isn't it. ~

CW for descriptions of panic attacks, bodies that seem dead, references to past trauma, and your beloved in lots of pain

-- to set the scene --

It was supposed to be an experiment, to see if it was possible to put your body in a preserved or frozen state when you left it behind to visit the magical realms. You did not expect the result to be your body looking and acting like a fresh corpse, or for the spell to have a three hour cooldown time before you could reinhabit it. Your incorporeal self sighs and sits next to your body, resigned to the boredom of waiting it out.

Until, minutes later, the door opens and your beloved walks in, and you have no way of telling them what happened.

Julian

Already fears the worst as soon as he sees you sprawled on the floor - his plague doctor experience with visiting the sick has his instincts fine-tuned for recognizing an unrecoverable patient

Trips over himself in his scramble to get to you and gets a nasty bump on his knee, but doesn't register a thing because he's finally reached for you and he's looking for a sign of life

A pulse. An exhale. The twitch of your eyes moving below your eyelids, anything, anything to tell him that you can be saved

He rolls you onto your back and tries to give you CPR, but he's breaking down too much already for any of it to be effective

Chest compressions turn into him ripping his gloves off, trying to find any of the warmth you've shared with him

Mouth-to-mouth turns into a choked sob against your cold cheek

He can't bring himself to keep going. Each failed attempt at reviving you gets his hopes up only to rip them to shreds again

He doesn't want to move forward. He doesn't want to go ahead with laying you to rest. He doesn't want to leave this drafty wooden floor, without a blanket or a pillow to keep you comfortable

And he can't stand up

He sits cross-legged on the floor, lifting your head onto his lap and laying his coat over you in lieu of a quilt

You watch him droop over your body, shivering in the drafty room without his layers, voice catching and breaking on quiet sobs as he sings you the lullaby his parents sang him before the shipwreck

By the time your eyes flutter open, his voice is gone

He's happy to see you - he's so, so happy to see you, but he keeps hovering over you like he never knows if you're about to collapse for good next time

If you love him, you'll wait a long, long time to do any more magic

Asra

They thought you were playing some kind of game, at first

He walked into the upstairs apartment to see you sprawled on the floor and teasingly called out your name, playfully asking what new mischief you were up to as he hung up his coat

And then you didn't answer them

As soon as he felt that old dread seize his stomach, he was hurrying across the room and asking you what was wrong

They can feel their own body growing cold as they touch your frozen one, pressing a trembling hand to your chest in search of the heartbeat they moved heaven and hell to give you

He's panicking, breaths coming quick and short. The motions of his arms trying to pull you closer to him are far too similar to his frantic digging in the ash filled sands of the Lazaret

They don't know what's worse - the images flashing across their eyes of your charred bone fragments splintering in their bleeding fingers, or your lifeless face lying heavy against their knees

His heart can't take it. The tears give way to an ongoing numb tremor. He places a preservation spell on your body as his last conscious thought before he lies down next to you on the floor

They put their arm under your limp neck and cuddle up to you like it's just another day's end, just another snuggle before sleep while they lay their head down on your icy, silent chest

You watch him hold your body in shock. He seems like he's caught between worlds, alternating between staring at your unmoving stomach while his shaky tears land and pool on your shirt

And reflexively whispering apologies as they mop up their tears with their sleeve, asking if they're squeezing you too tightly

He's quick to check your memories when you wake up, but no matter how healthy you are, he can't leave your side for a week

Nadia

Her intuition is telling her something is wrong as soon as she's approaching her chambers. Seeing you on the ground is her worst nightmare coming true

You're cold to the touch. You don't respond to her voice. You don't respond ... at all. She needs help, you need help, you need help now, she's going to get you everything you need, just hang on

She lifts you into her bed, and the chilly deadweight of your body is more than she can take. When she throws open the door and yells for a doctor, every servant in earshot hears her panicked sobs

She hasn't had a panic attack like this in years

Servants rush in and out in a blur, hurried murmurs and muffled exclamations fading into the background. She feels like she's been plunged underwater, unable to scream as her lungs fill with salt

She sits by your side with your hand in both of hers, clinging to the only part of you she's allowed to touch while the closest physician pokes and prods at your lifeless body. She can't see you anymore

And everyone else? They can't see their Countess at all

They see a broken-hearted woman holding steadfast to her lover's limp hand, breaths jagged and unpredictable as she wails through her teeth. Mercifully, her hair comes undone and hides her wrenched face and streaming tears behind a curtain of purple

You woke her, first from her dreams, then from her apathy, and finally from her loneliness. Watching you succumb to a sleep far stronger than the one that trapped her is wretched beyond words

When you finally stir awake, she refuses to leave your side as the doctors work to ensure that your vitals are stable and to try to figure out what happened and if there are any repercussions

She's glad you're back, but she can't stop herself from waking you in the middle of the night to make sure you're just sleeping

Muriel

He's already convinced of the worst before he can prove it

He knows what a body collapsed in sudden death looks like. He's seen them countless times on the sand of the Coliseum floor, slaughtered at his own shackled hands, but now it's you

Now it's the only person he trusted to never leave his side

He can't register Inanna beginning to whine and pace, he can't register the sounds of the forest outside, he can't register the fire slowly burning down and out in the back of the hut

A lifetime of trained alertness, muted, because his subconscious has decided it can't take paying attention to a world that doesn't have you in it any more

He's finally able to move again when he takes his first shuddering breath in minutes, and he begins to walk and reach towards you in the vague hope that all is not as it seems

But that's when some small, sick part of his brain starts up its tiny chant that he deserves this, that this is the effect of giving in to your misguided desire for his touch, that this is somehow his doing

But the larger part of him, the part of him that loves you and aches for you and is dedicated to you, leans past the furious pain and lifts your head and shoulders off of the floor, enough so he can lower his head and listen for a heartbeat, feel for breath on his cheek

And there isn't any. Your body is as still and lifeless as his hope for something better, and he can't breathe. He can't breathe, and he's curled up in a ball with you in his arms, and he can't breathe

It takes a few hours before he can master his thoughts enough to think. This has happened before, and it was possible for you to come back. Asra, he has to bring you to Asra, he'll give anything

You wake up as he's carrying you through the woods, and it's the first time you've seen his body go so completely weak with relief

Portia

At first, she thinks you're feeling a little silly and sleeping on the floor just to mess with Pepi. Though the way you're lying, you almost look like you've collapsed. That can't be comfortable

It's when she crouches down to wake you up that she can tell something's wrong. Your shoulder is cold - way too cold

She's already got tears running down her face, but never in her life has she let her sadness stop her from caring for those she loves. She shakes you, back and forth, calling your name over and over

At some point she realizes that it's too late, there's nothing she can do, and that's when she starts wracking her brain for someone who can do something. Anything. She's not giving up on you

She's small, but she's strong and she's in pain. She lifts your body and begins to stumble through the Palace garden with you. She leans into the volume of her wails, using them to call for help

First through the gardens, then through the Palace halls, unable to recognize the blurry faces through her tears, but determinedly blubbering out what's happened and how she needs help for you

When someone who might have been the Countess informs her that the physician is out, she walks out the front gates of the Palace. Her ears are deaf to the offer of a carriage into town

Vesuvia still remembers its plague. It has never before heard cries as anguished as the ones Portia sent echoing down the canals as she ran and stumbled with your body to Mazelinka's house

Mazlinka will be there. Ilya will be there. They both know plenty about medicine, they should be able to help, just hang on. Hang on, she tells your cold body, hang on for me

You stir awake just as she crosses the threshold into the basement dwelling, and the emotions she feels are so overwhelming that she almost punches you for scaring her. She can't stop crying

Lucio

When he walks into the room in the inn after his trip to the outhouse, he avoids the sinking feeling in his gut by telling himself you're just napping. On the floor. Without moving

And then he can't take the way his conscience is nagging at him, so he snaps and (not unkindly, but brashly) tells you to get up and get moving already, we're wasting daylight!

But you don't move. You don't give him a disapproving look. You don't grumble when he shakes your shoulder, or open your eyes when he pats your cheek, or smile when you hear your name

He doesn't understand. You're brave, you're strong, you're loving, you're good, you're full of goodness and you're better than anything he ever deserved after what you suffered because of him

Because of ... him

This must be his fault. This must be his actions catching up with him. This must be the fallout of all those rash deals, some forgotten deity must have run out of patience and come to collect

Of course this would happen. It would take a hundred lifetimes to sift through the pile of selfish bargains, of course he missed one, of course he failed to make up for his past deeds, of course ...

Of course an oversight like that would cost him you

But he's not going to let this go. You deserve better. He hauls you into his arms, ignoring the way he chokes at your dangling limbs, and rushes out of the inn and into the deep, deep woods beyond

He screams and cries and yells and threatens and pleads and begs until his voice falls silent and he can taste blood in his throat

He calls out to any angry being listening to tell him, tell him what this is in payment for, tell him what he can put on the bargaining table that would pay back the debt that demanded your soul

You wake up before he can do anything rash, but he squeezes you in his sleep now, as if to challenge any more soul thieves

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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theemporium · 10 months

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hiii cece, i was wondering if your still doing formula one, charles leclerc losing to reader and having a heated sex session (idk if that makes sense, but i hope you get it ig)

thank you xx

thank you for requesting! i do kinda wanna write for my boys (and maybe some others, who knows) again so here we are :)

He was pissed.

You knew he was pissed the second you got out of your car, parked right behind the number one sign, and saw him just glaring at you from his spot behind number two. You knew he was pissed when you went to the cooldown room and he had walked right past you. You knew he was pissed in the post-race conference when he made a snarky comment about your win.

He had spent the majority of the race leading. It was meant to be an easy win to secure. And then a safety car deployed and suddenly you were on his ass, and one risky move caused him to pull back and you to move ahead and you took his win.

Charles knew how racing worked. He knew this was just one of those things that happened. But after weeks of bad luck and bad strategies, this just so happened to be the thing that tipped him over the edge and there was only one way he knew how to settle his feelings when it came to you.

“Fuck!”

Charles groaned as he threw his head back, the thump against the wall was a dull pain that he didn’t care about at that moment. Instead, he was focused on you. One look and you knew exactly what he needed. It was easy enough to sneak into his driver room after the conference, but you had barely stepped through the door before he was on you.

Now, here he was, race suit pooled at his knees and fireproof abandoned somewhere in the room. His chest was heaving with soft pants, his hands were wrapped around your ponytail and his cock was hitting the back of your throat as you took it all like the good girl you were.

“That’s it, cherie,” he groaned, tugging you closer by your hair until your nose was brushing against his pelvis. He looked down at you, the way your wide, glossy eyes were staring up at him and the way his cock bulged against your cheek. “This is where you belong, hm? Look so pretty down there.”

You whined around his cock, the sound only muffled as you squirmed under his intense gaze. Your hands were pressed against his thighs, your nails digging into his skin but he revelled in the pain.

“So fucking desperate for my cock,” he mused as he tugged you away, watching as you gasped for air. His eyes darkened at the line of spit connecting to the tip of his dick, the way your eyes fell to watch it like you wanted to destroy the distance between you and him. “Maybe I gotta fuck you before the race, leave you all dumb and fucked out. Maybe then you won’t pull stupid moves.”

“It was a good move,” you defended weakly, your voice a little raspy as you looked up at him.

But he just chuckled darkly as he fisted your hair, tugging your head back so you were looking up at him. His other hand wrapped around his cock in a tight first, stroking as he watched you watch him longingly.

“Still a brat, I see,” he grumbled, hissing through clenched teeth as his thumb swiped over his sensitive tip. “A shame. I was gonna take it out on you, watch you cry for my cock. But I don’t think you deserve it.”

Your eyes widened a little. “Charles—”

“Shh, baby,” he groaned as he fought to keep his eyes open, to keep them on your face as he felt his orgasm approaching. He took a step closer, his cock just inches away from your face. “This is all you’re getting until you stop being a brat. Only good girls get to come.”

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sainzinnorris · 7 months

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okay now that i have the information, this is a CarLando recap of Singapore gp 2023:

1. lando slapping carlos's ass and carlos's response was “ that was hard” , followed by a blush and momentarily losing track of whatever he was saying.

2. p1 and p3 in quali and cue to lando pinching carlos's boobie to lando brushing his hips against carlos's and cue to carlos following him like he's mezmerized.

3. lando replying “ vamos" under carlos's twitter post and “ CARLOOOOOOOS” under his instagram post. (we all think he's whining for carlos but alright-)

4. the carlando hug. it's beautiful. it's mezmerizing. I've seen it too many times. it's poetic.

5. the podium interviews before the celebrations with carlos and lando mentioning each other more often than they're breathing, the cooldown room where they're just “ ai , ai , ai " and “ oh- oh- oh" (sounded like their foreplay without context). lewis just walks in at the last moment without any background context and the sky commentators went like “ alright, if this is how the reporting for the race happens, we'd want this informative reporting every race weekend ;)) ” [ also cue to them recreating the “ ai ” and “ oh ” ]

6. the carlando podium. that spraying technique from lando onto carlos's mouth and carlos sticking his tongue out like that. and the way carlos's practically chugs champagne onto lando's mouth (for second one reference: check the video where fred is drowning carlos in champagne, it's for a very split moment , but you can see it )

7. the post race press conference with carlando in their married domestic bubble + third wheel lewis. also cue to CarLando sitting together far away from lewis and carlos showing lando something which causes them to smile and get giddy over idk, and carlos following lando quickly in the most babygirl way ever. 🏃🏾‍♀️

8. carlos's instagram selfie post dedicated to CarLando solely + an insta story of the same post, an insta story solely dedicated to an hd aesthetic picture of their hug, cue to lando resharing the selfie post on his own story with “ #CALANDO” as well as resharing the hug™ on his story, and posting the CarLando selfie on his p2 celebration post. a joint instagram post. 😏

9. to mclaren and ferrari admin celebrating carlos and lando. [ mclaren commenting “ vamos” and scuderia ferrari commenting “ good job lando :) ” ]

10. carlos and lando being congratulated by the mclaren and ferrari mechanics.

11. the post race interview again where carlos suggested lando and him should go out for drinks tonight and smiles whenever he mentions CarLando and tone implications of suggesting he knows CarLando works exist.

12. carlos's radio message of “ gap to lando every lap" and carlos intentionally slowing down just enough to keep lando within drs range , lando understanding the signal. when told by his race engineer about the gap (0.8) carlos goes like “ it's on purpose ”. the amount of precision, trust, teamwork and respect. freaking insane.

#in this essay i will #stella rambles #i hope i covered anything #if i did leave anything out let me know so i can make changes #and carlando fic writers...feel free to use this as a guide if you're writing fics off these moments #carlando lore #carlando #carlos sainz jr #lando norris #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #singapore gp 2023 #stella's textposts

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indigosunsetao3 · 2 months

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Possessive

adjective 1. demanding someone's total attention and love. 2. showing a desire to own things and an unwillingness to share what one already owns.

Female reader perspective

18+ | MDNI

Warnings: stalker undertones, jealousy, smut, public sexual acts. (nothing 'excessive')

Alex

You watch with narrowed eyes as Alex is interrupted for the third time in his reps at the squat stand. The gym was fairly full and there were plenty of other people using the weights that could help spot. Yet these same two girls kept going over to Alex specifically to ask for his help.

Normally it wouldn't bother you, he's friendly and has that look about him that just screams he wants to help. But today was different. Today you saw the two girls eyeing him and when they bypassed a few perfectly capable people that could spot for them you knew what they were up to.

But you wait. You continue to jog on the treadmill as Alex goes over to spot one of them as they use a barbell to bench-press. You tsk under your breath and resist shaking your head as the friend attempts to engage Alex in conversation. He's genial, answering her with a small smile as he watches the other woman pressing, his hands barely ghosting over the bar ready to catch it. Why the friend couldn't spot seemed to be a mystery no one else wanted to solve.

You were prepared to let it go as Alex stood up straight again and went to leave but they catch him again. The friend gestures to pull ups and you instantly slam your hand on the treadmill to end your session. You don't have to be a genius to know what the next plan was and you were fucking done. Grabbing your bottle of water you storm over to find the girl giggling and gesturing about trying to reach the bar.

"Alex," you say with a bite to your voice as you towel off your face. You didn't even get a chance to do a cooldown so you knew you were flush and it probably only added to the angry look. "I think it's time we hit the showers," you say, your eyes looking between the women who were watching you now. Sizing you up.

"Already?" Alex asks as he moves to look at his watch. "We've only..."

"We have that dinner to get to," you cut him off, your eyes finally leaving the women to look at him. He certainly seems confused. There is no dinner and he has no idea what you are talking about. He doesn't fight it though, merely shrugs a bit and says goodbye to the women while looking at you curiously. The women mutter their goodbyes and you resist smirking at them over your shoulder.

You don't give him time to catch up as you stomp toward the locker rooms. How could he not notice what those women were doing? He just went right along with it. Maybe he did notice. That thought sends you spiraling as your hand reaches the locker room door but before you can pull it Alex catches up,

"What's going on?" He asks a bit concerned as he searches your face. "Did something happen?" He looks around the gym as if there would be an indicator as to what had set you off.

"I'm not going to argue about it here," you seethe looking around at the gym for a second. You were upset but you also didn't want to cause a scene. "Just, let's get cleaned up and we'll talk in the car."

He frowns a bit before you pull the door open and head towards the lockers to get your things. Alex doesn't let you get far, instead grabbing your arm and tugging you down a small alcove where they hadn't finished the renovations yet.

"We're going to talk now," he insists. "You're mad at me and I have no idea why."

"That's why I'm mad!" You respond with a huff. "Those women were practically throwing themselves at you and you went along with it. Every time they walked over you dropped what you were doing to help. They didn't go to anyone else, just you. And you just...let them get your attention like that."

Alex grins, actually grins at you now, and you resist sidestepping him and marching to the showers.

"Sweetheart," he says gently, reaching to turn your cheek so you'll face him instead of staring to the right, bouncing your leg angrily. "I didn't even notice," he says getting in your eyesight as you attempt to look away again. "They asked for my help and I...helped. I thought it was a bit odd they needed so much assistance but I figured they were just...new" He laughs a bit seemingly finally putting the pieces together.

"See!" You exclaim, "they were obviously into you. And you fed into it." You know it sounds ridiculous but you can't help yourself.

"Ah, but see, bad news for them," he backs you up into the wall. "I'm not into them," his broad hands find your hips and he squeezes gently. "I've only got eyes for you," he smiles at you trying to get you to smile back. "Especially when I get to stretch you out...which you deprived me of today by the way," his hands leave your body to brace on the wall over your head so he's crowding your space.

He's flustering you on purpose, to distract you. And it's working. You stare up at him for a moment, noting how his shirt was still stuck to his chest with sweat and his hair partially plastered to his forehead. He's giving you a knowing smirk because he's well aware what happens to you when he hovers close.

"Take me home then and you can stretch me all you want," you taunt back which causes his eyes to flare for a second.

"Waiting too long to recover won't do you any good," he replies. "How about we get those legs nice and relaxed," he proposes, sliding his hands down the wall and hesitating for a moment before pushing off to stand up fully again.

You laugh stopping long enough to grab some supplies from your locker before following behind him and snapping the door shut. Sharing a shower stall wasn't exactly approved but you could care less as Alex ran his hands all over you. He takes special care of your worked muscles, maybe lingering a moment too long on your ass but you don't complain.

"Maybe I need to rile you up more often," Alex taunts as you both walk out of the locker room some time later with long glances and unsaid promises of what was waiting for you at home. "Jealousy is cute on you," he teases and you cut your eyes at him before grabbing the hand he reaches out to you.

What you don't notice are the two women still in the gym. Alex carefully catches their eyes with his own just as you are about to exit and he pulls you close to him, planting a kiss on your head.

Gaz

"We're going to be late," you call to Gaz as you put on the finishing touches of your lipstick and check your teeth in the mirror. It was the annual holiday party that your job hosted and this year was cocktail attire, compared to all the others that had been ugly Christmas sweaters and jeans. "Car will be here any moment," you walk out of the bathroom and fix the strap on your heel.

"I'm ready," Gaz answers already downstairs. You find him fixing his tie in the hallway mirror and he watches you approach in the reflection. He smiles at you, taking in the shimmering pale gold dress that matches his tie, which he finally sets. "You look nice," he carefully pecks you on the cheek, not wanting to mess up your makeup.

"As do you," you compliment before a car honks outside and you quickly grab your purse and head out. Date nights weren't very frequent for you, between your job and his it was hard to find weekend evenings together. So for the holiday's Gaz had splurged and rented a town car to take you to and from the party.

Once in you settle back into the seat, leaning a bit on Gaz, your phone buzzes. You pull it out and sigh a bit. You hadn't told Gaz everything about the evening.

"What is it?" He asks as he looks over, catching the look on your face.

"You have to promise to not get upset," you start but he knows immediately just by that statement alone. It had been a point of contention in your relationship for a while now. You worked with your ex, that was a known fact and not a big deal. The problem was your ex was constantly trying to win you back and before Gaz had come along it had worked a few times. So your ex was emboldened by that track record and never let up. He had transferred to a different office but because it was the company party he would be there.

"Was that him?" He asks nodding his head at your phone and you pause and nod before handing the phone over. You have no secrets from Gaz. He takes it and glances at the message before scoffing and handing it back. "He doesn't even try to hide it," Gaz mutters as you put the phone away. "I don't understand why," he starts but you cut him off.

"You know why," you answer. "My boss is his friend, if I push too hard it could cost me my job. I know it's stupid and not fair but it is what it is," you continue before Gaz can retort. You've had this argument so many times it was predictable what all the points and counter points would be. "You know how I feel, I would never."

"I know you wouldn't but I don't like that he thinks he can keep trying," Gaz answers, his body language definitely stiffer than it had been when you left the house. "It's never going to end. He doesn't respect you or me," his voice is a bit raised and you look at the partition in the car between you and the driver to make sure it is up.

"Don't let him ruin our evening," you press, already worried it's been soured. "Just you and me tonight, right? We got this car so we can drink and be stupid," you grin and nudge him lightly. "Don't let him take that."

Gaz gives you a tight smile but agrees. The rest of the ride is quiet but less tense over to the venue. The party itself is nice, at least two hundred people are in attendance and you keep glued to Gaz's side all evening. Introducing him to new coworkers, saying hello to old ones that he already knows. Your ex is ever hovering though, attempting to get you alone in conversation any chance he can.

Gaz's hands remain on you all evening though, polite but ever possessive as he keeps a keen eye on your ex. Whenever he gets close Gaz tugs you that much closer, let his fingers dig in just that much harder or he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek or shoulder. The alcohol is also starting to get to the both of you as well and you find Gaz's hands wandering under the table. You bat him away a few times with a smirk but he continues, careful to play coy.

As the party starts to wind down Kyle's hands get a little more brazen. He slides the gold silk of your dress up your thighs under the table cloth and when you shift forward and spread your legs just a bit his fingers lightly brush the apex of your thighs. You snatch up a drink to keep from spluttering, but close your eyes enjoying the touch for a second. Right as your about to ask him if he was ready to leave, you yourself ready to get him alone, your ex walks over and takes the empty seat across the table.

"Nice party," he says in a form of greeting looking at you and Gaz, sizing the latter up. "Matching ensemble. Cute," he tacks on evidently intending to be sarcastic.

"A man should always compliment his lady," Gaz answers simply as he slides your panties to the side under the table. You shift a bit attempting to press your thighs together but he doesn't allow it, his hand briefly squeezing your leg before letting go. "Especially one this beautiful," he grins turning to look at you as he lets his index finger slide down you.

"Never could get me to do it," you ex says with a small laugh. "I'm not about to let a woman dictate to me what to wear," he shrugs. "Guess soldiers are used to taking orders." He smirks and sips on his amber drink, eyeing you.

He's completely unaware that you are struggling to keep a straight face as Gaz gently circles your clit, spreading your arousal all over you. You inhale sharply as he moves to slip a finger in you but you cover it with a cough as your ex angles his head a bit at the sudden movement.

"Could be why she left you then," Gaz answers back coolly. He had promised to not pick a fight with you ex ages ago, but never said he wouldn't rise to the occasion if your ex started it. "No offense of course," he tacks on as his middle finger glides effortlessly into you and you squirm, unable to contain it. "Some men just aren't cut out for strong women." He smirks, placing a small kiss to your temple as he subtly adjusts to let his thumb rub against you.

Your ex laughs at this before downing his drink and setting it on the table a little too hard.

"She'll come back to me," he answers dropping all pretense at playing nice. "Always has. You aren't the first guy after me you know. She'll be begging for me before long."

You narrow your eyes and open your mouth for a retort but Gaz already has one. His hand sliding out from you to rest his elbow on the table. His has his hand up, using the guise of twisting his ring on his finger with his thumb to draw attention to his movements as he acts as if he were thinking of what to say.

His fingers are glistening in the light and it draws all three of your eyes. If you could die from embarrassment you would.

"I'm fairly certain she'll be begging for me to keep going tonight when I get her home," he answers finally, cutting a cocky look to your ex. Your ex caught on to what has been happening at the table and his face portrays his shock. "Ready to go?" Gaz asks you pointedly before standing up and pulling your chair out. As you stand he gently tugs your dress down in the back for you before guiding you away with his hand on your lower back.

"You did that on purpose," you hiss as he helps you get your coat on. Your ex hadn't left his spot at the table and was still watching the both of you as you prepared to step outside.

"Well, I've wanted to get you out of that dress all night," Gaz answers as he holds open the door. "Him coming over was just the perfect opportunity for me to emphasize you're mine and not his," he smirks. "Hopefully he'll leave you alone."

Ghost

You smirk as one of the men taps out after you got him pinned with your legs wrapped around them and one arm pulled back. Letting go of his arm you pull your legs back and take a quick breather as he stands before he offers you a hand up.

The new group that you were training had taken one look at you and underestimated you. They always did. One cocky bastard had volunteered to spar against you first and you just smiled sweetly as he stepped into the ring. He didn't make it thirty seconds.

"Can you tell me what he did wrong?" You ask the rest of the men standing lined up as you grab your bottle of water. A few of them mutter jabs at the guy and one elbows him as he laughs into his own bottle of water. Eventually they state his footing and late lunge which is correct. All of them are too lumbering, relying on their bulk which is useless if it's used against them.

"Who's next?" You ask before you hear the door open and someone steps in. Everyone turns around to see Ghost had entered the small gym area. His arms are crossed over his chest as he comes to stand near you to observe. "Ignore him," you say with a smirk before pointing out one of the guys and motioning him to the mat. "He's just trying to intimidate you," you explain before indicating it was time to start.

This recruit lasts a bit longer. You almost had him pinned but he broke out and picked you bodily up off the floor before taking you back down to the ground. It knocked the wind out of you for a second as you squirmed under him before hooking your leg around him and attempt to flip him over. He laughs, a breathy thing in your ear, as you buck up which causes your eyebrows to shoot up.

His friends are cheering him on as you both attempt to overpower, hands grappling for purchase. At one point he's got your ass gripped hard in both of his hands as he tries to flip you to your stomach. From the corner of your eye you see Ghost shift, take a step forward as if he were going to intervene, and you grunt before trying to get a knee to his chest but he pushes down further into you trapping that leg. His fingers are like vices and this is definitely not because he's trying to pin you and you feel him roll his hips. Fucking hell.

You buck hard and bring up an elbow to his neck. The guy relents and you knock him over and scramble around him. After a few seconds you're sitting on his back with your legs locked tight around his waist and his head in a headlock. He taps after a few seconds of being held that way but you hold it for a second longer before letting go, roughly. You stay sat on the ground trying to catch your breath before Ghost actually steps in and offers to help you up, blocking the other guys effort. You raise your eyebrows but take his hand as he hauls you effortlessly to your feet.

The guy is talking quietly with his friends and you see one of them appraise you before stepping forward offering to go next. But once again Ghost steps in and shucks off his hooded sweatshirt and tosses it to the ground.

"You, again," he orders pointing to the guy that had just pulled that little stunt with you. He doesn't look as excited to get back on the mat and he stands there looking between you and Ghost for a second. "I'm not going to tell you twice," Ghost states before the guy steps forward. The cheering had died down and there is an absolute silence when they begin.

It's over quickly. Ghost has him in a tight headlock and the guy is frantically tapping for release but Ghost doesn't let up. You watch the guy for a second, your eyes making sure he can at least breathe, before making eye contact with Ghost who is staring right at you. You can see the murderous intent there before you nod once and he lets go, the guy rolling away gasping for air.

"You're dismissed," Ghost barks before you can say anything. There was another thirty minutes of training left but no one argues. The recruits quickly gather up their things and dart for the door leaving you and Ghost staring at one another.

"What the fuck was that?" You ask as he bends down to grab his discarded sweatshirt. He's still seething as he looks at you. "I don't need you defending me, I can handle my shit on my own," you tilt your chin up a bit in defiance.

"Never said you couldn't," Ghost answers. "But he was groping you, blatantly, and egging his friends on to try it," he steps closer.

"That is not the first or the last time that will happen," you shoot back. "One in every fresh batch I get tries it. At least this one wasn't half bad looking," you taunt and see the flare of anger on his face. Good.

"So you enjoy having a green fucking recruit paw at you?" He asks closing the gap completely so you have to tilt your head up to see him, your chest brushing his.

"What if I do?" You ask cocking your head to the side a bit, "you've made it very clear where I stand with you." Fuck buddies. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. That had been his rule, not yours.

His hands are swift as he grabs your behind, hiking you off your footing before you even know what is happening. He twists and drops you both to the floor and has you pinned under his weight, his hips between yours. "I don't like seeing someone touching you, thinking they can have you," Ghost answers as one of his hands pushes your thigh up toward your chest so he can press his hips in harder.

"You don't get to be jealous, these were your rules remember?" You ask as he rocks into you again making you squirm. "I'm not going to just sit and wait for your every beck and call when you need a good lay," you arch up a bit as one of his hands dances down your ribcage. "I'll find someone eventually, someone that actually wants me, and you'll have to find someone new to bring to bed."

"Love, you're never going to be rid of me," Ghost answers as he lets his hands slide up, up, and under your sports bra. "You're mine whether you like it or not. And no one gets to play with what is mine," he pinches you lightly causing you to groan.

It wasn't exactly the declaration you were looking for but you'd take it. For now.

Price

An injury had you sitting this one out and it infuriates you. You had tried to tell everyone you were fine, you could go. But when Price sent you for a lap around the facility and you came back clutching your side limping you had to admit defeat. So that meant the team was one person down and they needed the slot filled. Laswell had found someone that was available immediately and when you saw the file it set your teeth on edge.

It was Price's old, well, whatever she was. They never married but from what you knew they were certainly not in a strictly professional relationship. Price barely reacted when Laswell said her name, though the rest of the team had glanced at one another, pointedly not looking at you. They knew the history. What worried you even more is how their relationship had been is exactly how yours and Price's started. Was it a pattern?

When she arrived for the briefing a few days later you couldn't help but glare at her from where you sat. You were running intelligence and communication with Laswell so you were at least somewhat part of it. She was gorgeous, fit as a goddamn fiddle and why the fuck was her hair so luxurious? You knew Price liked running his hands through your hair, wrapping it up in a tight fist as you sucked him off. Then you thought about all the times he had done that with her and you nearly came out of your seat with fidgety agitation.

Price had opted to sit next to you during the meeting, his face passive as he took in the plans. He jotted down a few notes here and there but mostly leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed. You couldn't sit still though, moving around in your seat and tapping into your email on your laptop for need of something to do. Then when she turned around to ask a question of John you grew completely rigid.

John answered her, just as he would answer anyone, but his eyes cut to you briefly as he speaks. He clocks your sudden stillness and you quickly busy yourself with opening an old email and read it intently like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He looks away again but you swear you see a small smirk on his lips.

When the briefing ends you're the first one up, tucking your laptop and files under your arm and headed out. You can't be in there anymore, you need to walk off some of this pent up anxiety, anger, whatever it was. If you were this upset about them being the same room you knew them being alone together for days at a time was going to be torture. You need to get a handle on it.

"Stop," comes John's voice as you're about to round a corner. You poke your head back around the wall to see him standing there. "Come in my office for a moment," he gestures down the hall the other way.

"I've really got..." you start as you try to come up with an excuse.

"It wasn't a request," he states with a small eyebrow raise.

You quickly head back toward him and he leads the way to his office, not pausing to see if you’re following. He knows you are. When you make it to the office he opens the door for you and ushers you inside before shutting the door. And flipping the lock.

"Mind telling me what this is all about?" He asks you without preamble. He was never one to beat around the bush.

"It's nothing," you try, "just don't like that I'm stuck here is all. I hate being couped up."

John watches you carefully before taking your laptop and files out of your hands and setting them on one of the empty chairs. "Now that you're done making things up, let's try the truth hmm?" He grins as he leans closer to you, effectively pinning you between him and his desk, his hands braced on either side of you.

"I don't," you splutter. "Why does it have to be her?" You finally dare, your eyes darting away for a moment before going back to his face. He's fucking grinning. Like a gloating bastard.

"Love, are you jealous?" He taunts, moving one his hands to capture yours, holding it between his palm and the desk so you're now stuck. "Why?"

"Why?" You shoot back a bit flabbergasted. "Have you seen her?" You pause, "of course you have. That's why you took her to bed too," you groan not wanting to think about that. Shutting your eyes for a moment to compose yourself you open them again to find him still watching you intently. "You're going to be out in the field with her. Without me. I know you two were like us back then, got started the same way. I don't know what if you find you miss her or," you're fumbling and feeling silly but he's just waiting patiently for you to get it all out. "What if you want her again? And not me? And you let her crawl into your sleeping bag on a particularly cold night and warm her up." Which is precisely what you two had done the first time.

"Are you done?" He asks, his tone is patient as his thumb runs over the back of your knuckles. When you don't answer him he continues. "That was almost ten years ago. We're not the same people we used to be," he pauses at the incredulous look on your face. "Would it help if I told you she was married now?"

"A bit," you answer, though you still feel insecure. "But I know what happens out there tends to stay," you start but John sighs cutting you off.

"I ended it with her," he continues to explain. "And she never got this," he adds as his hands moved to slowly unbutton your top. He's slow about it, letting you draw a few ragged breathes before he peels the material back to reveal your bra and a chain that disappears between your breasts. He smirks and gently fishes it out, his other hand pulling on the front of your bra a bit to give him more wiggle room.

There was a delicate ring on the end of the chain, one you didn't dare wear for others to see when you were working to avoid too many questions.

"Is that proof enough for you?" He asks. When you nod your head after a moment he gently tucks the ring back where it had been hidden. His calloused fingers lingering a bit longer than needed on the soft skin. "Now you can go wherever it was you were running off to," he smirks leaning back a fraction of an inch.

You catch him by the shoulder and pull him back to you. "I really wasn't going anywhere, I just," you start but he interrupts you with a kiss.

"I'm well aware," he answers against your lips as he lifts you to put you on the desk. "We've got a few minutes before Laswell comes knocking. Give me something to think of to keep me warm while I'm out there so I don’t need her to share my roll with."

You snarl as he laughs against your lips. You decide to do him one better and as he takes a seat in his desk chair you climb in his lap and leave marks all over him. Gentle bite marks on his chest to mix with his other scars. A dark purple bruise of a hickey on his neck that will definitely be visible above his shirt collar. And when he's finally inside of you, you leave scratches on his back that will be hard to miss.

You fully mark your territory and John seems pleased with your handywork, judging by his smirk as he does his shirt back up.

Soap

You had spent too much time behind the screen of the dating app instead of actually getting out there and going on dates. You had been picky, barely getting past a few days of talking to a guy before you gave up on them. Your standards were high but you also knew it wasn't fair to keep trying to compare these men to Johnny.

Tonight was different though. You finally decide to just go out and meet one of these men in person. It was casual, meeting for drinks a the local dance bar. You think if you met them in person you might not lose interest as quickly.

Stepping out into the cool evening air you fix the sinfully short skirt of your dress and head into the dance hall. It's already full of people. You glance at your phone to see a message that your date had already arrived. He says he's sitting along the bar that runs the length of the dancefloor in the back. Shoving the phone away, not wanting the distraction, you make your way back there and after a few seconds of peering around you spot him.

Fuck he was gorgeous. You swallow before smiling and walking over, taking the seat he gestured toward. Conversation is casual as you two start the game of getting to know one another more. There are more things you have in common than not, and as the drinks keep coming you find it easier and easier to talk.

Why hadn't you done this earlier? It was nice to be out, to be wanted, for someone to be interested in you. Johnny had said he needed space and you gave it to him, three months worth, and he still hadn't come back.

As your date excuses himself for a moment, you pull your phone out find messages. Three messages. Quirking your eyebrow you unlock the phone and can't help but scoff in disbelief. Three months and not a single word and suddenly Johnny wanted your attention.

Why are you at a bar? Who are you with? Lass, if you don't answer me I will show up.

You forgot that you were still sharing your location with him, you need to turn that off. Clicking over to that app you quickly swipe it off. And about five seconds later another message comes in.

Funny. I know where you're at. Don't you dare. I'm on a date and it's going well. Go back to wherever you've been hiding. With who? None of your business. It is my business. Who are you with? Not my fault you're jealous. You can blame yourself for this whole situation.

You see him typing a response but you lock the phone and put it away as your date returns. He grins and offers his hand to go dance. Your phone is buzzing as you tuck your purse inside his jacket and you just smirk to yourself as you follow him to the dancefloor. You know Johnny is seething with being ignored. Good.

The dancing starts out innocent enough, light touches and goofy laughing at moves. But as time passes and the lights get dimmer it gets a little more personal. His hands have wandered quiet literally all over you and you had found your own sliding up over his chest and around his neck. When his hips find your hips he holds fast as you dance, letting the alcohol and music numb your brain for a bit.

Bodies are bumping into one another as the floor fills up and you jump a bit as a hand slides around your waist. It's definitely not your date and when you look up at his face you see he's not impressed by whatever is happening. Preparing to bat off some drunk guy you twist around to see Johnny standing there, his hand flexing tightly on your stomach to pull you toward him. He wasn't joking when he said he was going to show up.

It's too loud to hear anyone talk but you start cursing him anyway as you reach down and attempt to pull his hand off of you. You'll be damned if his little stint was going to ruin your night. His hand doesn't budge though and your date has now let go of you and taken a step back, bumping into a couple behind you. You look at him for a second before glancing back at Johnny who is watching the man with lethal intent. Goddamn it. You'd seen better men than your date quail under that look. It seems your date doesn't want anything to do with whatever this was and he's backing up a few more steps.

"Didn't even try to defend you," Johnny chuckles as he leans down to whisper in your ear. His voice that you miss so much sends a shiver down your spine. "Have your standards dropped so low that quickly?" He taunts, his fingers sliding down your stomach to grab your hip and pull you tight against his own, moving your body to the music. But you aren't having it, you twist in his grip and shove at his chest.

"You smug bastard," you retort and shove him again but he doesn't let go. You glance back to see your date has melted away into the crowd. Coward. "Let go Johnny," you attempt to yell over the music as you glare up at him. "You've already ruined my night just let me go," you shove again but he wraps you tighter against his body, his fingers digging in a possessive grip on your sides.

"One dance," he bargains, leaning down to speak in your ear. "One dance with me in this pretty dress and I'll let you go," he nips your ear and you gasp. You can smell his cologne and soap this close to you and despite being so angry you can't help but lean into it, into him.

He knows he's won as he moves you to the music, spinning you around so your back was pressed against his chest. His hands were not tentative and slow like your date had been. Johnny knew where to touch and how, what his favorite parts were and how to thoroughly fluster you in the best way. You close your eyes reveling in this little bit of normalcy knowing you were going to be miserable and have to get over him all over again.

But one song bleeds into the next and you don't pull away, don't move from him as he holds you. Eventually he takes your hand and pulls you from the dance floor, pausing only for you to find your purse that your date had left at the bar. You're dreading the conversation that was about to come and the car ride home alone. But he leads you to his own car and you climb in silently staring out the window waiting for him to join you.

"This doesn't happen again," you snap as soon as he shuts his own door. "You don't get to decide when you're suddenly interested in me again. You ignored me for weeks Johnny, weeks. I finally decide to move on and you pull this shit? It's not fucking fair," you feel like you're about to cry and that shuts you up for a second. You refuse to cry in front of him anymore.

"It won't," Johnny agrees as he starts the car up. "Look at your phone," he nods toward your purse as he begins to pull out of the parking lot.

"I'm not done talking," you snap back.

"Look at your phone, then we talk," he answers, not looking at you as he pulls into traffic. "You're right about a few things. One of them is this," he gestures vaguely at the bar behind you, "will not be happening again," he finally looks over at you. "If it does some poor lad is going to turn up missing on the news." His statement sends a shiver up your spine. "But you were wrong to call me jealous. Jealous doesn't even begin to cover what I am when it comes to you."

You stare at him for a few seconds before finally pulling out your phone. It's flooded with messages from him. Clicking into the text thread you scroll to the top and start reading.

He wasn't lying.

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valyrfia · 22 days

Note

charles tyre masterclass at suzuka!!!! where the track temp was so high that even max was struggling!!! just a superstar - have known this since 2021 but pirelli head did not call him one of the three best drivers on tyre management for nothing (other two being ofcourse max and lewis)

also what was that strategy disaster from mclaren - how did they lose two positions with lando. happened twice for him. feel bad because he was pulling some brilliant moves today

The fact that Carlos asked Max in the cooldown room whether he would do a one-stop and Max was like "sure but like....why the hell would you" (paraphrased). What Charles pulled off today was a masterclass that very few drivers are capable of pulling off and proved why Ferrari were right to put their faith in him! I mean, look at Carlos attempting to stretch the tyres the same before he second stop. Exact same conditions as Charles, but Charles managed to hold on for 6-7 laps longer.

McLaren did not cook today. Why they didn't wait for Charles to pit and instead choose to box with Charles is beyond me. It's a shame because Lando did drive well! The strategy and the car was just not able to match Ferrari.

#charles leclerc #japanese gp 2024 #formula 1 #lando norris

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bellezaycafe · 28 days

Text

sunsets and self doubt (and words left unspoken) - 1.

Main AO3 tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, 2024 Formula 1 Season

Sadie's Faceclaim: Maia Mitchell (but you can visualise her howver you want :) )

warnings: swearing, mentions of a car accident.

comments: The revamped Get Your Shit Together is here! Let me know if you enjoy the new version :)

Sadie had to force a deep breath through her system. The podium sitters were not going to like the news she had. The cooldown room’s walls felt a little like they were closing in on her.

“Alright, listen up!” She called, feeling a bit like she was talking to a random club team. “The stewards have finalised the penalties and we have two drivers dropping down.”

There was a quiet chorus of curses from Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen. Oscar Piastri, quiet from his third place chair, frowned.

“Lance Stroll was given two 5-second penalties for track limits. I’m told that he served one in a pit-stop, but the other took him down to 9th.” Sadie tried to give them all a gentle smile.

It might not have come across that way as she braced herself for the next one.

“Max Verstappen, you, and Pierre Gasly, were both given a 10-second penalty for overtaking under yellow flag conditions.” A small cry of outrage came from Charles Leclerc. “This was decided during your last lap and was not conveyed to your engineers in time for them to tell you.”

Max Verstappen’s face pulled into a glare of fury, while Charles Leclerc buried his face in his hands.

“What do you mean, 10-second penalty?”

Sadie hoped he didn’t explode at her during the next piece of news. She looked down at the iPad in her hands and read the standings.

“Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri and Charles Leclerc were all under ten seconds behind you, so you will now be P4.”

“What?! Are you serious?!” The world champion did explode. “Pierre overtook me and I was just taking it back!”

It had been a long weekend for Sadie. She had never been to an F1 race before, let alone volunteered at one; she knew she would be busy but she hadn’t expected to be thrust into learning something the hard way at 7 am. And again at 10. Again at 2. And now again at 4:28 pm.

“I understand that-“ She held up a placating hand, reining in a scathing reply.

“Obviously you don’t if you are giving me a penalty for -“

Sadie cut him off with a sharp laugh. “Who do you think I am, Verstappen? Huh?”

He stopped leaning towards her, something he hadn’t noticed himself doing.

She took advantage of his hesitation. “I am a volunteer. What power do you think I have to change this for you?” she spat.

A scowl appeared on his face as he began to lean in again. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sadie saw Piastri start forward, his papaya suit around his hips. She put a hand out to stop him.

“I know who I am talking to. You are a three time world champion who will survive the depths of P4. You are Max Verstappen the reigning Champion, not Max Verstappen the upset child! Get your shit together!”

He stopped at that. All three, no four, as Lando Norris had appeared in the doorway, of the drivers did. Piastri and Leclerc looked ready to jump forward and restrain him.

Sadie saw the anger leave his eyes and said to everyone, “if you’re all sick of the FIA imposing these penalties just before interviews, maybe you should all say something. Together, as the drivers.”

It was Charles who shrugged. “If something happens in the final laps, it is fair for it to reach us after the race.”

“Yea,” Lando agreed. “But not half an hour after the chequered flag.”

All the drivers conceded that, recalling the penalties of Jeddah two weeks prior.

“I’m going to read out your standings and you’re going to stand in that spot. Do not“ -Sadie glared at Max- “complain to me, I cannot help you.”

And read them out she did. Leclerc had won, Piastri had come a close second and Norris an even closer third.

A few hundred metres away, and outside of the cooldown room, Verstappen silently simmered in his P4 position. When she left the room, Fernando Alonso smiled at Sadie from P5. Lewis Hamilton, in P6, held a fist out for a fist bump.

Sadie waited for her next job as the rest of the grid lined up in their order. They went out one by one and did their interviews.

Sadie sighed once they were all gone. At least, she’d thought they were all gone. Carlos Sainz, who had crashed out in lap 4, hadn’t gone out for his interviews yet.

“We all heard that. I don’t know if it was brave or stupid.”

Sadie jumped and shook her head. “I don’t know either and to be honest, I’m too tired to care. He was angry, I understand that, but my patience has been worn very thin.”

Sainz hummed thoughtfully as he left with a soft wave, red Ferrari suit right over his tensed shoulders.

Sadie pulled in a deep breath. Another volunteer told her that she was done for the day, and she gathered her gear. She’d be back in the morning to help pack down the equipment.

Sadie Leo needed some time to contemplate how she’d just yelled at Max fucking Verstappen.

--:--$--:--

“Charles!” The reporter called him over. “This is your first race of the season! How does that feel?”

“I mean,” he chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “I found out in the cooldown room, we all did. I’m still shocked! I don’t know what happened with the penalty or the flags, I’m just happy to have another win!”

“You weren’t sure that you won?”

Charles laughed through his, “no!”

After a small pause he added, “I think a volunteer was given the standing from the stewards. She told us, and told some of us off for complaining.”

“We saw the beginning of an argument between an official and Max, but the feed was cut. What happened there?”

“Ah well, we are all pretty annoyed by the penalties; that safety car was twenty laps ago and we were only just being told. It is frustrating, we are all frustrated."

Oscar Piastri's interview was similar.

"That was very well done out there, Oscar. How does the P2 in your home race feel?"

"I'm still trying to process the fact that I scored a podium in my home race. It's an incredible feeling."

"You were standing here when Charles spoke about the late penalties. Do you agree with his sentiment?"

"Yeah," the Australian answered without hesitation. "Frustration is the right word for what we're all feeling."

With a nod and a thank you, he handed back the microphone and walked away.

Lando stepped up.

"Congratulations," the reporter began. "That is another double podium for McLaren, how does it feel?"

"I'm gonna be honest, undeserved. Don't get me wrong, I think I did well today and I'm proud of Oscar and our team, but I didn't cross that line in third. I don't know the full story about Max's penalty but it just seems undeserved, you know? He should have kept the win. I should be P4, not Max. The FIA needs to sort it out."

"Wow, that's a strong opinion. Will you get in trouble for saying that live?"

Lando shrugged and pursed his lips. "If I do, I do."

His PR manager pulled him away before he could say anything more incriminating.

Then Max stepped up, still fuming.

"Max," the reporter began.

"I know what you're going to ask," he interrupted. "Yes, I'm upset about the penalty. Gasly passed me under yellow flag conditions. I was told that I was allowed to take the position back. It is an unfair penalty."

"Charles told us that a volunteer told all the drivers off for complaining. Surely you have a right to complain?"

Max let out a surprised huff of laughter. "Charles is being Charles! That volunteer told me off. I blamed her for the penalty and she put me back in my place. Volunteers don't dictate penalties and can't change them."

Max shrugged and moved to hand the microphone back to the reporter. She held up a hand to ask one last question.

"Do you think the stewards should revoke the penalty?"

"Yes. They shouldn't have given me a penalty and they shouldn't have handed it out half an hour after the safety car. I think that all of the drivers are sick of being told what place we finished after the race."

"Thank you for your time, Max. It was still an incredible race."

He nodded his thanks and moved on.

It was the same reply over and over.

We are tired of the FIA handing out penalties well after the fact.

We are frustrated.

We are annoyed.

We. We. We.

Sadie never watched any of the interviews. She didn’t watch the footage from the cooldown room, in which her face is hidden but her voice is alarmingly clear. She didn't realise the impact she'd had on the drivers.

As she wiped a hand across her sweaty brow the next day, she wondered if they had said anything. She was about to ask her friend, Aurora, when a shadow fell over her.

She turned to see Max Verstappen.

"Hi?" She frowned.

"I'm sorry" he blurted, squeezing his eyes shut in mortification at his slip up.

"What?"

"About yesterday," he muttered, opening those blue eyes. "I shouldn't have tried to intimidate you."

Sadie laughed and put down the tent peg she'd been using to remove other tent pegs. "The key word there is tried."

Max smiled at her laughter. He chuckled a little and stared down at his feet in the dirt.

"But," Sadie continued, "thank you for apologising. I didn't take it to heart. You’re trying to break records. Yesterday, something probably slipped through your fingers and it made you angry. I know, so it's okay."

Max's eyes widened at her nonchalant statement about his motivation.

"What?" she asked impatiently. "I figured out your goal? It wasn't hard, Verstappen."

"No, it's not that."

"What, then?"

"You had already forgiven me?"

"Yes, I forgave you the moment you left the room. You were angry and that was your response to the anger."

"That doesn't make it okay," he pressed. He didn't know why he was pushing her, she’d already forgiven him.

"Which is why you will never do it again." She pointed a dangerous finger at his face.

"Okay," he chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Good. Now I’ve got things to do and you probably have somewhere you have to be.” Sadie pointed at the gazebo and then the bag it belonged to.

“Right, yes. I have a flight in a few hours, so I need to get to the airport. Have a great day, yeah? It was amazing to meet you.” He stepped backwards, with a thumbs up.

“It was an honour to meet you too Max Verstappen. Never forget who you are.”

Max had to take a deep breath as he strode away.

Never forget who you are.

You are Max Verstappen the world champion, not Max Verstappen the upset child.

He made a promise to himself then, and to Sadie, that he would hold himself to a higher standard. He could be better, he should be better, he would be better.

Let me know what you think!

credits to saradika-graphics for the banner :)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | AO3 link

Taglist: @snubug @cmleitora @izzy-marvel @aquangxl @morenofilm @viennakarma @simpingcorner @leilanixx

#formula 1 #f1 fic #formula one #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc #f1 imagine #max verstappen #sunsets and self doubt #get your shit together

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panevanbuckley · 3 months

Text

@magdacimy since you asked for more, here's my thoughts on a lestappen time loop fic

so the 2019 austrian gp takes place as usual, lestappen tension followed by the infamous instagram unfollowing. but in the morning they both wake up to find it's the exact same day. and it happens again the next morning.

only neither of them are aware that the other is also stuck in a time loop.

naturally, charles assumes this is some sort of way of the universe giving him a chance to fix what happened and win, right? so he continuously relives this day focusing solely on trying to change this outcome.

max, after driving himself mad repeating this same day for seemingly no reason, assumes that his battle with charles on the track might be the cause. and so he tries his best to avoid any contact with him.

except he's unaware that charles has memorised all of his movements so when he changes his strategy up it throws him off and they end up crashing each other out.

it doesn't matter who wins. doesn't matter if they make contact at all or not. every time they relive this day they both end up fighting. be it in the cooldown room before the cameras show up, or at the side of the track for the whole world to see.

and then they unfollow each other.

it isn't until, on what must be the 12th go of it now, charles makes a comment about how he's so sick of having this same argument, that they even realise that they're not the only one stuck in the loop.

through working together trying to figure out how to fix this they grow closer and eventually stop fighting and then one day they don't unfollow each other. hell, maybe they even follow one another to bed who knows. either way, there's definitely a spark there and the next time they wake up it's finally, finally a new day.

as you can see i've been procrastinating on this idea all week but also the chances of me ever writing it are very slim so if anybody else feels inspired feel free to take this and turn it into something more! all i ask is that you please send it my way because i am DYING to read a fic like this ❤️

#sorry if this is long and dumb #f1 #lestappen #formula 1 #charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen fic

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fellow-meme-lover · 17 days

Text

Last year at Ferrari feels at the Japanese GP: A Carlos Sainz character study

Word count: 624

“Okay and that’s P3, I repeat P3. Grande, Carlos. Solid race,” he hears over the radio, listening with a distant sense of wonder. It’s not the same thrill and adrenaline he felt two weekends ago, but he’s quietly happy anyway, and the slightest bit stunned.

3 podiums in 3 races, so far the only driver to finish in the top 3 every race they’ve driven this year. He’s gone entire seasons without ever seeing the podium, and now he’s done it three times already. It feels like a miracle.

After the cool-down lap, he pulls into the designated number 3 spot (and what is with that number? 3-3-3…) for parc fermé, and sits in the car for a moment, chest still heaving from the exertion of the race. The cheers of the crowd wash over him like a wave, and while he knows it’s not for him specifically, it still finds its way inside of him and lights him up, in the way that sense of victory and satisfaction always does.

He sits and feels his stomach faintly throb, as if reminding him that he had an open wound from surgery not that long ago. It feels like he’s been walking around with an open wound since before Jeddah, and his success this season is the universe trying to make up for everything that’s happened, licking his wounds like an apologetic cat that scratched him. Too little too late, some would say. But he’s always been more forgiving than he should be, so he just accepts it, and decides to enjoy it while he can.

After noticing that he’s been sitting in his car for a while, lost in thought, he quickly removes his steering wheel and pulls himself up out of the car. He goes to where the Ferrari guys have bunched up at the fence and allows the pats to his helmet, shakes hands and says “Thanks, couldn’t have done it without the team’s help, great race out there today” until it starts to feel like the only words he knows. He gets weighed, does the post-race interviews, and misses Charles and Lando in the cooldown room like limbs he lost and no longer has. (Was that the last and only time he’ll ever have that experience? Will he be able to share the podium with Charles again, while he still bleeds rosso corsa? Will he be able to say “Tell Charles to come closer, and we celebrate this one together” at least one more time before this year is over?)

He is in a bit of a daze until the podium ceremony, when he steps out behind Max and Checo, and suddenly everything is bright, bright.

In that moment, standing on the step for third place, he is reminded of his karting days, when he hadn’t yet learned why he shouldn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, when he didn’t know that he shouldn’t befriend the other kids.

He remembers someone at one of the tracks saying, “It isn’t over until it’s over,” meaning nothing is sure. Meaning even when it looks like you’re on top of the world, you can stumble and fall in the blink of an eye. Meaning fight until the final lap, until the checkered flag, like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

He remembers that now, with his heart pumping Ferrari-red blood throughout his body and the awareness of a closing door hanging heavily above his neck like the blade of a guillotine.

This year is his last with Ferrari, and he’ll give all of himself until the checkered flag in Abu Dhabi, just like he was taught.

It isn’t over until it’s over.

He smiles, and lifts the trophy up into the afternoon sky.

#i haven't written in so long sorry if it's bad #idk what this is #I'm just sad at the end of every race weekend because all i can think about is how this is his last year at ferrari #carlos sainz #cs55 #ferrari #japan gp 2024 #formula 1 #f1 2024 #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc #charlos undertones if you squint very hard #ferrari 2024 feels

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putting-it-into-parc · 2 months

Text

jealousy, jealousy - chapter 7: nothing, just an inchident

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: george shows max exactly where his loyalties lie. mr. lando no-rizz rises to the occasion.

warning(s): just a spot of ✨🇬🇧colourful british language🇬🇧✨ from little lando norris ;)

chapter 7: nothing, just an inchident

Not a single driver couldn’t sense something being very wrong by the time Suzuka came around. Max and Charles avoided each other at all costs, and Charles had a sneaking suspicion that George and Carlos had a hand in helping it stay that way.

Clearly nobody had said anything to poor Lando nor Alex, who initially looked bewildered at Media Day, when Charles fled their circle at the first sight of that damned black cap. Or when Carlos started ordering an extra takeout meal during grid dinners while one chair remained conspicuously vacant. Or when George forcefully elbowed his way in between Max and Charles during their podium picture, taking extra care to jab Max in the ribs as he wedged himself in the center. But even they put two and two together eventually.

The first time Charles saw Max all weekend was in the Cooldown Room. Even in his daze, Charles felt terrible for George, who constantly fidgeted with his hat while shiftily glancing between Max and Charles in the thick, frosty silence.

The Cooldown Room had been affectionately dubbed “The Max Verstappen Podcast” for a reason; it was always Max chatting away merrily with his two guests—or one, if Charles was on the podium. The third person usually was forced to endure not only their unnecessarily verbose play-by-play of the entire race, but also the sight of Max failing to break eye contact with Charles for a mere second. Seriously. Max once managed to hand Lando a towel, ask him what the fuck happened to his tyres on Lap 24, and clap him on the back for what a great job he did handling that all while staring directly into Charles’ pupils the entire time. Charles’ lip curled bitterly at the memory.

Truthfully, what made Charles want to scream more than anything else was that Max was just…gone. There might have been a Dutch driver clad in a Red Bull suit sitting stiffly in the P3 chair despite being champion because it was the furthest away from Charles’ P2 seat, staring at the race replay, face devoid of any discernible emotion. But that driver wasn’t Max. Max brought up Charles at interviews any chance he got. Max hunted down Charles after every race before doing anything else. Max held the door open for him at the sauna. And Max had the audacity to tell Charles that his eyes looked like the Meuse while staring at him with those two blazing sapphires.

He sat on his hands to stop them from trembling, bit his lips to stop them from quivering.

Max felt like Public Enemy #1 on the grid, and he despised it. Everything he’d once thought about not giving a shit about the haters was wrong. Turns out he only embraced the hate when it was about pole positions and trophies. Hurting Charles, who everyone generally considered to be a sweet golden retriever angel? No sir.

Ironically, the only guy who treated him remotely normally was Carlos. Lando and Alex avoided making eye contact with Max. Even Pierre and Yuki exchanged nervous glances when Max was around, too afraid to ask what had happened. And George…well, George had started acting like his biggest wish was to secure a voodoo doll of Max and spend the rest of his life sticking pins into it.

One day, after a particularly unpleasant practice session during which George left a fucking hole in Max’s chassis—and had the balls to blame him for it, Max decided he’d had enough. He stalked over to George and gestured angrily towards the damaged car.

“There was no grip” was George’s pathetic excuse, as he took off his gloves and started walking away from Max mid-conversation.

Max laughed, incredulous. “Mate, we all have no grip. You all need to leave a little bit of space.”

“Yeah? So what’s your point?” came the insolent reply, three paces away.

Max saw red.

“Next time’s gonna be the same, you know,” Max spat at George’s retreating figure. “Dickhead.” He turned around, saw Checo, and immediately plastered what felt like the fakest smile known to man on his face. “Good job,” he chirped as if he hadn’t just finished cussing out George Russell.

“Thanks, man,” Checo said flatly.

“I’m so sick of this fucking diva,” Max complained to Carlos in the Red Bull hospitality later.

Carlos chuckled, although it sounded hollow. “You know George. He can be petty sometimes. He’ll come around.”

“I didn’t even do anything to him,” Max protested, vaguely aware of how whiny he sounded.

Carlos shot Max a look that plainly said, don’t push your luck. “I don’t know, Max. One might say having to be Charles’ emotional punching bag after what you did to him in that bar counts as anything. Although,” he mused, “if it makes you feel better, I think this season’s been rough on him in general.” Carlos started to count off on his fingers. “That breakup in the winter, Mercedes giving him the shittiest car, all those rumors about his unrequited crush—”

“Crush?” Max interrupted Carlos’ tallying. “What crush?”

“None of your business,” Carlos snapped abruptly.

Charles had no idea how long he’d been stagnating under his duvet after the race, but the sun was well on its way towards the horizon when his phone lit up with a text. He squinted at the bright screen.

Lando No-Rizz yo game? Me sorry man don’t feel great atm Lando No-Rizz bitch 1 round of rocket league before postrace pls

He didn’t want to play Rocket League. He didn’t want to go to the post-race party (he was fairly sure he never wanted to step inside a bar again, after what happened in Melbourne). He didn’t want to do much of anything, really. At this point, Charles just was barely going through the motions. He knew at some point the guys would notice him slowly morphing into an NPC, but as things were it took all of the willpower he could muster just to get out of bed, peel off the sweatpants he’d been living in for at least two weeks now, and pull on his racing suit three days a week.

A rude bang sounded on the door. Charles briefly fantasized about simply remaining motionless and magically willing the knock away.

No such luck.

“Let me in, you wanker,” Lando shouted from the hall.

Charles dragged himself over to the door and reluctantly allowed Lando to barge into his room.

“Bloody hell,” Lando said when he saw the closed curtains, the pile of dirty clothes on the floor, Charles’ unwashed, greasy hair. “Mate. You are down so bad.”

“I’m not,” Charles said as blandly as possible, knowing Lando would believe approximately zero percent of it.

“Just because Max is an arsehole doesn’t mean you need to be the one who goes into hiding.”

“Max doesn’t want to see me.”

“And why should you give a flying fuck about what Max wants?” Lando retorted.

“Because,” Charles said thickly, “what I want, is him.”

To Lando’s credit, he didn’t act surprised in the slightest. He blinked at Charles. “Max is my friend too, you know,” he said coolly. “I could tell he’s had a thing for you for literally eons. But he’s a right git sometimes and, how he acted at the bar was just…” He made a face. “…so yeah. Honestly mate, I know you want him, but he’s kind of lost the right to have you. And you have the right to live your life and enjoy it. I hope you know we’ve all got your back.”

Charles felt a sudden wave of appreciation for Lando Norris.

“Even if you’re a such a sad sack wanker,” Lando added.

He hurled a down pillow at Lando’s head. “Thanks, man.”

“Excellent. So Rocket League?”

Charles sighed. “I guess so.”

Lando beamed like a child who’d unexpectedly been handed an ice cream cone. Then he glanced down at Charles’ phone, the notification of his last text still on the lock screen.

“HEY,” Lando roared suddenly, “WHY, IS MY FUCKING CONTACT NAME IN YOUR PHONE, LANDO NO-RIZZ?”

Smiling for the first time in weeks, Charles grabbed another pillow and positioned it in front of his face, to ward off the onslaught he was surely about to receive.

notes: love me some george v max beef heheheh (featuring confused checo)

taglist: @fangirl-dot-com @spacegirlstuff @vroomvroomgang @perfectlyrainywerewolf

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