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OscarPiastri: Pedals of a different kind today

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SV5 ★ @f1gc x june x @hungriestheidi

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Totally normal spelling face...

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@skeleton-richard

I am a huge fan of retiring to my quarters

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I am a huge fan of retiring to my quarters

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u ever wonder if ur associated with a character forever to someone else. like. when ur scrolling ur dash and u see a url u don't recognize and after going to their blog ur like ohhh this is the Character person. yeah ok i remember now.

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Today is a no phone only cleaning day so if you see me on here, yell at me

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PNGeans, 2 pair. Found at goodwill

They were half off. Can't imagine why

jain'ts

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Yay dinner!

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discussion about right wing radicalisation focuses near-exclusively on men becoming white nationalists but i wonder how it might manifest elsewhere. like, imagine a heavily online subculture of mostly women and they're dedicated to rooting out degeneracy, maintaining a rigid social order, refusing to acknowledge scientific consensus, being violently paranoid of a dehumanised other, adhering to exclusively eurocentric standards of beauty and politically dedicated to exterminating a minority group (possibly one that was already historically targeted for genocide). that'd be fuckin crazy lol

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Jacopo Ligozzi (Italian, 1547–1627)

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entertainmentweekly They’re zero to sixty in 3.5! F1 drivers perform a dramatic reading of Rihanna’s “Shut Up and Drive” F1Movie 🏎️💨

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the most important thing is to be snuggly in bed

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*giving you a loving handjob* and you love me. btw. youre in love with me. *gives it a cute little kiss* and you love me the most. right? *puts it in my mouth* sayw it or ilw bite as hard as i can

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That’s the vibe… cheesy, smutty, earnest… bodyguard au when I write you for real…..

Bodyguard au + secret relationship, estenando?

Privately, Esteban thinks Fernando doesn't even need a bodyguard. He's strong enough to fend off an attacker, wily enough to outwit one, and the most persistent motherfucker Esteban's ever known. But after the third public attempt on his life, Fernando's manager decided he needed a bodyguard, so here Esteban is.

Sometimes Fernando and Fabrizio let Esteban drive the car. Not the car, obviously, just a regular car--black, with tinted windows--with Fernando in it. Esteban speeds when he can, thinking, Look at me, I'm just like you, and waiting for them to discover him like a child actor. But usually, Esteban sits in the backseat, ready to jump into action when someone's pen gets too close.

Someone made a TikTok edit of Esteban, once. Fernando Alonso's hot bodyguard. Clips of all the times he gently pushed people's hands away. A few of him speaking French. People like to think bodyguards go everywhere with their clients, but Esteban's worked for people who didn't even let him take their private jets. Esteban watches himself towering over Fernando. They barely fit in the same frame.

Fernando isn't shy about the assassination attempts. His most prominent scar is on his back, by his left shoulder. It's given a place of honor right next to the dragon that curls up his spine so that it looks like the dragon is about to devour the wound.

All Esteban's friends back in France want to know what it's like to shadow his childhood hero. "You had the biggest crush on him," Pierre says. Esteban remembers watching Fernando win his world championship on Pierre's television. Now Pierre's in F3, the oldest of the grid. Esteban has been on more F1 tracks than him.

Esteban has been on Fernando's private jet. Esteban has been in his private museum dedicated to all of his cars and wins. Esteban has been in his house, on his balcony drinking wine, in the passenger seat of his car, where Fernando kissed Esteban for the very first time.

The hardest part of being a bodyguard to his childhood hero is putting aside his respect and awe. It's Esteban's job to steer Fernando away from threats. But it would be totally awesome to see Fernando in a fight. To watch him take down someone and just snap.

Esteban's job is to know where Fernando is at all times, to predict where he is going to go, where he is needed to go, and who will be around him while he goes there. He knows the exact specs of Fernando's body in space. He knows how he walks, when he's ready to move on. He knows the hunch of his shoulders when he's uncomfortable. The flicker in his eyes when he feels threatened. The dangerous smile. The rough feeling of his hand. The gravelly whisper, the pace he sets, the grunts he makes when he's close.

The first time they fuck, they do it in a dark hotel room on a Friday night in Monza. Esteban knew Fernando was smaller than him--in some ways--but now he feels it: Fernando lays him out and looms over him, blanketing him in warmth everywhere except his freezing feet. Esteban imagines the tattoo on Fernando's back twisting, turning, writhing like him, coming alive. He brings his cold feet up to nudge into Fernando's thighs, thinking, If you're going to have me, you've got to have all of me. Take it or leave it.

Esteban fakes sickness the next morning, texts Fabrizio that he needs to look after Fernando during breakfast. "Tell me when everyone is downstairs," he begs Fernando, but Fernando forgets, so Esteban leaves Fernando's room in yesterday's clothes only when all is quiet in the hallway. After that, Fernando suggests they start keeping one of Esteban's team kits with his luggage.

It becomes an indulgence, then a habit--Esteban lives nearby, and he's contracted for most public appearances, not just race weekends. Then he works up the courage to invite Fernando over for dinner during the winter break.

"You want to fuck me," Fernando says baldly after a takeaway dinner during which he complained for twenty minutes about his teammate, Daniil. That's something Esteban appreciates about Fernando, despite what everyone else around him says: he's always very direct. Esteban likes being direct, too, and anyway it's true. He does want to fuck Fernando. Fernando turned up in a dress shirt, and he's been salivating over him all night.

"My lights don't turn off," he tells Fernando, joking-but-not-really, remembering how tentative Fernando was the first time. Fernando smiles his slow, dangerous smile. Esteban feels like prey in the dragon's mouth, vulnerable.

Fernando lets him see everything. Esteban runs his fingers over the long knife scar on his stomach and thinks, I would take a bullet for you.

When you're a bodyguard, nobody thinks you're having fun. You go with your charge to the movies and don't watch the movie. You go with them to the beach and don't admire the view. You go with them to the paddock and don't cheer them on from the garage. You're emotionless, there for a duty, are never seen arguing or bothering. You don't get him a spare toothbrush to keep at your place. You don't set up activities and appearances just so you'll have an excuse to see each other. You definitely don't go to his New Year's party and then sleep over for four days straight.

Pierre starts the F2 season with a podium, then plummets into the mid-field for three races straight. Esteban tries not to pick at that particular scab. Let the dragon eat up that one, too.

"Here's the plan," Fernando says to him one morning mid-season. They're in the hotel restaurant, where it's fairly noisy, because Fernando wouldn't talk on the drive over out of fear the car was bugged. He pushes his untouched sushi around the plate. Esteban has had three helpings on Fernando's tab. "For me to win the championship," Fernando says, sotto voce into Esteban's tea, "you need to let me get shot."