#charles do more shoots challenge

[charlescherie]

i do not care what y'all say hE ATE in this shoot AND LEFT NO CRUUUUMBS

[ferrstappen]

Can I request petty jealous charles? He’s just quietly stewing in his anguish. I think it’s be funny if someone that he looks up to, like a musician or something, was flirting with his gf and this really upsets him. And he acts petty for a few days

a/n: sorry for the delay babeeee :( but here it issss. also this features Bad bunny bc I saw the pics of him arriving in Monaco and idk got the inspo. also we're going to pretend the last music challenge takes place after Monaco.

titi we don't care l Charles Leclerc

All eyes were on Monaco, and with good reason.

Engines roaring, cameras flashing, boat traffic (if that's a thing), Hollywood making their way from Cannes to the Principality, spotting old money meters away, most of them trying to get a word with Charles.

It was fine in the beginning, this wasn't the first Monaco GP you attended, but after the first free practice ended and Charles was grabbed from right to left, the Ferrari hospitality grabbing most of the attention of wealthy people, whispering how F1 was less exclusive by the day, too popularized, lousy celebrities getting an invite and they’d probably be present for Indy 500 and Le Mans. Shameful.

The same people were examining you, eyeing the “simple” Trina Turk dress and Bimba & Lola bag, gifted by Isa on your birthday, hanging from your arm, all before Charles PR manager approached to tell you he, the home hero, wouldn't be available until practices were over, too many press and meetings in between.

Then, a man with a glass of wine sat down next to you, telling you it was fucked up they wouldn't let the drivers prepare for what they were supposed to do, which was driving. Esta bien cabrón, those were his exact words.

He introduced himself as Benito, of course you knew him as Bad Bunny, his songs being everywhere and wasn't he dating Kendall Jenner?

He kept you entertained, bad mouthing the snotty people surrounding, stopping the conversation to greet people who approached him. Isa joined soon after, also shaking her head at the fact Carlos and Charles would have to spend almost the entire day worrying about media instead of resting and discussing strategies with the team for Sunday.

Conversation was easy, barely noticing the hospitality getting a bit more crowded, louder. It was the WhatsApp group with your girlfriends that got your attention, attaching pictures and asking what was going on between you and Bad Bunny. What?

Of course, Twitter was full of you laughing at something he said or before he pointed something funny or imitated a rich person making conversation on how quiet luxury was a trend now and how it wasn't fair for them, fucking Succession.

Suddenly, someone grabbed your waist from behind, making you jump because the only person allowed to grab you like that was supposed to be around somewhere, being interviewed or filming content, but you were wrong, a big grin appearing at the sight of Charles, full white and red, overall hanging on his waist and white Ferrari cap, hair fluffy from the heat and running his fingers through it.

"Bebé, I thought you'd be busy all the day," You kissed his lips, subtly squeezing his waist through the suit.

Yes, he was supposed to be busy until the day was over and you could head back home, but in-between interviews Charles checked his phone to the dismay of every PR worker in Ferrari, but his Twitter was filled with mentions of pictures. First they were pictures of you alone in the hospitality, Charles smiled knowing you were probably bored but stayed so he wouldn't be alone, but...

user1: Not Bad Bunny shooting his shot at Leclerc's girl 💀

user2: BENITO GET AWAY she's ms leclerc!!!11!

user3: damn, Charles Leclerc getting screwed by Ferrari and his girlfriend

user4: (y/n)'s probably bored af, Isa got to Monaco a couple of minutes ago and she's talking with Benito, big deal leave her alone she's there for Charles.

A strange feeling brewed in his stomach, he instantly knew he was jealous. Did he have a good reason? No, he trusted you and the relationship with his life, but he was obviously and painfully aware people wanted you; your good nature, gorgeous features, bright smile, perfectly shaped boobs... yes, it didn't sound fair when he left a trails of broken hearts and loving eyes everywhere he went, people being interested in F1 just because of his looks, but that was purely platonic, they didn't dare to make a move, but your case was different, he had seen with his own eyes how men tried to make their move right in front of him, he even made sure you always wore the gold necklace with a charm engraved with CL16 was visible.

Carlos, being part of the drivers' gossip network, eyed Charles' screen, whistling in a worried manner, telling him to be careful or he'd be listening to Bad Bunny songs about (y/n) on the radio.

"You know, there's pictures of Isa as well, look," Charles pointed out, annoyed by the teasing, but Carlos playfully dismissed him. "Hey, sorry but I have to get to the hospitality, I'm very overwhelmed and I need to see my girlfriend," Charles half lied; he wanted to see you, but just to let the second most streamed artist on Spotify know you were very loved and appreciated, and completely off limits.

Which takes him to the Ferrari hospitality.

"They gave us a couple of minutes before it's time for the last meeting," Charles tensed when noticing people were staring at him. "Why don't you wait at our lounge, bebé? It’s less crowded, Isa is there, Lorenzo and mum should be getting there soon,” he said in a hushed tone, but loud enough for the other man to hear. You nodded, getting up and collecting the small Bimba & Lola bag with some of the multiple passes and everything hanging from it.

"Oh, bebé, sorry. This is Benito, he was keeping me entertained," It was a bizarre situation, honestly, presenting a world-known singer to your boyfriend like he was a friend.

Charles squeezed your waist a bit tighter, shaking hands with the native from Puerto Rico. They exchanged a couple of words before someone approached the singer, making it easier for you to leave.

Charles was holding your hand a bit tighter than usual, maybe he was being protecting knowing people were watching every move. you asked him how the car felt, but he didn't give a real answer, just making a sound of approval.

That attitude carried on during the entire weekend, you thought it was the pressure of being home, past mistakes and bad luck haunting him. it ended when he crossed the finish line in first place, kissing you with tears on his eyes, relishing on being the home hero.

But two days later, he still had moments where he held his head a little taller, short answers and pretending he didn't hear you.

Charles knew he was being ridiculous, his fists tightening when some radio played a Bad Bunny song, even when one of them was voluntarily added by himself on a playlist, he had to take a deep breath. Irrational and disgusting behavior if you ask Charles, but he couldn't stop it. Not even when he saw you trying to hide the purple marks appearing on your hips.

He noticed your side of the bed dipped and light turned off, his back facing you as he pretended to be asleep, ignoring your soft chuckles. he didn't even flinch when your arms wrapped around his waist, placing your leg over his and loudly kissing his cheek.

"You are so cute when you're jealous," you told him, leaving another loud kiss, this time on his back.

"I'm not jealous!" He lied with a high-pitched voice, still not facing you.

"I know you are, but it's okay, it comes with having a girlfriend as incredible as me, you know?" This time Charles laughed, turning around and now placing his arms around your waist as yours moved to his neck.

"Shut up, he was flirting with you!" Charles argued.

"He was not! He actually saved me from a lot of creeps asking my name and whether I was free to grab a glass of wine or whatever,"

Charles knew that was the truth, he had witnessed it and was common talk between the drivers how their girlfriends and sisters were often approached by older men with not so good intentions.

Knowing he had no way to defend himself, he rolled his eyes at your giggles when your lips met his, but admiring him when he rolled on top of you, running your thumb through his cheeks.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Going Public || CL16

Another little blurb that was sitting in my drafts... F1 Masterlist

“We heard your girlfriend is a driver for Ferrari too, can we expect a friendly race anytime soon?”

Charles smiled towards the Ferrari crew that was watching the interview from the side of the stage, knowing you were somewhere among them. “Oh no, she’s way too competitive, and unless it’s in a F1 car she will 100% beat me.”

The interviewer laughed along with the crowd. “Surely not?”

“She’s absolutely fearless!” he said seriously as he sat up straighter. “And she’s not even a racer.”

The woman frowned as she looked at her cue card. “I thought she was a driver?”

You saw the pride on Charles' face when he grinned at Carlos sitting next to him, who was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand. 

“She is, but she doesn’t race.” The interviewer was growing more confused and you could see the fans taking all the information in to try and figure out your identity after nearly a year of dating under the radar.

“She drives the transporter rig,” Carlos clarified with a laugh. “Which is perfect because Charles can’t parallel park to save his life, so he gets his girlfriend to do it for him. She is very good at it.”

The People’s Prince of Monaco is dating a Trucker???

The F1 Gossip pages were going crazy after the interview and you sat scrolling through them with an amused chuckle. 

“Babe, have you seen this one?” you asked as you showed him the latest meme. Some clever person had taken a picture of an overweight middle-aged man in a red plaid shirt over a dirty wife-beater, slapped a Ferrari badge on his truck and trailer and a long blonde wig on his head. The caption: Leclerc’s new girl. “I wish I could pull off that shirt.”

Two weeks later.

The camera crew were waiting out on the track and you caught Charles’ eyes in the mirror as you fixed your hair. 

“Ready, mi amor?” 

“How do I look?” you asked as you gave him a spin to show off your outfit. 

“Gorgeous as always,” he said with a wink. “And a little bit scary if I'm honest.”

You straightened up the collar of the red plaid shirt and brushed your fingers along his jaw. “Is it the wife beater or the wig?”

“Maybe the big dick energy?”

“Gotta play the part, baby,” you teased as you swaggered over to the door with exaggerated steps. “This is what your fans are expecting of me.”

Marketing and Promo were having a field day. They had scoured the internet for ideas to make this video after Charles had given them the heads up that you were going to take your relationship public. You were both more than happy to make it a unique announcement since a sense of humour was something that you both shared.

The final cut was a work of art, and you had watched it at least three times over as your stomach ached from all the laughter. There had been parking challenges, slalom races through cone tracks, and even hot laps around the circuit in Imola. It had been an absolute thrill to shoot, especially with the ridiculous costume, but you were glad to be back in your own clothes.

“Well at least you didn’t lie in that interview,” you pointed out after seeing the final score for the challenges. “You won the F1 race.”

Charles draped a lazy arm over your shoulders and he pulled you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke, “Would you believe if I said I practised reversing and parallel parking with Pierre all week?”

You paused the replay on the tv and shifted onto his lap, cradling his face in your palms. “Oh, my love, Pierre can’t park any better,” you said before your lips twitched with a suppressed smile. “You should have asked Kika.”

[kindestofkings]

what came first, the chicken or the dickhead? [3/3]

[smau]

f1driver!reader x lando norris

authors note: book a dentist app guys this shit is sweet !

yourusername 

liked by landonorris and others 

yourusername 😭 🥺 guys I, I, I just won at my home race with my best friend alongside me. those two kids dreamed of days like these. lan you next 💓

to the tifosi for your unyielding support, to scuderiaferrari for helping me achieve things like this, and to charlie the best teammate a girl could ask for <3

view all 890 comments

landonorris so proud of you luv but PLEASE let me win soon, we dont need another max situation

yourusername lando tries to be sentimental challenge: FAILED f1fan hahahaha mate please grow up and make a move !

danielricciardo incredible stuff mate! landonorris you were so cute, what happened?

landonorris ha ha ha 😑

​​taylorswift you are killing it girl !! I see you're stateside later this year maybe you could join us at the era's tour?

yourusername 😀😀😀 I need someone to confirm this is real, landooooooooo landonorris its real so please stop hyperventilating in you drivers room alex_albon do you forget you have millions of followers and a mega superstar yourself?? yourusername and what she's TAYLOR SWIFT. she writes works of art like folklore and i drive in circles. alex_albon AT A VERY INSANE SPEED learn your worth please ynfan1 you did so well with him lilymhe

maxfewtrell you know what they say couples who win together stay together !

[this comment has been deleted]

ynfan2 max you are not quick enough for me I saw that 👀👀

taylorswiftupdates

liked by ynlando4ever and others

taylorswiftupdates after a long time of online interactions the f1 ferrari driver yourusername was at tonights show!! it appears the driver was joined with fellow drivers lando norris,charles leclerc and daniel ricciardo.

view all 20 comments

ynfan1 can you imagine your favourite singer of all time making that face at you 🥺

ynfan2 and she got one of tonights secret song dedicated to her aswell!!

ynfan3 no way really!! what was it ynfan2 it was randomly Crazier, the song taylor sang in the hannah montana film 😂

landonorris

 liked by yourusername and others 

landonorris hope you enjoyed your birthday cause you're never receiving another birthday present again. why WHY is your favourite taylor swift song so obscure??

view all 300 comments

yourusername you are the best of the best of the best of the BEST

​​taylorswift you guys are the most adorable 🥺

charles_leclerc cause shes a country girl at heart come you know this 😂

yourusername ahem country girls shake it for me 🤠

ynlando4ever GUYS HE GOT TAYLOR TO SING HER FAVOURITE SONG THEY ARE IN LOVE!!!!

yourusername posted on their story:

eras tour READY

I lied nothing could've prepared me for this ....

replies

taylorswift so glad you could come and enjoy 💓💓 that boy of yours is such a cutie.. yourusername he's a keeper for sure! hate keeping it all so secretive but like someone amazing once sang romance is not dead if you keep it just yours 😂 ❤️

yourusername

 liked by landonorris and others

yourusername I dont do tiktok but I love the its all too much for little lando norris cause he falls asleep during my taylor swift rants 😤

view all 700 comments

landonorris EHHHHH DONT THINK YOU MEANT THAT LAST ONE RIGHT BABE?

ynfan1 BABE?? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMENTS yourusername oh fuck lan landonorris HA and you said it be me who would out us ynfan2 US? theres an us??

yncharlesshipper what happened to charlie??

ynlando4ever VICTORY

danielricciardo hahahahahah wait why does norizz look kinda ??

landonorris you can say it 😏😏

yourusername OKAY Y'ALL CAUGHT ME WE'RE NOT JUST FRIENDS! SHOOT ME LOOK AT HIM!!!

landonorris LOOK AT YOUUUUU ynfan1 k im obsessed with them even more now

landonorris

liked by yourusername and others

landonorris since she messed up I can FINALLY show off how I got the girl 2 years ago 😎

happy to announce i'm accepting apologises for all those norizz comments cause LOOK at who's my girl

view all 500 comments

yourusername thats right baby your girl !!

maxfewtrell FINALLY

danielricciardo agreed, and you're never hearing anything from me norizz alex_albon still in shock carlossainz55 can relax now, yn is scary

charles_leclerc we got there eventually! looking forward to not being shipped with you now yourusername 😂😂

yourusername I don't know what you're talking about I'm a catch!

yourusername

 liked by mclaren and others

yourusername car failures are a teams worse nightmare and unfortunately my hard truth for today's race in Singapore 💔 being ruled out during the formation lap is something I hope to never experience again, so sorry for disappointing everyone and the team!

ON ANOTHER NOTE its time for a hardlaunch cause LOOK WHO JUST GOT HIS FIRST WIN! congrats bro 😎 👍❤️‍🔥 💖

view all 290 comments 

scuderiaferrari could never disappointment, we win as a team and lose as a team!

yourusername you guys xx ynfan1 the teams support never fails to make me emosh, all you that deserve!!

f1fan still a slay in my eyes!

landonorris the use of bro here is conflicting to all the pride driven kisses i've been getting 🤔🤔

f1fanupdates

liked by f1fan1 and others

f1fanupdates gasly is once again providing all the drama for the viewers! after another dnf the alphatauri driver made a jab at mclaren's first driver, lando norris...

view all 90 comments

f1fan1 why have one feud with a driver when you can have 2!! right pierre?

ynfan2 man is just realising he can't blame yn anymore so he's picking on lando

ynfan3 do you think its all related? like continuous beef that all links back to her?

landonorris

liked by yourusername and others

landonorris the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake

japan its been real!

view all 473 comments

pierregasly imagine being this cocky all while being overshadowed by your rookie teammate

landonorris imagine ruining your own career because a girl told you she didn't want to go out with you pierregasly if shes going out with the likes of you, think I dodged a bullet landonorris do you or do you not have a girlfriend rn? yourusername enough of this. pierre you are a broken record stfu and focus on your driving

ynfan1 OH MY GOD its all clicking, all this mess cause of a bruised ego...

ynfan2 men being men ugh

yourusername tay tay 🥺🥺 in your caption 🥺 love you

landonorris and the edit! i want all the brownie points baby 😏

danielricciardo MY EX-MAN BROUGHT HIS NEW GIRLFRIEND SHE'S LIKE

yourusername "OH MY GOD," BUT I'M JUST GONNA SHAKE IT charles_leclerc AND TO THE FELLA OVER THERE WITH THE HELLA GOOD HAIR maxverstappen1 WON'T YOU COME ON OVER, BABY? WE CAN SHAKE, SHAKE, SHAKE landonorris wow wdc winner with the taylor swift lyrics in my comments??

ynfan1 OH MY GOD its all clicking, all this mess cause of a bruised ego...

yourusername posted on their story:

my man my man my man 💓

landonorris where gasly wishes he could be 👀 landonorris love love love you

AHH I hope this was worth the wait guys!! the beef is so squashed in but I was consumed be the full by then lol

-finished-

[3/3]

taglist:

@vellicoranorca @toasttt11 @dzastinocha @dzastinocha @landosgirlxoxo @2bormaybenot @jpg3 @celestialams @dreamsarebig @dreamercrowd @dracosswhore @kissesandmartinis @inejismywife

weirdly couldnt tag everyone sorry !!

[charles-eclair16]

~The 5 times Charles talked about you publicly~

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x actress!reader.

Warning- it's my first time ever writing so please be kind. English is not my first language so please ignore it if there are any mistakes.

1. The first time Charles was caught talking about you was pure accident and it wasn't even him who brought you up. It was an overly competitive Carlos who couldn't keep his mouth shut. It was during a C² challenge of who knows your teammate better and it was all going pretty much in Charles favour because the questions were too easy according to him. So when the score was 6 to 4 he was feeling pretty confident about winning but what he didn't expect was the next question to throw him off.

"Who's your current crush?" Was honestly not a difficult question to answer and Charles knew he would nail it. He totally knew who Carlos was crushing on.

"It's Y/N! He watches her interviews and giggles because she's so beautif-oww mate stop hitting me!“ Charles knew he had to make his teammate stop talking before he spilled anything more.

"Is it true?" Now this was a question Charles didn't know how to answer, should he own up that he was hopelessly crushing on her and that it was true that he watched all her interviews. But then again who could blame him she was so beautiful and he honestly loved the way she spoke, something about the way she spoke made Charles want to listen to her for hours.

"Yeah it's true. I really like her as an actress and she's very pretty but I don't giggle watching her!" He thought that was a decent answer.

"He does! He does it! He even watches fan edits of h-" Carlos was cut off by a wildly flinging hand of Charles.

" I do not!" was what Charles could come up with as he tried to stop Carlos. The next day he woke up with thousands of mentions of fans telling him that they understood...he didn't knew if he should feel embarrassed or laugh at some of the memes. He even liked a few of them.

2. The second time Charles mentioned you it was after you had soft launched each other for two months without the fans knowledge. It was nice to share secret moments with each other and bask in the privacy of home dates. It had been 7 months of dating and Charles was on the moon. His car was great, he was leading the championship with 10 points and he had a wonderful women supporting him. The only thing which bothered him was him not being able to shout his love and show you off to the world. So a mutual decision was taken between you two to not hide anymore but what you didn't expected was Charles to come running towards you as he got out of the car after coming p2 in the Silverstone Grand prix. You weren't even able to utter a word before he was kissing you. It wasn't a peck it was Charles expressing his love and gratitude for your unwavering support.

" How does winning feels now? Much sweeter than before?" Was the teasing question he got as he went to the post race interviews. He wasn't surprised. He knew he was going to get questions after a public kiss.

"Yeah, it feels great winning here with Carlos coming p1. It's a great weekend for our team" he laughed as he answered the question.

" So I'm sure you have plans to celebrate tonight. Any special plans?" He knew what the interviewer wanted to hear so he gave it to him with a smile so big he knew his dimples were all out.

" Yeah there's a plan to celebrate tonight definitely, the teams been throwing different ideas but honestly I would just prefer to spend my time with my girlfriend and have a quiet night. She came directly from her shooting so I'm sure she would want to stay in. And we can party with the team next time!"

It was safe to say that they both were trending worldwide.

3. At first Charles didn't know why he was trending and before he could check it he was asked to hurry up and get in the car. It was the worst race of the season for him. He was leading the race with pole position in France but he lost traction in his rear tyres and crashed into turn 11 which caused him the race. He was frustrated and tired. He just wanted to go back and not think about the horrible way he got out of the race. He wanted to cuddle you and forget about the day so when he was told to to attend a group media pen he was annoyed. When the question came he was speechless at first his brain shutting down from the ridiculous question.

" It's a very bad time for you Charles with the dnf and your recent breakup so how do you seperate these things from your work? Did your breakup caused you maybe to lose?" He wasn't aware of his break up.

"My what?!" Charles was shocked he didn't knew he was broken up because he was not planning to break up anywhere in the future.

"You didn't tell me you broke up?!" Perrie was genuinely confused now. If it was true wouldn't Kika tell him that? He knew the girls were close and he was sure that Charles would tell him that, wouldn't he?

"What did you do?" It was Lewis who glared at Charles and he finally got his wits to answer.

"No! We are very much together and happy! Who told you that we broke up?! Is that why I was trending Today?"

"Yes there was news that you broke up with your girlfriend and that you were heartbroken." The interviewer nervously let out a chuckle which caused the drivers to laugh

"Oh my god! No! We are together and I plan to be together for a long time so there's no need to worry about that ...I don't think I would survive without her pasta to be honest and her too." He reassured.

When he finally got the chance to check his notifications later in the night he could only laugh as he looked at the memes and the threats he got for fumbling a baddie like Y/N. He showed her some too as she layed on his chest on their bed.

4. The fourth time Charles gets asked is the first time he felt nervous talking about you ever in the entire 5 year relationship. It was because he knew he was absolute shit at lying. So when all the fellow drivers continue to tease Daniel for throwing the wedding party of the year. He remains quite and laughs at appropriate times.

" Charles you're quite there! So now that your friends are settling down with Daniel and Max getting married is it safe to assume that you're next?" Oh shit! He was sweating. He didn't know how to answer that without revealing that he had already picked a ring and was going to propose very soon. He had even taken her father's approval last month on their family trip together.

"Yes mate when are you getting married?"

"He's definitely getting married next!"

"With how whipped he is for her how do have any doubts about that!“ Charles tried to tune out the teasing remarks of his friends to formulate words to answer.

" Uh yeah, I would very much like to but we are focusing on the present at the moment but there's no doubt that I plan to marry her because honestly I can't imagine anyone else by my side when I think of my future. I want to start a family with her and get old with her. She completes me in the true sense and is my piller of strength. I don't think I have ever felt this much love for anyon-"

"And this is why we don't question Charles because then he doesn't stop!" Charles laughed at that as if Max was any better when talking about his wife.

"So yeah marriage is definitely on the cards on the future " he concluded.

And after 2 months he knew why he was trending and he couldn't be more happier. He now laughed at the mentions and yes he knew how to fight for his fiance.

5. The fifth time Charles was asked about you he was smiling ear to ear and anyone who looked at him can see that he was glowing.Others would say it was because he was starting the new season as a world champion but he knew it was because of Y/N and what she had told him the night before and later to their closed ones. So he felt quite happy answering questions.

"How are you feeling for the new season? Excited? Nervous?" the interviewer couldn't stop himself from smiling too. Charles happiness was contagious.

"It feels good to be back to the racing. The car feels good and after last year we are quite excited for this season too. We are looking forward to the races and with new tracks added to the calendar the excitement levels have increased. Yeah there's nervousness too-ah only little bit but that's totally normal...But I am quite confident! Also now I have to be a little careful because now that we are going to have new addition to the family I can't risk it! I have to-"

"New addition?" He stopped talking eyes widened and looked at the camera.

"What?" He was fucked, so fucked. She was going to kill him. He knew.

"You told new addition? Is it true? Are you going to be a father? Congratulations!" He could only nod and accept the hug he was receiving. They were supposed to announce it with a cute insta post and he had ruined it. He was the one to suggest it, he had even thought about the caption.

"Tell us more! Is she going to come to the races now? I'm sure everyone would like that?!" The interview continued

"Oh yes! Yes she wants to come to the races but I think we'll keep it a little private and only between family to enjoy this moment together. It's a new beginning with my person so I want to be there for her at every step. Its- it's definitely a blessing for us and I'm so grateful for her."

The next thing he knew he was trending along with y/n as parents and he couldn't ask for anything more.

[formulaforza]

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. spring and the lovely silence of growing things. minors dni. nsfw warnings under the cut. 7.6k part one part two part three part four part five

18+ because: oral (m receiving, rough), spit, hair pulling, drunk drunk drunk get crunk

“Goodnight Arthur,” you said, lingering behind as your family started off down the road in the opposite direction that he and his were. 

Your dress, long and linen, blows in the evening breeze and draws goosebumps to your skin. Your hands clutch your phone and a small purse, the cross body strap wrapped around your hand three times. Your ponytail sways with your hips when you walk. Turning to Charles, you nod, purse a smile. “Charles.”

“Goodnight,” he replies curtly, perfectly polite. 

“The two of you are still talking after a whole day together? Did Hell freeze over while we were out there?” Arthur laughs.

A strange silence, one that only you and Charles are aware of, swallows the lull of the cicadas in the streetlights. It’s early in the year for them, typically holding out on their spring song until a bit further into the season. Charles drags his feet on the concrete, drawing out every step to be a beat too slow. “Stranger things have happened,” he remarks under his breath, his middle finger picking at the cuticle of his thumb before shoving his hands deep in his pockets. 

“Have they?” Arthur continues to poke fun at the two of you, at the unlikeliness of a quareless evening. You’re surprised, too. Never would have guessed a few hours earlier that the evening would end up the way it had. 

(Five hours earlier)

He’s sulking and it's becoming pathetic. Every single thing about his body moves around the yacht like a kicked puppy, all sullen and blue and hosting another private-pity party. His sighs grow more and more dramatic, less and less patient with each moment that passes without someone feeling as bad for him as he feels for himself. 

You knew, maybe better than anyone, how fiercely competitive he is, how much pressure he carries on his shoulders. You'd seen the highs and the lows of it all, and despite the underlying annoyance that was Charles, you still wanted what was best for him. It’s just human nature to hope. 

This season has been beating him up, you knew, even if you didn’t follow it the way some of your friends did. Strategy has been shit, you’ve heard, luck somehow shitter. He’d talked such a big game before the start of the season, quietly confident and subtly cocky in a way that almost makes you believe he can predict the future. 

Usually, you would relish in his annoyance, but today you’ve found yourself feeling oddly concerned. You refused to let him ruin the beautiful day, ruin the moods of your siblings and his. It’s the determination to save the day that leads you to the yacht railing, feet away from his brooding, lost in thought expression. 

“You seem a bit off today,” you remarked, voice lades with a teasing tone, a poor attempt to lighten the mood. 

He glances up at you, a hint of a smile tugging on his lips. “You always have such a way of pointing out the obvious, don’t you?” He retorted, but his annoyance is all bark, no bite, softened entirely by the playful glint in his eyes. 

“Well,” you shoot back, minorly annoyed, massively amused. “It’s not everyday you look like a sulking child.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “And always full of delightful compliments,” he replied, gaze lingering on your lips for a moment too long before he tears them away. 

You smirk, lean in a bit closer. “You love it,” you taunt.

He raises an eyebrow, a challenge gleaming in his eyes. “Oh, do I now?” He quips, leaning in just enough to make your stomach sink. You feign indifference to his words, but your body betrays you, leaning in a fraction closer. 

“I know you better than you think,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. 

He chuckled again, the sound of it sending shivers down your spine. There’s something so deflated about him. “Is that so?” He muses, breath grazing against your ear, making your pulse quicken. 

You take a step back, attempt to find some sort of composure. “Maybe,” you replied with a playful shrug, not daring to meet his gaze. 

He leans in, fills the space you’d just created, mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re always under my skin,” he admits, a hue of vulnerability in his voice leaving you unsettled. 

You finally meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his. “You love the challenge, though, don’t you?” You countered, tone serious now, hinting at something more, something deeper. 

He hesitates, a flicker of emotion crossing his features before he masks it with a smirk. “Maybe I do,” he replied, voice low and suggestive. 

The conversation drolls on, seconds between your words filled with charged silence. The subtle dance of glances and touches only adds to the tension, and you found yourself unable to break away, to return to the rest of the family on the upper deck. No, no, you have a feeling you’ll be going lower, even, farther away from them and closer to some private silence. 

“Do you ever wonder?” he asks, voice soft and full of curiosity. You have no interest in entertaining his words. 

“I don’t,” you reply, trying to keep your tone guarded. 

His brows furrow, challenging you. “Really?” Charles questions, his skepticism evident. 

You shrug. “It’s just easier this way, isn’t it?” you retort, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice. Bitter that he feels entitled to ruin something that’s working just fine. 

“Easier?” He echoes, curiosity evident as he leans in even closer. 

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you meet his intense gaze. “Yeah, easier,” you say, the words spewing out with a touch of frustration. “It’s just a game.”

He studies you for a moment, eyes searching for any sign of vulnerability. You hope you’re talented enough to conceal them, that your secondary school drama class teacher taught you well. “You think it’s that simple?” he challenges, voice just painfully soft. 

“It’s not simple at all,” you admit, guard slipping for only a moment. “But it’s just what we do. It’s comfortable, in its own way.”

He nods, seeming to understand your reluctance. “So, what?” He asks, a trace of bitterness in his tone. “We just keep using each other whenever we feel like it?”

A mess of emotions swirls inside you as you meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “Maybe,” you remark, defiant. “But it’s better than facing the alternative.”

He seems to consider your words, the wright of your unspoken history. “You’re afraid,” he observes. Charles has called you afraid a million and one times in your life; from a ponytailed scaredy-cat to a selfish coward, he’s checked the box on every synonym. This time, though, his voice isn’t teasing or raging red. No, it’s surprisingly gentle. 

Your ears burn red hot. “I’m not afraid of anything,” you snap, try to push down everything just begging to boil over inside of you. 

He reaches out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. You ignore the jolt of electricity, the fact that a simple touch holds more meaning than any words the two of you could exchange. You’re annoyed, now. Annoyed with him and the longing you refuse to acknowledge. It’s a powerful cocktail that you don’t want to begin to comprehend. 

He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Not with me.”

You heart pounds in your chest as you resist the urge to lean into him, to seek some fucked up sort of comfort in his arms. Instead, you push him away, maintain a safe distance. “I’m not afraid of you,” you say, voice horribly hushed. “I’m afraid of what this could become.”

He looks at you, some indistinguishable mix of emotions, of understanding and frustration and something else. “And what do you think this could become?” he asks, voice tinged with an edge of desire. 

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacts to his proximity. “I don’t know,” you admit, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed. “But I don’t want to find out.”

He smiles like he knows something you don’t. It makes you crazy. “You’re always so stubborn,” he remarks, fingers moving from your hand to your jaw, brushing against your cheek. “Part of what drives me crazy about you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, unable to tear your eyes away. The tension is palpable, unspoken words hanging in the heavy air. 

“I could help take your mind off things,” you suggest, voice low and suggestive. “Just for a little while.” 

He raises a brow, surprise evident in his expression. “Oh?” he replies, voice a mix of intrigue and amusement. You give him a playful smirk, leaning in a bit closer. You can play games, too. 

“I can be pretty distracting,” you tease, fingers moving to his arm, tracing circles on the linen covering his arm. 

He hesitates, you’ve got him torn. He says your name, attempts to steer the conversation back to the emotions you’re so clearly dancing around. 

But you cut him off, not willing to back down. “Please,” you sigh, your voice full of longing and playfulness. “Let me take your stress.”

He puts his foot down. Protests weakly. “We can’t just ignore this.”

For a moment, you consider pushing the issue further. Deep down, somewhere unexplored, you know that this isn’t the right time. So, you take a step back, move to walk away. Before you can take another step, his hand is on your wrist, pulling you back to him. 

His lips crash against yours in a fierce and desperate kiss, and you lose yourself in the intensity of the moments. The motions that have been building under the surface finally finds an outlet, and you can’t resist the pull any longer. 

You both give in to the passion, into the physical connection and the muddled emotions. It’s a moment of surrender, of letting go. For now, it’s enough. For now, you can avoid the conversation. 

You’re no more than a few steps away from the stairs, make quick work of them, of the lock on the door to the master suite. You didn’t even know the doors had locks on them. You hope they’re half as soundproof as they are expensive, but you doubt it. 

You’re already pawing for his cock, palming the chilly, half-damp material of his swim trunks before slipping your hand under the waistband, taking the fabric out of the equation entirely. 

You look up at him, look for his reaction, check to make sure that his eyes aren’t harboring some sick softness to them. The whole point of this is to get the softy shit off his mind, to leave him so satisfied that he doesn’t remember wanting to have that conversation with you, that he doesn’t remember how shitty his season’s going and how he’s latched onto something that doesn’t exist. 

“Tell me what you want,” you whisper into his mouth. “Anything.”

He whinges at your words, mumbles something to himself, cupping your jaw with his hands. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you roll your eyes, but then his thumb is on your bottom lip, firm and heavy. “This fucking mouth,” he grumbles. 

Your fingers wrap around his cock, big and thick and warm. You run your thumb over his head, smile at the precum pooling there, spreading it around and watching the way his face twitches. You play coy, look at him with your biggest, most innocent doe eyes.  “What about it?”

He rocks on his feet, moves himself ever so slightly through your hand. He either thinks you’re oblivious to it, or he’s completely clueless to his own actions. Either way, it’s hot, and you stroke him that little bit faster. “Wanna feel it,” he says, thumb still on your lip, sinking into your mouth, onto your tongue, pushing you down, down, down onto your knees. 

The floor is cold, but you don’t care, so are his swim trunks. It’s hard, though, like most floors would be, and you’re sure you’ll have bruises by nightfall. You pull his shorts down, dick bouncing out of the waistband, twitching while he steps out of the fabric, kicks it to the side somewhere in the tiny room.

As you look up at him, a myriad of emotions wash over you. This dance is becoming so familiar, and yet, you’re surprised each time by the intensity of it. Even though you’d offered yourself, you find a way to be annoyed at how he uses you like this, turns you into a vessel to vent his stress and frustration. The other part of you, though, is so fucking turned on. Completely and utterly satisfied by the fact that you have this effect on him, that you can make him forget about his troubles, even if just temporarily. 

His eyes meet yours, that same vulnerability still there. It’s a regular sight for other people, to be looked at like this by him. It’s not your normal, though. It’s rare, something that tugs on you, makes you wonder what he’s thinking, desire a level of understanding that goes beyond the physical. 

You push those thoughts aside as quickly as you can, remind yourself that this is all casual. That you and he, this is nothing.

You spit into your hand, stroke it over his cock until it’s hard and wet and just crying for you. Your tongue trails a long stripe, from the base of his shaft to the head, swirling around his most sensitive spot. You’ve found yourself growing annoyingly fond of the noises you can pull from him. It’s a game within a game, pushing the limits to find just how pained you can make him sound. 

His hands run through your hair, slow and smooth, gathering your hair into a soft ponytail. You move a hand to his, push it against your head as if to tell him–fuck me, Charles. Use me. 

“Wait,” he says, and you pull off him with a pop. 

“What?” You probe, irritated that he’s already got something to say. 

“You have to tell me if I hurt you.”

You smirk, bite the inside of your cheek like you’re working through a real head-scratcher, putting on your best sarcastic tone. “And how do you suppose I do that?” 

“I’m serious.”

Your shoulders recoil into a shrug, a laugh helplessly falling from your lips. “So am I.”

He bites the inside of his cheek, visibly apprehensive. This never would have been an issue in January, back when the only thing he did was be openly annoyed by you. No, it’s all different now. He’s got feelings, now, wants to fucking worry about you and care about you. It makes your stomach twist and turn and knot. 

You roll your eyes. This is ridiculous, how many guys out here are stopping a woman from letting them do whatever they fucking want. It can’t be more than him, it can’t. “For fucks… you’ll know if you’re hurting me.”

He nods. “But how… will I know?”

“I don’t know… I’ll punch you in the dick or something.”

He laughs, a direct juxtaposition to his words. “You are not funny.”

You shrug, scowl. “I think I’m pretty funny.”

“I don’t know why you would think this.”

You purse your lips, puff a breath of air out of them, and hold up a single finger, pointing to him. “Fuck you,” you laugh. “I’ll tap the back of your leg,” you explain, demonstrating the gesture. “Is that good enough?”

His hands move through your hair again, fix his carefully crafted ponytail you’d messed up. “Yes. Thank you.”

You roll your eyes, take his dick in your hand again and start stroking. “Can I…?”

He nods. “I’m not stopping you.”

“I mean… “ you mumble against his skin, “you just did but…” and then you take him again, hollowed cheeks and flat tongue. 

“Jesus, you are insufferable,” he remarks, and you laugh around his dick. It makes him shudder. 

You try to focus on the moment, on his fingers gently grazing over your skin, hands guiding your head with a mixture of need and  urgency. You gag around his dick, choking on the thick shaft as it fills your mouth so perfectly. “Putain, fuck, so good,” he groans. You’d smile up at him if you could. 

The ponytail he’d been so proud of was nothing but a knotted mess now, his fingers tangling in search of grip. You hope he forgets it’s you, that it’s anyone. That he fucks into your throat until your couching and gagging and spit drips down your face, tears prick at your eyes. You hope your throat hurts tomorrow, that you lose your voice and gargle salt water and he’s the only person in the world who knows why. You hope you have to tap out on the back of his thigh. 

You come pretty close, the way he uses you like a filthy toy. Everytime you think you’re about to break, he pulls off your mouth, leaves you heaving for air, wiping spit off your face with the back of your hand. He leans down to kiss you once, hand under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his lips. You hope he tastes himself, knows just how good it is, how content you are with your life’s purpose. 

“Pretty girl,” he says, and you hum against his dick. It’s not often you’re on the receiving end of praise from him. “Take me so good.”

You’ve learned to know when he’s close, exactly how his body reacts when it’s lost all sight of anything but finishing. His pace gets silly, all kinds of unsynchronized and messy. He gets really quiet for a minute, spends all of it fighting with himself before he finally accepts it, and then he’s loud. A mix of nonsensical languages and curses, of groans and hums and remnants of what sounds like it wants to be your name. 

He’s a mess, and then he’s holding your head as close as he can, your nose pressed against the muscles of his abdomen as he bottoms out, drains himself into the back of your throat with a breathy, pained groan. 

You swallow around him greedily, want everything he has to give, all his cum and all his whimpers. He thrusts in and out of your mouth a few more times, and then he’s pulling out completely, hands cupping your face, pulling you up to stand. He kisses you, hard, and you still haven’t caught your breath–neither of you have–but you kiss until you can’t anymore, until your lungs burn to be filled with something that isn’t him. 

His thumbs wipe your face, the spit from your lips and the tears from the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he tells you, back arching to lower himself to your height. 

You want to swat his hands away. Clearly, though, this is something he feels he needs to do. “Why?” you chuckle. “That was hot.”

He matches your laugh, but his is laced with uneasy concern as he continues to try to clean up your face, fixing your hair and kissing you again, this time all soft and sure. “You’re crazy.”

“Yeah,” you pant. “You’re into it, though.”

You wonder if he regrets this, if he’s known all along the same way you have that this won’t end well, that it never would. His face mirrors yours, open mouth breathing and heaving chests and a mix of half a dozen emotions. You both know this is how it has to be, that anything more would be too complicated to manage. It stops you from the wonder. You hope it stops him. 

He sticks his head out of the door a few minutes later, after you’d ducked into the stall-sized bathroom and properly fixed yourself, untangled your hair and tied it back securely into a ponytail with the tie from your wrist. 

You laugh at him for it, push him out from behind and tell him to drop the high-schooler act. “Wait here,” he tells you, tries to close the door on you. He doesn’t hear you catch it, doesn’t turn back to see you following him up the stairs from a few steps behind. 

You’d wonder why he doesn’t hear your feet, but, if he’d just done to you what you did to him, your ears would probably still be ringing, all full and overwhelmed. 

“Charles!” Your Mom’s voice carries down the stairs just as his head appears on the second level. “You haven’t seen–” his ears blush bright red, head snapping back to you. Jesus, can we have some subtlety? “Oh,” your Mom laughs when she spots you a couple steps behind him. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Yeah,” you laugh. Charles can’t look at you, he stares right past. “We were fighting, isn’t that right, Charles?”

“Oh?” She chuckles. 

Charles’ eyes snap to you. He nods. “First rule of fight club, you know.”

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth before you look back to your Mom. “What did you need, Mama?”

“Just wondering if you want a drink,” she says. 

“Only if you mix it strong,” you say, and your Mom is already setting off back towards the rest of the group on the top level. With silent understanding, you and he both fall back into your respective roles; the arrogant, fearless prick and the spoiled, bratty princess. It’s better this way. It’s better this way. 

“Well,” you chuckle, pat him on the shoulder as you move past him on the stairs. “Aren’t you just a blushing bride?”

The anticipation in the air is palpable, all of you here in Ricky’s parents’ apartment–an added guest this year in sweet little Chiara. You’ve all watched the race here since before Charles could imagine this being his reality, the balcony providing a perfect overlook onto the iconic circuit. The sun bathes the track in golden rays, like even Mother Nature knows that it’s going to be a historic day. 

Excitement crackles like electricity, sparking from person to person, igniting contagious grins and animated chattering. Your heart flutters with a unique blend of nerves and exhilaration, Charles’ undying Monaco optimism seeking into even your most pessimistic veins. 

Antoine sets up his camera on the balcony, is interviewing half of you for Charles’ next YouTube video. You steal glances of your friends the entire time, feeling strangely sentimental about all the love in the room. On the sofa, Marta bounces Chiara on her knee, absentmindedly shakes a rattle in front of the infant, eyes watching the pre-race coverage on the television. Ricky, on the balcony, the first interviewee, beams with pride watching them. The guys all buzz with excitement, half of them glued to the TV, the other half carefully pulling tight the zip-ties on the now infamous banner, anxiously awaiting the start of the race. 

You watch from beside Marta as the national anthem plays. She tickles Chiara’s feet, pulls little giggles from the baby’s lips. Your focus remains on Charles, though, his face on the screen. You don’t know how many laps you’ve seen him drive around this country, how many ups and downs he navigated in this sport, but you know that today feels different. You can see it etched into his features, the fire in his eyes and the resurgence in his confidence since Baku. It’s like he knows today is his day, that nothing can stand in the way, that the sun will shine on him and the champagne will spray. 

The engines roar to life, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You move to the balcony, can’t bear to watch the start from a screen, knowing that it’s one of the most crucial parts of the next seventy-eight laps. Your heart pounds in sync with the rhythmic revving of the cars, and the world around you falls away as you focus on the starting grid. The lights illuminate, they're out, and the race is on. 

Charles makes a picture perfect start, no. It’s better than that, better, because the crowd roars louder than you think you’ve ever heard as he catapults himself past Max and into the lead, and your breath catches in your throat.

He’s in control, navigating every corner and chicane with precision, never once giving into the pressure of the bullet behind him. Max tries, he tries and tries, to close in on Charles, but he holds him, defends his position with skill and tenacity that makes you attracted to a helmet, to the mind it protects. 

With each passing lap, you expect the crowd to die down, but they don’t. You find yourself rallying with your friends, joining into the country-wide chorus of voices and cheers. Every maneuver, ever inch he gains on Max, fills you with excitement and awe. He’s like a force of nature, a breathtaking sight. 

The laps wind down, and his lead over Max grows. You can’t help but let out a joyful whoop. He’s doing it. This is the day he shuts everyone up about the curse. Yesterday is the last day you get to tease him about it. The realization washes over you that he’s going to win at home, and your heart swells with pride.

The final lap approaches, and you hold your breath, moving inside, to watch the screen, to stare like your glare could will him to find an extra tenth. As he takes the checkered flag, a deafening roar erupts, reverberating through the streets. 

Your friends join in a celebration, hugging and cheering as if you’re the ones standing on the podium. Antoine is giddy behind his camera, and you’re sure half the footage will be unusable with shaky hands. 

You found pause in the celebrations to watch him get out of the car, all arms swinging and firsts clenched. He stands on the halo of his car, pointing to the Ferrar emblem on his chest, over his heart. He jumps off and moves to congratulate Esteban, only to be met with a hug from the other driver. Max joins them quickly, strong handshakes and hard pats on the back before any of them are taking their helmets off. 

David Coulthard is waiting for him. Charles makes him wait, gets his bracelets and his watch from Andrea before picking up his microphone. “Charles, congratulations on your stunning victory! How are you feeling right now?” Your fingers find your lips, cover your smile and laugh. Charles has no idea how he feels. 

“Thank you!” He grins, all young and dimpled, purely pure. If you didn’t know better, you’d think a giddy first-grader had just won the biggest race in the world. “I don’t know,” he laughs. “It’s just… wow. I’m on top of the world right now, to be honest.”

He looks so tired and yet so, so full of life. Like the adrenaline is the only thing keeping him up, all sweaty hair and balaclava lines. You want to kiss him, to trail your fingers along every indent in his skin. “You led the race from start to finish, and it was quite a battle with Max. Tell us about your strategy and how you managed to hold that lead.”

“It was definitely not an easy race,” he says, still smiling. You’re shocked he hasn’t lost his English yet, he always does when he gets over excited. “Max is a great driver and I knew he would not make it easy for me. Our strategy was to be aggressive from the start. I tried to manage my tyres. I think it all paid off in the end.”

“Your victory today makes you the first Monegasque driver to win the Monaco Grand Prix since Louis Chiron in 1931. How does it feel to be a part of this historic moment?”

“It’s a tremendous honor. Louis is an inspiration to all Monegasque drivers, to follow his footsteps is truly special.”

“Fantastic, thank you, Charles. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, thank you!” He says, holds up a thumbs up as he walks away and winks. Well, he tried to wink. The inability to do so might be the least suave thing about him. 

The screen transitions to the cool-down room, to Max talking Esteban’s ear off, lighting up with a smile when Charles enters. The camera focuses on Charles in the corner, setting his helmet and his towel down on the table in front of his name, drinking an entire water bottle in two gulps, opening another and taking up a conversation with the others. 

Joris snaps a finger in front of your face. “Sorry, what?” You ask, eyes snapping to him.

“I asked if you want champagne?” he chuckles. 

“Oh,” you smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

When you look back, they’ve already cut to the empty podium, announcing Esteban’s third place finish to a loud applause. He celebrates like he won the thing, which you admire. Next is Max, who is met with applause, but it's noticeably less than the roar that follows when Charles’ name is announced. 

The room around you is half as loud as the rest of the country, laughing and screaming wild for Charles. Jo and Ricky pop open Champagne bottles on the balcony, send the corks flying to God only knows where, hastily filling up the glasses beside them and passing them out. 

Even from blocks away, where he is just a red dot, where your friends arms are over your shoulder sipping champagne and humming along with the national anthem, you feel a strange connection to him, something beyond the bickering and annoyance. Something beyond the sex, maybe. Something just… something happy, or proud, or just plain soft, maybe. Soft like his smile while he gets drenched in Champagne by the two others on the podium. 

(six hours later) 

Joris’ knowing glances didn’t escape your notice, and it made you uneasy. You wondered if Charles was crass enough, if he has been sharing secrets about your little arrangement. The thought of it sends a shiver down your spin. The idea of anyone glimpsing into the tangled web that is you and Charles now made you feel vulnerable and exposed. 

You sipped your drink, trying to focus on the chatter around you, but your mind just keeps looping back to him. His laughter, his smile. His very presence seems to pull on you, and it doesn’t help that you know he feels the same way, that he has for weeks now. You quickly brush away the thought each time, unwilling to entertain the idea of anything beyond the surface of your friendship. 

“You seem a bit distant tonight,” Jo remarked, voice pulling you back to the present. 

You force a smile, hope he won’t detect the unease that drenches your demeanor. “Just a bit tired, I suppose,” you replied casually, averting his gaze, staring into the bottom of your glass as you spun the clear liquor around. 

He didn’t push further, but the look on his face tells you he sees right through you, makes you feel that much more exposed. You take a deep breath, attempt to steady yourself, but the questions linger like shadows in the back of your mind. 

The night wears on, and Charles wears your eyes, a near constant sightline from you to him. It was easy to steal glances when he looks like that, when his easy charm and infectious laughter draws everyone in. 

You don’t dare confront the truth, not here, not now. It was easier to stay in the safe confines of what you knew, what you’d established, emotions locked away in a heart-shaped locket hung round your neck. 

The party shows no signs of winding down, and you need air. You slip away from the group, out the back door to the curb where all the smokers hide. You found yourself drawn to the quiet of it, where it was just you, your thoughts, and the smell of tobacco. 

With the distant laughter and celebrations faded into the night, you allow yourself to be candid, to admit the truth, if only to yourself. There was a part of you that yearned for something more, a part of you that longed to explore what might be with him. 

But he was right. You are afraid, you are. Afraid of what it means to let your guard down, to open up to the unknown. The vulnerability that comes with the admission is daunting, shit straight from a horror movie, like a trap. You were standing on a cliff, a dangerous precipice that threatened to unravel everything you’d sloppily built. This life is held together with bubblegum and toothpicks, it can’t stand the shake. 

So, as you stood there on the back step, you made a silent promise to yourself. A promise to stay safe, to guard your heart and keep your feelings hidden from him, from everyone. 

You returned to the party, unable to fully shake the weight of what gnawed on you. The cocktail of emotions was overwhelming, and you found solace in the bottom of a glass. Joris egged you on, kept the shots coming, and Marta made it more fun. 

However, as the alcohol flowed freely, your tipsiness quickly spiraled into something more intense. With each drink, your inhibitions crumbled into a reckless pursuit of distraction. Each shot pushed the turmoil down further. 

Marta slowed down first, opting to be cautious on her first “big night out” since having the baby. She could focus on the company and the laughter you feared. Joris started sober, too, tried to keep an eye on you the best he could, but you were determined to lose yourself to the moment. 

The music thumped loudly, and the energy of the party was infectious. You danced with wild abandon, uncaring of the curious glances and amused whispers that followed. The alcohol had stripped back any reservations, leaving behind a version of yourself you barely recognize, all carefree and daring and reckless. 

Jo tried to reason with you, to suggest you call it an early night, but you were having none of it. “I’m fine, really,” you insisted, slurring your words slightly. “Let’s do another shot!”

He reluctantly agreed, but the more you drank, the more erratic your behavior became. You danced with strangers, laughed loud and flirted shamelessly, trying to fill the void with temporary connections. Amidst the sea of bodies, you caught the eye of a handsome stranger. He was tall, with dark brown hair and a mischievous glint in his eye that instantly intrigued you. He moved with confident grace, and you were like a moth to a flame. 

He made his way toward you, playful smirk on his lips. “I couldn’t help but notice you across the room,” he said, voice low and alluring. 

You laughed, feeling the effects of alcohol emboldening you. “Oh, really? And what is it that caught your attention?”

He leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear as he mumbled, “Your smile. It’s as captivating as the stars.”

You blushed at his compliment, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. “Smooth talker, huh?” you teased, trying to keep up the playful banter. 

He chuckled, his finger lightly grazing the small of your back. “Only when I’m in the presence of someone this beautiful.”

You grinned, enjoying the flirtatious exchange. “You know how to flatter a girl,” you replied, heart racing at his touch. 

He leaned in even closer, the proximity between you sending sparks flying. “I can be even more convincing,” he said, voice low and seductive. 

You raised an eyebrow, playfully challenging him. “Is that so?”

He smirked, gaze never leaving yours. “Oh, absolutely,” he replied. “But you’ll have to let me prove it.”

A thrill coursed through you as the chemistry between the two of you intensified. You were well aware it was just a fleeting moment, a casual flirtation in the middle of a wild night out. But something about this stranger has ignited a spark in you, and you found yourself tempted to play along. 

The two of you danced together, the electric energy between you creating an intoxicating allure. His hands traced patterns along your waist. You get lost in the moment, in the music, in the touch of a stranger. 

“You wanna get out of here?” He asked, and you laughed. 

“No,” you replied, and abandoned your spot with him before he could protest any further. 

At some point, you stumbled outside for fresh air, feeling the world spin around you. The cool night air did little to sober you up, and instead, it only dueled your recklessness. You leaned against the railing, teetering on the edge between exhilaration and oblivion. 

Joris found you there, concern etched on his face. He calls your name, “Maybe we should call it a night. You’ve had enough.”

But you shook your head defiantly, a stubborn gleam in your eyes. “I’m not done yet,” you slurred. “I want more.”

He sighed like he knew it was pointless to attempt to reason with you like this, made you promise to stay put, told you he was off to get you another drink and he would be right back. 

As he left for your promised drink, you found yourself swaying in your shoes, the world around you still spinning. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to gain some composure, but the liquor is taking it’s toll. When the door opened, you opened your eyes again, met with Joris–no drink, but with Charles in tow. 

You laughed. “Hey, Charles,” you slurred, grabbing onto his arm for support. 

He looked down at you, a mix of surprise and annoyance crossing his features. “Are you alright?” he asked, glancing around as if someone would magically appear to care for you. 

You ignored his question. “I want you to dance with me,” you demanded, tugging on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. 

He frowned, clearly not thrilled by the idea. “You’re drunk. Maybe you should sit down and take it easy,” he suggested, trying to lead you back inside, no doubt in the direction of a chair. 

“No,” you pouted. “I want to dance.” You didn’t care that you looked like a mess, or that your coordination was shot. All you wanted was to forget, to lose yourself in the music and the movement. 

Charles sighed, clearly exasperated, but let you tug him all the way back inside to dance. He keeps a cautious distance, as if he was worried you might fall over at any moment, which, granted. You very well might. You swayed and you twirled, laughing without regard for how ridiculous you looked. 

As the music pulsed through you, you were suddenly stuck with severe guilt. You were angry at yourself for getting so drunk, for losing control like this. You were mad at him, too, annoyed by his incessant need to attempt to care for you, for never just letting you be. And yet, at the same time, you were so drawn to him and his soft eyes, to the concern and frustration and the way he cared about you even when you pushed him away. 

The song changed. Something slower, more sensual. You dance closer to him and he hesitates, clearly unsure of what to do. You laugh, wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. You could feel his heart racing, his body tense with restraint. 

“We shouldn’t…” he started to protest, but you silenced him with a kiss. It was messy and desperate, per usual, fueled by alcohol and unspoken emotions. He hesitates for just a moment before giving in, his hands finding their way to your waist. 

You pulled away breathless, looked up at him all defiant and bratty. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” you whisper, and it comes out far more vulnerable than you intended, all squeaky and cracked. “I can handle myself.”

He looked torn, his usual composure slipping momentarily, before reverting to his usual ways.  “Someone fucking has to,” he finally spoke. 

You wanted to protest, to push him away, but the words all get stuck in your throat. Instead, you lean in to kiss him again, fingers tanging into his hair. In this moment, you wanted nothing more than to forget it all, to lose yourself in him and the way he made you feel. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

“Can’t believe I got your sloppy seconds,” he quips.

“What?”

“The guy who tried to take you home earlier,” he laughed. “Looked like a prick.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “Him.”

“Yeah, you really hit it off with him, didn’t you?” Charles said with a hint of sarcasm. You struggled to read if he was joking or if he was just barely keeping his irritation in check. 

You grinned, words still slurring. “Oh, you’re just jealous.” you shot back at him, leaning closer. 

“Please,” he scoffed. “Like I could ever be jealous of that guy.”

“You’re right,” you laughed, your body pressing against his as you stumbled slightly. “You just won the Monaco Grand Prix.”

The rest of the evening continues in much of the same way, with Charles having to play babysitter to a very drunk–and very handsy–you. He tried to keep his distance, to maintain some semblance of composure, but you made it hard constantly pulling him into your orbit. 

At some point, you find yourselves alone on a sofa, the noise around you fading somewhere far off. You were giggling about something, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You know,” you said, “this is all your fault.”

He quirked a brow. “My fault? How do you figure?”

You Smirked, reaching up to play with a strand of his hair. “You’re the one who got me all worked up with that kiss earlier,” you said, voice low and teasing. 

His cheeks burnt bright pink. “I didn’t do anything,” he said, a poor attempt at sounding casual. 

“Oh please, Charles. You know exactly what you’re doing,” you said, voice taking on a more serious tone. “You’re always doing this, pulling me in and then pushing me away.”

“You’re fucking with me, right?” He scoffs, turning his head to face you, knocking your head off his shoulder in the process. “You’re the one doing that.”

You feel a pang of guilt at his words. You know he’s right, that tonight is just the next night of you sending him mixed signals. It’s been going on like this for months, but you don’t know how to stop, how to untangle the mess. “I don’t mean to,” you say softly, defenses dropping for a moment. “It’s just… complicated.”

He nodded. “I know,” he speaks quietly. “It’s just hard. Trying to figure out where we stand.”

You sigh, running your hand through your hair. “I know. I do.” You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of your unspoken feelings hanging in the air. You wished you could say something, anything, to tell him how you feel, but all the words are stuck. Instead, you reach for his hand, intertwine your fingers and look up at him, big pupils in the dimly lit room. “I don’t want to ruin what we have,” you said softly, voice hardly above a whisper. 

“I don’t either,” he said, his thumb stoking your hand gently. 

The moment is interrupted by Joris, who appears from around the corner out of nowhere, looking half as annoyed as the two of you must. “There you two are,” he said, relief and irritation clouding his words. “It’s time to go,” he says, pointing directly to you. “You’ve had enough.”

You groaned, but you didn’t protest. You lean on Charles the whole walk to Joris’ car. 

As you arrived back at your apartment, he helped you inside and settled you into bed. He tucked you in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Sleep well,” he whispered, voice soft and tender. 

You smile sleepily, reaching up to touch his cheek. “You too,” you murmured. He turns to leave, but before he could go, you grab his wrist, holding it tightly. “Stay,” you said, voice barely audible. 

He hesitates for a moment, you can feel it in the air even with your eyes closed, can feel his heart beating in his wrist. Eventually, though, he gives in, slides into bed beside you. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you nuzzle into his chest, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. 

“You’re so warm,” you mumbled, words still pathetically sloshed. 

He chuckles softly, the annoyance in his eyes starting to fade. “Well, I am always warm,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood, to ease the awkwardness. 

You giggled, snuggling even closer to him. “You’re my human heater,” you said, voice filled with affection. 

As the minutes passed, you started to drift off to sleep, your breathing becoming slow and steady. You could see the struggle in his eyes as your lids grew heavier, the depth of care for you he tried so hard to hide. 

When you wake up in the middle of the night, hints of a sunrise beginning to push through the curtains, you find him still awake. He looked lost in thought, afraid, almost. Desperately, you wanted to reach out, to ask him what was wrong, but feared pushing him away more than anything. 

You settle against his chest, listen to the sound of his heart beating against your ear, feel yours match it. Finally, exhaustion catches up to him, his body relaxing as he drifts off to sleep. As you lay there, you can’t help your tired mind and it’s delusions of a future where you don’t have to hide your feelings, where you can be together openly and honestly, and then you’re falling back asleep yourself.

[on-partiality]

Happy Laurens-Lee duel day!

Duel day yayayay! Here's a very basic explanation of the duel!

The duel between Major General Charles Lee and Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens on the afternoon of the 23rd of December came about because of Charles Lee's brutal mockery and vilification of George Washington's character, a man whom Laurens admired and was an aide-de-camp of (a trusted one too because he was part of George Washington's military family, a group of his closest aides), and he wanted to defend his beloved general's honour.

Charles Lee, at this point, was widely hated by the men of the Continental Army. This opinion of him didn't always exist, though in fact, for years he was seen as a rather honourable man, and he helped in multiple battles and wars around the world. However, his experience made him very arrogant and snobbish. He believed that he was just as great as George Washington and could be an awesome commander-in-chief, which was fine until later in the revolutionary war, when he'd helped in so many battles of the war and he'd become a rather popular man respected by most Americans. He began to dislike Washington more and more, and he was getting louder about it, even though the Americans didn't truly hate him. The American loathing of him started during the Battle of Monmouth. Lee was meant to command the Americans to do a frontal assault on the British, but instead he issued a premature retreat, which caused Washington and him to have a fiery argument on the battlefield, causing 109 men to die, 161 men to be wounded, and 130 men to go missing. Lee was tried at court for multiple charges relating to this incident and was found guilty of all charges in 1780, but before 1780, he slandered Washington persistently, even after the battle, making many of his aide-de-camp's blood boil, and John Laurens challenged him to a duel out of pure rage to defend Washington's honour. Lee accepted the challenge.

Charles Lee chose Major Evan Edwards to be his second, as Edwards had been a good aide-de-camp of his in 1777, and John Laurens chose Alexander Hamilton, a fellow aide-de-camp of Washington and very intimate partner of Laurens. The duel was meant to happen at 3:00 pm in 'a wood situated near the four-mile stone on the Point No Point Road' just outside of Philadelphia; however, Laurens and Hamilton were 30 minutes late for unknown reasons. At the duelling place, the two parties agreed on how they'd proceed with the duel. Before the duel, they'd already decided that they'd use pistols, and Lee suggested that they advance upon each other and fire at whatever distance and time they individually found proper. Laurens agreed with this proposal. After about five steps towards each other, the two men shot. Laurens got ready to shoot Lee again, but Lee declared himself wounded (wimp). Laurens being the kind of man he was, he rushed towards Lee to help him because, typically, if someone were to declare themselves wounded, that meant that they were very severely or even fatally injured. Hamilton and Edwards rushed to Lee's side too, only to learn that the bullet barely got him on his right side. Lee wanted to shoot a second time. Laurens very passionately agreed to this, but the two men's seconds opposed the suggestion. Then the two duelists agreed that they would be fine with following along with whatever their seconds sensibly suggested, and after the seconds discussed for a while more, they still both believed that it really would be best if the whole ordeal were to end there. They told the duelists the conclusion they reached, and they walked back to town together, conversing with each other and trying to make peace with their initial problems with each other, which they eventually reached (somewhat, not really), and the next day Alexander Hamilton and Evan Edwards wrote up this recount of the duel:

https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-01-02-0687

It's good and I highly recommend it to anyone wanting to learn more about this duel because it's a primary source and you gotta love primary sources.

[im-probably-crying-rn-ngl]

all jokes and knee jerk reactions (guilty) aside and maybe i am in the minority here but i am truly rooting for (most) parties' success even if they may not be my personal faves. while ferrari/mercedes/whoever downfall would be funny but what could possibly trump that is if everyone involved can come back stronger as it could be incredible for the sport.

i am choosing to trust and respect lewis and his words rather than all the conspiracies (guilty) and if this really is his life long dream there would be nothing better than watching him achieve it. whatever challenge he is looking for i hope he finds it. and i hope ferrari are able to give him that for all that he has done and is doing for the sport.

i am rooting for charles to give it his all and more and put up a amazing fight against the 7x world champion and rest of the grid because he is a racer and he is here to fight and to win and that is his right. i hope he too gets his shot to win a championship in red like he dreamed of.

i wish carlos does his all to show his calibre as a driver this season and finds his place in formula 1 wherever it is. a comeback story is always welcome in formula 1 and carlos sainz can give us one.

i do want mercedes (not toto tho. fuck toto) to be able to rebuild their brand and team. it won't be easy but this is the opportunity that can allow mercedes to finally wake themselves up and stop relying on legacy and past glory and actually build something for the present. lewis is finding something new, so should they. clearly even with all the talent in the world, they have been struggling. fresh blood in their ranks (NEW TP WANTED) could be what revitalises them the same way that it would with ferrari.

i believe george should be allowed to reach all the potential he showed that day in sakhir in the w11. george is changing as a driver right in front of our eyes and if the silver arrows can once again take aim, i hope they shoot right on the bull's eye.

while discourse is fun (also very tiring) and we all have our biases what could possibly be better than seeing all challengers be at the very best to go against the very best. i personally say let them all show their very best. its a new era after all in the highest level of motorsport.

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

The Royal (Non)Reaction

The big royal response will be the coronation, as it should be.

It will "look towards the future while being rooted in long-standing traditions and pageantry." I hope so. The big challenge here is to present an attractive and coherent vision for the future. I look forward to seeing what they come up with. Personally, I would shine a spotlight on the younger royals, not just the Wales kids but also the Wessex children and the others.

Until then the family will stay quiet. Responses will be indirect, like the burgundy outfits for the Christmas Carol, the eagle feather hat for the Christmas walk, and Jasons RVO. I'm particularly impressed with William's restraint, as he sometimes shoots from the hip. He has been very disciplined.

So far, this has been pretty effective, which I find curious. Stonewalling Thomas Markle was not effective, but stonewalling Harry has the opposite effect. When I realized the family would not respond I feared Charles would be perceived as unfeeling and harsh, like Meghan was when her father went to the press. However, that has not been the case. Is it because Meghan and Harry are raking in the cash and the amounts are a lot bigger than anything Thomas earned during his media tour? It is Queen Elizabeth's halo effect? Is it because Charles, as the king, is seen as representing the institution in a way Meghan never was?

Personally, I think it is the precedent. I am reading Traitor King (highly recommended btw), and the parallels between David and Harry are eerie--the books, the interviews, the post-royal struggles.

Likewise, the parallels between the royal responses to David and Harry are also very similar. Above all, the institution is to be protected.

The one big difference is that David and Wallis weren't as viciously self-destructive as Harry and Meghan. The documentary was not greeted positively and yet here is Harry doing more interviews covering the same ground. They just keep digging that hole deeper and deeper.

[captainnameless]

I don't know if the ao3 fic requests are left here, but I've been thinking about one where little Charles threw more than one tantrum at Carlos in front of the other drivers as a "punishment" for not having read him a story last night.

Pls do more of charles and cg Carlos!!

#littlef1_adventures

not entirely sure i completely understood the prompt but decided to get something out for you nonetheless:

It’s his own fault really, for not waking Charles back up. But his teammate had looked so peaceful, eyes closed and lips pressed into the softest pout. They had gotten very little down time together over the past few weeks, with presses and team meetings and a lot time and energy spent towards their personal lives.

It’s Charles who asked for a night to go down, Carlos proud the younger had voiced his needs and wanted him. Carlos was an easy choice without Sebastian on the grid, but it still made Carlos’ heart swell every time Charles trusted him with this.

Carlos had promised Charles to read the stories he usually reads to Lando, but after an exhausting FP2 they had showered, gotten dinner and passed out in bed during their movie. All Carlos had done was move Charles into a more comfortable position to sleep through the night, he figured they’d read them another time. Mistake.

Getting Charles to the paddock had been a challenge, he’d asked for the stories over breakfast but they hadn’t had the time.

Xavi mentioning Charles’ mood when they’d gotten their hadn’t helped either and Carlos was surprised Charles had gotten through FP3 without cussing his engineer out over the radio.

Charles usually perked up during lunch, food being the way to the heart and all that. And Carlos figured having lunch in the paddock hospitality instead of eating it in their drivers room would brighten the younger’s mood. Mistake 2.

“Charles,” Carlos warns, unimpressed with the way the younger’s pushing his finger into the fajita that’s barely eating. “Stop playing with your food, please. You gotta eat.”

Charles merely huffs in response, keeps flicking little bits of beef around on his plate until Carlos’ hand wraps around his wrist, the other hand taking the plate from him. “Charles.”

Charles whines, tugs his hand out of Carlos’ grip. “Mine!”

“Are you going to eat it?” Carlos asks, trying to keep his voice down, there’s not many people here. A few drivers, who aren’t strangers to tantrums but still.

“Yes.” Charles whines so Carlos puts the plate down with a raised eyebrow. “Last chance.”

He should’ve just had lunch with Charles in his drivers room, read him a story there before putting him down of a much needed nap before qualifying. Not much he could do about that now.

He’s pulled from his thoughts to see Alex try to feed Charles a bite from his pasta salad, the fork extended towards Charles who looks at it with a glare.

“You don’t have to.” Alex says with a soft smile.

“No.” Charles says and Carlos doesn’t think too much of it until Charles smacks at Alex’s hand, the fork and the bite of food clattering onto the table and then the floor.

Carlos doesn’t spend much time thinking anything else, shoves his chair back and stands up, wrapping a hand around Charles’ bicep and pulling him up. “Up, and walk.”

Charles thinks about protesting but the look on Carlos’ face deters him from that thought, lips forming into a deeper pout than he’d had last night.

Carlos shoots Alex an apologetic look, who returns it and waves him off so Carlos retakes Charles arm and pulls him along.

They take a back exit to avoid running into any fans, a few surprised workers look up as Carlos makes quick work of moving past them, Charles growing quieter by the second. Fairly soon Carlos is pushing the door to his drivers room open, hand still firm onto Charles lower arm as he pulls him in too.

“Nose, corner.” Carlos says, while Charles finds his voice again to voice his protest.

“Now.” Carlos responds. “One.”

That seems to kickstart Charles into moving, but not without more whining, before shuffling over to the corner on Carlos’ right.

“5 minutes.” Carlos says, his statement earning him another wet whine as he moves to grab the bag he brought this morning, setting out a pair of joggers for Charles to slip into; the younger never napping well in his jeans and the blanket Charles had been obsessed with lately.

Carlos checks his watch religiously, watching Charles fidget in the corner while soft sniffles leave him but he stays, stays up until Carlos calls time.

“Come here.” Carlos says, wrapping Charles up in a tight hug, letting him bury his face into his chest while rubbing a hand down his back. He presses soft kisses onto Charles’ head while the younger cries into his chest, whispering soft praise into his hair and allowing him to calm down a bit before gently pulling back and tipping Charles’ face up.

“We don’t hit. And we don’t waste food, okay?” Carlos says, keeping Charles eyes locked on his.

“Yes, okay.” Charles mumbles, wet eyes blinking back at Carlos. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Carlos soothes, brushing away a tear that escapes. “All done, you’re forgiven.” Carlos says, presses a kiss to Charles’ forehead. “We’re gonna change and take a nap, okay?”

Charles rarely refuses nap, and today in no different, nodding silently to Carlos’ request, before allowing him to help him change and wash his face and hands.

“Good boy,” Carlos praises once he’s finished, setting Charles down onto the couch before rummaging through the bag again, pulling out the story book that was promised to Charles last night.

“Do-over?” Carlos asks while Charles’ eyes light up before nodding.

They get comfortable together, Charles fitting in between Carlos’ legs while he presses his face into his chest.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to read it yesterday,” Carlos says, brushing some of Charles’ hair out of his face. “And I’m sorry you felt upset today, maybe next time you can talk to me about it, okay? That way I might be able to fix it without having to put you in time out.”

There’s a soft flush that takes over Charles’ face, momentarily burying himself away into Carlos’ chest before reappearing. “Okay.”

“Good boy,” Carlos says again, opening up the book and allowing Charles to pick a story. He finishes the story when Charles is almost asleep, fighting to blink his eyes opening, thumb barely sucked into his mouth.

“Sleep.” Carlos whispers, brushing his hand over Charles’ face to close his eyes fully. “I love you.”

Charles mumbles something back that doesn’t sound like i love you, but Carlos feels it anyway.

[yours-the-author]

Hey, I'm back from my trip and got ya'll some stick ship goodies. It's no longer fair season where I live, but I had ideas for my favorite ships going to the fair and finally decided to draw them, so here you go!

CopperRight

I imagine that Right Hand Man is either the kind of guy to actually hate fairs/carnivals/things like that, or the kind of guy to say he hates them, but actually really enjoys them. He'd probably play all of the "test of strength" games and win the the giant prizes for Reginald. Reginald doesn't actually want/need the giant prizes (and isn't really a fan of fairs, either; too loud and dirty!), but if he gets a petty sense of pride when showing them off, he can do that because he's a rat man who loves his husband.

On the other hand, though, Reginald does have a serious sweet tooth, and sometimes only a treat found at the fair can do the trick! (I imagine RHM doesn't really like sweets, but he's not gonna leave Reg by himself in a strange theme park where danger could be at any corner!)

_____________________________________

Curtisson

Burt actually really likes carnivals and fairs, but he acts unimpressed at every fair he goes to.

Burt: Nice theme park. Be a shame if someone broke it.

Sven, on the other hand, does NOT like fairs or carnivals. They're crowded, noisy, the food is terrible for you, and it's too hot all the time! I imagine he'd go maybe once just to say that he did, and would somehow get goaded into going on a big scary ride (or maybe even a not-so-scary ride) only to sob uncontrollably afterwards for like ten minutes.

The Curtisson date at the fair would almost be completely ruined... but at least there's a petting zoo, and they both like small and fluffy animals.

Date saved!

_________________________________

PanPrice

Believe it or not, Dave's actually pretty okay with most rides. Nothing extreme, like triple loop-de-loop rollercoasters or anything, but maybe one of those "roller coasters" that just go around in a loop over and over. Dave knows what he likes and doesn't like, and can plan accordingly.

Rupert thinks he can handle a few amusement park rides. He's a trained military man who was on the police force for nearly a decade before hand! He can handle a baby roller coaster!

He cannot handle the baby roller coaster

But once Rupert gets the feeling back in his everything, it's time to play some games! Probably a shooting game of some kind; something challenging that takes a lot of skill and precision (but most importantly, something with a prize that Dave will like):

Obligatory Dave Panpa / Panda fanart

And of course, what's a fair or carnival without the FOOD! Dave loves fair food and has a hard time picking what to get. Rupert is less inclined to fried and sugary foods in large portions, but he likes to see Dave indulge every once in a while, because Dave deserves it.

___________________________________

Poly Threat

A group of thrill seekers like the Triple Threat would definitely be the first in line for some rides! And they know exactly which one to start with, too...

(Fun Fact: There was actually a ride shaped like a helicopter at the last fair I went to, which is what inspired all of this art!)

Of course, there's nothing wrong with having fun in a more relaxed way. Henry might need some downtime away from the crowds, and Charles and Ellie are happy to accommodate.

Who doesn't like a little face paint every once in a while? (Bonus points if you know what the significance of the symbols are!)

A day at the fair can be long and exhausting, but there's still stuff going on after dark! Maybe Charles is a little sensitive to loud noises, or maybe Ellie is legally barred from being near gunpowder, but there's nothing like a picnic under the fireworks to wrap up a fun day!

Technically, fairs and carnivals and such are more late summer things than early winter things, but I had fun making these pictures! I hope you like them too!

[nyoomfruits]

Oh ! For the Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP, would you be willing to write about number 2 Royal AU, with number 98 curses for lestappen please 🙏

listen i was thinking about different curse ideas and then i suddenly remembered charles's monac curse and well... then i couldn't not write that. so!!!! driver!charles/prince!max au it is :)

prompt taken from this list, feel free to send me one!

royal au + curses

When you ask a driver what the best race to win is, they will give one of two answers; either their home Grand Prix, or Monaco. For Charles, these have always been one and the same.

And yet, he has never won.

A curse, they call it. Just dumb luck, Charles like to say.

But it still weighs on him, every year he DNF’s, every year he crashes into the barriers instead of crossing the finish line. At least he’s managed to do at least that, last year, in 2022. But this year, this year he’s determined.

He’s going to break the curse. He’s going to win.

He’s so laser focused, so all in, that he misses all the whispers around the paddock about important visitors until he slams head first into one of those visitors outside of the Ferrari motor home.

“I am so sorry,” says none other than Max Emilian, crown prince of the Netherlands.

“Oh,” Charles says, because well. He’s seen pictures of the man before, but it turns out they really don’t do him justice. Prince Max is gorgeous, with piercing blue eyes and broad shoulders and a very, very kissable mouth. “I mean, uh, I’m sorry. Your, uh, highness?”

Max laughs, the hand he used to steady Charles still on his shoulder, burning into Charles’s skin. “Please. Call me Max.”

“Right,” Charles says, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “Right, yeah Max. I can do that.”

Max sends him an amused look. “So, are you looking forward to the race?” He asks, and his hand slips off Charles’s shoulder. Charles immediately misses its warmth.

He pulls a face. “Sort of? I’ve not had the best luck in Monaco.”

“Ah, yes,” Max says, thoughtful look on his face. “The curse.” When Charles doesn’t say anything, just pulls a face, Max continues. “But you shouldn’t be worried. You’ve been driving well all season. Plus, you have pole. That’s already half the race.”

“You follow F1?” Charles asks, a little surprised. There something about Max, beyond the pretty eyes and the nice body, that is almost regal. Ethereal. It feels weird to picture him sitting on a couch in his sweatpants and a sweatshirt on Sunday’s, watching a race.

“Obsessed with it,” Max admits, almost a bit sheepish. “Begged my dad to let me drive kart when I was a kid. But apparently that wasn’t very appropriate, so,” He rubs the back of his neck, and gives Charles a ‘what can you do’ look. “Anyway, I like watching races a lot. The fast cars, the pretty boys,” He leans forward a little, and there’s suddenly an almost mischievous smile on his face, like he’s challenging Charles.

Charles blinks. Opens his mouth. Closes it. If he knew better, he’d say the crown prince of the Netherlands is currently flirting with him. But he knows better so that can’t be it. Right? Still. Can’t hurt to try. “Pretty boys, huh?” Charles says leaning back against the wall of the motorhome. “And do you have a favorite?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Max eyes are twinkling, and he’s leaning forward, his arm suddenly right next to Charles’s head, his face inching closer and closer.

Charles opens his mouth to say something, anything, but then suddenly there’s a pair of lips on his, hands on his waist gently pressing him into the wall, and he forgets how to breath for a second.

His hands shoot up to land on Max’s arm, his bicep, and for a moment he lets himself be kissed, loses himself in the moment. But then Max is pulling away, smiling softly at him.

“What was that for?” Charles asks, eyes wide and mouth kiss swollen.

Max shrugs. “Good luck charm, I guess.”

“Oh,” Charles says. Wants to say more. Wants to do it again. But then a harried Ferrari employee is rounding the corner and spots them, and starts yelling at Charles in rapid Italian about how he was supposed to be in the garage like ten minutes ago, and Max is being pulled in another direction by his security detail, and the moment is broken.

(It’s not until later, much later, when he’s on the top step of the podium, hoisting the trophy in the air, that he remembers.

The thing about curses, is that they can be broken. And the most common way, the best way, is true love’s first kiss.

Charles is feeling very excited about the Zandvoort Grand Prix, all of a sudden.)

[felosia]

Charles Sumner and the Gentility of Slaveholders and lost causers

It's sorta insane that lost causes can still claim that southern slaveholders were respectable people when they literally fucking beat people to near death in Congress in response to someone saying that they were immoral for holding slaves. It's also sorta insane that the reason Sumner (The guy almost beat to death) wasn't challenged to a duel was because Southerners deemed him of lower social class than them due to insinuating that they could ever rape their slaves and didn't think he was worthy of being dueled

Furthering this a fucking senator shot the ceiling of the house and threatened to shoot anyone who interrupted Sumner being beat to near death

Like how do people argue that these people were genteel southerners when they beat people to death in public even if you completely ignore fucking slavery

Side note: This just further aggravates me about the lost cause myth. "It was all about slave rights." Fucking state rights? Okay I'm going to do a different rant about that because why does that argument even exist. Anyways, Sumner got beat to near death over insulting Southerners because of their relationship with the institution of slavery and these are supposedly civil people who "slaves were better under."

If you want to be racist and completely ignore the horrors of slavery then look to fucking Bleeding Kansas. If you want to be even more ignorant and pretend Bleeding Kansas wasn't the South actively invading a Northern state to install slavery, then look to these people's treatments of those they disagreed with. Getting cancelled is bad? Want to know what's worse? Getting beat half to death in front of the entire fucking nation because you insinuated that a dude who has raped people he enslaves multiple times mayhap be a rapist.

Btw this is what he read

Really well written speech. He was fucking banned from speaking for months because of his radical anti-slavery position and was damn well prepared once he got the chance to speak.

[wejustvibing]

I think certainly it'll be interesting times ahead, Lewis and we will have to deal with the fact that Charles is basically a god for the italians, he's so loved. I'm sure they'll at least treat Lewis well, but it'll be like Carlos, I think, much more toned down than Charles.

Also ferrari does all these challenges and fun videos, I don’t see Lewis doing it and to be honest I was a little shocked how annoyed he was with the shooting of the playground video shown in dts, I know he woke up too early but he wasn't amused so I don't think he'll do these videos but it won't be nice for his image over there, even Seb used to do with Charles, I think people will be annoyed with the many changes. Let's pray for him and for us, because we'll be in the trenches

not liking the tone of this ask. while most of this is true lewis is not carlos lmao let me leave it at that.

anyway, we shall see

[safetycar-restart]

POLY MONTH CHALLENGE DAY SEVEN: POLY!ALEX/CHARLES

Time for soft boys!!! 23-16=7. This is literally just… so soft.

Seeing Alex and Charles cuddled together is always the best thing to come home to. They always look so cute together, with Charles cuddled up against Alex’s chest. They’re rarely ever quiet, always giggling and chatting as they cuddle.

The only time they’re quiet is when sleeping, otherwise they’re always whispering. Even when watching a movie, Charles just can’t stop whispering to Alex.

Which would be annoying if it wasn’t so damn cute.

So when you come back and see Charles curled up in Alex’s chest, talking in a mixture of French and English, it’s such a sweet sight.

Charles spots you first, and his smile widens even more as he shoots up from Alex’s chest and makes grabby hands for you. His two favourite people!! In one room!!!

Alex turns his head to see why Charles is so excited and smiles when he spots you, motioning for you to join them.

The moment you sit down, Charles is sliding off Alex’s lap to sit between you and Alex. That’s Charles’s favourite place to be.

“How was your day?” Alex asks you, leaning over charles to give you a quick kiss. Of course the moment Alex gets a kiss, then Charles also wants one.

“Yeah! How was your day?” Charles asks, excited to hear what you had been doing.

Charles and Alex had spend the day together, working out in the morning then coming back to the apartment where they’ve been waiting for you to get back from work. It doesn’t matter how boring your day has been, they both are so excited to hear about it.

So you have to give them both a full debrief, or else they’ll assume they’ve done something to upset you.

Only once you’ve told them all about day can you actually get up and go get changed. And if Charles hears you turn the shower on, then he’s gonna sprint to the bathroom and ask if he can join because he loves showering with you.

You can’t ever turn him down, even when you’re planning on washing your hair or shaving or something. He’s just too cute to turn down.

Alex makes dinner, because Charles can’t be trusted in the kitchen and Alex refuses to let you do it because you’ve worked more than him that day. So Alex makes dinner and you give Charles some more attention.

Because Alex made dinner, it’s only fair that he gets some attention later that night. And Charles is more than happy to help you make Alex feels good, sucks Alex off like a pro while following your every instruction.

They’re just such sweet boys for you.

[theyhaveacavetroll]

tagged by @iamdexter123. Thanks!

Rules:  A challenge to give your Top 10 favourite characters, based on their ESSENCE. They have to be favourite characters that also have a deeper literary value, where you enjoy their specific role in the story, and this means that the list also should exclude characters that would normally count as favourites if for purely nostalgic reasons. They can be from film, tv, or written media, anything

Oh gods. Um. This is going to be Hard isn't it.

James Flint, Black Sails

I have loved and will continue to love James "Flint" McGraw both for his place in the story and just in general. His was the story that took me by the shoulders, shook me briskly and whispered "it doesn't have to be like this, the world doesn't have to be this cruel but it is and aren't you tired of it? Aren't you tired of pretending that the status quo is ok? Aren't you ready to make it change?" And he was the main voice for that sentiment that shook me down to my bones.

Farah Dowling, Fate Winx Saga

Farah is a character who has done horrible things. She's been the unthinking protegé of a monster and still came back from the edge. She's someone who took all the pain she experienced and has decided to be kind, even if she struggles with that sometimes, and I love her for it. And she's not motherly, she's more of a wine aunt, but she still cares so deeply about people and that's refreshing too. And of course I love it when I get a female character who is allowed to be complex and also in charge.

Saul Silva, Fate Winx Saga

I love Saul for being arguably the most responsible adult in the room at all times and also so deeply, deeply defined by tragedy that I don't think he knows who to be without the guilt he's carrying around with him (I'd love to find out, though). He's got a life that's been deeply shitty in so many ways but he keeps trying to do the right thing, and then there's the way that despite everyone else around him caving and doing things that are questionable or just outright wrong, he's the one with the moral center and the conviction to say "no, I'm not doing this and I wish you wouldn't either" even in the face of danger. Oh - and he's a damsel in distress, which I don't get to see in male characters much.

Daud, Dishonored

*looks at Daud* *looks at Saul* uhhhh, I appear to have a thing about guilt-ridden men who also adopt every kid in sight and who end up getting forgiven by the people they hurt. I just think they're neat, ok?

Charles Vane, Black Sails

Look. This character has - oh, so many flaws. He's a piece of shit in so many ways, but he's also got some of the rawest lines in this entire damn show, the ones that I'd willingly get tattooed on me so I don't forget them. If you ever need to know what radicalized me, it was probably this guy and everything he said and did from 2x10 on.

Tiago Rodriguez/Raoul Silva, James Bond

I'm sorry, was I not supposed to like the most stylish villain in a Bond film since...idk, I think the last one with this much personality was probably Elektra King. The brat energy. The little bit of crazy underneath it. The fact that the man had a really valid point and actually succeeded because he set achievable goals. The way he's... not quite sexually aggressive with Bond but also definitely wants to get railed. Fascinating.

Simon Torquill, October Daye

Simon. My darling, best idiot who needs to have someone wrap him in a blanket for about a century and make him as much honey-sweetened tea as he can stand and above all else not allow him to make major decisions until he's had a chance to process the clusterfuck that is his life up til now. I love him, your honor. I love that I get a male character who's allowed to be his own worst enemy but also the kindest, most caring father anyone could ask for when he's not flinging around transformation spells and shooting people with elfshot while being puppeteered by a megalomaniac. And of course I love an actual redemption arc that for once doesn't end in death. Right, Seanan? RIGHT? (jk, I trust her. Mostly).

Rosalind Hale, Fate Winx Saga

Ok, so. I both hate Rosalind and love her as a character. It's a complicated thing, but I think what I really love about her as a character is that she's a female villain who is creepy as fuck and I wish that the writers had not immediately turned her into... whatever the fuck they were going for in s2. I was much more fond of s1 Rosalind who was an absolute monster who broke the adults in the series so badly and so completely that they're still a pack of emotional wrecks twenty years on. I wanted her to stay that monster instead of being written as a butch lesbian who's just very done with everyone's shit and occasionally given to a bit of torture. I wanted a better look at what she did to Farah, and to Ben Harvey, and for someone to spell out in great detail that she took Andreas and broke him down to be her attack dog from the time he was sixteen.

Basically I love the potential of the character but if she turned up in front of me I would be compelled to stab her quickly.

Javik, Mass Effect

There's something about Javik that I keep coming back to and I think it's the sheer weight of what he represents. One individual out of trillions still alive. Shepard's mirror image, but his mission went to hell and his people all died and now he's awake again and it has to feel like a kind of torture. And yet, for all that, Javik's character arc is about hope. It's about picking yourself up, or rather being picked up, and figuring out how to live again. If you do everything right, Javik gets to see the end of the Reapers and the end of the carnage. He gets to live, and grow, and maybe finally put down his gun and write a book or something, and that's important. We all need a character to remind us that as long as you're alive, there's hope.

Nomi, James Bond

I love her, your honor. If there's one thing the last film got right, it was having three women of color, none of whom had the slightest inclination to fuck Bond, and of the three of them, Nomi is my favorite. I love that she's the new 007. I love that she's there to drag Bond's ass and warn him off her assignment. I love her "Double-0 what?" and I love her "I'll shoot you in the knee. The one that works." I love that she gets to murder racists, and I love that she's got fully as much style as any other 007.

Honorable mentions who didn't make the narrative weight cut or who I just ran out of room for:

Garrus Vakarian, Mass Effect

Mordin Solus, Mass Effect

Anders, Dragon Age

Thomas Barrow, Downton Abbey

Miranda, Black Sails

Madi, Black Sails

Max, Black Sails

Alec Trevelyan, James Bond

Moneypenny (Samantha Bond and Naomi Harris), James Bond

Andreas of Eraklyon, Fate Winx Saga

Tagging anyone who wants to do this, as well as @skloomdumpster, @septemberrie, @djino04, and @penflicks