#retired race horse

[nurfhurdur]

She's home!!

[tiredassmage]

[track2hack]

11.01.2023

My new race/beach saddle arrived this morning!! 🥳🙌🥳🙌

That’s almost as exciting as Angel being the first one to try it out!! 🥳🙌🥳🙌

And she was super good even though she hasn’t had gear on since last year!! 🥳🙌🥳🙌

[goatpaste]

Ykno while I did make the diego video over the jerma audio

Someone tagging it 'jerma diego real' is setting me into a small laughing fit

Thinking about diego over jermas teacher noise

[marblemaiden]

crying about stuff idk what yet but the tears are here!

[griffinequestrian]

Unlike Mikey, Wyatt had some success at the racetrack! 

[blorbocedes]

Why is there such intense sexual tension between gp and max

I really think the meat of the dynamic is max can trust him to be honest with him, and in turn max can be his most unfiltered honest self.

the driver and race engineer dynamic is a very intimate one. if you think of the car and the driver as the horse, the raw power that wins the races, then your race engineer is your rider -- calm and firm in guiding you to victory. f1 is a huge team production, each driver has a whole factory of people behind him making sure everything goes smoothly. but during the race the driver's only direct connection to the team is the voice in his ear, relaying strategy, warning them of other cars and track limits, encouraging them and even admonishing. this is the man you trust with your life, literally, coming out of blind spots like out of the monaco tunnel and trusting your engineer to tell you whose behind you.

with max and GP, GP's been his race engineer since 2016. that's a very long time and a very long relationship. max is obviously redbulls golden boy and literally everyone's job in the team is to keep him happy, from his tp to helmut it's all praise (and he's doing an outstanding job to get it), but GP in a way is the only person who isn't and by the function of his job can't be a yes man to max. he has to relay him the truth. you'll see GP isn't often impressed by max, and even bets against him making pole. The guy who knows your data and braking points and how you keep crossing over track limits isn't gonna be too impressed by you even if you're god's gift to racing. He makes max earn his post race praise. He's even curt, and outright direct when max is whining on radio. Likewise, max knows he can be aggressive in high pressure situations, yelling at him to not talk to him in the braking zone and that GP can take handle him. There's trust in that too. And if he feels he went too far, he will sheepishly get GP ice cream post race. Their dynamic on radio is one that makes us the viewers we're witnessing a couple having a domestic tiff. that's because GP gives back as good as he gets. He doesn't coddle max, if max makes the wrong call then GP will call him out on it. my favourite radio is when max was yapping why didn't we do etc etc and GP was straight up do you want to switch jobs? how about you do your own next lap.

this is the man you can be your worst self in high stress situations to and he will take you as you are. that's basically a marriage.

obviously despite all the headache max causes, GP loves working with him. he literally said max is the driver he wants to retire with. he has a photo with max in his living room, instead of his wife 😭 likewise, max literally has a clause in his contract that he gets GP. max is someone who is loyal to a fault and GP's been with him since his very first f1 win. that's his emotional regulator baldie.

the sexual tension comes from the fact that GP is 17 years older than him and max wants to get rawed by him 🧑🏻‍🦲❤️😋

[the-froschamethyst4]

Their Career Change After the Military

————

COD Men Headcanons

————

König

Househusband

He was tired all the time after coming back from the Military so he picked up on being a househusband and doing all the chores around the house while his s/o goes to work

It started out as making lunches for you

Then hand delivering them to you before lunch

He also started to fix things around the house he told you not to call someone for because he could look it up and do it himself free of charge

Hates messes now. He started to develop this thing where he hates messes no matter what it was. It wasn’t OCD, but he hates when he cleans something and thing a few seconds later gets dirty again

Cleans…that’s all he does when he’s bored

Hardly sits, he only sits if he needs a break from whatever he’s doing

————

Ghost

Police officer

He misses how he use to help in the military so picked up an application and filled it out to be an officer

He guards around the royal palace to keep those stupid and annoying tourists in line when touching the royal palaces horses at the gates

His voice starts to slowly become more deeper over the years from telling pedestrians to leave the horses alone

Of course they listened to man holding a gun, not like he was ever going to use it, it was just to make myself look scary

Honestly hates working in the cold or rain but does it for his job

Gets shy when his s/o comes around to have lunch with him. He waits till he is relieved from duty to go eat with his partner

He loves seeing his s/o come around in cute outfits he knows that he will fold to

————

Price

Office manager

Loves wearing the suits to get a rouse from his s/o

Loves it when his s/o visits him in the office just to drop something off he forgot at home or just to have lunch together

Got the job because he knew some people that could help get this job after he retired from the military

His desk at his work his boring with a small framed picture of his s/o sitting next to his pc

He doesn’t go to the office parties, he’d rather stay home with his s/o and not have to worry about them, he deals with them long enough at work he doesn’t need to be there for after hours

Doesn’t have a “work wife/husband” because he’s married

————

Soap

Mechanic

Took the job because he liked fixing cars

He was a personal mechanic to a race car driver for some time but quit to open his own shop

Makes a lot

He fixes his s/o car for free

Has his personal project with a Porsche 911 GT3 that he does drag races in

His personal car has nothing special but maybe a loud exhaust pipe

Takes time in his work, if it’s something bad like a busted engine he’s going to take his time not rush the process just to get the car out of his shop. If it takes a month it’s going to take a month

————

Alejandro

Stock Broker

He didn’t want the job at first knowing it’s probably boring but when his friend bragged about the almost 3 million dollars sitting in his pocket

Took the job and makes close to 5 million

It’s a love hate relationship type of job. Hates it because of the people he works with, loves it because he gets to spend his money on his s/o

His s/o meets him for lunch dates

Doesn’t go to work parties

He does pull the late night hours coming close to 3 in the morning but doesn’t have to go to work till 11

He likes trying on new suits he bought to show them off to his s/o to see their opinion on his suits

Alejandro’s desk is full of random papers from other co-workers and from customers

————

Gaz

Works from home

He starts working from home. He was able to find a job he could work from home from and can go in once a month

Gaz was able to find a job as a I.T. Guy, when Gaz was younger he messed around with coding and helping people with new technology, so he figured this would be good for him

He’s stuck in front of a computer 6 hours a day, but then the rest of his time is with his partner

He loves the view he has from his home office being able to overlook the city as he worked from home and his s/o bring him lunch and snacks every so often

Gaz loves the idea that he can wear whatever he wants to his job and no one will know

Gaz sometimes loses his mind when he has to deal with an elderly who could barely remember their password, there has been many times Gaz would have to remind them that he doesn’t know their passwords

————

Alex

Picks up the hobby of gardening

He lowkey didn’t think he’d enjoy gardening

He thought it was boring till he grew his first strawberry bush with success and no rotten fruit

He started to make the garden bigger and then made a greenhouse for flowers and succulents

Started to sell fruit and vegetables at the local farmers market

Doesn’t make a whole lot and that’s fine with him. What he does make he spends on his garden or his s/o

His s/o also jumps in to help him with the garden

Starts asking his ol’ buddies if they were interested in some of the stuff he grew

The next thing now is he wants chickens to sell their eggs

[brother-emperors]

BROTHERS

The river Weser ran between the Roman and Cheruscan forces. Arminius came to the bank and halted with his fellow chieftains:— "Had the Caesar come?" he inquired.​ On receiving the reply that he was in presence, he asked to be allowed to speak with his brother. That brother, Flavus by name, was serving in the army, a conspicuous figure both from his loyalty and from the loss of an eye through a wound received some few years before during Tiberius' term of command. Leave was granted, and Stertinius took him down to the river. Walking forward, he was greeted by Arminius; who, dismissing his own escort, demanded that the archers posted along our side of the stream should be also withdrawn. When these had retired, he asked his brother, whence the disfigurement of his face? On being told the place and battle, he inquired what reward he had received. Flavus mentioned his increased pay, the chain, the crown, and other military decorations; Arminius scoffed at the cheap rewards of servitude.

They now began to argue from their opposite points of view. Flavus insisted on "Roman greatness, the power of the Caesar; the heavy penalties for the vanquished; the mercy always waiting for him who submitted himself. Even Arminius' wife and child were not treated as enemies." His brother urged "the sacred call of their country; their ancestral liberty; the gods of their German hearths; and their mother, who prayed, with himself, that he would not choose the title of renegade and traitor to his kindred, to the kindred of his wife, to the whole of his race in fact, before that of their liberator." From this point they drifted, little by little, into recriminations; and not even the intervening river would have prevented a duel, had not Stertinius run up and laid a restraining hand on Flavus, who in the fullness of his anger was calling for his weapons and his horse. On the other side Arminius was visible, shouting threats and challenging to battle: for he kept interjecting much in Latin, as he had seen service in the Roman camp as a captain of native auxiliaries.

Tacitus Annals 2.10-11

there's a lot going on in there! Arminius switching to Latin is a detail that always makes me feel a deep kind of sadness, especially with how it's preceded by mention of their mother. I wonder what she thought of what became of her sons, on opposite sides of everything but still, inescapably, brothers. even when they want to kill each other. there sure are a lot of fucked up and unhappy brothers around. and Arminius asking about Flavus' injury............I also had a whole thing typed out about the horror of imperialism and colonization and the trauma of assimilation but I think this sets the tone better

Rome's Greatest Defeat: Massacre in the Teutoburg Forest, Adrian Murdoch

and also this, just for fun

(ibid)

this post is already a mile long, so lets add another mile to it: a little scene at the start of their conversation! tfw you go in for a hug and your younger brother who also ended up being taller starts roasting your hair style

bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost ⭐ cara.app⭐ko-fi

[daisynik7]

I’ve had this in my head for awhile

“promiscuous” by Nelly furtado for Toji Fushiguro- smut

Promiscuous

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.0k

cw: p*rn without plot, smut – PIV sex (doggy), degradation, public sex, nipple play, fingering, sex without a condom, spit play, daddy kink, breeding kink, cream pie

Summary: You’re a waitress working in a ramen shop at the racetrack. There are always the regulars that come in during the odd hours of the day, killing time with a bowl of ramen or takoyaki, waiting to either win or lose. Toji Fushiguro is one in particular that catches your eye. When he continues his losing streak, you decide to cheer him up in the only way you know how.

Author's Note: Thank you for the request for the y2k karaoke party my lovely @batafuraikisu! I love you so so much, you’re always so sweet and so supportive of me! I hope you like this one for your man Toji! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.

It’s noon on a Tuesday morning. A gun fires off in the distance, signaling the start of the next race. The regulars you’re used to seeing gather around the monitor, watching as the horses they placed their bets on gallop around the track. Ken, one of the cooks behind the counter, rings the bell; a fresh order of chicken karaage is ready to serve. You stack it on a tray, balancing it as you walk to the dining area, waiting for the race to end, knowing everyone’s attention is on the finish line. 

When horse number #4 eventually crosses, followed by #1, then #3, most of the men groan, tossing their crumpled tickets into the nearby trashcan. Goro, a retired grandpa you’ve befriended throughout the years, pumps his fist in the air victoriously. “I knew Prince could do it! Wahoo!”

You smile at him, setting the food down at his table. “Congratulations!”

He pats your hand gratefully, snapping his chopsticks in two, popping a piece into his mouth. “Thank you, dear. Please ask Ken to make three more orders for me.” He points his thumb to the others, moping in their seats, some taking long drags of their cigarettes. “Figured these losers could use a little treat.”

Giggling, you respond, “Coming right up.”

On your way back, you notice a familiar figure slumped in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Toji Fushiguro is a new regular from the past few weeks. He’s significantly younger than the others, and also undeniably attractive. Naturally, you take an interest in him. It’s rare to find someone with his muscular stature around here, considering the usual crowd consist of middle-aged men with beer bellies or elderly fellows hunched over from old age. While you never minded these type of men before, it was a pleasant change of scenery to see someone like Fushiguro grace you with his presence. 

Behind the counter, you add an order of takoyaki, hoping to lighten up his mood. It’s obvious his horse didn’t win. He’s been this way for the past two weeks, continuously betting on the wrong one, none of his choices even placing. When the food is ready, you pass it out to the depressed men smoking in the corner, who wave at Goro in thanks. The friendly old man joins them, trying to lift their spirits by offering a round of drinks. Everyone in the restaurant is gathered together because misery really does love company. Well, except for Toji. 

You approach him consciously, remembering that you’ve only ever exchanged a few words with each other, whenever he would place his order. Silently, you slide the food over to him until he notices it. He peeks at you with one eye open, glancing at the little plate of octopus balls in front of him. “I didn’t order this.”

“It’s on the house,” you say, smiling.

Glaring at you, he responds, “I don’t need your pity.”

Yikes, you think, standing your ground. Not quite backing down just yet, you explain, “It’s not pity. Consider it thanks for always supporting our business. You’re a regular now.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, studying you thoroughly. “So, this isn’t because I’ve been sulking here for the last two weeks, right?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Absolutely not. But if you really don’t want it, I’m sure Goro and the others will happily eat it for you – ”

“I’ll eat it,” he interrupts, pulling it towards him, finally relaxing. 

You smirk. “Great. Have a good meal.” Your gaze lingers on him for a second longer before you turn on your heel, leaving. 

Just barely do you hear him mutter a quiet, “Thanks.”

~~~

The next day, Toji is back, nodding at you as he walks into the establishment. This is the most he’s acknowledged you personally before, and part of you feels a sense of accomplishment. As if you’re slowly getting through to him. 

Throughout the morning, he sits in his usual seat, watching race after race, groaning at the end of each one. He’ll rush out of the shop only to return minutes later with a new ticket in hand. It’s a sad cycle that continues past lunch, still no luck. 

Your coworker is serving him today, so you haven’t said a thing, a bit nervous that he might snap at you for “pitying” him again. However, you’ve been exchanging knowing glances here and there; you can tell he’s watching you, and you don’t mind it. Not at all.

After setting down a table full of ramen bowls for a particularly cheery bunch of winners, you brush past him, his hand grabbing your wrist firmly to stop you. “Hey.”

You face him, alarmed and excited at the sudden contact. “Hello,” you say, stepping towards him. 

He doesn’t let go, eyes scanning you up and down. You swallow nervously, not quite sure what to do or say. “Do you need something?”

It takes a beat for him to respond but he does, smirking. “I do, actually. I need some pity.”

You crack a smile, teasing, “Oh, so now you want my pity. What do you want? Karaage? Another takoyaki?”

“I’m not really hungry for food right now.” His grip tightens around your wrist, electricity radiating from his touch straight to your chest, sending your heart racing. 

Normally, you wouldn’t do this type of thing, but you can’t help yourself: you’re far too curious to let an opportunity like this go to waste. Mouth grazing his ear and as confidently as you can muster, you whisper, “My shift ends in an hour. Think you can be patient until then?”

His grin widens, teeth showing like a predator who has set their sights on its prey. “Sure. I have a feeling this will be worth the wait.”

~~~

As expected, Toji remains seated in the same spot until you’re done. When you start to approach him, he stands up, ready to follow wherever you lead him. You wave goodbye to Ken and your coworker, who stare at the two of you curiously. Ken even yells out your name, asking, “What are you up to?!” 

Ignoring the question, you walk briskly down one of the corridors towards the exit. Toji trails just behind you, not speaking. You turn into one of the single vacancy bathrooms you usually use, pulling him inside with you, locking the door with a loud click. 

His back is pressed to the door, staring at you, cocky. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

“Shut up,” you say, clutching his collar, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. He chuckles into your mouth, tongue swiping yours, hands arounds your waist. They slide below your ass, squeezing your flesh between his large fingers. You moan, dragging your lips down his neck, sucking on his skin. 

His thumbs hook on the waistband of your jeans, tugging you closer to him. The bulge in his sweatpants is throbbing and hard against you as you grind your body on his, eager for more. He hums. “And here I was thinking you’d be nervous around me. Who would have thought you’d be so promiscuous?”

You laugh, your hands gliding under his shirt, fondling his muscular body. “Are you that surprised? I don’t offer pity takoyaki to just anybody.”

“Lucky me,” he smiles, nipping at your bottom lip. 

Soon, you’re both stripped naked, clothes tossed hastily onto the floor. He licks his lips as he studies your figure, hands roaming your body, pinching at your nipples all perky and hard with arousal. He flicks his thumbs across them, asking, “You like having your tits played with?”

You nod, watching hazily as he bows down, lips near your breasts. “Good. Feed them to me.”

You obey, squeezing one in your hands, guiding it into his mouth. He puckers his lips around the sensitive teat, sucking until you whine with pleasure. You pull out of him slowly, releasing you with a loud pop. He does the same with the other side, suckling on your nipple until it’s plump and aching with arousal. 

“Think you’re wet enough for me?” he growls, reaching for your throbbing clit, flicking it with his fingers. “Bet I can make you wetter.”

“Then do it,” you moan, grinding against his hand. “Fuck me with those fingers.”

His eyes widen, two beefy fingers sliding into your entrance, stretching you out. “Fuck, you’re bad. So ready to get finger fucked by a total stranger. Nasty slut.” He sticks his tongue in your mouth, slobbering all over you as he pumps his digits in and out of your pussy, rubbing his thumb on your clit. After several more strokes, you come for him, gushing around his fingers until they’re coated in your slick. 

“Shit,” he swears, letting you ride out your orgasm on his palm, thumb still circling your bud. “It’s real creamy now. Perfect for my cock.” He pulls out, stroking his dick with his wet fingers, spreading his own precum around the tip. “Bend over for me, sweetheart.”

You’re needy and desperate for him to fill you up now, obedient to his every command no matter how crudely he spits it out to you. In this moment, you’re nothing but a cock sleeve for Toji, waiting to be stuffed full. So you follow his orders, bending over with your hands flat against the wall, sticking your ass out for him. He smacks it, watching with mirth as your skin jiggles from his harsh touch. He nestles his cock between your cheeks, grinding it against you. “Goddamn, that’s sexy,” he growls, spitting into his palm, lubricating his shaft with his saliva. “Do you want it?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, anticipating. “Give it to me.”

“Tell daddy exactly what you want,” he coos, slapping your bottom once more, teasing the tip up and down your folds. 

“Fuck, I want daddy’s big cock inside me!” you cry out, thrusting yourself onto him, his dick sliding smoothly inside you. 

He laughs, gripping your hips tightly as he starts to thrust. “Yeah, you want daddy’s cock pounding this wet pussy, huh? Look at you swallowing me up. Fucking whore.”

The degradation only spurs you to throw your ass back onto him, fucking you deeper and deeper until your knees are wobbly, legs shaky. He rails you harder, spreading your cheeks apart to watch his dick disappear with each plunge. “This pussy was made to be bred. You want my cum inside you? Ask for it. Beg for it.” 

“Please daddy! I want your cum!” you plead, unashamed. Really, whatever figurative chokehold this man has on you is outstanding. To have you begging for his seed, desperate to be stuffed with his load, it’s concerning and riveting all at the same time. 

“Louder,” he demands. “Let the whole racetrack hear how much you want daddy’s cum.” He reaches around to stimulate your clit, massaging it between his thick fingers.

“Give me all your fucking cum, daddy!” you moan, choking on your own spit, drool trickling out the sides of your mouth. It’s pointless now to deny how fucking cock-drunk you are for him. Useless to save face when you were already so blatant about seducing him from the start. All you can do now is comply and hope that none of your coworkers can hear you screaming from the other side of the wall. 

“Yeah, that’s what I want to hear,” he purrs, flicking your bud rapidly. “You’re going to get all this fucking cum.”

He comes as soon as you tighten around him with your second orgasm. He doesn’t stop stimulating your clit until he empties his load inside you. Slowly, he pulls out, marveling at the lewd sight of his cock coated in cum. “Fuck,” he mutters, continuing to gaze at the mess the both of you made.  

You gradually come to your senses, carefully picking your clothes up from the floor. When you’re fully dressed, he steps to you, cupping your cheeks in his hands, kissing your forehead. “Are you working tomorrow?”

With a weak smile, you respond, “Yes.”

He grins back, brushing your lips with his thumb. “Good. See you then.”

~~~

The next day, coincidentally, Toji’s horse places first, ending his miraculous losing streak. After collecting his winnings, he waits for you until your shift is done, waving the earnings in his hands, smiling. “Guess I got myself a good luck charm now,” he says, winking at you. “Want to make me a winner again?”

[roostersgirlfriendlovesf1]

new light | charles leclerc

charles leclerc x reader

prompt: y/n wolff is new to the f1 world, being mclarens first female f1 driver. her teammate is lando norris, her father is toto wolff, and her mentor is daniel riccardo. she could not be more immersed in the motorsport. the person most helping ease her into the world is none other than charles leclerc. his interest in her seems to be deeper than just the sport; so y/n invites charles on a trip back home over the summer break to get a feel for how a life with him could be without f1.

y/n shuffled in the plane seat, nervously awaiting takeoff. Charles hummed next to her. She did not like the takeoff aspect of a flight. She was also nervous about them being seen together.

“How long have you two been together?” An older lady asked, sitting in the row next to them.

“Oh, we are n-” 

Charles interrupted y/n. “Two years.” He smiled. “We met through work.”

The older lady smiled before giving them a nod and turning her in-flight tv on. y/n shuffled as she felt the plane begin to move. “I’ve never been to Oxford, I’m excited.” Charles smiled. y/n kept her eyes shut, holding her breath. “y/n?” He looked at her. Her hand shook as she moved it closer to his. He realized why she was nervous and quickly grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. The plane reached its height and the seatbelt sign turned off. y/n opened her eyes, looking down at their hands. Her face flushed as she looked up and realized Charles had dozed off. His face was slightly red as he nuzzled deeper into his sweatshirt. She leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

Y/n felt a hand rubbing her shoulder as she slowly lifted her head. “We’re landing.” Charles whispered. She nodded as she came to consciousness. “I just didn’t want the plane touching the ground to frighten you.”

“Thank you.” She sat up, fiddling with the bracelets on his wrist.

“Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“Are we staying with your parents?”

“We’re staying at their house, but they won’t be there.”

“Alright.” He zipped up his bag as the plane hit the ground.

Y/n turned their rental car into her family’s drive. “Horses?” Charles exclaimed looking out the window.

“Yes, horses.” She smiled. “That’s Shumi and the other one is Niki.”

“Those are very special names.” He laughed, “Ever tried racing them?”

“No, never. They’re retired race horses. We take them here to live out their last years in peace.”

Charles glanced over to her in the driver's seat. His head was full of new possibilities and the excitement of learning who she was. He looked forward and saw a beautiful old-stone house. “And this is home.” y/n parked the car. “There’s a creek out back, a nice porch, and privacy.” She climbed out of the car and Charles grabbed their bags. She slowly closed the trunk, watching him walk up the steps to her home. She hopped up the steps, unlocking the door with giddiness. Charles dropped the bags off in the entry room. 

“It’s beautiful.” He scanned the interior of the house.

“Thank you.” She blushed. “I’ll show you to your room.”

He paused before nodding, not knowing what to expect for sleeping arrangements. 

“I mean I just didn’t know where you would want to sleep so I figured I’d give you the garden-view room” He carried his bag, following her down a hallway. She opened the door and he gazed at the garden outside his window. 

“This is amazing.” He glanced around with stars in his eyes. He’d been everywhere and stayed everywhere, but nothing compared to this.

“And I’ll be across the hall if you have a nightmare.” She joked.

“What are we doing today? Do I need to change?” Charles asked.

“I was thinking of feeding the horses, checking on the bunnies, and then watching a movie. I think it is going to rain around 3. Is that good with you?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “Do you think I should change?”

“Just put a hoodie on, it’s chilly.”

Charles opened the door, allowing y/n to guide him towards the horses. “I bet Christmas is beautiful here.” 

“It is.” She nodded. “Freezing, though.” Charles glanced at her. He noticed her nose turning slightly pink, and the way she watched her feet as she walked. She had a navy sweatshirt on with a pair of white pants. “Care to help me bring them to the stable?” She pointed to a wooden building, vines embellished the outside of it as the light inside of it contrasted to the gloomy UK weather.

“What do I do?” 

“Grab the lead and guide her to the stable.”

“I-”

“Just follow me.” She grabbed the lead of Niki and placed the one of Shumi into Charles’ hand. His warm hands brushed her cold ones, contrastingly making him shiver. They led the horses into their stalls and y/n began to carry a bale of hay into each stall. 

“Do you need some help?” Charles peaked into the stall.

“I’m good,” y/n said in a distressed voice before tripping over the bale, landing on her back. Her eyes turned wide before she started cackling. Charles rushed over to the girl, offering her a hand up with a worried face. She took his hand, yanking him into the hay with her. He laughed, trying to climb off of her while she was wheezing. His hands were placed over her shoulders as she went silent. He rolled next to her. 

“Who’s your best friend, y/n?”

She smiled, “Why do you ask?”

“Just getting to know you.”

“I’d say Lando Norris.” She positioned herself on her side, facing Charles. Did she not have others? Maybe some before her F1 career. 

“No childhood friends?” He questioned.

“Nope.” 

“That sounds lonely.” His watercolor eyes glanced over her face. 

She sat up. “What makes you think that?” 

“D’know, just does.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

y/n sat on the couch, flipping through different streaming apps. “Anything specific you want to watch?” She yelled, hoping her voice echoed into the bathroom Charles was showering in. She heard the creak of a door and looked up. He was topless in loose, blue pajama pants. 

“Do you happen to have an old sweatshirt lying around? The one I packed has hay all over.”

“Yes…It might be big on you.” She stood up, digging through a coat closet. She pulled out a Mercedes sweatshirt. Charles laughed, shaking his head. 

“No way. I can’t.” 

“Come on, big guy.” She taunted him with it. “No one will see you in it.”

“There has to be another one.” He reasoned. 

“Nope.” She shook her head. Charles begrudgingly took it and pulled it over his head. “So handsome.” She placed a hand on his chest, where a Mercedes emblem showed.

“y/n.”

“Yeah?” She smiled.

“Please don’t let your career change you as a person.”

“Huh?”

“Formula One has a way of dulling some people’s light. I’m sure Danny has told you. Please don’t let everything get the best of you.” Something caught his eye behind her. A line of rainbow marks. “What’s this?” He changed the subject. 

She was still flustered by his first words. “It’s the chart of my height since I was two.” 

“It needs to be updated.” He smiled. She handed him a marker and lined herself up with the doorframe. She looked up at him while he stood over her, carefully drawing a line above her head. Her mouth slightly opened as she held her breath. “Perfect.” He looked down at her. His eyes staring directly at her lips. Their noses were touching, a slight movement and their lips would be touching. “I wish I could have you.” He whispered.

“You do.” She nodded. She smelled his freshly washed hair and felt the heat of his body from underneath his sweatshirt. “Do you believe this is worth it?”

“I believe this could be my everything.” He spoke. She stood, frozen. He kissed her, hands embracing her waist. She kissed him back, hands tangled in his hair. His hands cupped her face as he pulled away. She heard her phone buzz on the counter.

“You should probably get that.” 

“It can wait.” She kissed him again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

y/n’s eyes opened slightly, light from the window welcoming her. She smiled, memories of the night before making her giddy. She had been drunk on kisses, giggling softly as Charles kissed her goodnight, retiring to his room across the hall. She opened her phone groggily, turning the brightness up. She read texts from the night before, catching up on real life. After responding to a few emails, she then turned her phone off, climbing out of bed. She pulled on a sweatshirt as she creaked open her door. The stone house had a chilly draft in the mornings. She was faced with the sight of Charles sleeping peacefully in the room across from her. The sun highlighted the freckles and moles on his face and the perfectness of his complexion. He didn’t look real. It was so tempting for her to want to climb into the bed next to him. Instead, she put her slippers on and started to brew some tea. She opened the door to the porch, the sound of the babbling creek creating a calming atmosphere. She brought her mug of tea outside and cracked open a book.

“Well this is a beautiful view.” Charles stretched, stepping outside. He glanced at her long hair, cascading past her chest. He placed a kiss on top of y/n's head. “Call me by your name and I’ll call you by mine.” He quoted her book. “Quite the story.” He yawned.

“Would you like some tea?” She asked.

“I’m not a huge fan.”

“Would you fancy orange juice or milk?”

“Orange juice sounds nice.” 

“Okay-” She went to stand.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “I’ll get it. You stay here.” He poured himself a glass and peered outside again. He reached into his pocket and took a photo of y/n before sitting down at the table. “I hate to ruin this moment, but how is this going to work?” He twisted a lock of her red hair with his finger. 

“I mean the media already hates me so what if we just came right out and said we were thinking about dating.”

“How do you think it would affect those close to us, though? I mean your dad-”

“My dad isn’t like that, Char.”

“I’m just worried. Should we wait?” He sighed.

“It’s ok if we keep it private…” She whispered. “It's not like we can do a soft launch or anything…not too many people have red hair. Everyone would know it was me.”

“Thank you.” He used a hand to massage the back of her head. She stared at him for a moment, their chairs facing each other. “Actually…screw it.” He smiled. “I’m going to take you out to dinner tonight.” 

She smiled before pecking him on the lips as he pulled her into his lap. “I know somewhere.” She nuzzled her face into his neck. He grabbed her book and began to read it to her.

[vinvantae]

Unmasked

15/16

<<< previous part

Word count : 5.2k

Warning: poorly translated French (English translation at the end)

A/N : I feel terrible about how long it’s taken me to write this, the inspiration just hasn’t been with me for a little while. I hope you enjoy it regardless ❤️

**********************************************

SC - With the weight of the world seemingly off her shoulders, y/n absolutely flew around the track today. It feels like for the first time in a while, we’re seeing Thirty in her element once again.

Even with two rampaging Bulls chasing her down, it’s the Prancing Horse who takes the chequered flag. Y/N Y/L/N wins the Spanish Grand Prix!

MB - Despite all of the noise this weekend, it’s races like this one that define y/n as one of the best drivers of this generation. From the flawless start, to defending from the tremendous speed of the two Redbulls when it mattered most - that was a wonderful race to watch.

SC - I’m sure Ferrari were hoping for a 1-2 finish today, but after Charles' engine issues forced him to retire, I think they’ll be happy to get the most possible points with y/n’s fastest lap too. Look at that celebration, if there’s one thing about Thirty, every win is just as exciting as the last.

The feeling you got when you won never was any less triumphant, no matter how many you had tucked under your belt. But after how long the weekend had felt, this one felt particularly special. You climbed atop your car and pumped your fists above your head - practically giddy with glee as the crowd cheered for you, the underlying boos barely phasing you. They just didn’t matter - their opinions didn’t matter.

Your eyes zeroed in on a small group of girls who were in the grandstands, dressed head to toe in red - waving a banner for you above their head. Their celebrations seemed louder than anyone else's so you made sure to wave, putting the biggest smile on their faces before you hopped over to the car.

You laughed as the team swept you up in a tight hug when you ran over to the barrier, patting you on the helmet - the noise vibrated through you, making your heart soar. If there was a group of people you knew you could rely on, it was your team; even after your reveal, they were never any less supportive of you, always there for you no matter what the result was and treating you as they always had. It was one of the reasons why none of the contracts you offered tempted you, Ferrari are your family, you belong in red.

After swapping your helmet for your team cap, both Redbull drivers approached - Max giving you an overly enthusiastic bro hug, slapping your back so hard it almost hurt but you couldn’t help but laugh. “Amazing job, y/n. Almost got you.”

“Well, thankfully you and the smooth operator were too busy having a family squabble for that.” You teased, pulling back to let Carlos hug you as well, the Spaniard’s strong arms looped around your middle. “Now, if you boys don’t mind me - I have a winner’s interview to do.”

“Good job, y/n. Really happy for you.” Carlos made sure to get his praises in before you head across parc ferme. “See you soon.”

“Congratulations, y/n, what a result!” Naomi looked almost as excited as you as you approached for your post race interview. “How are you feeling right now?”

Your face was already hurting from how much you were smiling, you placed a hand on top of your cap and laughed. “I’m over the moon, this win felt so good.”

“After all you’ve had to deal with since your reveal, this is definitely wonderful to see.” She praised. “You raced spectacularly, anything you’d like to say to the people out there who still doubt you?”

“Honestly? After everything the guys, Max, Pierre, Esteban and Charles especially, put on the line for me, none of it really matters anymore. I have confidence in my skills and talent in this sport and knowing that my rivals believe in me too means everything… I won’t pretend that reading cruel things online will magically stop hurting, but I know what I’m capable of. I’m a world champion for a reason and there’s nothing anyone can say that will take that away from me.”

“Is this the start of your triumphant return, are we going to see you up on the top step now you’ve got your confidence back?”

“I’m ready for whatever the rest of the season throws at me. The championship is still all to play for right now, so I’m going to put my best foot forward and focus on racing.”

“Thank you so much, y/n. Congratulations. Your race winner, everybody!”

You waved at the crowd as you stepped inside to head to the cool-down room, your heart racing. Max and Carlos both greeted you with large smiles as you stepped into the room, the Spaniard playfully swatting at the brim of your cap to knock it from your head - swapping it for the 1st place Pirelli cap. “Much better, hermosa.”

“Thank you, however…” You knelt down to pick up your Ferrari hat, dusting it off before placing it on the table, a teasing lilt to your voice as you spoke. “Don’t disrespect! You can be proud of me for winning without being rude about my team, Carlos. I won’t ever let you forget you were almost one of us.”

“Idiot.” Max mumbled playfully, a strong arm draping across your shoulder - his eyes crinkled up as he smiled. “Congrats again on the win, y/n. You raced like a proper champ.”

“It felt good. Like of course winning is always good but this one felt different. Perhaps it was the timing of it, but there’s something about winning while feeling confident in myself again that makes me hungry for more.” You smiled softly. “To be honest, it felt more like the two of you were pushing me along than racing me… I’d thank you for taking it easy on me but there’s no way that that’s true.”

“You know I’d never do that. It was all you.” The Dutchman scoffed. “How dare you remember how good you are at racing, how am I supposed to beat you now.”

The way you grinned at him, gave Max flashbacks to your karting days together - your genuine joy when you beat him or all of the other boys in races. He could picture the small girl with her hair all messy from her helmet, sticking her tongue out at him when he whined to his Dad that a girl beat him. It’s not fair, she pushed me! When in reality you were just talented from day one. The way anyone could ever doubt you were Thirty bewildered him because you were you. Driven. Passionate.

It was why he never had any issue sharing the podium with you - your wins felt truly earned. Sure every driver had a win or two that they got under unusual circumstances but when the two of you were on those steps together, he could see how much you enjoyed it, no matter which number win it was and finally being able to see your smile made it all the better.

As you lifted your trophy above your head, you scanned the crowd for Charles - who, despite his DNF, was now standing in the front row, smiling up at you with pride. He threw you a cheesy wink as he clapped, not letting his own race ruin this for you. Despite not being your first win of the season, it was your first time on the top step so you relished every second of it - drowning both Redbull drivers in champagne before chugging some of the sparkling liquid. Max made sure he poured his drink down the back of your race suit, something he insisted he missed out having to share with your body double after the last win when you scolded him for it.

You felt on top of the world, all of your criticisms temporarily forgotten when that evening, all you could hear was the clinking of glasses against your own - the girls’ lips all sparkled with champagne as they toasted your victory. As much as you loved the guys, being celebrated by other women made your win all the more special. Lily looped an arm around your middle and pulled you close as Carmen snapped a photo - their laughter twinkling through the air. They gushed on how amazingly you raced, teasing you as your cheeks flushed.

All of this however, didn’t stop Charles watching you from across the bar - your red race suit traded for a gorgeous dress of the same colour, your eyes sparkling under the lights. The confidence you were radiating was intoxicating; he wanted to blame it on the beer he was drinking but there was nothing more he wanted than to have his hands all over you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, everything about you was magnetic. He wanted to steal you from the girls, but he knew you needed this. Even when Max slapped him on the shoulder, he struggled to tear his eyes away.

“She’s not going to vanish if you stop looking at her, mate.” The dutchman teased, Charles finally turned away from you. “Let her celebrate, she knows where you are when she’s ready.”

“Something about her is just…different. Lighter.”

Max smiled softly, secretly fond of how Charles was with you. “She just won a race!”

“No, no. It’s more than that.” The other driver insisted. “But I just can’t put my finger on it… and if you’ll excuse me, I can’t just watch from a distance. She’s too beautiful.”

“Gross.”

He shoved Max lightly on the arm before crossing the bar to get to you, weaving between the flashes of red of those who were still in their team kit. Charles watched Lily give you a look before you cast your eyes over your shoulder - your face cracking into a grin. Your teammate felt grateful you were as pleased to see him as he was you. “Charles.”

“Mon amour.” He hummed, draping an arm around your waist - pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “Sorry, I couldn’t stay away from you any longer. Having fun?”

“So much. I’m glad you’re here actually, we were just talking about you.” You lent into his touch.

“Oh yeah?”

Lily’s brow raised playfully. “You’ve got a big battle coming, il Predestinato. Now that our girl’s back, you ready to step it up?”

“I don’t think she ever left.” You looked at him as he spoke, his green eyes already fixed on you. “Just needed a little reminder of who she is.”

You smiled softly at him before leaning in to kiss him - his hand coming up to rest on your jaw. “I’ll never forget again thanks to you, and who knows, there’s still 16 races to go… anything could happen.”

“Joint world champions.” He teased, “That ever happened before?”

“Don’t think so.” Your laughter was soft, Charles had practically forgotten the presence of the girls watching you both with a fondness in their eyes. “But if anyone could do it, it would be us.”

“Cheers to that and cheers to you, y/n. I love you.”

You clinked your glass against his. “I love you too.”

***

Yourusername added to their instagram story

***

After your race win in Imola and poor strategy in Monaco from your team - ruining Charles’ chance at a win at his home grandprix, it didn’t take long for you to catch up to your teammate in the points and by the time the chequered flag was waved in Azerbaijan, you were the championship leader and it felt good. You could tell the strategy calls were starting to affect your boyfriend but whenever you brought it up, he told you it was all fine and that he was nothing but happy for you and selfishly, you believed him. You wanted him to feel as excited as you did, and it was the first time in a long time you were feeling good about your career.

Instead, you focused on racing with the same confidence you always knew you had before your reveal and with the people around you always making sure you had a smile on your face - the last few straggling cynics barely made a noise over the roaring crowds every time you lifted a trophy above your head.

Part of you thought maybe you had just become more attentive now you were free to be yourself, but every race that passed seemed to have more and more female fans eager to greet you at the barricades, ecstatic that you were leading the championship even if there was only 7 points in it.

“You’ve got this in the bag, y/n!” They always told you Canadian’s were nice, and it was shown with the way your new poor assistant’s arms were piled high with gifts as fans chatted away with you. You were never allowed to talk to them before as Thirty, so meeting them really was a delight. “Those boys don’t stand a chance.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Charles is pretty good.” You smiled softly. “But, I’ll tell you what… I’m gonna do my absolute best for you.”

“You’re already the champion in my eyes, regardless of how the season ends.”

“Oh stop, you’re gonna make me cry.” You laughed softly, giving the girl a one armed hug. “I have to go now, thank you all though - for the support, the gifts. I’ll try and win for you today, promise.”

You helped to take some of the gifts from your assistant before heading towards the motorhome, saying hi to the other drivers as you passed by - after the protest, they had much more an effort to include you in idle chit-chat or debates they were having with another driver. Whether it was Esteban trying to get you to convince Mick and Lance that his long standing feud with Max was definitely over or Kevin showing you photos of his kid, it was nice. It was truly all you had ever wanted from your reveal - not just to be a driver, but to feel like one too.

Charles tucked you under his arm before the driver parade started, bickering with Pierre in French about god knows what but the glint in their eyes and the cheeky smile on Charles’ face assured you it was all in good fun. You simply rested your head against your boyfriend, eyes closed as you enjoyed the surprisingly warm weather as you waited for the flatbed to start moving.

“Mon amour, are you falling asleep standing upright?” He teased, squeezing you into his side.

“Mhmm, you’re so comfy, Charles.” You hummed softly, standing up straighter as the engine began to rumble - wanting to wave to the crowds instead of being caught dozing. “Besides, I’ve got to be well rested before I win the race later.”

“Leading the championship and suddenly your ego is massive.” Pierre teased, kicking you lightly in the shin - making you whine and glare at him. “I’m kidding. You deserve to be cocky, you have been very impressive recently.”

You raised a brow. “I’ve got my eyes on you, Gasly.”

“Uh oh, Pierre, you’ve made an enemy of Thirty. You better there’s no chance of the two of you tangling during the race.”

You practically snorted out a laugh. “Oh Charles, he won’t need to worry… unless, maybe I end up lapping him.”

“Oh it is on.”

It was your turn to bicker with Pierre, your boyfriend slipping away to talk to some of the others as the flatbed pulled back in to drop you all off at the pits. You felt in such high spirits when you got in the car that there was just nothing that could stop you - you were sure of it. You were going to get your 3rd title and Ferrari their first WCC since 2018. it felt like you owed them at least that much after keeping you on.

And oh, did you love this track. With its tight barriers hugging the track and long straights, the high speed was risky but made the race all the more exciting. That paired with the two Redbull’s sniffing at your car’s rear end and your teammate starting at the back of the grid, it was bound to be an exciting race.

Max put up a hell of a fight, chasing you down and barely giving you even a second to breathe - he nearly caught you on more than one occasion, but not pitting during the late safety car was his fatal mistake - his pebbled tires were no match for your shiny new softs. And before long you were lifting your second consecutive first place trophy above your head, Max and Lewis alongside you.

You felt untouchable, blowing a kiss in the direction of a small crowd of Redbull fans who had booed you louder than the rest as you’d been handed your trophy before giving their golden boy a good hosing down with your champagne, the two men who you shared the podium with upended the bottles over your head in a bubbling waterfall- a giddy smile on both of your faces as you celebrated.

“Hey congrats.” Lewis grinned, patting you on the shoulder as the three of you stood on the podium for the photo together. “Winning looks better on you every time.”

“Thanks Lewis, means a lot. Especially from you.”

The three of you stepped off the podium for your post race interviews, and you just couldn’t shake the electricity running through you. Not a single interview passed without them commenting on just how different you seemed - how over the course of the past few races, the personality they had loved beneath the helmet seemed to have finally come to the surface. “It’s so nice to see how much you’re enjoying racing again, y/n.”

“Yeah, it’s been really really good.” You smiled, your hands resting against the cool metal barricade in front of you. “Sure, I still see and hear some nasty stuff but it… it just doesn’t feel the same, it doesn’t hurt as bad knowing that I have nothing to prove to them. They’ll never like me, and that’s okay. I have plenty of supporters and friends who love me and back me up no matter what.”

“Well, it’s good to have you back. Hope you enjoy your weekend off, see you at Silverstone.”

You thanked the press before heading back to the Ferrari motorhome, letting out a yelp as you were practically tackled by your boyfriend as he swept you up in his arms. “There’s my race winner.”

“Oh who cares about my race win when you made it up from 19th to 5th!” You laughed, wrapping your arms around him - the warmth from his body made you feel at ease. “That’s far more impressive. You very much deserved the driver of the day, I’m glad your hard work was recognised.”

“Well...” He carefully placed you on the floor, placing his hands on your hips. “How about we take our weekend off to celebrate your phenomenal race and my win, hmm?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck before leaning in to kiss him. He smiled against your lips and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss like you weren’t surrounded by the hustle and bustle of your team packing up now the weekend was over. Neither of you cared, you simply couldn’t get enough of each other.

When you pulled back, you couldn’t help but notice the cheeky glint in his eyes. You let your hand move to rest on his jaw, brushing your thumb across the stubble. “That sounds like an offer I simply can’t refuse.”

***

***

The skies were blue when you touched down in Silverstone, another favourite - a classic; the Tifosi showing wasn’t as big as it used to be but there were enough flashes of red amongst the crowds for you to feel their support. But, much to the disappointment of the Mercedes and Mclaren fans filling the grandstands, you and your team were currently on track to win the whole thing. You’d spent more time than you cared to admit trying to figure out what the earliest race you could win the championship at despite your slow start to the season.

But with Charles, Max and Carlos all having an equally impressive score sheet, you honestly had no idea which way it was going to go - you could only hope it would be in your favour. You’d worked so hard to fight for not only the championship, but the respect you deserved that you knew that you couldn’t stop now. Everything was to play for and you couldn’t back down now.

SC - Welcome one, welcome all to the Formula 1 Lenovo British Grand Prix here at Silverstone, the sun is shining down on all of us Martin and it looks set to be a good race. With the Ferraris and Redbulls occupying the two front rows, it will be a challenge for anyone else to claim victory. Our Championship leader shares the front row with Max Verstappen, who is gaining with each race on her and her teammate Charles Leclerc.

MB - It definitely is one to watch, the battle between the Prancing Horses and Bulls has been thrilling so far this season. I can’t wait to see how this all plays out and with Y/N having claimed podiums in her last six races, I wouldn’t be surprised to see her back on that top step.

SC - I’d put money on it if I was a betting man. Her performance leading up to this point has been something special. But with Max picking up the pace, I think he’s definitely her biggest competitor right now.

MB - Now Crofty, I wouldn’t write young Leclerc off so quickly, he is second place right now.

SC - Well, I’ll guess we’ll just have to wait and see as the grid lines up for the start of the race. The British Grand Prix is about to start, engines are revving… and its lights out, and away we go!

You felt breathless as you pulled into parc ferme, what a race. Despite your win, you couldn’t help but think about Gyanyu, George and Alex - the crash at the start was scary and you were lucky to have not been a part of it with a third of the grid getting tangled up. As much as you loved to win, it was always a bittersweet feeling when others were potentially hurt.

As you climbed out of the car, you made an effort to try and catch as many of the other drivers you knew had been part of the incident as you could as they made their way through parc ferme. You immediately wrapped your arms around Seb as he climbed out of the car, your former teammate giving you a gentle chuckle in response - promising that he was okay. So you glanced around the crowd for your childhood friend, Pierre smirking as he saw you approach. “Aw, coming to check on me?”

“Don’t make me regret it, Gasly.” You chuckled, pulling him into a hug. “But if you’ll excuse me, I did just win. Catch you later.”

You tried to catch Charles before he ducked away but you were ushered towards Lewis and Carlos for the podium interviews. With your fresher tires brought on by Esteban’s safety car, he wasn’t able to hold you off… or Lewis… or Carlos. So he was understandably frustrated. But you were still happy and wanted to celebrate with the team and you were sure once he’d had his moment of annoyance, he’d be happy for you too.

It was hard to have that same attitude when the roles were reversed the following week in Austria, and it was you who barely missed out on the podium and it all came to a head in your driver’s room. “I think we need to talk.”

“Oh?” Charles gently took off his first place cap and placed it on the coffee table. “Everything okay?”

You took a deep breath. “I don’t know why we haven’t had this conversation before but I feel like we need to talk about what happened this week and last week… when one of us wins and the other doesn’t. I think we need to find the balance of being able to understand how the other one feels versus celebrating the winner.”

“Yeah, yeah I get that. Well…” He approached you slowly, placing his hands on your hips - giving a gentle squeeze. “The winner can be sympathetic and the other can be supportive, but if one of us has a particularly bad race when the other wins then we just check in on how they feel first before jumping for joy at the win.”

“We’re both in with a chance of winning this whole thing, we have to promise not to let that get in the way of what we have.” You looped your arms around his neck, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. “I'm really happy with you and I don’t want me beating you to ruin that.”

“Oh, you’re gonna beat me are you?” Charles chuckled. “Well, best of luck, mon amour. You’re gonna need it.”

***

***

Leading up the summer break, things stayed on the up for you but not so much for Charles the agreement between the two of you more in force than ever. Hungary was the last race before you could enjoy a relaxing few weeks away from the paddock but with Charles’ DNF in France the weekend before he’d lost 2nd in the WDC to Max, the Dutchman now 5 points ahead thanks to his victory and it was clearly bothering him. You were soaring ahead and he was starting to be left behind - you 33 points ahead.

Charles spent as much time as he could with fans, making sure not one was missed - chatting away, taking photos and bringing as many smiles to their faces as he could. He would always be the tifosi’s golden boy; despite you leading, he would always have a special place in their hearts and you couldn’t blame them. There was something charming and gentle about him, he was impossible to dislike. The way he avidly listened to every word fans said to him, the look on his face full of genuine interest. He was so kind and you knew someday he was going to live up to the massive expectations they had all put on his shoulders - you wanted to win the championship, but someday it was going to be his turn and you knew that he would have their support every step of the way.

As you finally stepped away from the crowds, you linked your fingers with his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze - noticing his deflated stature as you walked towards the motorhome. Neither have you qualified on pole and his hopes of winning were being diminished by the minute. “You looked like you were having a good time with the fans, what’s the matter? Talk to me…”

“I hate to say it, amour, but now that you’re off ahead in the distance - I’m gonna have to play the role of second driver.” He grumbled softly. “I really want you to do well, y/n, I do, but I want it to be fair.”

A soft sigh left your lips and you turned him to face you, his green eyes locked on yours. “I won’t let it be unfair. I’m gonna talk to my engineers and let them know how I feel about it.. When I beat you, it’s all gonna be on my own merit.”

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smile, shaking his head a little. Your heart skipped a beat at his laughter, his strong arms looping around your middle. “And when I beat you, it’ll be because I deserve it too.”

“Exactly. We’re equals.” You lent up to press a kiss to his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Last race until the summer break, we just have to get through this and then you and I can escape to your yacht and make the most of the privacy.”

“You are beyond tempting.” He purred, pulling you in closer. “If we weren’t surrounded by all these prying eyes, I’d have you exactly where I want you.”

A giggle escaped you, you raised a playful brow at him. “Well, then what are we waiting for? Your driver’s room has a lock on the door, doesn’t it?”

Your teammate groaned, his nose nudging against yours before he kissed you with even more intensity than before - not caring about the cameras or poor staff members walking past you both to get into the building. The butterflies erupted in your stomach as he smiled against your lips, not wasting a second more before he tugged you into the building towards his driver room. He pressed your back against the door as he closed it, his pupils blown with lust as they scanned your figure. “As pretty as you look in red…”

“I’d look better in nothing?” You teased, slipping your hands under his polo - he shivered as your cold hands ran across his skin. “C’mon, Charles. You can do better than that.”

“You’re impossible.” He shook his head, dropping his voice to a whisper as his lips brushed across your skin. “Tu es délicieux(1)…je t’aime de tout mon coeur(2).”

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you. “God, you speaking French really does something to me.. Don’t stop.”

He tugged you away from the door as he pulled your polo over your head, lips only breaking from your skin to mutter filth in french. You were weak at the knees as he pulled back to look at you - his lips shiny with your gloss. You reached up to brush your thumb across his bottom lip before tugging on his chin gently to bring him back into a kiss as he began to work on the button of your jeans.

“Did you lock the door?” You managed to get out, feeling breathless but your boyfriend seemed relentless, grunting in response as he dropped to his knees to pull your jeans over your hips, tugging you lightly so you thumped down on the couch with a soft oof. “Charles, the door.”

“You’re killing me.” He whined, running his hands up the insides of your thighs - pushing them apart. “Je ne peux pas supporter d'être loin de toi ne serait-ce qu’un instant(3), amour.”

You draped a leg over his shoulder. “If anyone walks in, I’ll run you off the track later.”

His lips curved into a devilish smirk. “Deal.”

****

charles_leclerc posted to his instagram stories

***

Next part >>>

(1) you’re delicious

(2) I love you with all my heart

(3) I can't stand being away from you for even a moment

I hope you enjoyed ❤️ thank you for all your continued support regardless of my terrible posting schedule

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[bits-and-babs]

This is only the first of what I hope will not be too many, but here we go! 🗝 Joel Miller + Country cowbow aesthetic. Because why not?! <3

⋆ 𝐎𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖

CountryCowboy!Joel Miller x f!Reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: soft af, made my heart ache, playful flirting, literally such southern stereotypes written by an English Woman. Dry humping. 18+ ya nasties!

summary: Retired Rodeo-Cowboy Joel Miller settles down on his ranch with his number one fan.

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“They’re more hassle than they’re worth, y’know?”

A smile pulls at the edges of your mouth the moment his complaints reach your ears. His gruff voice drips with sarcasm, but you keep your eyes on the horses that prance around the paddock. They lift their hooves with synchronised grace, performing a dance as they clopped across the dried soil.

“That may be,” you muse, brushing your palms over the planks of wood that contained the mares. They’re beautiful beasts, their coats shining beneath the sunshine that the rim of your Stetson shields your face from. “But they’re mighty fine.”

The mocking southern accent you respond with has Joel pushing his elbow into your side.

“Hey!” You burst into a fit of giggles, the laughter bubbling from your throat before you’re able to suppress it. When you look up, Joel’s face is flat, that typical ‘Clint Eastwood Stand-off’ vibe that he always emanates, but his eyes betray him. There’s amusement swirling in his deep tan-leather irises.

Joel rests his palms on the wood, too, casting his gaze over the field. He’s handsome like this, you think, the dying gilded sunshine painting his face golden. It’s clearly crawled under his skin, cheeks glowing a subtle pink with sunburn and making the greys of his beard starker amongst the brown. His matching salt and pepper hair is windswept from working all day in the summer breeze.

It’s ridiculous, you think. All these years together, travelling to rodeos and spending most of your time hiding behind your fingers when he wrestled steers, you still felt the butterflies erupt in your stomach when you looked at him. He’d since hung up his bulldogging boots, ‘far too old to be wrangling bullocks’, and had taken up a much quieter life breeding horses for racing.

“You know,” Joel smirks, not bothering to look at you when he teases you, “You’re always talkin’ ‘bout how pretty they are but spend all your time lookin’ at me.”

“Shut up,” you scoff, tearing your eyes away from him and folding your arms across your chest with an indignant huff. The rumbles of a chuckle reach your ears, and you can feel your cheeks heat up.

“It ain’t so bad, you know,” he speaks softly, trying to ease your embarrassment, “It’s nice to know an old man’s still got it.”

You can’t stay mad at him for very long. That southern charm that effortlessly and unknowingly bleeds through each word works its way between your ribs and lassoes your heart with such ease. Again, you find yourself smiling, turning to look at him again. He’s unable to smother the grin that’s threatening to stretch across his lips, the edges of his mouth twitching.

“You’re not an old man,” you promise, reaching your hand across the small space between you. You hook your finger under the metal of his belt buckle and pull him towards you with a grin. He arches a brow at you pointedly, and you shrug with a grin. “Mhm, okay, maybe you’re a little old.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirks, watching you smooth your hands over his hips and waist.

“The kind of old that makes a man even more handsome,” you promise him, unable to look him in the eyes and choosing instead to drag your eyes over the tanned skin that glistens with sweat just beyond the collar of his flannel, “You age like whiskey, Joel.”

“Jack Daniels or Southern Comfort?” He asks, and you can feel his gaze dancing across your face, burning into your mouth and tracing your lips.

“Mhmm…” you hum softly, finally braving his stare and looking up at him. His eyes are dark with a rich need, hungering for your lips on his. “Redbreast.”

He can’t stand it anymore, you think, leaning down suddenly to press his lips to yours. They’re slightly dry from the heat, and you can taste the salt of his sweat. His body heards you against the fence, his work-worn hands dragging over your thighs and hips with a delicious hum that pools arousal between your thighs.

“Joel,” you breathe into his mouth. It comes out a little more desperate than you’d like, a little needier, but Joel doesn’t complain. His hands are hoisting you up, settled just beneath your ass, so your legs wrap around him.

“These fuckin’ jeans,” he huffs, frustrated when he lightly slaps your ass. Again, you’re laughing, knowing he hates them. They hug your figure just right, too tricky to get off in a hurry. “Just gonna have to make do, aren’t I?”

You’re unable to question him, to ask what he means, because he’s immediately grinding his hips against your own in a way that adds just the right amount of pressure to your clit through the seam of your jeans. Fuck, he’s rock hard beneath you, clearly turned on by your ridiculous teasing and the way you melted at the sight of him.

He swallows your moans with heated kisses, tongue dragging against your own. Fuck, his hands are squeezing at the flesh of your ass through the denim, enjoying the handfuls he steals.

It’s deliberate. The slow, heavy arcs of his hips when he grinds into you, focusing all the pressure on your clit with expertise only he could offer. He’d mapped out your body after all these years, the peaks and troughs of your structure memorised like the landscape of his ranch. Joel knew every pleasure point of your body, how to work them to his advantage and to your detriment.

“Fuck,” you whine softly, feeling him smirk into your shared kiss. Leaning your head back, you sigh when he pulls his lips across your jugular, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your pulse.

“Kiss your mother with that mouth, Darlin’?” He questions you, and you answer with a pointed, open-palm slap against his shoulder. He chuckles again, but responds with another heavy drag of his hips.

“Ohfu-“ you choke out, tears welling in your eyes. He just ruins you, just picks you apart and puts you together again so that all you can think about is the throbbing arousal that shoots up your spine.

“You gonna give it to me, Darlin’? Come on, Sugar. Come on,” he whispers to you, that gravelly tone sparking something honey-sweet inside of you. It’s not the lighting crack that he usually produces. No, it pours through you like molasses, slow and rolling and dripping between your thighs. A soft, drawn-out moan of Joel’s name pushes its way from your lips, and he praises you as your thighs squeeze him tight.

“Mhmm, Good Girl,” he hums, planting kisses along your jaw with a grin. “Don’t think I’ll have to work hard to wrangle you into bed, will I?”

He doesn’t.

END

[track2hack]

03.12.2023

Guess who’s back for round 3! 🤪🤦‍♀️

The Waimak team really loved having Forrest around but unfortunately he’s managed to do some minor damage to himself and needs some time out to recover! The chiropractor’s been out to assess and he’s had 2 weeks of no work, so now it’s lots of hacking and stretching to fix it! 🤦‍♀️

No idea what he’s done to himself or how he’s managed to do it but he’s incredibly tight in his shoulders, so your favourite back and shoulder stretches would be massively appreciated 🤷‍♀️

[shirefantasies]

Horse-Maid- Eomer x F!Reader

I’ve been really wanting to do more one-shots, so here we are- enjoy this short little imagine 😘

“What happened to you, huh?”

Chuckling, you bent down to take up a brush. Sneoan, your horse, had somehow gotten a mess of leaves and brush tangled in his pure-white mane. Smiling at the way your horse’s eyes fluttered shut in contentment, you gently dragged the brush through the tangles, working out the leaves from the coarse hair with your fingers.

Your father had long cared for that stable, but ill health of late had driven him to grant its care to you, his eldest daughter. And with joy had you said yes! Your people’s love of horses carried naturally into your heart even without the wonder of seeing how your father groomed and sometimes armored your proud Riders’ mounts. Truly the trust he had for you to continue it was an honor.

Sneoan suddenly turned his head; you followed, gaze tracking the swing of stable doors. Thuds of boots and rustles of the hay littering the ground alerted you further to the presence of another.

“Where is Havner?” No malice colored the man’s tone, just a serious inquiry.

Finally turning around, you were met with an expression of curiosity across a face that perfectly matched his tone. Long golden hair fell to his shoulders and around the look of regal inquiry, swept as it was away from his dark eyes.

“Retired,” you replied simply, eyes trailing lightly across the man’s features as one of your hands still combed Sneoan’s mane.

The man’s brows arched and rose. “Ah, I see. That is news to me. Well, would you mind terribly directing me to the new master of the stable?”

Your hand finally faltered, a single freed leaf fluttering to the floor. “That would be me. Which of these fine horses is your mount?”

“You?”

“Yes.” A faint frown began creasing your forehead- for all his looks, was this man truly that dense?

“Never before have I seen a stable in the hands of a horse-maid,” he remarked.

Striding over to the wall where you rehung your hoof pick, you shrugged and gave a small roll of your eyes, not that the man could probably see it. “Well, now you have.”

“Why did Havner choose you?” He pressed on, shuffling closer as you tidied.

“My father chose me after years of training and even observing the farriers,” you countered, crossing your arms and smirking drily, “and if you really still doubt me, ride with me. See who completes the circuit faster.”

Apparently forgetting whatever errand had been at hand, the man shrugged lightly with a cocky look of his own. "Very well. Let's."

~

Sneoan saw you through. It was a tight race, but in the end you pulled ahead, creating a respectable difference in your finishes. Turning around, you fixed the stable man with a pointed look of satisfaction.

“You have bested me.” His grace and decency met you such that you felt shock; you’d expected more fight, greater upset at loss.

Your mouth opened once to speak, twice, before a reply emerged, your ire nearly all drained. “Indeed I have,” you replied, easing the grip you had on your reins as the both of you slowed down, “so?”

“So,” he shot back, “you have proven yourself a more than worthy heir to your father’s work.”

Squinting in the sun as you may have been, you caught the glint of pride in the man’s dark eyes. “You know, you are quite like my sister. You have spirit. She would be very fond of you.”

“Sounds as though she is of sound judgment,” you teased as your horse trotted evenly aside his, inclining your head his way.

“Indeed she is!” He chuckled, shaking some golden hair off his shoulder.

You smiled. “So, may I finally know my opponent’s name?”

The almost childish look of surprise that dashed across his face was something you couldn’t help a giggle at, feeling another rosy rush of warmth to your face complementing the sun’s touch.

“I never…” He cleared his throat, finally returning to his look of gentle stoicism. “Yes, well, my name is Éomer, son of Éomund. At your service.”

You gave your name in turn. “And I, it would seem, at yours. Your horse there? He’s a good one. Always puts up with my prodding. Don’t you, sir?” Reaching across to bridge the gap, you stroked the flowing mane of Éomer’s horse.

Leaning to look back up, you were surprised at the intensity in your fellow rider’s gaze, his eyes boring into yours. “He knows a good hand when he sees it. Might we do this again someday?”

“Have a race?” You replied, perhaps a bit dumbly, beneath that stare.

“I could try my hand at a rematch.” A smile teased upon his lips. “Or we could simply ride together. Whatever you prefer that day, I suppose. I will be happy for the company. What say you, horse-maid?”

[maykitz]

the way people will say a vtuber "graduated" if they quit or get fired to me always sounds like when someone says the retired race horse is moving to a nice farm upstate