#saying stuff like “he's not really part of the ferrari family”

[silentreigns]

A note about Carlos, mostly about Jeddah

I gotta rant because I've just been seeing a lot of opinions about what has happened to Carlos within the last week. And instead of just going under every single post explaining why you're wrong, I'm just going to write an essay. The real tumblr experience is getting emotionally invested in something, and putting more effort into your writing on here than school or work. With that being said, if you dislike Carlos then this is not the post for you 🤷‍♀️

The "This is the first time Ferrari has felt like a family in a long time" comments are very mean. It's actually been bothering me since last Friday. Y'all saw a man visibility sick from a condition, and he probably knew he shouldn't have jumped in the car in the first place, try and persevere just for our entertainment/ his dedication to the team, just to say that it felt more like a family when he wasn't driving has rubbed me the wrong way. Granted, I think it was dumb for him to leave the hospital against doctor's orders and go to the paddock. However, that shows how passionate he is about Ferrari. He did not have to send message wishing Ollie good luck, or show up to the Ferrari garage to watch the race in person. But he did it anyways because he genuinely loves Ferrari and has done so much for the team (you guys who continuously say that he's not a team player do not watch the same race as i do or you just straight up don't like him. But don't discredit him because you feel some type of way for whatever reason). You don't need to hear it come out of Carlos's mouth to hear how heartbreaking that is. It's his last year with the team, and he has one less chance to drive the car he's been working his whole career towards driving. Why is it that he's spoken endlessly about how much he loves Ferrari and some of y'all have convinced yourself that he doesn't. Saying that because his family members like tweets or share Instagram stories that you don't agree with is such a cop-out excuse. From what I have seen, nothing he has said or done would lead me to believe that he's not truly a dedicated member of the Ferrari family. Yes Ferrari has had periods where the team was very disjointed and fragmented. But here in 2024, that is not the case.

[uniquexusposts]

Her || Charles

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff  Story type: novel  Part: 13/? Word count: 1456 Co writer: @mistrose23

Summary: This was Matilde Jørgensen, the newly appointed team principal of Scuderia Ferrari, about to face one of the most nerve-wracking challenges of her life. She tried to save the team from more disappointing results and put everything on the line to make them world champion again. There will be a big challenge to lead a historic team as 'newbie' and keeping her work and personal opinions apart from each other. The big question everybody will be asking: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 11. Home

"Nothing beats the Monaco Grand Prix," Charles said while collecting his stuff. His family and friends were sitting in the living room. "It means I can sleep in my own bed, and leave the house as late as possible... The dream."

Arthur, his little brother, smirked. "Yeah, but it's also known as: the cursed home race."

"Arthur," multiple people groaned.

"I wish he was lying," Charles chuckled. "But hopefully, we can break the curse. Everything is looking fantastic, we have been working really hard and we might have a chance."

It was silent in the living room; everyone admired his comment.

"What?" Charles looked around, not liking the silence.

"You sound so optimistic," his mother said. "So I assume everything is going well at Ferrari now?"

Since the beginning of this season, since the moment Matilde got introduced as team principal, Charles had doubts about Matilde. She was young, barely had any experience and seemed like she had no idea what she was doing or how she had to lead a team. But over the weeks, Matilde adapted quickly and showed that she had potential. Charles had shared his opinion on her, so his family and friends knew about his vision.

"Yes, everything is going fine now," he replied. "After Miami, she openly talked about the incident with the entire team, and she listened to everyone who had to say something. I think she's the first team principal I ever had who is really part of the team, instead of the leader of the team." Charles showed a smile when he realised how much the team had grown over the weeks. "She even hired an external coach and things have changed, suddenly everyone is communicating with each other."

Charles' family and friends listened as he spoke about the changes happening within Ferrari under Matilde's leadership. His family and friends began to see her in a new light. She was clearly actively working to create a more collaborative and open environment within the team.

"An external coach?" Pascale asked. "What does it do?"

Arthur couldn't help, but laugh. He imitated his mother, it lightened the mood. "'What does it do?'"

Charles shared a smile as a reaction to Arthur. "He is some sort of a psychologist, he helps to get new insights within the team, like our weaknesses and strengths, observes how things are going, improves the weaknesses by giving advice," Charles explained.

Lorenzo nodded impressively. "I'm a fan. This should have happened way sooner." He, too, was beginning to see the positive impact of Matilde's leadership. He was hopeful that these improvements would lead to better results on the track.

"Maybe the curse will finally be broken this year," Joris, Charles' best friend, chimed in after hearing the optimism Charles had. And he also saw how things turned around under Matilde's watch.

Charles chuckled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "That's the plan. With how things are going, I honestly think we have a chance of winning races, maybe even the championship."

The group made their way to the track. It was only a ten-minute walk, but due to the fans, the family and friends decided to take the car. Charles, Joris and Andrea decided to take the bike. Charles loved this race, and he wanted to take the opportunity to interact with his fans. As they rode through the streets of Monte Carlo, the excitement in the air was present.

The streets were lined with enthusiastic people, all hoping to catch a glimpse of their favourite driver. Charles smiled as he waved to the fans. He stepped off his bike to sign autographs and took some photos with fans. The support of the Monegasque crowd meant the world to him, and he cherished these moments.

Charles, Joris and Andrea arrived at the paddock. They were welcomed by the press. The family and friends of Charles were already waiting on the inside of the gates. They met up with Charles and they made their way to the Ferrari hospitality. It was the first time his family was about to meet Matilde. Approaching the hospitality area, they spotted Matilde seated outside, eating one of the two tangerines and reviewing documents. She looked up, her gaze meeting Charles' and his entourage. A warm smile came on her face.

"This is Matilde," Charles said to his family.

Matilde set aside the papers, and she gave them her full attention. "Hey," she said, standing up. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said and shook everyone's hand. She knew Joris and Andrea already, but only by name.

Charles' family and friends, particularly his mother Pascale, expressed their delight at finally meeting Matilde in person. "We've heard a lot about you," Pascale mentioned with a warm smile.

A conversation began between the team principal and Charles' family. In the meantime, Carlos had arrived at the hospitality as well. He noticed how Matilde was chatting with Charles' family, so he decided to greet her by only padding her on the shoulder when he passed her. Matilde looked at him and gave him a nod. Then Arthur mentioned he had to go, he had to go to his team to prepare for qualifying. His family and friends wished him good luck, just like Matilde. It became clear to Charles' family that she was not just the team principal, but also just a human and an approachable team member.

"Is this your first time in Monte Carlo?" Lorenzo, Charles' older brother, curiously asked.

Matilde nodded. "It is, actually."

Charles raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "Really? I had no idea."

She nodded again. "I had a 50% travel contract at Red Bull. I've been to almost every circuit at least once, but I have never been to Monte Carlo, so this is an exciting one."

"Wow," he perplexedly mumbled. "If I had known, I would have given you a tour... only if you wanted to, of course."

Matilde blushed a little bit, and Charles' cheeks also turned a bit reddish.

"We still can do it!" Arthur excitedly shared. "After this weekend, when there's time."

"Sounds like a plan," Pascale agreed. "Just let Charles know, and we will plan something."

She showed a promising smile and looked at her watch. "If you will excuse me, I have to attend a briefing. Please, make yourself comfortable here and have fun this weekend," she mentioned, collecting her documents, the tangerine and the peel of one of the eaten tangerines. She walked away, leaving everyone behind.

"What a lovely woman," Pascale mentioned. "She's doing her best, and it shows. You should cherish this within the team." She padded Charles' shoulder and kissed his cheek. "Perhaps invite her for lunch on Monday and then go out for a tour. It's tradition. And that way I can meet her properly. I want to know who your boss is."

"I will let you know about it."

"Let me know on time so I can do some groceries."

Charles looked at the Ferrari's hospitality, following Matilde with his eyes. She was talking to her assistant, smiling and listening carefully. 

A frown captured Arthur's face; tradition? His eyes met Lorenzo's, who shared the same look. 

Only Lorenzo dared to say something about it. "Tradition?" 

"Yes, from now on," Pascale grinned and winked, looking at Charles for his reaction. However, Charles wasn't listening. And perhaps it was better for now. 

* * *

The free practice sessions on Friday turned out to be a perfect day for Ferrari. The iconic streets of Monte Carlo presented a unique challenge for the drivers, with narrow twists and turns, demanding precision and finesse.

Charles, with his deep familiarity with the circuit, set the pace during the first practice session. His laps were nothing short of masterful, as he expertly manoeuvred his Ferrari through the narrow streets. He delicately pushed the boundaries, skirting with the barriers but never crossing the line into mistakes. His lap times remained consistently impressive, putting him at the top of the leaderboard.

But Charles wasn't the only notable driver that day. Carlos also demonstrated his skill and adaptability. Just like Charles, he pushed and delivered consistent lap times. His feedback to the team was invaluable, helping them fine-tune the car's setup to suit the tight layout.

Inside the garage, the engineers and mechanics worked hard, making adjustments based on the drivers' input. The people back at the factory in Maranello, followed every movement and worked along with the people on the track. Matilde watched with a sense of satisfaction as both the drivers performed flawlessly.

The faultless performance didn't go unnoticed by the other teams, the media or the fans. The team had clearly done their homework, providing Charles and Carlos a car that responded impeccably to their commands.

Nothing could go wrong... right? 

Next chapter

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry

[hockeyandhrsepwr]

Montreal

Je t'aime series

F1 driver reader x hockey player bf

When the Montreal GP & Eastern Conference finals fall on the same weekend, certain worlds collide….

The insta edit

Notes: Takes place in 2024 so everyone is a year older - reader is an 01 baby so 23 & all the hockey guys are playing for their respective NHL teams. (For plot purposes, Montreal is the second last race before the summer break - still takes place in mid-June though) Danny, Mick & Seb are still on the grid because I say so & I’m trying not to have a breakdown over Seb being gone gone. 

For Formula 1 driver y/n l/n, this weekend marks her return home as we head to Montreal for the Canadian Grand Prix. We sat down with the championship leader to talk about what that means for her.

Thanks so much for talking to us today Y/n. How excited are you to be back home in Montreal? 

I’m pretty pumped. It’s always nice to be back and have so much of my family be able to come. The track is always a special one to race on & I’ve had a few good races here before, so hopefully this weekend will add to that. The little break after means I can spend a few days here before heading into Silverstone so that’s nice. 

Any exciting plans for those few days?

Definitely catch a hockey game! It’s hard to watch games live with the travelling & living in Monaco, so while I’m here I’m definitely going to get to the Bell Centre. It worked out really well that the Habs are playing on Sunday night & it’s such an exciting game, with it being Game 7 in the conference finals. Montreal fans are absolutely incredible so hopefully the boys can bring this one home! The city’s going to be pretty wild on Sunday, and hopefully I can add to the excitement with a win here too!

I never would have known there was a game this weekend. It’s not like there’s stuff all over the city. Hopefully they can win it at home! Actually, speaking of hockey, your dad played, correct?

Yeah, so he played pro in the US and then Switzerland and Germany. So, I spent about 8 years over there before moving back here permanently, and then when I was about 14, moved back over for racing. but Montreal is definitely home. 

Did you ever consider hockey or were you always set on the formula, single seater series? And how did you settle on motorsport?

So, I played hockey growing up but once I hit 12ish I had to choose since both were getting more competitive and there wasn’t enough time. I would’ve loved to go pro in either, but F1 is where my heart is. I still play whenever I can though. Lance & I like to try finding rinks when we travel and have a little battle. I’m currently 4 wins up, just fyi. Or whenever I visit my best friend, we go out & have some fun, even though that’s not often. I’m not beating him unfortunately but it’s pretty hard to beat a pro when he’s working on his skills constantly and I’m playing maybe 20 times a year. As kids though I could whoop him. The decision for karting/single seater over hockey was hard, but I’d been hooked since I sat in my first kart. I think part of it was being able to travel all over racing & just experience so many cool things. And with Formula 1, there’s 20 spots, right? So, if you make it as a driver, you’re one of the top in the world. With hockey there are so many incredible female players already, and as we know not many in motorsport. I wanted to be able to inspire young girls in sports as well. I think I made the right decision for me. 

 My dad was a big F1 fan, so I’d been watching races basically since birth. We were living in Germany during the Schumacher era, so everyone was really into it and that definitely helped ha-ha. It’s kind of crazy that I ended up going through all the feeder series with Mick in the end & we obviously became good friends when his dad was one of the main reasons I started racing. And having him show up to watch races was insane! But yeah, once I sat in my first kart I was hooked! If three year old me who had that Schumacher Ferrari merch could see me now ha-ha. 

Ah the Schumacher era, that’s how so many people got interested. And your best friend is a hockey player? I don’t know if that’s ever come up, so can I ask about that? 

Ah so actually, our dads played together in Switzerland & bonded over being from Montreal, so once my parents moved to Germany, about two years after I was born, they still visited each other. The two of us spent a lot of time together as kids during those visits, especially playing hockey. We moved back a few years before his family, but they were always around in the summer & we stayed pretty close. We’re apart a lot but were both living our dreams so its pretty special when we can get together. he’s one of my favourite people so shoutout to Thomas. You’ll probably see him in the paddock this weekend since he’s around here somewhere. 

That’s such a great story! What team does he play for, and for anyone who’s maybe looking at which team to support, who would you recommend?

So he plays for San Jose, the Sharks, but I’m a Canadiens girl all the way. You can’t grow up in Montreal and not get support them. We’re having a great season, so fingers crossed for Sunday! But I do support the Sharks, definitely my favourite Western team, no bias here ha-ha. I’ve met a lot of great guys through Thom too who play, so I do try and keep up with their teams, but Habs all the way baby!

Alright, there you have it folks. Y/N thanks for sitting down with us, good luck this weekend! I’m sure we’ll see you soon!

You shake Natalie’s hand & thank her for having you. Exiting the media pen, you start making your way back towards the Ferrari garage, waving at Lewis when an arm’s thrown around you shoulder.

“Ready for Sunday’s game?” Lance says, “Time to kick some Devil ass and then get the cup.” 

“Yeah, I just have a race to win first” you stick your tongue out at him as he punches you in the arm. 

“Your boy toy coming today?” You roll your eyes “yes he has a pass, so he’ll be around somewhere. There’s a bunch of them coming. Not sure when though…”

“YO MCQUEEN!” you hear from down the lane. “There it is” you shrug off Lance & speed up as Thomas comes running at you. Damn he’s quick. You meet in the middle and grab him in a hug. “tu m’as manque” (I’ve missed you) he whispers in your ear, squeezing the life out of you. It’s been a while since you’ve seen each other, mid-January at least. When you were still on break and made it to a game of his where you hung out for a week before heading back across to Italy for training. You talk almost every day though

“Missed you too Bords. It’s been too long. Congrats on your run though. You guys played really well.” It sucked that the Sharks got knocked out in round 2, but they had a good team. Next year they’ll have it. His phone starts ringing and he pulls it out.

“Ah shit, the idiots are lost.’ He rolls his eyes as you laugh.

“They’re at the Ferrari garage. We should probably go before they end up breaking stuff” We start off towards Ferrari, when Lance catches up to us. “Hey man, how’s it going?” The two have met before, when you were all kids in Montreal. They catch up as you walk over, when you notice a bit of a crowd. You nudge Thomas

“Those yours?” and point towards the commotion. You get there & see a few familiar faces. You run over to give Thomas’s sister a hug before turning to the hockey players gathered. You count five, but there may be more floating around. Thomas had 10 passes altogether. 

“Sup boys” you give Brendan, Matty & Owen a hug, then do your handshake with Truss. You visited Michigan a few times when Bordy was there, so you got close with his roommates & friends. You managed to stay pretty off the radar since F1 isn’t as popular in the US, so you got some of that college experience that you missed out on. Plus, he’s brought you to the Hughes Lake house a couple of times so you got to know a bunch of the other idiots there. 

“Y/n you traitor!” Lance calls from somewhere behind me. “What did I do?” You yell in indignation as someone spins you around to see Jack Hughes making his way towards you. “Ah Fuck off Lance, we all know he has no chance!” Cheers from people around tells you that there’s quite a few Canadiens fans in the paddock right now.

“Hell yeah they don’t” You see Cole behind him along with Luke Hughes & Phil. 

“Is this everyone?” They nod “okay, come with me. Lance, I’ll see you later.” You lead the crew of hockey players into the Ferrari garage, taking them up to the hospitality area. “As nice as it is to see you all, why are all of you here?”

“Osheaga (Music festival – it usually happens in August but for the plot it’s happening in June) was last weekend, so we all just stayed, especially once Bordy told us he could get tickets. And we’re going to the game on Sunday” Briss pipes up. 

“Yeah, I know nothing about F1 But it looks pretty cool so I’m excited” Luke says. You gasp, the blasphemy.

“How much time have we spent together Hughesy, and you still know nothing? I’m wounded” Dramatically you hold your hand to your chest. Your phone starts going off, your timer that your trainer set going off as Charles approaches you. He beckons you since he has the same reminder.

“Alright boys, I’ll see you later, but I’ve got practice. Ask any of the lovely workers here if you need a hand with anything. Peace out” You walk off with Charles, making your way further into the motorhome. Once you get to your driver room you start your usual routine. About 20 minutes in, as soft knock on the door interrupts you “babe? You free?” 

You open the door & pull your boyfriend in. ‘“God, I missed you.” You press your lips to his, savouring the kiss. “ the minute I can I’m taking you out properly. I don’t care where, but we’re going out. Hopefully with something to celebrate” You wrap your arms around him and nod “sounds good. When are you leaving?” “Monday early afternoon” he pouts and he’s so cute you just have to kiss him again.

“Two more weeks then I’m all yours for the summer.”

“Deal. Now get back to it.” He slaps your ass and you continue your usual routine with the occasional commentary from him. He slips out a few minutes before you leave, heading down to the garage for practice. 

Two successful practice sessions later, you’re done for the day. You’re chatting with Charles when Thom finds you. You introduce him around since he hasn’t met many of the boys, just Lance & Mick. The other hockey boys have left but you make your way back to the hotel. As much as you’d love to stay at home, it’s a little further out so you stay at the hotel with the rest of the crew. Once you enter, you spot a crowd exiting the restaurant. Ah, apparently the Devils are staying here.

You whistle, “damn, who let some losers in?” As others laugh. Jack flips you off, but someone else comes running over

“y/n/n!!” Nico hugs you. You knew each other as kids, his dad being involved for the team yours had played for. Whenever your family would visit the Bordeleau’s, you’d see him. You & T would bug him lots since there weren’t many kids to hang around with. “Can you introduce me to Sebastian Vettel?” He whispers in your ear. “Get out of here” you push him away. 

The rest of the team us standing there, mouths open. “Sup McQueen” Luke waves. You’re going to kill Thomas for that nickname, but you wave back before dragging Thomas towards the elevator. You’ve got catching up to do & he knows that tomorrow you’ll be in race mode & not want any distractions.

“Where are the rest of the boys staying?” You ask him. Obviously, Jack & Luke with the team here, but he tells you that the rest of them managed to get 2 rooms in this hotel, so they’re close by. “My parents offered to let us stay with them, but we’ve been pretty rowdy so I thought this would be better.” 

A few hours later you need to get ready & go to bed so you’re in top form for quali tomorrow, so Thomas heads to the room he’s sharing, wishing you luck beforehand. He knows that tomorrow you won’t want to see anyone until after qualifiers. You’re almost done your routine when Ring. A soft smile takes over you face. He always calls before he goes to bed, just to say good night. You do same & most of the time you miss each other so you have lots of cute voicemails saved on your phone. 

“Hey superstar. This whole being in the same time zone thing makes it a little bit easier hey?” He chuckles “yeah babe, it definitely does. Hang on” you hear some shuffling on his end and then a door open. “Roommates kick you out?” you laugh as he huffs, “I don’t want to disturb them so I’m going to the conference room so I can facetime. How are you feeling for tomorrow?” The request pops up & you see him sitting in one of the rooms. 

“Pretty confident. It’s a good car & it’s nice that everyone was able to come so I’d love to get a win for them. Think you’ll be able to sneak out tomorrow night?”

“Are you sure? I know how much you need your routine. I don’t want to mess anything up for you.”

“No, I want cuddles” you pout “and you know I sleep better when I’m next to you” you can hear the smile in his voice as he says “I’ll see what I can do. Now you’ve gotta go to bed so you can kick butt tomorrow. I love you & I’ll be watching.” He blows a kiss. “Love you too. Tomorrow night, okay?”

“Yep, I’m all yours. Ill text you before you go out tomorrow since I know I’m not going to see you. But you’re gonna kill it.” You lay down on the bed and just look at him.

“God you’re cute. I still can’t believe you’re mine.” He blushes, like he always does when you complement him.

“You better believe it. nearly four years in and I’m never letting you go.” Damn it now you’re blushing. “Okay Casanova, I really should go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you” you blow a kiss & hang up because you know from experience that you’ll just go back and forth for the next hour otherwise. 

Saturday

You wake up fired up & ready to go. Moving quickly, you and Charles meet up & drive to the circuit. There’s a lot more people here today which you love. You go through practice & then it’s time for qualifiers. Q1 & 2 go smoothly, with you landing in the top five, but you want that pole position. It’s so much sweeter especially with this being your home race. As Q3 gets underway, that’s what you’re aiming for. Unfortunately, it’s only P2, but at least its only Charles in front. You know you can get ahead of him with the right strategy.

Meeting up with Thom & the crew at the hotel, you grab a quick dinner in the restaurant. You stop by the front desk & grab an extra key, slipping it onto your boyfriend’s pocket when you’re giving all the guys hugs. After about an hour you have to excuse yourself for a team meeting, and 2 hours later you finally make it back to your room.

You’ve just closed the door & are turning around when “BOO!” & you jump a foot in the air. 

“Putain! Jesus Christ you fucker.” Your heart is racing a million miles as you take in the sight before you. Jack has half his body still in the bathroom but has fully on the floor, just about crying from laughter. “That’s not why I gave you the key, connard.” You say as you help him up. “I ha-ha couldn’t ha help myself.” He dissolves into another fit of giggles. You move towards the bed as he comes up behind you. Arms around your waist as he buries his head in your neck. 

“This is harder than I thought” “I know, let’s just get through this weekend. A couple weeks then well be back at the lake with everyone who knows & we can do this every night.” He places a kiss at the junction of your neck.

“Promise?” you turn your head and give him a kiss. “Promise. Well talk about next season too. I’m sick of not seeing you for months.” He nods.

“you’re coming to the game tomorrow, right?” “Do you even have to ask?”

“Okay smartass, but will you root for me?” He sounds a bit sad as I turn in his arms. “I want you to win, I really do.”

“Oh yeah, not your precious Habs?”

“Wow. The sarcasm is strong with this one. I want both of you to win, but since that’s not possible, I’d say I have a slight interest in Jersey winning the cup.” “Only slight, eh?” he tickles my sides.

“I know how hard you’ve worked so yeah. As much as it pains me to say, and if you tell anyone else, I’ll kill you, but I do hope you win. If only so we both get one this weekend.” 

You kiss him again before pulling him into the bathroom & running the bath. It’s your regular night before race routine, made much sweeter by him being there. “I don’t know if I ever told you, but Thomas was my favourite person that summer.” He mumbles into your hair as you sit in the tub. 

“The one we met?” “Yeah, when he brought you to the lake house for a few weeks.”

Now your confused. You tilt your head back & raise an eyebrow “when you barely said four sentences to me?” he grins sheepishly.

“I was intimidated. You were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen & you drove fast cars for a living. It took me a whole year to gain the confidence to ask you out the next summer. And then you didn’t even show up with him! I was this close to asking for your number when you turned up a week later.”

“Aw, well I’m glad you manned up.” He sticks his tongue out. “I can’t believe that was five years ago. We were babies”

“Yep and now you’re stuck with me.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way”. 

(They meet when they’re 18, but he doesn’t ask her out till 19 & now they’re 23) 

You both get out & go about your night routine with some additional commentary from Jack. When you finally settle into bed, he wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you to his chest.

“je t’aime” He whispers and a smile creeps onto your face like it does every time he uses his limited French. “je t’aime aussi.” You whisper back as you snuggle back into him.  

Sunday Morning. 

You wake to a kiss pressed on your cheek. “I’ve got to get back to my room before the team meeting. I won’t see you before the game but go kick some ass. I love you & we’ll be celebrating tonight” Jack whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss to your lips and leaving. About a half hour later your alarm goes off & you start your pre-race routine.  Thomas stops by to wish you luck before you head to the track with Charles & your trainer. Ten minutes before you need to head to the garage your phone pings. It’s a picture of Jack & Luke with the caption ‘good luck!!!’ 

You smile before heading out to get into your gear. Soon it’s time to line up on the grid & you hop in. 

You settle in, ready to go as the countdown starts & the lights go. 

“It’s lights out & away we go here in beautiful Montreal!”

59 laps in you sneak past Charles, an early stop strategy paying off in your favour as ten laps later you take the win. After pulling your car in behind the first-place stand, you jump out & soak in the noise. Cheers from fans and your team ring out, as you spot one person in particular.

Hopping off the car, you run over to the barriers and grab Thomas in a hug. It’s the first F1 race you’ve won with him there, so you know he’s excited. After letting him go you hug your engineers & team before being pulled into a quick interview with Natalie. 

“Y/n, that was a beauty of a win, how are you feeling? What’s it like to win it at home?”

“Oh my god, amazing! Winning any day is an incredible feeling but to do it here, in front of my city, friends & family is so much sweeter!” 

“Anything to say to the fans here today? Or for anyone watching?”

“Mom, I did it!! You told me I’d win here one day & here we are. To my team at Ferrari, Merci! Superstar, merci d’etre ici ce weekend. Votre soutien signifie la monde et je t’aime. Montreal, ca c’est pour vous, et ALLEZ LES CANADIENS!” 

Cheers go up from all around as you just take it in. 

After the podium ceremony, you make your way back to the hotel to change since you’re soaked in champagne. Opening the door to you room, you spot a box at the end of the bed & a bouquet of lilies on the bedside table. You smile as you make your way over & see a note on the box 

Knew you could do it babe! Here’s a little something that I hope you wear tonight. See you on the ice ;)  xxx J

“I swear, if he put a Devils jersey in here..” you trail off as you see just that, but also a gorgeous lingerie set in the same bright red underneath. “that cheeky shit”, there’s a pair of new red converse in there too.

Putting the set on, you take a picture before finishing getting dressed & send it off to Jack, making a face. ‘Good Luck babe'. Then you finish getting ready & head down. 

You meet the boys in the lobby & make your way to the Bell Centre. Outside, you meet your mum, who’s brought you one of your old Canadiens jerseys since you didn’t have one on you. You pull it on over the hoodie & make you way in. Someone on the marketing team meets you inside. After your interview aired yesterday when you mentioned going to the game, they contacted your team to ask if you’d like to do the ceremonial puck drop, which duh you would. You split up with the rest of them and follow the guy. You’ll meet up with Bordy & his sister at your seats, but you won’t see the rest of the guys until later. You wait, chatting to various workers as warmups happen and finally its time for you to go out.

Making your way to the tunnel, you hear PK, who’s on the ice

“We have a special guest for you all tonight! She’s back in town, she goes fast and she won today, it’s your favourite race car driver Y/N L/N!!! 

You walk out on the carpet, waving at the crowd. “Well y/n, were glad to have you here to get us going here at the Bell Centre. But first, we have a little present for you. Your very own Canadiens jersey!” He holds up a jersey with my last name & racing number on the back.

“Oh my god that’s so cool. Suck it Lance, you’re not so special anymore!” you know he’s laughing from wherever he is in the arena. You take it & the puck he’s holding out. 

“Let’s get the captains please.” Pk says as Nico & Nick skate towards you and get in position for the photo.

“Nick, kick their ass.” You say to the Canadiens captain before posing and then walking off the ice. Someone shows you to your seat, where you find Thomas & Jade. The energy in the arena is absolutely electric as the anthem singing comes to an end and the crowd cheers. Thomas passes you a beer, as someone taps you on the shoulder. 

“Sorry, but would I be able to get a picture?” a young girl sitting behind you. You oblige & tell her you’ll get a better one during the intermission before sitting back down as the game starts. 

The Canadiens take an early lead with a beauty of a goal scored halfway through the period. The games intense with lots of back and forth between the goals. The Devils manage to knock one in with just a minute to go and then its intermission. You send Thomas off for snacks while you take a few photos & sign some stuff and before you know it it’s time for period two. No one scores for a while, but there’s quite a few penalties being called as the game gets a little rougher.

The second period ends still tied 1 all. You & Thomas chat about summer while you wait for the third. You’re planning on going to the lake house and you know he’ll be there at some point, but he’s staying here in Montreal for a bit first. You grab a couple more beers before the buzzer sounds and were off for the final period. Canadiens score a minute in, then Jersey gets one.

Back and forth again, shot after shot on each net with no more success. The whole crowds on their feet, cheering & screaming for Montreal as the minutes count down.

“Mon dieux its going to be OT” you whisper as the final minute hits. The crowds are practically silent as the seconds tick. Ten seconds left and all of a sudden Jack gets the puck, making a breakaway to the Canadiens net.

Go, Go, Go!!! you’re screaming internally as the defense rush after him, but not fast enough. He shoots and it flies past the goalie’s shoulder. The crowd explodes with boos & angry yells, but you’re smiling.

Thomas nudges you “he’ll be happy about that"

“Yeah, he will” you say back, a soft smile on your face as the final buzzer sounds and the Devils all celebrate on the ice. The fans are none too happy but there’s nothing you can do. You take out your phone & text jack.

That was amazing superstar!! I’m so so proud of you. I’m going out with the boys, but I’ll see you later<3 text me whenever you guys are done if I’m not back. 

“let’s get out of here” you turn to Thomas, knowing that Jack’ll be caught up for a few hours with team celebrations & media stuff. “Mick texted a while ago, a couple of them are downtown so let’s go celebrate your win” he says.

A pit stop back at the hotel to drop off jerseys & make sure you have all the boys then you’re making your way downtown to one of your favourite clubs. The drinks are flowing, drivers & hockey players are all around and lots of dancing means that a few hours pass in the blink of an eye.

About 3 hours in, you check your phone and see a message from Jack.

Got about 20 minutes left then I’m heading back. I’ll be in your room. See you in a bit xx

Looking around, you spot Thomas & Charles and make your way towards them. They’re chattering in French, but you butt in.

“Hey boys, I’m heading out in 10” Turns out most people are pretty done for the night, & you end up having a big group heading back. You all grab a couple of cabs back, and as you make your way through the lobby, you spot a piano in the corner.

“Ooh!!” say, making your way over to it & sitting down. “Is it okay if I play?” you ask one of the workers who nods. The boys follow you and stand next to the piano, staring at you. Except for Thomas. He knows that you can’t play for shit, all those lessons you took as a child being absolutely useless, so he’s laughing.

You crack your fingers and start playing la vie en rose absolutely terribly. The boys laugh as you stand up & bow. “Merci, merci! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a sexy man waiting for me” you wink before heading to the elevator & making your way to the room. He’s not there you, so you get undressed so he can see the gift he left for you. 

The door opens a few minutes later. “Hey champ” you drawl as he comes into view.

“oh, fuck me” “I plan to” you respond jokingly. He pulls off his shoes & shirt before jumping into the bed next to you. 

“You did it,” the smile on his face is absolutely massive “I did it. We’re going to the finals. Holy fuck” 

The two of you lay there, lazily making out & cuddling until you fall asleep, too worn out for more. The next morning brings sad goodbyes with promises of more in a few weeks time. 

F1 GOSSIP

Alright folks, we all know that Y/n L/n has been romantically linked to former F2 teammate Mick, who she sort of grew up with, and Charles Leclerc, her current teammate, for a while now. The Mick theory is more likely, as we’ve seen. I’ll show the evidence that has been collected here. But this weekend, a new player entered. Thomas Bordeleau, another childhood friend of Y/n & a pro hockey player, was in and around the paddock. Now we didn’t really know about this connection until an interview that y/n herself did on Friday, where she called him ‘one of her favourite people’. Apparently, we weren’t looking hard enough. Obviously, we had to do some digging, and the team here are starting to think that he may be the real deal when it comes to y/n’s heart. Let’s break it down.

Childhood friends – we found some photos from y/n’s early karting days, both in Europe and Canada. Know who makes an appearance in a few of them? Thomas. Now there aren’t too many pictures of them as teenagers, as it appears he lived in the US & obviously y/n had moved back to Europe for racing. However, we were able to find this picture, of Y/n at a hockey game with one of his jerseys on. 

Now, here’s where things get interesting. Thomas attended the University of Michigan and based on a video out of the paddock Friday, y/n knows a few of his college teammates. So, we did some more digging and found that y/n visited Michigan no less than six times over the 2 years he was there. And if that’s not convincing, take a look at these photos we dug up. Tell me that the way the two of them are looking at each other doesn’t scream in love (Photos of the two at various different parties looking cozy). Flirty comments left on posts, photos from friends that show the two cuddling or laying on top of each other, years of appearances in the back of each other’s photos, and a few references to a boyfriend in y/ns comments by close friends. All of these point towards the two of them being together, but the most damming evidence came out of Montreal. Lance Stroll was overheard asking y/n about her ‘boy toy coming’ mere seconds before Bordeleau made his appearance.

On Sunday, Y/n fought her way to a first place, and once she exited the car ran over to him at the barriers, practically flinging herself at him for a hug. Not two minutes later, when talking to a reporter she was saying thank you to the fans, and let this slip in French “superstar, thanks for being here this weekend. It means the world to me & I love you so much.” Now who speaks French & was there this weekend? Her best friend.

But that’s not all!! They made their way to the Montreal Canadiens game on Sunday night, where they lost in the final seconds. Several other players who appear to be friends of Bordeleaus & some of the guys who were playing in the game attended, however they watched from one of the boxes. y/n and Thomas, on the other hand, were smack dab in the centre of the action, accompanied only by his sister. Photos from the official sports accounts & fans were all over social media showing the two very close, joking around & cheering passionately for their home team. They were then seen out partying in the city with some of the other drivers and hockey players. I don’t know about all of you, but I’m pretty convinced. This isn’t what we were expecting, but it actually seems the most plausible. What are your thoughts?

 

Xx

[laura1633]

Thank you to @3ncr1pted @saviour-of-lord and @formulafang1rl for the tag ❤️ :

Who is your favorite driver? Max 😍 Luckily the question doesn't ask why or I would be here all day!

Do you have other favorite drivers? Charles is my other favourite and I also really like Oscar. 

Who is your least favorite driver? I know this probably means on the grid currently but I just have to mention ex driver Damon Hill here because he drives me crazy every time I have to hear his punditry

Do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well? It’s always been drivers for me. 

If you like teams what teams do you pull for? I don't pull for teams specifically.

How long have you been into F1? Wow ages, I can't even remember quite how long. Years and years.

What got you into F1? Some friends at the time were watching it and I watched along and slowly got completely obsessed 😂

Do you enjoy fic/rpf? Haha yes just a little bit!

How do you view new fans? We have all been new fans at some point so I welcome new fans. All I would say is that if you do engage with F1 social media and DTS and stuff like that then to keep an open mind and know that a lot of the peripherals around the sport are focused more on clickbait and entertainment. It's best to make up your own mind about things and don't believe one source and enjoy the racing 🥰

If you could take over as team principal for any team, who would it be and why? I would want to work with Max so naturally would lean towards Red Bull. However, I think it would be amazing to be team principle at Ferrari and be able to bring Max (and GP) over and have Max and Charles together for a season or two. I am sure as a team principle having two number one drivers would drive me crazy but I would love to see them together. I can also see Max considering a Ferrari move to end out his career and I think he would like the idea of racing Charles in equal machinery.

Are your friends and family into F1? - I managed to get my boyfriend into F1 which is good because we can go to the races together. My friends and family aren't really into it though. My mum does message me when she hears Max has done well though!

Are you open to talking to other fans/making friends? Of course, anyone is welcome to interact with or talk to me about anything. I will apologise up front though because I am very unorganised and sometimes get social anxiety about how to respond so it can sometimes take a little longer for me to respond. I love to chat though. I also keep saying I am going to join Discord so I can search out some Max or Lestappen servers, maybe some day soon

I'll tag @481boxboxbaby but no pressure! Also anyone else who wants to take part can use this as an invitation to do it. (If you do like these tag games and want to be tagged then feel free to let me know)

[justaredheadf1fan]

Back for the 2023 season ✨

Hello there!

Well, it's been a minute 🤣 My intention was to write something through the winter break about several topics I initially had in mind, but as you can see between my vacation and a very needed break from all this and a few other things, I haven't found the motivation to write anything until now, and I'm very damn late.

Firstly, I'll say that I honestly have no clue what the hell the idea will be for this page during this season. I don't know how much I'll be posting per weekend, or anything at all for that matter because my brain's not collaborating at the moment so I guess I'll figure it out by next week (I hope so at least). I don't even know if I'll be keeping the masterlist posts the way they are now and keep adding the new ones or if I'll renew the masterlist (which might be the better option). I don't even know if I'll be keeping all the previous posts at all, but anyway, if any of you care enough to share any ideas, I'm open to suggestions.

It's finally pre-season testing for the 2023 season after all the car launches in the past few weeks, which will be my topic on this post (step by step) along with a few comments about some of the winter break news that I can remember.

So first things first, I believe we all were expecting Fred Vasseur to become the Ferrari Team Principal for this season, which meant Mattia Binotto's banishment. FINALLY. Was I happy to have this man out of Ferrari after last year's debacle. I like Vasseur, although I honestly just wanted Binotto out, regardless.

James Vowles' move to Williams as Team Principal was unexpected but I trully felt happy for him, well deserved promotion, if you ask me. Not that I care much for Williams anyway, but it's good news anyway. I did hope Susie Wolff would get the position tbh. I would've been THE reason to look forward to Williams having nice things this year, but anyhow.

Now, the news I was waiting for most than any other. Mick Schumacher as the 3rd driver for Mercedes. Like this team can't be any more beautiful than it already is now. I felt so happy for Mick. Yes, he's out of the grid this season, but this is not the end. I know it. This is a fantastic chance in every way for him firstly because he's gonna get treated like family and with the respect he deserves, and because he's gonna learn so much in such an amazing environment with all the incredible people at Mercedes. I'm a fangirl, I know, but seriously, this setback couldn't have worked out better. Sexiest team on the grid, YES I'M SAYING IT.

Okay, now onto the topic that should've been on my page by last week 🤣 I was pretty excited about some of the car launches this year, and to my surprises I liked quite a few cars' liveries. This year some teams have stepped up on the livery designs, so there' s a few sexy car rolling around.

I loved 4 cars especially, because some were just a copy of their 2022 counterparts and meh. RedBull and McLaren for instance... Nothing new. Nothing to add. But the 1st of the ones I liked the most was Alfa Romeo. Whoa. That change from the white to the black. The combination with the red. Chef's kiss. Really cool stuff.

The Aston Martin is one of those cars maintaining last year's livery design (or at least that's what my mind is remembering/thinking at the moment), BUT. The AM is a sexy fucking car, let me tell you. That green is stunning year after year. No need to change it, I love it.

The we got Ferrari. First of, that launch was fantastic from the Tifosi right there to the test on track with Carlos and Charles talking to each other on the radio. And that car. Oh my. That car was the Valentine's gift to us all, in all of it's glory. I was so happy honestly. Plus, Carlos and Charles' interaction on the radio was truly the best part, they're such idiots. I love them.

Finally, the day I was waiting for, the Mercedes launch. We all know how much expectation was weighing in on this. I think I speak for all of us when I say we NEEDED that car to have a black livery. I mean, the W13 was an ugly thing, honestly. I hate to say it, but it was. Its power was lost along with the black livery from 2021. And Mercedes after hinting endlessly for days, delivered. The W14 is a thing of beauty. It just needs to give us our hope back. We need it to be the W11 2.0.

After fangirling a little too much as always, and after being trying to write this thing for hours now (almost 2am and I'm still not done lol), it's finally come the time for testing those beasts and see what they're made of this year. I'll try to watch everything until they're done before giving my opinion on it, see the possibilities of the season.

It's good to be back, honestly.

[leqclerc]

I honestly don't give a shit about Carlos and I have a distaste for him overall, because of his associated with right wing politics family and they just have overall bad vibes, like they're hunters, spanish, etc. Saying that, I don't understand why so many are angry at ferrari for asking to review his penalty, even if it doesn't change anything, I don't think this will hurt any other part of ferrari, like it's not like "focusing" on this means they're not focusing on other stuff, they have enough people and money. low key think a lot of people are just upset because if he gets the points he will be even further on front of charles on the chanpionship. and I get it, because I hate seeing him on front when he doesn't deserve and charles should be on front if it wasn't for that dnf/penalty, but idk complaining about reviewing it's not gonna change that and it just makes charles fans look jealous. I'm half preparing myself for a 2021 repetition because charles lack of luck seems worse this year and it doesn't seem like the car can win races, so it will be harder for him to pass Carlos.

I think the problem is it's not a given that he'll get those points back. From the articles I've seen it sounds like the FIA could bin their appeal if they find their argumentation/evidence presented warrants re-opening the case. The way Fred spoke about the case it feels like the point is more about "reopening the discussion" rather than them being confident they'll get those points back. As others have pointed out, it's also possible that the FIA will look at their arguments re: penalty inconsistencies and penalise Pierre and/or Logan, while Carlos's own penalty will still stand.

As someone on Twitter put it, the whole thing is a really contested deserved penalty case. At the end of the day Carlos was careless on the restart and hit Alonso. He was found to be at fault for the move. Even if the other two, or at least one of the other drivers, also gets a penalty, that doesn't mean Carlos's should or will be removed, necessarily.

The season is long and I'm sure Charles will have plenty of chances to catch up, closing the gap to Carlos at least, if Ferrari doesn't manage to match Aston/Merc even with the upgrades. I'm not really holding my breath for any race wins - hell, with the state they're currently in and looking at their closest competitors the lowest step of the podium would already be a massive success, which 🙃 But it's totally possible for him to consistently rack up points.

[someone-worth-racing-for]

you know what? im so done with this. every single race that carlos proves himself to be one of the best drivers on the grid people go saying it was just pure luck. they keep on hating and hating on him. honestly i cant even imagine the pain carlos goes through with those dnfs. the car is unreliable. and on top of that he has to deal with "ferrari fans" talking sh*t about him (excuse my language). it breaks my heart. he deserves all the happiness in the world. im glad he's doing okay after the fire today.

I already have that ask a few days in my inbox - I hope you are already feeling better, anon?!

The only advice I can give you (and I know you actually know so yourself and it's probably also not the best thing to say in such a situation, but..) is to not listen to those people. Try to stay away from them, unfollow/block accounts that make you feel this way, filter certain hashtags so you don't even see that stuff. There will just always be haters, no matter what you do someone will always not like it. It's just impossible to please everyone. Just let people talk if they don't have better things to do in their lives! And take their behavior as bad example for what kind of person you never want to become.

When it comes to Carlos, I'm actually sure you don't have to worry about him, because he probably doesn't even see the hate. Of course he is aware about it, but he probably doesn't even have the time to read those comments or worry about them.

Of course those DNFs are very frustrating, but it's sadly also part of racing as well. You also can't change that, you can only make the best out of it, learn from it and come back stronger. After every storm comes sunshine again. It was maybe a bad day, but definitely not a bad career/life.

I'm sure Carlos actually gets a lot of support and love. From the team, his family, his friends, his true fans. He knows he is loved by so many.

And the most important thing last Sunday was indeed that he was safe and nothing has happened to him. Even tho the DNF hurts, but we are talking about a life here. So it's okay as long as he is still breathing and alright.

I really hope you are already feeling better again, anon ❤️ Just don't let those things too close to your heart, even tho I know it's not always that easy.. Stay safe!

[julietasgf]

About the ocs:

So I know nothing about formula 1 but that has never stopped me before (one of my favorite books talks about cricket and I only know vague things about cricket after reading it a million times) JAJSJSHS 😳

We only met two boys but im kinda into them, could I meet the others? Generational drama so intense is a great plot and I had many questions: The journalist has a name? Why are they interested in these stories? Will they talk to Ale and Rodri? 👀

The moodboards are gorgeous and I'm curious what the boys will look like.

Ale- alejandrooo sounds adorable and my god he funded Rodrigo's career in certain way. I don't know what happened between the two of them that ended so badly but ever since I read that part I knew something fucked up was going to happen in some moment eh. It's the kind of thing that foreshadows tense moments.

Rodrigo is horrible. He's the temperamental type who craves companionship and care but will refuse to openly accept it? Because that sounds awesome. Sounds like he may be my favorite <3

Pd: so you like Dune too? Because im shaking over that movie. Chani my love-

KSLSKSLSK I'm actually just like you regarding this 😭 I'm in LOVE with anything regarding sports (series, movies, books), and this is coming from comeone who isn't able to kick a ball for their life (also, please, tell me the name of the book 🙏 I also don't know much about cricket BUT I've watched an indian movie about it once and it was SOOO GOOD). and plus, formula 1 is just the PERFECT sport for a fiction story, it's naturally full of drama and tragic stories, I'm actually surprised it's not more common for sports books and stuff.

sureeeee I'm actually excited to talk about the other two bc I love them so much (I'm going to talk only abt other two, even tho there are another two let, but it's bc I'm too scared to be annoying 😭). but before, about the journalist: yessss her name is vienna morello!! I haven't developed much about her bc I've focused on the racers, but vienna grew up in maranello, in italy, and her familly is very involved with the auto racing scene. her mama is an engineer, a famous one at that and that worked with winning teams, and her father was a racer (not a very succesful one, but still a racer). so when vienna decided to go into a path that was so different from the expected, her mama was... disappointed, to say at least, specially after she tried so hard to push vienna into go-karts when vienna was a kid. vienna struggles to find a job because most of the magazines and newspapers she wanted to work at didn't want to be involved with any drama because of vienna's background, and she only found a job at a sports maganize. not her dream job, okay, but it's already something! but the thing is, the magazine hired her because of her background, because of course she has contacts in the formula 1 scene. they want her to write a big article about formula 1 legends and interview some of them. vienna is not glad about it, but the more she researchs about the subject, the more she understands it's a rabbit hole. and yessss she'll talk to alejandro, who's now on his 70s!! but about rodri... oh, well... you know, formula 1 is a very dangerous sport...

(rodrigo died in the 90s during a violent and horrible crash, shortly after making amends with alejandro. this incident damaged alejandro emotionally for the rest of his life. he tried to race for two years, but... he just wasn't able to. he retired and in the 2000s, became a team principal, but alejandro really isn't the same anymore.)

BUT OKAY let's talk about the 2000s duo, my problematic favs:

andrea kaddari is an italian-moroccan driver. andrea was born in italy from moroccan parents in a low-middle class family. he loved racing since he was a kid, that boy grew up watching alejandro velez race for ferrari and it was his dream. his parents were very supportive of his dreams (it's also worth saying andrea is a mama's boy) and always encouraged him to seek it. but for you to try to seek a future in formula 1, you need a lot of money, and andrea's parents made a lot of sacrifices, including selling the family's car to get him to be able to compete in the junior categories. andrea felt extremely guilty for this, so he does EVERYTHING to pay off the effort his parents put into him; he's terrified of disappointing them and being a failure after everything. but andrea is actually able to get sponsors, because he's not only a good driver, but a very charismatic one. he's funny, is always cracking jokes with journalists, and he's just that kind of guy who everyone likes. also, he's very handsome and a flirt, so it's not unusual for him to be involved with different people. andrea gets a seat in formula 1 in a team with a bad performing car, but still, he's able to get points in this car and even win some races; it catches the attention of the ferrari team principal (ahem... a certain alejandro velez) and now, andrea is ready to achieve his biggest dream: be a ferrari driver. but ferrari also signed with another new driver to be his teammate, kimi eriksen... and even though andrea tries his best to be nice and friendly to kimi, they definitely don't get along, and andrea feels nothing but despair seeing how kimi performs in the race track. he can't believe that after everything his parents have done for him, he got so far just to not be able to give his best because his younger teammate is outshining him. it feels unreal.

kimi eriksen is a danish driver. kimi was born in denmark and he's from an extremely wealthy family. actually, most people don't know a lot from kimi's past. he's extremely reserved and in the interviews, he cuts off anyone who tries to ask about his parents. there are plenty of theories regarding him and his background. people don't know about it, but kimi has a horrible relationship with his parents, and they have a deal regarding his racing: once he wins a world championship, he has to go back home and perform his duties and what's expected from him. that's all I'm going to say, but kimi has some secrets. he kinda emerged from nothing and no young driver really remembers him from the junior categories, so kimi is pretty much a mystery, including to andrea. but it doesn't matter how much of a mystery he is, because he is BRILLIANT. his racing is insane. he's a strategist, he's fast, he's not scared to put his life at risk. some people go as far as to call kimi a genius regarding it. even though he's definitely not the nicest driver around, he wins races, and wins a lot of them. kimi is very serious and chill on the race track, he's professional and keeps his head cool. but he's also very arrogant. he doesn't like listening to others and he WILL insult you and your family line if you dare saying he's wrong. his dynamic with andrea is so funny because he thinks andrea is insufferable and he has 0 tolerance to his jokes 😭 even though kimi is talented, he has concerning problems with substance abuse as an unhealthy coping mechanism. he'll drink and use other things until he can barely stand, and then skip training because of how much he's throwing up. even though him and andrea aren't friends... andrea can't help but feel concerned about kimi. it's not fun when andrea wins races, but he knows he won them because kimi was so high he could barely speak in the radio.

aaaaaaaaa tysm <33 I'm so glad you enjoyed the moodboards 🥹 I already have in my head how they look like, but most of the designs I made for them are in my sketchbook, maybe I'll try to draw them on my computer these days :')

alejandro is a dork, he's so in love with rodrigo it's actually embarassing how head over heels he is 😭 his biggest problem is being too self-centered. that's what really made things fall out with rodri, he didn't listen; he thought rodrigo should be fine with being pushed aside and living in his shadow, after all, alejandro did everything for him, why couldn't rodrigo be fine with being neglected by the team? that makes things even more sadder. that wasn't an enemy, it was someone alejandro loved.

(since I'm not able to hold back and not tell everything about them, rodrigo was getting pissed off because of how neglected he was by the team... and by alejandro, too. he tried to talk about it, tried to talk to alejandro, but every single time alejandro would try to change the subject. and rodrigo was getting more and more hurt. then one day, during a race, the team told rodrigo to let alejandro pass him on the track so alejandro could get points, and rodrigo said HELL NO, he was faster that day, he was performing better. so when ale tried to pass him, rodrigo threw the car on alejandro and they crashed, so none of them finished the race. after that, they had a big, nasty fight, and rodrigo signed with another team. so, yeah. it was pretty bad. alejandro never felt so betrayed in his whole life.)

rodrigo is the devil, you pretty much sumed him 😭 he feels lonely and wants people around him, and he adores alejandro as much as alejandro adores him. but he's too stubborn, and too temperamental, and he makes too many bad decisions. he's pretty much that audio "I'm not a violent dog, I don't know why I bite".

AND YESSSSSS I LOVE DUNE, I've never read the book (I REALLY want to, but the book is too expensive, and particularly I can't handle reading big books on epub, but one day I'll be able to get it), but I fell in love with the first movie, the worldbuilding is amazing, the visuals are GORGEOUS and it just really gave me game of thrones vibes... and game of thrones is my favorite book series/tv series, so, yeah, I was HOOKED. I watched the part 2 wednesday, and OH. MY. GOD. IT WAS SO GOOOOOOOOD. let me tell you, I was so in love with chani 😭 going to be very honest here: I liked paul until, like, when it was close to the end. I was there rooting for him, enjoying his development, but when it came to that scene with him talking to the emperor's daughter about marrying her and he did that IN FRONT OF CHANI...... it was so over for me, I was SO PISSED OFF, wanted grab that man by the throat (why is it always the white twinks..... why....). but anyways, to wrap it up, I just loved it so much <3 I really can't wait for a part 3 (because, to me, it really felt like they left the ending open for it).

(also, tysm for asking abt my ocs <33)

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝

first part (𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬)

plot: the night, when everything changes —but the road is still long for max. word count: 4.515k (so that's what is took so long hehe) warnings: victoria is the best sister ever, swear words, max worrying too much, depeche mode song references, small steamy part (it's reall short tho), if i let out something, let me know uwu

i hope you'll love it >3<

✿

max was glad that they had two weeks to the next grand prix,

yet, he never, ever felt so alone in his life like now.

he was never alone for a single minute of his life; being a formula-1 driver made a whole group to jump around him constantly, interviewers, his friends and his family were even almost in a reach out —and when y/n came to the team, they talked for a year before she got into formula-1. max and y/n knew each other, making a good friendship inside and out of the team, y/n could spice up things in the team videos, but like, in a non-sexual way —maybe that's why max's fans didn't want to slice her throat immediately every time when a video came out. the team loved y/n, she not only just filled the emptiness after daniel so quickly, but she added something —something he couldn't name, something that just existed. it was a feeling what he felt like he had a sixth sense, but instead of fear or some concern, he felt complete, he felt that somehow, everything's gonna be alright.

y/n was the red bull's sixth sense, and his best friend.

until now, because max didn't know how y/n is. they didn't interact in two weeks, but what was really, really near is an awarding ceremony, where christian and his two driver is invited —which means, there's no sedation for the youn driver, for neither young driver. when max got the news late at night, coming home from a head-out with the boys before he headed back to netherlands, his home —charles left out, and he couldn't blame him. he wanted the ferrari driver to talk with y/n, but it was miserable, how he asked a third person to intervene into their thing... not to mention that they were best friends, best friends, for hell's sake! what a dick move would it be, and he perfectly knew that not only he could be dissappointed in himself, but y/n too. and y/n didn't do anything, it was him. so, getting the news, he wanted to text her, but then he saw the last message he got from her.

y/n y/l/n — may 22, sunday of course i'm gonna be by your side! we're best friends, have you forgot, maxie?

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯, 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥

it was one and a half week ago —he felt himself the shittiest friend ever. dropping the phone into the other corner of the bed, he pulled the covers on his head, huffing. why did he say those things? why he couldn't just shut up, and keep everything to himself like every other time? he wasn't an open man, he didn't like the flashlight, he didn't like to see the stuff he said in the media, on instagram profiles and digital news —he shared his personal things, the things he cherished with the ones who where close to him... with his family, his friends, y/n, his... his y/n. y/n never bragged to anyone, he knew his secrets are safe if he said them to her, he saw it in her eyes the understanding when he told her about his insecureness with his father, with his career, with all the massive stress, and he could see it in y/n's eyes, that nobody who is unwarranted in this case will hear about his worries —y/n's eyes talked; she told him that he can trust her, only with her eyes. but now, those yes were far away from him, and he didn't know he can look into those eyes without shame. and best friends? what best friends now? y/n wasn't a dramatic person, but he would totally understand if charles became her best friend, or literally, anyone else instead of him —in his head, he even imagined how he recommends anybody else for the place 'best friend', stepping down from the 'podium' —was that idiocy? of course.

did max feel himself alone? of course.

turning to his side, he sighed. it wasn't good without her. out of a sudden, his door flinged open, he catched up his head on the action.

"are you awake, you big dumbass?"

max covered up himself, even though he wasn't naked, and wasn't even doing sinful or pervert things —but if he wanted to be honest, he was young, many times horny like an ordinary man, and he wasn't in a relationship for a reason (his relationship with y/n wasn't on the level what he wanted with her, but that was for another day), and now, he couldn't even deny that those things involved y/n in his imagination —yes, max wasn't a saint, and he felt bad when he looked into y/n's eyes... but it was too good to stop it. the images about her body haunted him, they often saw each other half naked, and picturing her in positions excited him. laying beside him, in his arms, stroking his waist with her heels as her legs caged him closer to her, holding one of his hands with her small, pretty one as she looked into his eyes, his other hand and his hips helping hers to move faster and deeper, it was only him who could hear how good she felt —he wasn't with a girl like y/n ever, because there weren't girls who comapred to her, but max was sure that she must feel incredible, if not less, heavenly.

"are you awake, huh?"

it was his sister, victoria. she came back to her parents since she wanted them to spend a little time with their grandchild, who was now with her husband,

"what the fuck are doing in here? and if i'm naked, then what?" he freaked out, only to have his sister rolling her eyes.

"we're not your silly fangirls, max, we don't scream, tear up and pass out if you come out without shirt." she bragged, she always had something to respond with. max layed back on the bed, running his hand through his hair.

"okay, then what do you want?"

"i want to know what's between you and y/n."

when max sat up again, and tried to send her to somewhere else, he realized his sister wants to help him —and maybe, now he needed some serious help. sighing, max looked everywhere but in his sister's eyes. he wanted to say how neglected, how shit he felt, how he wanted to make that night over and over again to not to say those things, or how he could prevent the accident... how he wanted to talk to her again, how he felt the same, strong regret and bitter taste in his mouth, under his tongue after he drove away to the airport... how cut away he felt from everything, because for him, things were complete when she was there, with him. that's why he knew he's gonna feel alone on the top of the podium, without her hug, without her reassuring touch and bright, curling dimples in the corner of her smile, that's why he fought nico, not because he is crazy, but because he was worried, so worried that something serious happened —and from that moment, y/n wouldn't be the same again, which wasn't a problem, beacuse he liked, loved her either way, but this silly mistake was enough to bring the lion out from him because of her...

but max only said this in his mind to his sister. he kept it to himself —y/n wasn't here to understand him like no one did.

"it's nothing."

victoria huffed, sitting down on the edge of his bed. she looked at him, with a little, faint shine of worry in her eyes —she knew that max and y/n are best friends, and trusting his maternal, sister and woman senses, she maybe guessed that max felt something more. she never said it, and for max, this was completely okay.

"listen, max, i'm not going to read the riot to you, not even playing the moral high ground, but talking to you, as a woman to a man, or as a sister to a brother, i see that something isn't alright. and, not because i saw your outburst, i know how you are, but seeing that you don't have the spirit to do anything, not bringing here y/n when there's a quite long break between two race, even a winning award, where the two of you go together... it's not like the two of yu act, and since i don't want to be the gossiping one, and i am not involved in this, but i'm truly worried about you, please, just tell me what's going on."

that was longer than he expected, he couldn't blame her —dragging around himself, groaning and being silent wasn't his form. at least it wasn't his mom, or even worse, his dad, jos who came to talk to him —his dad may just make things more terrible, they never talked about his love life, especially not with y/n, and maybe he didn't even want him to gain more feelings towards her than a friendship. but where should he begin? and what should he say, what's the point in this fucked up situation? sighing, max sat up, leaning his back on the head of his bed, fiddling with his fingers.

"can i be direct and honest?"

his sister's eye softened while she nodded.

"you're always direct and honest, maxie. just tell me."

max huffed.

"i think i'm in love with her."

his sister tried to hide her thoughts —he could read from her face what she often did in their younger years, that 'she always knew it', and 'he just doesn't admit to himself'. but now, victoria was silent, because that was max's most top secret. max was like a time bomb when it came to his heart's stuff —nobody never knew, or even could guess when he explodes or shuts down about them, even max didn't know where were the boundaries of his stuff.

"do you think so?"

max shook his head, leaving her confused for a moment.

"no, i know i am. i realized it like, two or three days ago? yeah... i always felt beside y/n something vibrant, or, when you just want to be closer to the other. but i refused to tell her, because i don't want to be out from her life..."

sometimes max thought very low about himself, when it came to y/n, the choking, lung-pressing feeling multiplied —seeing her living the time of her life with other guys, even if they were just her friends, or even charles, other celebrities who just came up her because she was pretty, famous or rich —made himself think when she always went back to max and his group, but mainly him, 'who i am to those guys? how is she still staying by my side, when they're much more funny, handsome and can express their feelings for her?'. everytime he thought about teeling his feelings to her, he already watched the whole scene unfolding: seeing her drawing off from him, searching for a much more handsome, much more funny and much more sensitive guy, who can give her everything.

"...but when daniel just told those things, about her, i felt like i need to stand up for her, i couldn't hear any longer how they tease her just because she had a bad day, or for just who she is. and they never pay attention to her success, her achievements, they only bring her up if she blasts something, even if it's not her fault. you know, the feeling when something suffocates you?" victoria nodded, made him to continue. "on that night, i felt that i need to free myself from that feeling. that's why i said those things."

"and why didn't you tell her before you freaked out? not to say bad, but you looked like a mad man, a really mad man. except me."

"what do you mean by 'except you'?"

victoria gave him the smile, that 'i am your sister and i know everything about you, you silly dumbass'-smile, but he couldn't blame her —at some point, when he said things to y/n or did things to her that crossed the line of their friendship into something more, he sweared to himself to never do it again —otherwise, she would find out.

"i mean, that i saw how you act with her. sure, you treat people you only like with kindness, but when she slept once, or twice here, you always looked after her reactions, trying to make everything perfect, keeping us away from her... but i can get it, our family has a reputation, so i don't blame you." she giggled, easing max's worry. "and why don't you tell to her how you feel? after this, i'm sure she doesn't know what to say, or do. you fucked it up, but it doesn't mean that you lost everything. you have the chance to say the first word after this, and i know you can make it right."

max sighed.

"can't i wait for the awarding thing?"

victoria scrunched her nose, shaking her head.

"with that, you communicate that you don't care about the whole situation. girls are shy when it comes to things like this, but knowing her, y/n wouldn't turn you down if you wanted to talk. just be calm, and everything will be fine, oh, and the most important thing!"

"what, what's the most important thing?" max was thankful to his sister, without her, he would procrastinate until the night they met again, messing things up more and more.

"to be yourself. to be direct and honest."

after this and a couple more of minutes, victoria exited the room, closing the door when she got a phone call from her husband —max reached for his phone, calming down his racing heart, trying to get out something sensible from his still messed up thoughts.

maxie super max!! >3< (the name was obviously set by y/n) hey, could we talk on the award night?

it wasn't the best, but he trusted his luck —and that y/n doesn't thinks he's crazy, or in love with her, before he could tell him personally.

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦, 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥? 𝘰𝘩, 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭

✿

the night came faster than he thought.

poking his necktie, smoothing the black suit for the hundredth time, max felt his heart's gonna break out from his chest. glancing to his phone constantly, trying to think about how he's gonna make the whole conversation with success —in the days, he discovered that talking about his feelings is thousand times more complicated than winning a grand prix or a world championship. he even wrote down things he wanted to say, but every piece of paper, every note in his phone got into the bin in a matter of minutes or hours; reading it back again and again, every word, every sentence seemed pathetic and finicking, like he studied his loquence like a good student.

"max, are you ready?" tom, his personal trainer peeked into the room, finding him in fron of the mirror. "usually, you don't spend so much time in fron of the mirror, mate. is something the matter?"

is confessing our feeling to our best friend, and telling them how we felt through years, how we find them the most wonderful, most perfect person in the world and how we can't say a word about how we feel because we are too shy and miserable when it comes to our feelings can be 'something'? because if yes, then yeah, something is the matter.

"no, it's nothing, tom, it's alrigth." but don't forget if we are the best at hiding our feelings, then nobody never will found out what we're into.

"okay, 'cause the cab is here."

standing at the entrance of the building of the ceremony, beside the shiny road of big, fancy cars that brought more and more famous people, max stated a fact, that the awarding ceremony was one of a hell for the peaceful conversation max wanted with y/n. and yet, he didn't even met her —god, she's gonna be breathtaking, isn't she?

"is y/n here already?"

"no, rowan and she is late for five minutes. you know, women..." max swallowed, remembering everything on that ominous grand prix.

"yeah, women..."

"as long as we wait, we should walk to christian. y/n as rowan's gonna go there too if they're here."

max followed tom; this night is gonna be long. trying to talk to some of other sportsmen, he heard a couple of gasps, and mutters.

"oh my god, is that y/n, the first woman formula-1 driver in the world?"

"yeah, she is!"

"she's so gorgeous, did you look at her dress and her makeup?"

"she's like a godddess!"

"no, she looks like a queen or a fairy... so beautiful."

max was scared to turn —he didn't want to fall in love her again and again, but tom tapped his shoulder.

"i think the wait is worth it."

yes, it really was —and he fell in love again.

getting out of the car, he wanted to be the one who helps her by holding gently her hand, not to mention what a sight was too see y/n... the flowy, ankle-length dress' little gems glowed in the flashlights, the see-through layer on top of the pearl-white silk dress twirled around her thin form as she looked around, giving the perfect sights of her appearence —her skin was clear, the black, thick mid-heels (victoria could call them mary janes or something) made her ankles and legs look more pretty, the thin straps of the dress showed her collarbones and lean arms, her clear makeup were the cherry on the top —y/n's stylist wanted her to be innocent, not like a virgin, but like clean sheets on the bed tat didn't know the previous story of the bed they got made up to. her silky hair flowed after her with every move of her head, she and her stylist let it down, not a strap, not a hairband, even a clip, nothing. y/n's hair was perfect —she was heavenly, she was so pure.

max felt it again, the feeling of falling in love —getting numb in his arms, his legs, yet his heart turned into a godspeed mode, getting his mouth and mind dry.

"hey, guys", rowan said from her side, y/n coming after him, waved a little bit.

"hello, tom. hi, maxie."

maxie —maybe she forgot his riot. maybe there's still hope.

"good evening, y/n."

they spoke like familiars, not like best friends —he got to act fast, before the chance slips away. standing beside her to go to the cameramen, the photoshoots of the media, judging by the glances of others, y/n and him looked really good —maybe together too.

"are you nervous?" y/n asked, glancing up to max. even if she was a little taller given by the heels, the height difference was significant between them —anothe thing he and the fans adored, who screamed when they saw the drivers together.

"a little bit, and you?"

"i just want it to be over", y/n said, while she clinged with her slender, tender arm to one of his strong, suited one, like she wanted to seek comfort from him. max's hand shook as he stroked y/n's arms, please don't let this move to be a confessing one, he prayed in himself. she whispered something to him before they step out into the flashlights. "i want to hear what you want to say. i have to say something too."

𝘷𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦, 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘢𝘭

in front of the cameras, max wished they taked way before the ceremony —if all his dreams came true by now, he wouldjus wrap his arms around her smelling her hair while easing his uncomfiness, and the media would forget everything by now. or, the other and fatal way of the outcomes, they would just separate after the pictures —his own doubts killed him inside, while y/n looked so peaceful beside him.

after the photoshoot and the whole procedure, the party began —instead of drinking and forgetting the weeks' actions, max decided it was time to clarify things. searching for y/n, rwan said him she went to the toilet, he just messaged her to come to the balcony where they could be a little bit alone, beside everybody who where too drunk or smoked to realize the serious things he wanted to tell her. walking outside, he took a glass of champagne; he knew he's going to need it.

waiting outside, every opening and closing door got his breath hitch in his throat, searching or the right words, but when he saw y/n, somehow he got collected —y/n smiled at him, and she was still glowing, still perfect.

"hey, maxie. sorry for the wait, the line in the women restroom was fuking long, i supposed to be going out under the ceremony, but it was just good to... to be in your presence, again. fuck, sorry that i tell you this, it's awkward."

max shook his head, but the beating in his thorat almost got out every word he waited to reveal.

"it's fine, ceremonies are shitty, but that's why i wanted to talk with you. about... about us."

y/n's smile didn't falter, she was tipsy for sure, stepping beside him, letting their arms touch, leaning onto the barrier. "that message was so strange from you, max. i got scared for the first time for real in many years in our friendship. when i read that you want to talk, i thought... i don't know what i thought, but no good things came to my mind." she bragged, max noticed the unertainty in her eyes despite her smile. it was his turn to talk.

"i know i had to write more, or call you, but i wasn't able to. i couldn't find the right words."

"you don't have to say the right words. i know you, i know what you mean and what you don't, we're best friends, fuck, maxie... you scared me when you said nothing, because i felt you say nothing because you don't want to."

his heart was heavy —he felt like he's gonna cry, but he didn't know why. y/n stated facts, but on the other hands, she thought he doesn't want her —he never wanted her think this.

"i'm sorry, y/n. i just... fuck, why is this so hard? you're so cool, so pretty, you help me even if you're not aware of it, you're perfect, y/n. you're perfect for me, and when i lashed out, i was scared that you know that i feel towards you. and if you know it, you're not gonna stay by my side."

y/n grew concerned.

"why do you think that i'm not gonna be by your side, maxie?"

max groaned, wiping his face, fingers running through his hair. his body was heavy, he felt so tired, he couldn' carry the weight any longer —it was time for it.

𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦

"can i be direct and honest?"

the girl beside him nodded.

"just tell me what's worrying you, max."

"it's because i fucking love you, i'm in love with you. i don't know how long, i don't know how, but that's it. i see how perfect you are, how you grow more powerful, more confident every day, y/n, how you glow not just on the races but when we're together. i'm scared if you gonna outgrow me, and that you'll find someone who you think is gonna love you better than me, how you will find someone more handsome, more better than words, more... more better for you." he didn't even notice the tear his eyes let out. "i know i'm miserable now, but that's the only way how i can directly say i love you. and i don't want you to let me go, but i can't do anything."

y/n stood still for a couple of minutes, looking deeply into his eyes.

"i'm sorry i let you fee this for so long, maxie. but i can understand why you felt that way, because..."

the pause was so long —because i found someone, because i only think about you as a friend, because i knew you feel this way, i just wanted to give you fake hope, because you really are miserable, because...

"...i couldn't express how i love you neither."

max's glance shot up, right into her eyes —they were honest as always. was this a dream?

"i think i see you how you see me. i am worried for you, i want to go back to the times when i met you, sometimes i wish i could perform better in front of you, just to be sure i still interest you, but then i know i couldn't keep up my mask with you, if we're together like, in ninety percent of time. and in the last couple of days, i was scared that you want to talk to me because you got enough of me, or you found someone, someone who's not me."

"'i could never find anybody who's not you, y/n."

max whispered, brushing her shoulder —it was agonizing what they triggered out from the other. their outsides was like cages, and the insides anted to break out from the beginning, like smoke and spirits wo wanted to intertwine, to be bound together.

"me neither, maxie. i think i'm in love with you, since i knew the little boy in the red bull academy."

everything was so silent, and the ceremony long forgotten —or max, it was just him and y/n. it was always just y/n, his y/n.

"can i kiss you how i always wanted?" he croaked out, brushing his nose against hers as she cut up his lower lip with hers,

"if you don't, i'm gonna cry, maxie."

that kiss was more than anything —years of waiting, years of yearning for each other, years of unconditional love, years of hope and tears, years of sleepless nights and euphoric stands on the podium, thousand of doubts, but in the end, it was just pure love —y/n's lips were salvation, the only one that assuaged his hunger, his soul.

breaking the kiss, hugging her stronger than ever, touching the soft, naked skin on her back with his hands, he never wanted anything more than this —and now, it was in his hands.

"i don't care what you say if you kiss me like this. i know you. now i know everything." y/n said, kissing his jaw, laying her head on his chest, turning to the city lights that shined under them. max turned to the sight too, like he owned the whole world, concepts, sentences and silly words long forgotten.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦,

𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴.

taglist: @chiogarza @how-am-i-serpose-to-know @smiithys @sharmaine25 (hope i didn't left out anybody)

[nikethestatue]

La Dolce Vita

Summary: Elain Archeron and Azriel - in love, in lust, in Italy

Modern AU *slight TOG crossover. If you read my stuff, you know it’s LONG

Warnings: bad language and THIS IS NSFW (not kidding, this is a story, not just sex, but there is a LOT of explicit material here. You can still read the story, but if you are sensitive or underage, skip the naughty bits)

Comments are always appreciated/wanted/needed. Anon or not, just do it! Obviously, reblogs are appreciated. 

Part I (Flowers)

 La Vie En Rose

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens (Of the man to whom I belong)  Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle l'a tout bas (He speaks to me softly) Je vois la vie en rose (And I see life in pink) Il me dit des mots d'amour (He speaks words of love to me) Des mots de tous les jours (They are every day words) Et ça m' fait quelque chose (And they do something to me) Il est entré dans mon coeur (He has entered into my heart) Une part de bonheur (A bit of happiness) Dont je connais la cause (That I know the cause of) C'est lui pour moi (It's only him for me) Moi pour lui dans la vie (And me for him, for life)

Now

Riding in a Ferrari, being enveloped in its supple, buttery leather, gulping in the cypress and cedar-scented air of Tuscany was everything that Elain Archeron had ever wanted. She never knew that this is what she wanted, because riding in very fast, very expensive, sleek Italian cars wasn’t on her ‘fantasy radar’, but now that she was in one, she suddenly came to the realization that this was perhaps one of the best experiences of her life.

The whole thing, so far, has been the best experience of her life.

Well…maybe not the best-best.

Her happiness was deeply intertwined with and caused by the man in the driver seat of the said Ferrari—Azriel. Azriel Archeron, as he loved calling himself. Even if this wasn’t his last name, he preferred using it over his family name, for a variety of personal reasons. There was nothing better, more sublime, more beautiful and more loving than Azriel. The perfect male specimen, if she could say so herself. No one would argue with her assessment either.

Elain

 They were introduced by her sister’s then-boyfriend Cass, who was giving her a lift one afternoon, and then suggested that they stop by Azriel’s car atelier, because he needed to pick something up.

Elain’s heard of the mysterious Azriel from her sisters, both of whom had claimed that he was the most handsome man that either one of them had ever seen. Elain chuckled at the exuberant praise, doubting its truthfulness. There was no such thing as the ‘most handsome’ man. Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder.

She wasn’t sure what a car atelier was, and when Cassian pulled up to a modern-looking building, she said that she’d stay in the car and wait.

“Come on, petal, don’t be shy,” Cassian urged her, holding the car door open for her in a way that indicated that she’d have to get out and follow him.

They entered the foyer, a vast space with racing stripes painted on the polished cement floor, and a sea of model cars dropping from the ceiling. Behind a wall of glass, Elain spied a row of gorgeous cars, none of which were familiar to her. Some unique European models, fit for James Bond’s consumption. There were also neat antique cars, probably from the 50s. She immediately had visions of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant riding in one of these along the Riviera coast.

“What’s this place?” she inquired, looking around at the mid-century modern building that resembled a spaceship.

“This is Az’s baby,” Cass explained vaguely. “Conceived, conceptualized, restored, outfitted—all by the brilliant mind of one Azriel Bagarat.”

“Are you bragging?”

A deep, sensual voice, that could only be called ‘midnight’ sounded behind them, and Cassian’s handsome, tanned face broke in a mischievous smile. “Only about you, brother!”

When Elain turned around, her breath was knocked out from her lungs.

She didn’t know that it was possible, to be actually stunned by someone’s beauty, but there she stood, gaping, feeling the world slow and move in a different manner for a few moments.

Standing at a towering 6”4 or so, the man was at least as tall as Cassian, and Cassian was the tallest man Elain’d ever met. She was just as muscular, but not as bulky. Clad in all black, from expensive, well-tailored Diesel jeans, to a soft t-shirt that stretched over his sharply cut torso, emphasizing the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders, and the narrow waist, true to her sisters’ word, this Azriel was simply exquisite.

Cassian draped his heavy arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward, just a bit, and said,

“Petal, say hello! This is my brother, Azriel. Az, this is my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, the one and only Elain Archeron.”

At the words ‘sister-in-law’ Elain whipped her head to Cassian, who grinned maniacally at her, nodding and answering her silent question.

“When? What are you talking about?” she exclaimed, Azriel momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean? You’ve only been seeing each other for like three months?!?”

“Baby girl, I don’t need three years to decide…Nes is Nes and she is the one for me.”

He shrugged with his usual ease, acting like they were discussing the weather or a good burger that he just ate.

“If Nes hears even a whiff of this, I will know it’s you, petal, and well, I am not sure what I will do,” he decided upon reflection, but then pleaded, “please, don’t tell her. This one,” he nodded towards Azriel, who was standing still, green eyes peeled to Elain, “I can trust. He hardly ever talks,”

“That’s because you talk for all of us,” noted Azriel with a smirk.

Elain chuckled, and turned back to face him.

He extended his hand to her, with an odd, tentative movement, and when she looked down, she saw old, mottled scars that covered his palm and part of his wrist and forearm. A vintage Patek Phillipe on his wrist.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, and he gave her a surprised look, unsure of what she was referring to.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet another Archeron sister,” he said with a soft smile, which made Elain lose her ability to speak for a good few moments, because she was finally able to take in that face that defied description. The sharp cheekbones and the mesmerizing amber and emerald eyes, almond-shaped and slanted hinted at a varied heritage, and unfairly, the man also possessed a perfect nose, and a full, sensuous mouth. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with skin of burnished bronze, which was so in contrast to his bright eyes and raven-black hair, cut in a fashionable undercut. The physique, as she already noted, quickly skimming over the body, matched the face.

“Yes, me too,” she said stupidly.

Graceful, like a courtier, he offered her his arm and said,

“Would you like me to show you around?”

She didn’t want to be impolite, though she suddenly felt sweaty and nervous, and completely out of her league. But she threaded her hand through his arm and lightly squeezed the firm, alarmingly thick bicep.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking him for, so she added, “yes, I’d love to see it.”

“Why haven’t we met?” he inquired, those green eyes watching her with such intensity that she felt almost undressed, bared under the gaze. It wasn’t unpleasant, because it wasn’t lascivious, and he didn’t strike her as someone who’d be disrespectful to women.

“I’ve been busy for the past half a year,” she explained.

“Doing what?”

They walked down the wide passage, past all the cars, which Azriel pointed out with a wave of his scarred hand, and dropped names like Pagani, BMW I8, Bugatti Divo, Bugatti Centodieci, Lamborghini Veneto, Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita and so forth. Elain might not have known a ton about cars, but she was not so unaware not to know that a Bugatti and a Lambo were expensive cars.

Cassian fell behind, gawking at the display.

“I was opening my own business,” Elain said, her head thrown back, looking at an entire toy racetrack mounted to the ceiling, with cars zooming by, and somehow, not falling on patrons’ heads.

“What sort of business?”

“Flowers,” she said absently, once they reached another space—a two story-restaurant, bar, and a patio outside as well.

“Flowers?”

“Oh, a flower shop,” she explained at last. Then muttered, awed, “this is really incredible!”

“A car enthusiast?” he smirked.

She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, her hand migrated from the crook of his arm to his hand, and now, they walked along the walls lined with Ferrari posters, memorabilia and expensive everything. Walking and holding hands.

“I wouldn’t call myself one,” she admitted, “but I find cars aesthetically pleasing…Never got to ride in anything fancier than a Mercedes or a Lexus,”

“Well, we should remedy that at once!” he decided easily and then said, “pick you up on Friday at seven?”

That sobered her up a bit and she turned to face him. They stopped at the long, chrome-lined bar, and he said, “An espresso?”

“Um,”

But before she could respond, he was behind the counter, playing with a very fancy coffee machine that required a PhD to operate with all the levers and hooks and buttons, and in a few minutes, he poured her a tiny cup of coffee, thick with natural foam, and heady with its enticing scent.

He chugged his own in one go and she followed him, gulping her espresso in two sips. It was better than anything she’d ever drunk in her life.

“Like a date?” she finally asked, truly confused by the offer.

“Would you like it to be a date?” he leaned on the bar, biceps flexing, his arms covered in tattoo sleeves that reached all the way to his fingers. They were quite beautiful, the tattoos, the placement and the design, and Elain recognized the style, since Cassian and Rhysand wore the same kinds of tattoos, if not so extensive.

“Did you draw these?” she asked bluntly, touching her finger to a thick snaking black line, which was shaded with cobalt.

He looked down, at her hand and his arm and nodded, following her finger with his eyes.

“I did. For the three of us. When we made Navy Seals,”

“You are a Seal, too?” she exclaimed.

He smiled and nodded, “Well, we all grew up in foster care—not all, Cass and I,”

“I heard,”

“Until Rhys’s parents adopted us. But we weren’t the…best of boys,” he chortled, “so to get our heads straight, we were sent to the Navy after school. We figured we’d only stay a bit, but we stayed for a while.”

“So, you are retired?”

“We are vets,”

“How old are you?” she blurted. Then blushed and said, “I am sorry. I am usually not so impolite,”

He laughed, “I figured. But that’s alright. I’ll tell you on Friday, though. If you don’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to her espresso cup, “but,”

“How about this—I take you on a drive in one of these fancy cars—and then you can brag to everyone that you’d driven in a,”

He paused and rubbed his chin,

“Any preference?”

“For what?”

“What car you’d like to go in?”

“I don’t know,”

“Throw something at me,” he urged, eyes glinting with feral delight.

Elain, blush deepening, finally said, “Do you have a Ferrari? I’ve always wanted to drive in a Ferrari.”

“Ahhh, a Ferrarista at heart!” he nodded with approval, folding his arms on his chest, “stick with the classic and the best. And yes, gorgeous, I do have a Ferrari or two.”

Gorgeous.

Azriel

The girl who’d arrived with Cassian, was not Nesta, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. The girl who’d arrived with Cassian was the most gorgeous creature that Azriel had ever seen. Gorgeous and completely unaware.

Women like her, if they were smart and cunning and ambitious, used their beauty for all things good and terrible. But this exquisite creature that Cassian was so blatantly hugging and teasing wasn’t one of those women. Azriel was all too familiar with the types—the maneaters, who hounded him like sharks. He was wealthy, and good-looking, and a decent person, if not exactly a saint. He hobnobbed with celebrities who came to order his cars, which he designed and outfitted based on their specifications and desires.

He was finnicky when it came to taste though. No matter how much rappers asked him to clad their Maybach in gold or some vapid Gucci print, no matter how many heiresses pouted and asked for a bubblegum or Barbie-pink Ferraris, he did not betray the essence and soul of the vehicle. Modify, define, sharpen, stylize—he did it all with precision and skill which was unparalleled. But Azriel Bagarat was known for rejecting even the juiciest of offers, if the request did not coincide with his aesthetic or the history of the car.

He was at his shop—that’s what he called it, though atelier sounded infinitely better and more expensive—that afternoon, knowing that Cassian was going to drop by and select a car for his grandiose proposal to Nesta. There was some concern that Cassian would not fit his 6”5 form into an Aston Martin or a Bentley, so they needed to make sure that the car was appropriate for the occasion and the occupant. Cass insisted on a British vehicle, feeling that Nesta would like something classic and timeless. So be it.

What Azriel did not expect to see that Tuesday afternoon was a girl--because he hesitated to call her a ‘woman’, since she looked so lovely and perfect and innocent--who took his breath away.

His breath had been taken away only once before, by Rhys’s cousin, who strolled like a ray of sunshine into their broken lives.

However, Morrigan chose Cassian. And then Cassian promptly impregnated her, causing a great discontent and strife between everyone. Morrigan, or rather Morgana d’Adda, though she anglicized her name, even if Morrigan d’Adda sounded funny, was just about disavowed by her family for tumbling, and being so stupid and blind as to get knocked up by a hulking nobody mulatto, as her father Keir called Cassian. Rather, sneered, at Cassian.

Even if Azriel didn’t impregnate anybody, he somehow got looped into the family bullshit and once he and Cassian turned 18, they were both shipped off to the navy. To the dismay of the entire Darling clan, Rhys followed them, tossing away his guaranteed admittance to Brown. An Ivy League school for rich stupid heirs. Only Rhys wasn’t stupid. Neither was Cassian a hulking nobody mulatto. And Azriel wasn’t just the ‘fucking weird kid, who might be a serial killer’. They served and they passed the insane Navy Seal training, and they proved themselves.

Nowadays, Cassian now ran security for the Darling conglomerate, while Rhys took over the reins when his father was killed in a car accident. Azriel found his own path, though the association with the Darling name certainly helped his exposure and in building relationships and meeting all the right people. And meeting all the women. The three brothers had gone through their share of wild times, but in the past 3 years, things began to calm down for them.

It began with Rhys meeting Feyre Archeron at an art gallery, where she was exhibiting some of her pieces. Azriel had tugged along with Rhys to see the exhibit, because Rhys was looking for some art for his new office, and he trusted Azriel’s taste and knowledge, and wanted a second pair of eyes.

Rhys followed Feyre like a dog throughout the evening—Azriel was there to witness the pathetic display—and then they ended up at a bar, doing shots and feeding Feyre virgin Cosmos, since she wasn’t even 21 yet. They went to some dance club, Azriel playing the third-wheel and ‘chaperone’, though by the end of the night, Rhys and Feyre disappeared together and weren’t heard from for the next three days.

… “What if he killed her?” proposed Cassian for 100th time, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Or what if she killed him?”

“I thought that I was the serial killer among the three of us,” drawled Azriel, sprawled on a sofa, watching a game. He wasn’t as concerned, having seen Rhys dripping with intense lust at the sight of the brown-haired teen. It was unusual, since at that time Rhys was almost 25, and Feyre only 19, and the three of them typically tried to avoid teenagers like the plague. But Rhysand Darling seemed genuinely enthralled.

“No, you are the guy with the sex dungeon,” corrected Cassian.

Azriel rolled his eyes, “serial killer with a sex dungeon, huh? Sounds like an interesting story. Alas, much as I’d like to, I don’t have a sex dungeon.”

“Aren’t you building one? In that new garage of yours?” Cassian shrugged.

“Only cars. No sex toys,” sighed Azriel, looking like that might have been an omission on his part.

“Gents, I think I am in love!” the door burst open and a wild-eyed Rhys appeared, his normally pristine hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed, wearing only a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Where the fuck were you for three days?” growled Cassian, showing considerable relief at the sight of his brother.

“Falling in love,” crooned Rhys, falling into a chair, a stupid, dazed look on his face.

“You look like Audrey Hepburn in ‘Sabrina’,” noted Azriel.

“I feel like Audrey Hepburn!” exclaimed Rhys. “She is perfect. Feyre is perfect.”

What the fuck? Mouthed Cassian in confusion.

“Feyre Darling,” whispered Rhys with delight, eyes closed, tasting the sound of the name on his tongue. “Feyre Archeron Darling. Or Feyre Darling Archeron?”

“You alright there, buddy?” Cassian frowned. “A little early to be talking last names?”

“She’ll be my wife,” announced Rhysand with his usually unwavering confidence.

And that was that.

Now, the ‘society wedding of the year’ was coming up in three months. Rhysand Darling and Feyre Archeron, the toast of the town, the power couple, the young and beautiful billionaires.

 Now, Azriel stood in front of the most stunning female he’d ever seen and for once, he felt like Rhys. His brain turned into a soupy mess, and he found himself tongue-tied and concentrating was suddenly difficult. He wanted to be a gracious host and a confident, formidable man, who had a reputation to uphold—though he wasn’t sure if Elain was aware of his reputation—but inside, he was a mess. All his insecurities, doubts and self-hate rose to the surface at once, and he hesitated to extend his hand in greeting to her. His mangled, horrible, revolting hand, which was sullied beyond its extensive scars. A hand that killed, and touched way too women, some of whom he probably shouldn’t have been touching at all.

“Beautiful,” she murmured softly, that gorgeous blush spreading over her rose-petal cheeks.

He was so taken aback by the comment, he was nearly flabbergasted when she didn’t pull away, didn’t frown or grimace in disgust, didn’t display any of the usual signs of revulsion that most women did when they saw his hands. Perhaps it was the Patek Phillipe, he tried to convince himself, but deep down he knew—she called his scars ‘beautiful’.

And then she took his arm, her hand strong, surprisingly calloused, if light, and small.

And from that moment on, Azriel became obsessed with that touch.

His body heated and as he led her to the bar, and showed her around his pride and joy, watching for the subtle reactions, for the gleam of wonder and appreciation in her eyes, he couldn’t release…wouldn’t release her hand from his. She asked questions, took in all the memorabilia and gawked at the cars, and then the guest area, and finally, when he sat her down at the bar and made her a coffee, he stepped closer. Trying not to scare her, or seem obnoxious, he couldn’t help invading her personal space, and stood next to her, pretending to take interest in his drink, while hoping that her arm would brush against his own. Skin to skin.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t shy away.

He didn’t expect himself to ask her on what amounted to a date, because he wasn’t even sure how dates worked. His usual ammo consisted of a brief introduction, an even quicker seduction and then a hook up. That’s how he liked it. He preferred no-strings-attached approach to his involvement with women, and it’s been working rather well for him. He never had to sleep with anyone in the same bed, he never had to make anyone breakfast, there was no room for idle chitchat, and usually no second or third dates. It was so easy.

This fucking girl, with her caramel-brown eyes, her golden-amber curls, her soft lips and that damn blush on her cheeks—she was driving him veritably insane with her unique mix of immaculate beauty and a friendly, almost naïve, strangely innocent disposition. And he wanted to go on a date with her. Without an ulterior motive, because at it stood right now, he didn’t care to even get her in bed. That would come later. He was absolutely determined to have this happen later. But…later.

Cassian

“Alrighty, I think I am going with the Bentley,” Cassian sidled to the bar, and interrupted.

If Azriel was annoyed, he didn’t show it.

Cassian spied them at last, making his way through the cavernous entrails of the garage, with all its gleaming cars, the beautiful patrons who were discussing options with no-less beautiful sales people,  and even on-premises tattoo shop, which specialized in Azriel’s sketches and catered to those who didn’t have money to actually outfit their Bugatti to their heart’s desire, but could at least claim that they got a Bagarat tattoo inked on their skin.

Elain and Azriel were standing side by side, somehow melding together nicely, her pretty dress and high-heeled sandals and piles of loose hair in drastic contrast with Azriel’s all-black ensemble, his massive height and the span of his shoulders. But she did not balk from him. Cassian also noticed that she didn’t react to the scars, which Azriel was very self-conscious about, and seemed genuinely interested in the garage.

It was inevitable that the two would eventually meet, especially with the wedding coming up and all the wedding related brouhaha. However, Cassian wanted to have the dibs on gloating down the line, and reminding the two of them, forever, about how it was he who introduced them. Yes, Azriel fucked a lot of models and rich girls, for whom he, strangely, was a riff on a ‘bit of rough’, while being hardly ‘rough’ at all. Azriel was elegant and possessed excellent taste in everything, and he probably had the best manners out of the lot of them. But the tattoos, the cars, the aura of brooding mystery about him, and his generally quiet ways were like honey to the throngs of women who lusted after him.  

About Azriel, Cassian had no doubts.

Cassian knew Azriel probably better than anyone alive, and even that wasn’t saying much, but he was very aware of Azriel’s ‘secret type’ of woman. Basically, it was Elain. Everything about Elain Azriel would like—of that Cassian was certain. Elain was the elusive ‘ideal woman’ of whom Azriel dreamt, but never actually pursued. Slightly unconventional, soft, kind, generous—lovely, would be a good word—Elain was everything that Azriel never had with any other women.

Cassian could already see the hunger and flicker of completely besotted adoration in Azriel’s normally cold eyes.

He was less certain about Elain, having never seen her with a boyfriend. When he had asked Nesta about Elain’s situation, Nesta shrugged and said that Elain was beautiful, but naïve, dreamy and rarely dated.

“A Bentley it is then,” Azriel turned around, though his elbow still touched Elain’s arm. “You’ll fit, big boy?”

Elain giggled.

“I am not Rowan,” Cassian muttered. “I am human sized.”

“Only just.”

“You are the same height,” Cassian reminded him coolly.

“I am a little more human-shaped too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, petal. While I love to stand here and listen to his insults, we gotta go.”

Elain’s face dropped into a sad frown only for a second, but she recovered immediately. Cassian noticed it, nevertheless. His petal of a girl didn’t want to leave his brother’s side.

“Bye Azriel,” she said, taking his hand in hers again, of her own volition, and squeezing it lightly. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. His fingers wrapped over her palm, and he said, “I’ll walk you two out.”

So, his brooding brother didn’t want to release the newfound petal of a girl.

How interesting.

Once they were in Cassian’s Jeep, Elain looked out the window, a dreamy look on her face.

“Oh-oh,” Cassian chuckled, as he navigated the narrow NYC streets.

“What?”

“I know that look,” he winked.

“What look?” she frowned.

“The ‘oh gods, Azriel is so handsome!’ look. Oh, he is so gorgeous look. Oh, he is so sexy look.”

“He is handsome,” she agreed blandly, knowing that arguing would be silly.

“I hope that you gave him your number,” he said. “Because if you didn’t, I will.”

“It’s none of your business,” she crossed her arms on her chest, and Cass howled loudly.

“You are welcome, by the way,”

“You are ridiculous,” she muttered. “I don’t know how Nesta tolerates you!”

“Oh, Nes tolerates me and then some,” and winked again.

Now

“My love, slow down a bit,” Elain requested, as the road zigzagged among rows of cypresses.

“I thought that you wanted to make it to Florence before traffic hit?” Azriel squeezed her fingers and brought her hand to his lips.

“Seeing that we are already running late, we might as well enjoy the drive,” she shrugged.

A honey-coloured strand of her hair fell out from under the gauzy wrap that she wore around her head a-la Grace Kelley.

“Good.”

“Good what?” she turned her face to him and knocked him out all over again. By the Mother she was superb in every way, and she was his. He couldn’t believe his absurd luck. Things like these didn’t happen to him. Elain was not meant to be his. Yet, here she was, his lovely gentle girl, who loved him with incomprehensible passion and devotion. His.

The hefty, borderline outlandish ring on her finger was proof of that.

He’d worked hard on that ring, designing it himself, wanting to incorporate everything that he loved about her and about the two of them into the design. The result was this stunner that glittered madly in the Italian sun, sitting on her manicured finger, the skin of her arm kissed by a golden tan.

His beautiful girl loved flowers, and she loved him, so her ring, in its platinum setting was a remarkable rose, reflecting Elain’s green thumb and life’s work. He selected the diamond himself, and the amethysts that comprised the petals, even the tiny onyx inserts, to signify him and the black ink of his tattoos. The ring was both extravagant—especially in carats—but intimate as well, a flower that spoke of his eternal love for this woman.

“I am going to take you somewhere, which I think you’d like,” he teased.

“Where?”

“How does lots of flowers sound?”

She smiled. 

Azriel

For gods’ sake, he was nervous. Azriel was not prone to nervousness or panic or discomfort, but this date, or whatever it was, filled him with dread.

He shouldn’t have asked her.

He was stupid and blinded by her beauty, by her deliciously voluptuous body, by the long, slender legs, by her shy, sweet smile. Those blushes. For the love of everything, those fine, adorable, sexy blushes.

She was part of the family network—both of his brothers were now in love with her sisters. It was cliché and unrealistic and unbelievable that she and he would end up in the same boat. Besides, he wasn’t so lucky as to have someone like her accept him. So, he was making a huge fucking mistake. If this was all going to go sour—which inevitably it would, of that he had no doubt—he’d mess up the delicate balance that existed between the Darling, Bagarat and Cavalhe brothers and the Archeron sisters. She’d reject him and then it would be awkward. Awkward for the upcoming wedding, in which he and Elain were supposed to couple up and be together in the wedding party. Rhys said, ‘fuck it’ and asked both him and Cassian to be best men, while Feyre had both of her sisters as maids-on-honour. There was no escaping it. Therefore, it would be awkward for the wedding, and then for Christmas and all the summer BBQs and pool parties and…well, he might just have to find excuses to never attend anything, ever.

But here he was, standing in front of an old-fashioned, cute corner storefront in the Village. Flower displays spilled on the sidewalk, and the windows, along with the marble edifice reminded him of Paris. This was exactly how he’d picture Elain’ store—slightly whimsical, elegant, classic, but modern. Au Nom de la Rose – The Name of the Rose—perfectly appropriate for Elain’s store name.

She wasn’t waiting for him outside, and he circled the block three times before, by some miracle, finding a parking space and leaving the silver Ferrari, and then made his way back to the store, arriving 4 minutes late, which was completely unacceptable. The store was technically closed at this hour, but he knocked and heard Elain’s voice telling him to come in. Some internal pressure inside of him released at the sound of her voice.

He entered and whistled,

“That’s a lot of flowers!”

Yep, definitely a glamourized 50’s Paris vibe.

“Azriel, I am so sorry, I am not ready,” Elain came from behind the counter, looking a bit frazzled.

“It’s alright I will wait,” he assured her, but she shook her head and said,

“No…I just received a huge order. An emergency order for an anniversary party. Azriel, it’s my biggest order ever!”

“That’s excellent!” he found himself feeling genuinely happy for her, if not for her concerned expression. “What’s up?”

“I…I,” she stumbled. “Feyre or Nesta would usually come and help out if I need them, but Feyre is in LA, and Nesta…” she swallowed, “Nesta is indisposed.”

Nes is on her period and is feeling like crap, read Cassian’s text from earlier today. I am going fishing. Care to join? Or are you busy romancing a certain Archeron sister?

Nesta was indisposed indeed, though Azriel didn’t feel like he needed to know the details.

“It’s a 25th Anniversary, and I have to make 25 bouquets and 15 centerpieces. The couple’s original florist fell through and they contacted me, in a panic, and I agreed,” she babbled, tugging on her long braid nervously. “And it’s for tomorrow,”

“Alright then,” he shrugged, “what’s the problem then? I am here.”

She looked up at him, her gaze both hopeful and confused.

“You? What are you going to do? I am sorry, Azriel, I am so sorry, we’d have to postpone,”

“We’d have to postpone our drive, but I am here. Use me.”

“Use you?”

“Use my body,” he chuckled, and she giggled an amused laugh.

“I appreciate the offer,” and when he thought that she’d continue rejecting his offer of help, she did the right thing and was a smart girl, nodding at last, and said, “will you truly help?”

“I am not a flower expert,”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she grinned.

He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and said, “Teach me, Archeron. I am an apt pupil.”

He was. Elain showed him model bouquets and thankfully, he wasn’t dumb or clumsy enough to screw them up, once he began copying the originals.

Night fell, and they ordered pizza and he went to get a bottle of wine from the store across the street.

Sitting on the floor of the store, surrounded by piles of flowers, vases, ribbons and twine, they ate pizza, laughing throughout the evening. She stretched her long, bare legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles, and he couldn’t get enough—the pretty toes, the pale golden skin and the sexy pink nail polish. He didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he snuck more than a few glances at her feet when she wasn’t looking.

It was well past midnight when they were finally done.

He stretched on the floor and tucked his arm behind his head.

She kneeled above him, at his side, and said, “Azriel, thank you. I can’t, honestly, thank you enough. You saved me. Maybe my business too!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he retorted gently, “but this was fun…and educational.”

“How can I repay you?” she asked.

“Well, well,” he drummed his fingers on the floor, pretending to think. “So many possibilities,”

At that, she flushed, and he licked his lips, loving the sight of that pink on her cheeks.

“Let’s make a bargain,” he proposed at last.

“A bargain?” her brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“For my exceptional assistance during your time of trouble and despair, you will agree to an outing with me, of my choosing. To do whatever I want.”

Elain stared at him, biting her plump lower lip.

“Are we going to do something bad?” she finally asked uncertainly.

He grinned and without thinking, cupped her cheek.

She didn’t recoil.

He drew his thumb over her soft skin and she leaned into his palm just a little bit. Gods it felt good. So good. So good to have her so near, so receptive, so unafraid. But he dropped his hand.

“You think I will take you to knock off a couple of 7-11s?”

“Well, if I am entering this death bargain with you, then who the hell knows?” she shrugged.

He laughed, “Death bargain? A little dramatic, are we?”

She was still sitting there, biting her lip, and all he wanted to do was drag his tongue over it. Kiss her large, brown eyes. Fist his hand around the thick mass of her hair, tilt her head and kiss her until she was breathless.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He never acted like this!

He never thought like this.

He was a rational, controlled, some said, cold man.

Not to say that he wasn’t able to find a woman immediately attractive, or want to fuck her, but this was different. This was unknown.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Fine?” he repeated, smiling.

“Don’t make me do anything bad,” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he promised. “I wouldn’t lead you astray. But,” he sat up, draping his forearms over his knees, “where do you live? Let me take you home,”

“I can take an Uber,”

He gave her an incredulous look and she nodded without further arguments.

“Where do you live?” he asked, once they were outside, somehow internally thrilled that perhaps, she’d invite him inside. He wouldn’t expect anything, obviously, but it would be nice see where she lived, what her private space looked like. So far, he couldn’t pinpoint her style with any accuracy, an interesting mixture of vintage and modern, of flowers and thorns.

“Just two blocks down,” she said, as she locked up the shop.

He gave her his arm, and it seemed like she almost expected it, because she immediately thrust her hand into the loop and he smiled softly.

The little white shorts and the flowery top did things to him, and he was glad to walk side by side, so to prevent himself from staring at her long legs and her neat, lush ass. He was already a mess over her legs, over her bending and squatting in front of him for the past four-five hours.

It was dark and quiet on the street, and they walked in a comfortable silence, each thinking of something of their own.

And then,

Elain sprawled face down on the pavement.

She cried out, landing on her knees on the asphalt, just barely having the time to brace herself on her hand, and ripping the skin of her palm.

Azriel was instantly on his knees in front of her.

Tears glistened in her eyes. Possibly from pain, because as she flipped on her butt, they saw that her knees were torn and bleeding, as was her palm, or maybe from shock, as well as embarrassment.

“Shhh,” he cooed gently to her, “are you okay?”

She shook her head. A lonely tear spilled from her eyes.

“Tissues?” he asked quickly, surveying the damage. Bruises were already blossoming on her scuffed kneecaps, all around the wounds.

She wordlessly handed him her bag, allowing him to rummage through it and he found a packet of old tissues, which he gingerly pressed to her bleeding knees.

“My ankle hurts,” she muttered, reaching down to inspect it.

“Let me,” he took her legs and looked over her ankle. She glared questioningly at him, still in some sort of stupor, not understanding what had occurred, and why she was now sitting on the ground, bleeding.

“You broke your heel,” he nodded to her foot and she glanced down, finally realizing that her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. The impact was so strong, it actually fully detached from the sole of the shoe.

“I am sorry,” she mumbled.

“You should be,” he chuckled, “you gave me quite a scare. I thought you were shot; you went down so quickly!”

She pushed at his arm, half laughing, and have crying.

“Stop making me laugh!” she ordered, sniffling and giggling. “Auuu, it hurts...”

He was lightly pressing on her ankle, and then said, “it’s just twisted. You’ll need ice, but it should be okay…”

“Ok, Doctor Azriel,” she even rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed, flicking her nose.

“I am trained on how to treat combat wounds and catastrophic field injuries, I’ll have you know,” he said and then gave her his hand. “On your feet, soldier! Let me see if you can stand.”

Moaning and groaning, she managed to stand up, but putting any weight on her foot caused a yelp to escape her lips.

“Alright, come on now,” he stepped and opened his arms, “jump in.”

“Jump in where?”

“Jump into my arms, of course.”

“What are you planning to do? Swing me around?”

“I could swing you around, but I was planning on carrying you home, and then making you an ice pack and disinfecting all your cuts.”

Without waiting for her to decide, he scooped her off the ground and she gasped, and he wasn’t sure what the little huff meant.

“But it’s like two blocks!” she protested feebly, and unconvincingly, “I am heavy.”

“Ooohhh,” he groaned dramatically, hefting her to his chest, as they started off. “Sooo, so heavy!”

“I am the fattest of my sisters,” she argued, and even in the darkness he saw that she was blushing realizing how silly her comment was.

“Well, considering that Nesta is like 90 lbs. and Feyre 110 lbs., that’s not saying much,” he assured her.

She was soft and warm in his arms, and when, without prompting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, he felt utterly at peace. Because the pieces of them fit. She fit him.

Blood still dripping, and her arms thrown over his neck, Azriel walked steadily, cradling her to his chest, until they finally reached a pre-War building, and she said, “There is no elevator.”

“Don’t tell me you are on the 6th floor!” he laughed, looking up.

“The third.”

“Guess I will have to haul the fattest of the Archeron sisters to the 3rd floor!” he sighed, and she smacked his arm, protesting,

“You can’t say that!”

He was laughing and she began to laugh as well.

“You said it first,” he reminded her.

 Her apartment was small, but she’d arranged the furniture in such a way that everything seemed more spacious, and orderly, without unnecessary frills. Mostly grays, turquoise, cobalt and creamy-white. For some reason, he thought that there would be much more pink and general fluff. This though, this he liked.

He sat her down on the sofa and went to the bathroom to find bandages and plasters and other items. She called out from her spot, telling him where to find things and he finally emerged and began working on all her wounds.

“Haven’t lost a soldier yet,” he told her with a chuckle. He kneeled in front of her, and his touch was firm, but surprisingly gentle, as he thoroughly washed every scuff and tear, and then disinfected and decided what needed bandages and what didn’t.

Elain remained mostly silent throughout the procedure, watching him from under her lashes.

“You are nice,” she said suddenly.

He looked at her and smirked.

“Not with anyone.”

“Everyone just says how handsome you are,” she lay her head on the back cushion, watching him. He gave her a painkiller, and it was making her drowsy. It was also late. She rarely stayed up this late. “But you are also very nice,” she added.

Elain

She woke up that morning, and was struck by the unfamiliar environment. And pain.

Her knees ached and screamed and hurt, as did her palm.

Light poured through the windows; the curtains still open.

She found herself on her sofa, haphazardly covered by a throw, and with her legs resting on Azriel’s lap.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He was here. With her.

He never left after last night’s debacle.

She was a clumsy cow, as always, but the incident was unusually embarrassing, even for her. She always spilled or dropped stuff on herself, tripped, stumbled, and fell on her ass at inopportune times, but last night…By the Mother!

The man was gosh darn saint. Not only did she screw up their evening plans, made him work and make bouquets with her, which, probably wasn’t the most exciting thing for him to spend the evening on, but she also almost ate the pavement, and then he carried her for half a mile! And cared for her when they came here. And spent, what must have been a horribly uncomfortable night in a half-seated position, with her, no doubt, pushing at him with her feet.

Yep, she was never going to see him again.

Good going, Elain. Fine job you did of this ‘relationship’. Now, for the rest of her life, she’d be forced to see him at family gatherings, probably with some stunning model of a wife, and he’d always remember her as the girl who tore her heel on the pavement.

She wanted to cry.

Not that she ever, even for a second, believed that this would go anywhere. Her and Azriel. That wasn’t possible. Things like these didn’t happen to her. She was strange and solitary and even if others claimed that she was pretty, going so far as to call her ‘beautiful’, she never felt like that. When Nesta got mad at her, she’d call her a ‘petty idiot’ and Elain felt like that more frequently than she cared to admit. And Azriel…he was cut from a different cloth. He was…

She looked at his face, still perfect, but ever so slightly relaxed and softened in sleep, his eyelids heavy and enviably long, thick lashes fanned over his golden-brown cheeks. He was funny, with a quick, dry sense of humour, intelligent and interesting, and when they talked last night, she couldn’t get enough! He told her fascinating stories from his time in the Navy, about his dream, which resulted in the creation of his beloved garage. It took him three years to open the place—conceptualize what he wanted, how to deliver it, the items to showcase. The result was not just the ‘garage’, but also the popular bar, and recently, a restaurant as well.

Scarred fingers touched her hand and he opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, squinting at her. “How are you? How’s the pain?”

“Azriel,” she murmured, not even knowing how to thank him, but she attempted, “I want to,”

“Pancakes?” he asked eagerly.

She glanced at him with incomprehension.

“May I make you, or us, pancakes?” he proposed. “I’ve been sort of thinking about this all night. How I’d like to make you pancakes,”

“I want to thank,”

He lifted his finger and shook his head,

“No, no. My Italian mother would tell you that you should never thank anyone for providing medical help,”

“Why?”

“According to my psychotically superstitious Italian side of the family, the remedy or healing won’t take, if you offer thanks. Imagine, I was forbidden from ever saying ‘thank you’ to a doctor,”

She chuckled.

“So, you are Italian?”

“Mom’s side is half Neapolitan and half from Lazio—near Rome.”

He sat up and rolled his neck.

“Can I at least say that I am sorry that you had to be so uncomfortable and sleep on the couch?” she asked.

“It’s alright. Not the best night I’ve ever had, but not the worst one either. The company was nice too,” and he patted her legs.

A tiny flare of hope lit in her belly.

But she didn’t allow herself to have it take root.

Maybe not until he gathered her legs together on his lap and drew his fingers up and down her calf.

“But really, how is the pain?” he asked at last, watching her with his intense, warm eyes. The eyes didn’t warm frequently, it seemed, but when they looked at her—

He was different somehow.

Kind. Approachable.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand, not wanting to burden him any longer with her dumb injuries.

Those long, scarred fingers glided over her skin, and a small smirk touched his lips, “May I kiss it better?”

She blinked at him.

“I hear that I am very good at making pain go away,” he added proudly, and then, his lips descended on her scuffed and bruised knees. She kissed each one, tenderly, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, and pressed his mouth to the inside of her palm. Her breath hitched and she stared at him, wide-eyed, as he watched her, unblinking, gaging every minute reaction. He kissed her hand, inside and then out, and then kissed the other, even though it wasn’t injured, and then returned to her knees and kissed them again.

At last, “Better?” he asked.

She only mooed incoherently.

…Azriel, by the stove, flipping pancakes was the sexiest thing Elain had ever seen in her life.

Clad in dark slacks, in his white shirt from last night, with sleeves rolled up and the tattoo sleeves on full display, he stood in her kitchen, barefoot and flipped pancakes like a pro.

“You cook too?” she asked incredulously.

He laughed.

“Too? In addition to what?”

“I don’t know,” she was still perched on the sofa, like an invalid, but after she washed her face and brushed her hair, he ordered her to sit and not make unnecessary moves. “Everything?”

“My repertoire is limited, when it comes to the kitchen, but what I know how to make, I make well. Cassian is a better cook.”

“Cass?” she smiled.

“Nesta is lucky to have him,” Azriel added, somewhat wistfully.

Elain looked at him and nodded. “I think so too.”

“He is a good man. Maybe the best man I’ve ever known. Where my own family failed, he stepped in, though he is a year younger than me. But he taught me…how to be. Accepted me. Unconditionally. Taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, how to fight.”

“And you?”

“I? I helped him with his reading,” Azriel rubbed his chin, his stance a little tense.

She didn’t say anything, waiting to see if he felt like sharing more.

“It was neglected,” he said at last. “His reading and writing. So, we sat together, late at night, at our foster parents’ house and read.”

He then asked, “coffee?”

The moment of reminiscing was over, and Elain did not press.

She nodded to one of the cupboards and he pulled out a tub of coffee and grimaced.

“This is what you drink?”

“Hey, it’s good coffee! I buy it at Trader Joe’s!” she laughed defensively.

“Baby, we are drinking Italian coffee in this house,” he decided, and there was no arguing with that logic.

 That’s how Elain became Azriel’s ‘baby’.

In their house, they always drank Italian coffee.

 Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Thanks Nu,” Azriel greeted a lanky, very thin, very tall girl, who handed him two packages and then winked at him and disappeared wordlessly.

“My assistant, Nuala,” he explained, showing Elain two packages of Lavazza coffee. “This will do for now.”

Elain hobbled to the small butcher block island that she’d restored from a console that she found at a flea market. “You text someone and they just appear?”

He grinned and shrugged innocently.

“I know a guy.”

“Of course you do. Are you in the mafia?”

“First of all, rude,” he placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her and then poured her coffee, “second of all, I just know a guy.”

“Who knows where to buy Lavazza on a Saturday morning?” she wondered, tucking into the pancakes.

“I have a network of spies,” he winked at her.

She sipped on the coffee, perhaps not as good a cup as he’d made her at his garage, but glorious nevertheless. “Are you in the CIA?”

“Not in the mafia or the CIA. Just a lowly car guy.”

“Uh-uh.”

They toasted with their coffee cups and Azriel said, “not bad for a first date. Blood and flowers. Very romantic.”

It was that morning, that sunny Saturday morning, over a plate of pancakes and some Italian coffee that Elain Archeron fell in love.

She fell in love completely.

Utterly.

Irreversibly.

And forever.

Now

Azriel turned off to some side road and how he knew where to go, Elain had no idea, but she just enjoyed the scents and warmth of the day.

“You know,” she laughed. “We are literally under the Tuscan sun right now!”

“All your dreams are coming true,” he ran a loving hand over her bare arm and she tore her gaze from the scenery around her.

“My dreams came true when I met you,” she confessed. “That was the day.”

“So easily impressed!” he teased, but she saw that her words touched something in him. His face softened with happiness.

“Az, slow down,” she whispered, an almost painful pull to kiss him spreading over her. “I want to kiss you.”

He looked at her, eyes hidden behind his Aviator shades, but slowed down and she leaned towards him and planted her mouth on his cheek.

“Lips,” she murmured with audible desperation.

“Baby, I don’t want to bust up this nice Ferrari,” he laughed. “And you, who is riding in it.”

Pouting, she ordered, “Then pull over so I can kiss you!”

He laughed louder, throwing his head back, his gorgeous tanned neck annoyingly desirable.

She wanted to bite his vein, lick the salty skin of his neck, and then sink her teeth into his shoulder. Elain was a biter. And a scratcher. Good thing that Azriel was a benevolent lover, who didn’t care if she left his body marked with her love, and didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he encouraged it.

His heavy brown hand lay on her knee, under the hem of her summer dress and he said,

“Why don’t I do something nice for you… then you can kiss me…”

“But I want to kiss you now,” she frowned playfully.

His hand slid a little higher, up her bare thigh, and he pressed his scarred palm into her thin, tender skin, rubbing slowly, indulgently. This was just as much for her as it was for him.

She threw her head into the back of the seat, eyes closed.

Until she yelped softly, when his wicked hand slipped higher and higher, pushing her dress up as well.

“Azriel Bagarat,” she murmured, “what am I going to do with you? And your love for public nudity and lovemaking…”

He shrugged oh so innocently and said, “firstly, it’s Archeron to you, and,”

“Not just yet,” she wiggled her ring-clad hand in front of him, “not until we got the paper and all, to make us official,”

They rolled their eyes at the same time and then laughed.

“And secondly, who can blame me?” he leaned and kissed her shoulder. “You are very hot. And I sort of want to fuck you all the time.”

His long, very experienced fingers made their way even higher, until he drew them along the cotton of her underwear, lightly pressing into the cleft, teasing ever so lightly. She shifted against the fingertips, her thighs falling apart in silent encouragement.

Elain was a giving and a receptive lover, innately knowing what he wanted and accommodating both of their needs thoughtfully, and easily.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmured.

“To kiss you,” she insisted stubbornly.

He huffed his amusement, and then pushed his finger deeper, firmer against the cotton, whispering,

“How about this?”

“This is nice, I suppose,”

“Only nice?” he withdrew his finger in warning and she grabbed his wrist, and thrust it back in place.

“Maybe a little better than ‘nice’, huh?” he teased.

“A little,” she agreed, gasping when he cupped her fully, swiping his heel of his palm against the length of her folds, feeling the dampness against his skin. Bold, as he always was, he moved the strip of cotton to the side, and hiked up her dress ever higher, exposing her to his exploration.

He snuck a glance at her perfectly peachy, pink pussy, bare and succulent, like a ripe fruit dripping with its sweet juices.

He groaned and then hissed, “I am stopping, right now. I want you coming on my tongue in the next four minutes,”

“So confident, ombre?”

She took to calling him ombre or ‘shadow’, when, early in their relationship, he kept materializing in front of her out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows. He laughed, but didn’t mind the endearment. What’s more, it became a private thing between the two of them—he’d call her ‘rose’ and she’d call him ‘ombre’. It wasn’t nauseatingly sugary sweet and could be used in public without making people gag. Unlike, for example, the Darlings, who, for whatever reason called each other ‘my darkness’. Or Cassian, who sometimes went with ‘schmoopie’, braving Nesta’s wrath.

Azriel laughed, while incessantly dragging his finger back and forth over the wet slit, without doing much else, and making her gasp and squirm.

“That I can make you come on my tongue in 4 minutes? Fuck yeah! Want me to prove it?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she shook her head, “you don’t get to just do whatever the hell you want, when you want it. If I don’t get my kiss, you don’t get to,”

“What? Lick your pussy? I feel like the punishment is unreasonable,” he protested.

She gave him a sultry look, a look that only he was privy to, and then murmured, spreading her legs a little wider for him,

“Maybe I want to lick something of yours?” she proposed, her voice husky, pouring like honey over his ear.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” he choked out, finally parting the soft cushions of her folds and dragging his knuckles over the wet spread of her. The intoxicating scent of her arousal, mixed with the Italian sunshine and the smell of grass, flowers and cypresses was so heady, he almost swerved, stopping only quick enough to grip the steering wheel tightly in his left hand.

Gods, if he was going to make it to their next destination, he would be impressed with himself. But it was close.

Azriel

Elain loved getting fingered. That was the first thing he learned about her sexually—kissing and fingering.

In the privacy of their world, he fingered her constantly.

It was almost an obligation on his part by now, to have her wake up, tucked into his side, while gently, but thoroughly pumping her soft, indescribably tight center. No matter how many times he’d been inside of her, she remained tight, as tight as the first time. That was a blessing, but a curse as well, for all he could typically think about throughout the day, was sinking into that glorious tightness.

When she was finally semi-awake, she rolled on her back and spread her legs in front of him, so he could finger her in earnest. Two fingers first, nice and deep inside of her, as he knelt in front of her and watched her come undone before him. And then, there was always a moment when her eyes flew open, and her back arched, and he slipped the third one in. The plush, warm walls of her sex stretched and pulled to accommodate him, but he went slow and deep, only grazing the sensitive spot in her, making her moan low and begging, the pressure of his hand steady and firm.

She cried and cried into the pillow, head thrown back in utter extasy, her hair a tangled halo about her. She wasn’t permitted to move her hips, his only order in that early-morning game of theirs, therefore she was wholly dependent on him for her pleasure. If she ever did begin a sensual undulation of her hips around his hand, he’d allow her to continue for a few moments, aware that she was lost in her own pleasure, before cruelly yanking his hand out of her.

“Was my girl allowed to do that?” he’d ask simply, and amidst her disappointed panting, her pleading for more, her sweet, innocent “sorry. I am sorry,” she’d beg him to fill her again.

Then she’d lay still, eyes wide and pleading, her little opening vibrating at the loss, before he placed her feet on his shoulders and thrust in her anew. This time, his scarred, rough, brown, inked fingers disappeared in her completely. She buckled and let out a wild moan that reverberated from the very depth of her, because all four fingers were inside, and his thumb finally, finally began a gorgeously slow torment around her clit. She just lay there, tense and unmoving, watching him, the slurping, obscene sounds of his hand inside of her filling the sleepy morning air around them.

Elain came quietly. She moaned and twisted and gasped as he rubbed her clit, but when the waves finally descended upon her, when he felt the tight, silky flesh grip and pump all four of his fingers, which were now pressing up into her perfect spot, the exhale was soft and intimate. Only for him.

Now

“Don’t wreck the car,” Elain muttered, eyes barely open.

“Will this be the second one?” Azriel asked, while Elain wrapped her hand around his wrist and forcefully jammed his hand inside of her.

Four.

Four orgasms daily. That was his promise.

He’d provide her with at least four daily orgasms. So far, he typically exceeded expectations. It wasn’t particularly difficult, because he often played with her at odd times—when they were watching TV, he’d slip a finger onto her clitty and rub her slowly and leisurely, until she melted from the stimulation. She enjoyed it when he bent her over counters or sinks, and sunk his fingers deep and hard into her perpetually ready hole.

Elain, to his complete delight and fascination, was always just a bit aroused. Always, always just a bit wet, just a little damp for him. He’d make an unscheduled stop at her shop and if it was empty, he’d step behind the counter with her, and soon, she’d be splayed over the counter, his hand between her legs. Yes, they’ve been almost caught plenty of times, but Azriel had the ability to disappear into shadows as soon as he sensed someone coming. Sometimes, when someone would walk in the store, Azriel even pretended that he was a customer, buying flowers, watching her patiently, while she got his bouquet ready for him. Never mind that his hand might have been soaked with her slick, or that he smirked, watching her press her thighs together, while she wrapped the flowers, as she avoided eye contact with him, and handed him the bouquet which he’d inevitably bring home for her.

When he was around her, she jokingly complained that she was of constant need for him, and it was his very enviable and pleasant task to soothe the ache inside of her.

 Azriel

Their friends, family, found their relationship perplexing. But Elain kept her sisters firmly at an arm’s length when it came to the discussion of their sex life. No matter how they tried to pry, she gently, but firmly rebuffed them. Nesta complained and said that they were too obsessed with each other. That Elain was too in love and that Azriel was too dependent on Elain’s love for this to be normal. Elain only shrugged and didn’t argue.

 “It’s not normal!” seethed Nesta, watching Elain and Azriel wrapped around each other on the dance floor, Elain’s body shimmying and swaying around her, arms raised in the air, her hips swooshing to the beat, bumping into his pelvis.

“You think they are gonna do it right on the dancefloor?” Cassian contemplated quietly, not sure if this was outside the realm of possibilities.

“He would!” she spat and gulped down her Aperol spritz aggressively. “I am surprised he is not bending her over…more surprised she isn’t agreeing!”

“They never argue,” Cassian nodded.

“They never—never—argue. It’s not normal!”

The way Cassian saw it, as long as the two were happy, he had no right to judge.

Nesta was a hot pepper. Feyre, an apple—solid, tasty, dependable. Elain—whipped cream—a delicious topping over anything, but especially Azriel.

 Nevertheless, the word got around.

One day, Azriel, Rowan and Cassian were sitting in Elain’s flower shop, toiling diligently over a huge order of flowers.

They wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not to each other, or their women, but they quite enjoyed hiding in that flower shop and arranging flowers. They claimed that they were doing it for Elain’s sake, to help her out, so she didn’t have to hire additional help just yet, but,

Well, they liked it.

At first, Elain wasn’t sure if Cassian was cut out for the task, because the very first try was a little rough.

“Cass, these are not your enemies that you are about to smite,” Elain instructed gently, prying his fingers from the stems of irises, which he was clutching like he was about to throw a lance.

“Pfff, you look like you are about to choke a chicken,” Nesta teased. And promptly realised her mistake, biting her lip.

Cassian cocked his brow and murmured seductively,

“What chicken am I choking, sweetheart? My own,”

“Oh no,” Elain stepped in between them, hands on her hips. “No. No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Lainey, don’t allow Cass to choke his chicken in front of us,” begged Azriel, working quickly and deftly, and soliciting an envious look from Cassian, whose flowers were in complete disarray, compared to Azriel’s neat piles and methodical assembly line.

“Yes, no one is choking chickens, penises or each other in here,” ordered Elain sternly, while Nesta and Azriel were laughing silently.

“Hehe,” smirked Cassian, “Elain said ‘penis’!”

“Take your dirty talk and deeds,”

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap, dirty deeds done dirt cheap

Cassian began rocking to his own singing, imitating the gravel of Brian Johnson’s voice rather successfully, headbanging over his babybreath, bluebells and irises.

Chicken choking forgotten for a moment.

 As Cassian fussed over a vase, working on each stem and arranging them just so, wearing a little white apron no less, he asked casually, “So, brother, four?”

Azriel was in his own headspace, and he didn’t even hear Cassian, as he was busy with his own flower arrangement.

There was, expectedly, a competition going on—who’d complete the most arrangements in an hour. Rowan, a veritable giant, and Cassian’s best friend, also wore an apron, but a long one, like a butcher, and was significantly ahead of the pack. That bothered Azriel more than he cared to admit. So, he was re-strategizing his strategy.

“Four what?” Rowan inquired, not taking his eyes off the flowers, working like a machine.

“Ask Az here,” Cassian suggested. He was catching up to Azriel with an alarming speed.

Azriel had never lost, so far. He wasn’t going to lose today.

“Stop speaking in riddles. What are you talking about?”

“Word on the street is that our Az here provides the flower girl with a minimum of four orgasms on the daily,”

Azriel started and finally tore his eyes from the flowers.

Both Rowan and Cassian were watching him, smirking.

“I guess it’s true then,”

“Fuck off.”

“If that’s true,” Rowan drawled, “good for you, man. Though you are putting us to shame with this ridiculous offer of yours. How do you keep up?”

“Easily,” Azriel shrugged. “But it’s freaking me out that you two are talking about my sex life so casually.”

“But fucking four? Daily?” repeated Cassian, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Elain, man,” Rowan rubbed the back of his head, mussing his silver hair, “who would’ve thought?”

Cassian nodded, “No offense, brother, but Elain doesn’t strike anyone as particularly adventurous in the bedroom,”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Azriel said simply.

“Very beautiful,” offered Rowan pacifically, “but…you know…Kind of like Elide, I guess. You wouldn’t know it, looking at her,”

Cassian was nodding. “Yeah, she looks like she eats macaroons and reads Jane Austen,”

“Macarons,” said Azriel.

“What?”

“It’s macaron. Not macaroon.”

“What the hell is the difference?”

“One is a French biscuit, made with almond flour and filled with a creamy filling. The other, is a coconut concoction that one usually eats at Passover.”

Rowan was chuckling. Cassian was shaking his head, grunting, “you would know. So, does she? Eat maca--,”

“No, she doesn’t even like macarons. And she doesn’t read Jane Austen. She reads espionage novels. She likes Daniel Silva. Any more stupid questions?”

Elide. Of course. He should’ve guessed.

Elain and Elide met through Rowan and it was friendship at first sight.

Azriel couldn’t argue—the two women were similar in many ways. Both were on a quiet side, polite, well-mannered. Elain—a ray of sunshine, tall, slender and curvaceous, smiling and affable, with piles of golden-brown locks and warm brown eyes. Elide—the opposite—small, pale, with perfectly straight, silky black hair and dark, midnight eyes. Both—crafty in the ways of the world, charming, when needed, capable of getting into everyone’s good graces, and therefore, getting what they wanted.

“No, no more stupid questions,” said Cassian. “Just don’t know how you two grumps attracted such lively girls,”

“Lorcan and I aren’t ‘grumps’. We just talk when we need to and don’t have the need for instant gratification or to be the center of attention. Something I can’t say about you,”

“It’s not about me,” Cassian protested, but Azriel stopped him, by raising his finger,

 “Now, if you are not going to shut the fuck up about my woman and me, I will spread a rumour amongst your women, that it’s not four, but six. Daily. Let’s see how you measure up then.”

Silence fell.

Azriel won.

His 36th win.

 Now

 “Yes, the second,” Elain nodded with a satisfied smile.

 Azriel

 Naturally, today, he woke her up properly, as he always did.

They stayed in an adorable little villa, near Montepulciano. It was everything a Tuscan villa was supposed to be…

including the dust that settled in its 800-year-old walls. And Elain coughed and coughed and coughed, surprisingly not coughing up a lung.

“We can’t stay here,” Azriel said, frowning.

“Where are going to go? We are in the middle of Tuscany and it’s 10 pm,” she reminded him.

Ever resourceful, he dragged the mattress off the antique bed and plopped it down on the floor of their small balcony.

“We sleep here. Under the night Tuscan sky.”

It was a lovely, if chilly night, and Elain would’ve enjoyed it if she didn’t fall asleep almost immediately and slept through the night.

She was still asleep, when the birds began their morning song and Azriel positioned her on her hands and knees, and carefully removed her nightgown, baring her to the dry, cool morning air.

“Someone will see us,” she murmured sleepily.

She tucked her hands under her cheek, and followed the direction of Azriel’s hand on her hip, rising her butt high up, and arching her back for him.

Azriel loved having sex out in the open. Especially if she was completely naked. He wasn’t overt about it, but the thrill of being found out, the titillating desire to be watched was always present. She knew it. She indulged his fantasies.

“I don’t think anyone would mind watching you,” he whispered hotly in her ear and lightly bit the apple of her cheek. “But it’s also like 4:15 in the morning. So maybe they are still sleeping.”

He settled behind her and she felt his hands on her back, smoothing over the sharp cut of her tight waist and then the soft curve of her hips.

“Spread your legs for me, my love, I want to play with you a little bit,” he guided her, and she followed his direction, squatting inelegantly on her knees, thighs wide apart for him. He cupped her fully in his palm and then pinched her clit, hard, twisting it and rubbing it between his two fingers, until she bit her forearm, trying to stifle her cries of instant pleasure.  He pinched again, then again, rubbing tightly, while he bit her buttock playfully, but hard enough to leave a pink mark.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, when he nibbled on her flesh again, tugging on the swollen clit with relentless dedication. She managed to twist enough to kiss his knee and whispered, eyes still closed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her wet, stretched opening, dragging his tongue around and around the rim, “and you are so nice and wet for me in the morning. My good girl, what do you want?”

“Only you,” she vowed. “Only you, my Az.”

“Let’s fill your pretty little hole then,” he licked on it again, and then slid one strong, long finger inside. As he began to pump her slowly, he proposed, “When I fill you with my cock later on,”

“Uh oh,” she moaned dreamily, smiling a loving smile, enjoying his finger to the fullest.

“I think I’d like to add a finger or two as well. What do you think?”

“I’d like that, I think,” she complied easily.

Elain was not a particularly imaginative lover, but Azriel was the opposite—he had too much imagination when it came to everything. Especially Elain, and what he liked to do with her sexually. What was absolutely fantastic, and he thanked all the gods for this phenomenon, was that Elain was willing to try anything. She was an absolutely willing and eager lover, who learned from him and learned of her body with readiness and joy. He dominated her completely, but that was the nature of their relationship, and they easily fell into their roles, from the very beginning. She was submissive, loved praise, and loved being guided and told what to do. More than anything else, she loved pleasing him. There was never any pull and push, no competition, no power struggles. Elain was made for him, created and carved from something that was innately his, whether it was his body or his mind, and they lived and loved harmoniously. He complimented her perfectly: her temperament, her needs, her wants. He treated her with admiration, gentleness, adoration and respect, and while his own expectations were high, she met them all with ease. She took control when she needed to. Received what she wanted from him, however she needed to. And he gave and gave.

Some, or many, called them soulmates.

Perhaps that’s what they were. Or maybe, they were even more than that.

Azriel stretched his legs on either side of her curved body and then added another finger inside of her sopping, slippery opening, reaching deep into her and pumping her firmly.

“Auuuu, babe, it’s good…” she squealed, “it’s so good.”

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled her buttocks apart with his available hand and swept his tongue over the tiny opening, causing her to seize with surprise and pleasure. Instinctively, she moved her hips against his tongue, pushing her backside into his lips. He licked the little hole in earnest, dragging his tongue back and forth between both of her openings, making her tremble and shudder every time his tongue reached one or the other.

As he sat to the task of licking and sucking her tight hole, he thrust a third finger into her dripping passage, feeling her shift against his face to accommodate the stretch. It was a lot, and she whimpered and moaned from the pressure, but he knew that she could take four, though he wasn’t in a hurry, and worked her diligently and steadily, his tongue laving the other hole just as eagerly.

She was shaking between his legs, her toes curling beneath her, rapid pants escaping into the morning mists, her hair draping the tiled floor in front of her, even spilling through the balcony rails.

Somewhere they heard sheep bleating and Elain laughed softly, before arching her back even further, not caring how splayed she looked. There wasn’t a part of her that he hasn’t seen, hasn’t touched or licked or kissed, not an inch of her that wasn’t caressed by his rough hands, not an orifice that he hasn’t penetrated with his magnificent cock. He’d burrowed inside of her so deeply, so wholly, he possessed all of her and she knew what it’s like to truly be part of another person, to be loved with egregious passion.

He fed another finger inside of her and she cried out, trembling and grunting, as she grabbed and squeezed his foot with mighty strength.

He tore his lips away from her bottom and grinned,

“Love, when you are in labour with our baby, I am fully prepared for the fact that you will break my fingers, maybe even my hand.”

“I am sorry,” she laughed, and kissed his foot, dragging her tongue over his toes.

There wasn’t a part of him that she did not love, did not worship with everything she had. No part of his body remained un-kissed, un-touched, un-caressed. A lazy Sunday, especially if the weather was crap and they had no plans to go out, was her favourite time—she could spend the day loving her Azriel. On those days, she pleasured him. And if she spent hours with his cock buried in her throat, or his balls between her lips, or her tongue in his ass, she was only too happy.

The tips of his fingers crawled into that hidden spot inside of her, curling just so, so he could massage and rub her into a frenzy. He stilled for a moment, to allow her to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, as she bit his foot, trying to stifle her screams. She leaked slowly over his hand, as most of it was situated in her clutching, hungry tightness.

“Very good, my baby,” he praised, kissing her buttocks and then giving her anus a few approving licks, “taking all four inside of you,”

“Oh my god, oh,” she groaned, “it’s so tight…Az, my love, I am so full,”

“I know, love,” he coaxed evenly, his hand beginning a steady, firm barrage of deep, pounding thrusts, “but it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeess,” she only managed, voice thin, pleading. She could barely hold herself up, so he wrapped his arm around her hips, keeping her ass up. She grabbed the balcony wrought-iron spindles, squeezing them tightly, forehead pressed into the mattress, as he pumped her harshly, keeping her on the verge of constant climax, but pulling back just so, for her to moan and beg him in a never ending litany.

“Baby, you want to come?” he teased, still busy with her butthole, which softened under his furious sucking and if they had more time and privacy, Elain would be ready to take him anally soon enough.

“Yes,” she grunted, “yes,”

“Ask nicely, and maybe,”

“Ugh, you are such a horrible tease,” she complained, biting his foot in spite, and he laughed, before slapping her firm, soft buttock.

“Biting a person who is making you come so nicely?” he slapped her again, and she yelped with pleasure, wiggling her ass, silently asking for more.

The walls of her passage clenched desperately over his fingers, and she made a choking, frantic sound in her chest, now beyond pleading or even moaning. He sucked, and slapped, and bit, and thrust, pumping her open, the sounds of the wet and the skin inside of her completely obscene, and music to both of their ears.

Azriel noticed a man, either a delivery guy or a grounds keeper, watching them wide eyed and shocked from a distance. Probably not something he expected to see at 4:40 in the morning. Not that he made a move to leave.

Azriel opted not to alarm Elain, who was coming violently on his hand, her body trembling and jerking, her beautiful, quiet orgasm sweeping everything in its path. His girl deserved a proper wake up, deserved and needed her climaxes, and deserved to be watched, because she was so beautiful. Her teeth and tongue clamped tightly on his foot, his toes, as she bit and licked, completely undone, turned inside out by his expert hand.

He still worked her hand in her, his thrusts shallow and not as strong, when she collapsed on the mattress at last, eyes closed, panting.

He smiled and finally slipped on the mattress alongside her, though he kept a finger between her folds, rubbing soothingly. She’d bite his head off if he removed his hand from her this quickly.

“Good morning my love,” he whispered at last, kissing her cheek.

“Mmmm, good morning,” she sighed with satiated pleasure.

“Some guy caught an eyeful,” he whispered, but she only snuggled to his chest.

“I don’t care…As long as you were watching me, that’s all that matters.”

“I wouldn’t mind sliding into your little bum right now,” he confessed, stroking her hip and her curvy backside.

“Do you want to take me?” she offered sweetly, eyes fluttering open.

He kissed her head and smiled, “So tempting, but not here and not now. Let’s jump in the shower and then be on our way. We’ve got a decent amount of driving to do today.”

She nodded.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” she stroked his cheek, the sharp, angular cut of it, the dark bronze skin.

“You did, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you, Azriel.”

“I love you, Elain.”

 Elain

Their day was long.

They had their cappuccino and cornetti at some café on the road.

Their trip had a purpose—they were actually driving to Maranello, to the Ferrari headquarters where Azriel had 3 days of business meetings.

When Az told her that he was thinking of going to Italy, it was no brainer to say ‘yes’.

It was the first time she was going to leave her business, her shop, for an extended period of time, but Feyre promised to oversee the operations, while Cerridwen, whom Elain recently hired as a full-time employee and who was Nuala’s sister, was going to be responsible for the day-to-day.

The last time Elain’s been to Italy was when she was barely 10 years old. A few years before everything’s went to shit. Back then, her father completed a very lucrative business deal and there was a lot of disposable cash, so the family decided to take a grand trip to Italy.

Little Feyre who was only seven screeched and begged to go to Disneyland, while Nesta and their mother voted for Italy. No one asked Elain, assuming that she’d go wherever she was told.

The trip was extensive, almost four weeks, and they hit all the glamorous Southern parts—the Amalfi coast, with their headquarters in a rented villa near Positano. Then they went to Portofino, and their father rented a yacht for a few days, the trip culminating in Capri. It was a whirlwind on sun and the sea, of lemons, eating grilled squid, at which Feyre stared in horror, though she liked the taste, amazing fruit, endless pastries and gelato. Even their mother yanking a few pastries away from Elain, hissing that she ‘grow fat and not find a husband’ didn’t mar the experience. Elain, always the plumper of the sisters, was used to the warning by then.

 This time around, Elain could eat as much pastry as she wanted.

They landed in Rome, spent four days there, since she insisted on going to the Vatican Museum twice, hear Mass at St. Peter’s, and she didn’t know if she annoyed Azriel with her endless excitement and tales of art, artists, and biblical stories, but she couldn’t help herself.

She was an Art History major in NYU, receiving a full scholarship to attend. She loved it. Didn’t like college all that much as a whole, but loves studying. When everyone was partying, drinking, fucking and skipping classes, she went to the Met and to MOMA and learned and enjoyed herself. She loved history of religion, of other cultures and though not at all religious herself, none of them were, her knowledge on the subject was thorough.

Azriel, it seemed, liked her passion, her excitement, and listened attentively when she went on long explanation of what this or that Saint did and what grizzly death they’d suffered. And what was the significance of the painting or sculpture of the said Saint. Obviously, he was very artistically inclined as well, though his preference lay in design and industrial art, but he enjoyed listening and discussing. They spent hours and hours meandering the halls of the museum, and of the cathedral, and both spent a good half an hour in front of the Pieta, staring in silence and quiet contemplation at the sculpture, holding hands.

It was when they were sitting at a café, sipping some bitter Campari cocktails and watched the sprawling vistas of Rome that Azriel confided to her. Told her of his childhood. She knew some of the details, but he never talked about his childhood, and she opted not to pressure him. It was clear enough that it was horrific in many ways, and bringing up all those memories didn’t make sense to Elain.

Told her how his father, who was rich and vicious, won custody of him from his mother, not because he wanted his son, but out of spite, to torment the mother. And then it was years of solitude and loneliness and emotional and physical abuse. Azriel’s only reprieve was drawing, making designs, sometimes with chalk on the pavement, sometimes on scraps of paper. His stepmother threw everything out as soon as he made it. He languished in his father’s world for 8 years, until a catastrophic event took place—his stepbrothers doused him, his hands, in gasoline and lit him up. They didn’t call the paramedics either, and simply stood there, watching, as he burned. Finally, the neighbors heard his screams and police and ambulance came at last.

Because he was young, he recovered most of the sensations and feeling in his hands, but the skin was permanently scarred and his father refused skin grafts.

He’d met Cassian at the hospital, who came there having been beaten so badly by his foster father, that he had a concussion, broken ribs and a punctured eye socket.

Mrs. Darling, Rhys’s mother, who was one of the biggest benefactors of the children’s hospital where they were recovering, heard their stories and thankfully, her wealth opened every door. Her influence and wealth were no match for Azriel’s father. Hence when she decided that she wanted to adopt the two boys, little could be done to dissuade her. Azriel and Cassian still spent some time in foster care, while the documents were being processed and all the formalities legalized, but at the end, they ended up with the Darlings, as their adopted sons.

Elain wanted to cry for him, for his destroyed childhood, for his tormented youth, for his injuries, for the lack of love in his life. For his sake, though, she didn’t.

Sensing that he needed her support, she didn’t release his hand for the remainder of the day.

And she told him how much she loved him and how happy he made her.

 They left Montepulciano, and then drove for a few hours and stopped at Orvieto, and explored its unnecessary enormous Duomo, which was situated on the hill, amidst the Umbrian lushness. The tiny town did offer spectacular views and great wine, which they enjoyed with lunch.

 Now

Azriel worked his fingers into the supple warmth of her damp pussy and looked down, before ordering, “wider, Lainey”.

She spread her legs wider, her knit dress folded haphazardly over the belly.

“Wider,” he said and she placed one foot on the seat, exposing herself completely to him.

It was never wide enough for him, for he liked to see everything, liked to spread and open and pull her wide apart for his eyes, for his exploration.

He pressed his thumb to her plump pink clit and began to rub.

She whined impatiently and he smiled,

“We are almost there…”

“I need you,” she moaned, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“I need you too, my beauty,” he nodded, “but I think once we get there, you’ll forget all about me.”

She tsked and announced, “I don’t know if anything will impress me as much as your cock in my mouth,”

He started at the blunt words, her amused grin and then burst out laughing.

“Naughty.”

In a few minutes, he rounded a small green hill and Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, gods…Az…”

He was smiling.

He’d never been here before, but he’d done his research, finally finding the right spot.

A tiny hidden valley, nestled between a few rolling Tuscan hills, with a small turquoise lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun. In the distance, a mandatory Tuscan villa.

And poppies. Fields of poppies, stretching as far as the eye can see. A blanket of ruby-red poppies, gently swaying in the pine-scented air.

This place was a damn Walmart painting come true, and Azriel loved it for its kitsch, its predictability.

“It’s gorgeous!” she gasped. Then chuckled, adding, “Like one of those mass-produced paintings,”

At that, Azriel roared with laughter, killed the engine and they got out of the car.

“My thoughts exactly!” he nodded vigorously.

She ran into the poppies, brushing her palm over the petals, “But it’s worth it! No painting can ever do this justice! Az…it’s so beautiful!” she twirled in the field of red, her white dress a stark contrast to the vibrancy of the colours around her—the cobalt of the cloudless sky, the emerald green of the hills, the blood-red of the poppies.

He folded his arms and said, “I am glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!”

She inspected all the wildflowers that bloomed among the poppies, picking a few purple ones and a daisy and tucking them behind her ear. Another daisy she brought to him and tucked it into his hair.

“There is a blanket in the trunk,” he jerked his head towards the car, and unbuttoned his shirt almost to the navel, “if you want to picnic,”

“I want to picnic!” she squealed and ran to the car to get what she needed.

Soon there was a blanket on the grass and a few bottles of wine in a basket.

He slid down, stretching on the blanket, toeing off his shoes, rolling his shoulders. This was nice. He also relished her happiness, how her high ponytail bounced about as she ran through the field barefoot, and then began twirling, arms outstretched and singing loudly,

The hills are alive with the sound of

Griswold, he helped out.

“Are you coming here?” he called out, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“No,” she yelled, “I am picking flowers!”

“They’ll wilt,” he muttered reasonably, but she didn’t hear him.

Azriel dozed off, surprising himself. But the pleasant heat, the sunshine, the breeze, the birds—all lulled him into sleep. He stirred only when he sensed Elain near, and when he opened his eyes, he was treated by a lovely surprise. He propped himself on his elbows and watched his beautiful girl walk towards him completely naked, with a heap of flowers in the crook of her arm. What she did with her dress he didn’t know and didn’t care. But he drunk in the slim, curvy silhouette of her body, the long, slender legs and the toned thighs. Her smooth, pink sex glistened just a bit with her usual arousal, and full breasts bounced with every step. Her hair flowed behind her, unbound.

“I got hot,” she announced.

He grinned.

“I can see that. I like it when you get hot like this.”

She stood over him, her delicious slit taunting him and he made to touch it, but she dumped all the flowers on him instead and said, “get up”.

“Why?!” he frowned. “I am so comfortable.”

“I can make you a little more comfortable,” she promised, “but for that, you have to get up.”

With a groan, he got on his feet, only to have her slide on her knees in front of him. She looked up and murmured, “by the time you are done with me, I only want to have gelato to soothe my throat.”

He swallowed audibly, watching her unbutton his trousers and then his shirt. She removed the pants completely, but left the white shirt on, before placing a few soft, loving kisses on the thick slabs of muscles on his stomach. The well-defined outline of his Adonis Belt she traced with her tongue, inevitably making her way from his hip towards the final destination.

“And I want my knees bruised,” she added with a wicked smirk.

He flicked her nose and shook his head, “such filthy words coming from this pretty little mouth.”

She licked her lips with impatience, hungrily watching him fist his member and give it a few rough, preliminary strokes.

“Gods, your cock is gorgeous,” she gasped with admiration, watching him work himself with practiced determination.

“You like my cock?” he drew the thick, smooth head of it over her full lips and she whimpered with anticipation, nodding, kissing it affectionately, with slow, open mouth kisses, as he continued to pump it lazily.

She admitted, “more than anything. Az, Az,” she begged impatiently, as he smeared a trickle of liquid that dribbled from the tip over her lips, “please,”

“Please what?”

She rested her hands on his thighs, kneeling close enough so that her breasts brushed against them, “I want it in my mouth. Please.”

He lightly smacked the thick girth of his shaft over her half-opened mouth, making her shake with anticipation, smiling down at her. Her eyes burned with raw, overwhelming desire.

“But I like it when you ask me, baby. Tell me more,”

“That your cock is gorgeous and ridiculously huge?” she chuckled, relishing in his rubbing the tip insistently over her lips, as she licked the little slit.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

“That I love you and can’t wait to suck it?”

“Alright, babe,” she nodded at last, “I guess you’ll just have to suck my huge dick,” and with that, he slid between her lips.

She smiled around him and pulled on it deeper, dragging her tongue over and under the thick shaft. It was always just a little too big for her, so she gasped, as he filled her mouth more and more, sliding in steadily. She eased her throat as much as she could, accepting the thrust and feeling the smooth head dip down, brushing the back of her throat. He was watching her intently, every bob and swallow of her throat, making sure that she was comfortable enough to hold him in. “Big?” he murmured. Her eyes teared up, but she managed a small nod. Her hands squeezed his thighs nervously, tightly, stroking the backs of them, while he began to pull out slowly, before sliding back in.

Nothing was more exciting than Elain’s ability to mould her throat around his shaft, while those big brown eyes blinked at him, seeking approval. He put his hand over her head, stroking it, then caressing her face, her hollowed cheeks, while giving her mouth a few exploratory thrusts.

She readied herself and pulled back, releasing the cock with an audible pop, and then licking the underside, from the balls to the tip.

“Just like that, my love,” he nodded, watching her tuck her face in the crease of his hip and slide her tongue up and down the sides of his cock. “Is that good?”

“It’s the best,” she vowed, “I love licking!” she added enthusiastically, proceeding to do just that.

He always remembered that she was very innocent and whatever she knew, no matter how sensual, erotic or even perverse, it all came from him. He taught her—gently, firmly and thoroughly the art of the bedroom and whatever they did, he was completely assured that she enjoyed and wanted every moment of it. Thankfully, she was so innocent that she didn’t know how to pretend or fake anything, especially when it came to sex, and didn’t know how to play games. She was eager and loving and excitable because what they did together, with each other, pleased her, and for no other reason. Azriel cherished this level of honesty more than anything.

Therefore, when she said that she loved licking, she showed him just how much she enjoyed it, licking up and down voraciously, over the sides, watching him unblinking. He cupped the pouch of his balls in one hand and carefully eased it into her mouth.

“You are so good to me,” he groaned, as she wrapped her lips around the ball and began to suck eagerly, not caring if she was loud, smacking her lips, tongue working non-stop, caressing the flesh. She hummed appreciatively around the balls, sending a pleasant shiver down his thighs, her mouth completely filled with him. “That’s good, my girl,” he stroked her head, “just like that. Keep going,” his head fell back with satisfaction, and she swallowed hard around his balls, almost moaning at the sight of his neck, the expression of pleasure written on his face.

“Can I tell you a story?” he muttered huskily, looking back down at her, his eyes dark and his face tense. Elain nodded. He gripped his cock and then slid it back in her mouth, almost to the hilt, making her choke and gag at once, watching her eyes widen.

She was drooling, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the pressure of her member in her throat, or from the visual display of his stunning body above her. The thick pectorals, adorned with black and blue ink twitched as he began to pump in and out of her mouth, hard and steady. He held the back of her head, but the clutch of his hand was light and casual, only keeping her in place, as his narrow hips flexed with each deep push. A delicious bead of sweat ran down the cobbled network of his abdominal muscles, slowly making its way to the deep V etched into his hips, towards the thick cock that he was currently ramming into her mouth.

She drooled. She licked and laved and lapped. She didn’t care how messy or ridiculous she looked, because her man loved her and loved her on her knees in front of him.

“I couldn’t stop watching you talk,” he grumbled, “the first time I saw you. Your plump lips…Oh fuck, baby, you feel so, so good,” he rode her smoothly, with deep, expert strokes, “you wore that rose-tinted lipstick…and all I could think of afterward was those lips wrapped around my dick.”

She smiled over his member, lightly shaking her head, as much as her current position would allow.

“I am sorry, honey,” he smiled at her, “this pervy mind couldn’t think of anything else but getting my dick down your throat.”

And demonstrating just that, and the resolution of his dream, he pushed further.

“Alright?” he asked, carefully holding her jaw. She blinked her approval. He was unable to take his eyes off her, her lush lips wrapped tightly around the dark mass of him, her beautiful eyes tearing from pressure. He wiped the tears with his thumbs and then gave a brief nod, “give me those flowers, baby.”

Obviously, she couldn’t glance down, so she blindly grabbed a handful of flowers and handed them to him, her expression amused, a little surprised.

“What’s more romantic,” he murmured, stroking her hollowed cheeks and then pulling out a little, before pushing back in, “than putting pretty flowers into my Lainey’s hair,” and he plucked a small poppy from the heap, and pushed in into her hair, “while she deepthroats me?”

He was heavy and thick in her mouth, salty, delicious and familiar, and as he began thrusting firmly, the thick head hitting the back of her throat, Elain settled in for a ride. She wasn’t kidding when she asked for her throat to be raw by the end of it—she liked being sore somewhere in her body from him, at all times. Between her legs, inside her rectum, in her throat—it didn’t matter, though it was nice if it was everywhere, but she loved being marked by him in some way.

The hum and rumble in Azriel’s throat, that of masculine satisfaction and some kind of primal dominance made her so wet, she leaked down her thighs. But he didn’t tell her to touch herself, so she didn’t. He just fucked her throat steadily, the audible sound of her choking and sputtering around his cock and the satisfied snarls emanating from him, the only sounds around them. His hips rocked hard, pumping deep, as he garbled endearments and praise to her, “is that so good, honey? You feel amazing…”

She squeezed his thighs in affirmation. As he worked on her, he kept putting flowers in her hair, admiring her sucking and his work, “so gorgeous, baby. My beautiful girl…Good cock?”

“Mmmm,” she only managed, saliva bathing her chin and chest, her eyes rolling back with pleasure and exhaustion.

“Can you handle a little more?” he begged, “I don’t want to come yet, my love,” another flower in her hair. “I love you on your knees with my cock in her mouth.”

He set a brutal rhythm, muttered, “choke, baby…” and she did, gagging and panting over his member, the lack of oxygen making her pliant and obliging, her mouth existing for his pleasure. When they played a little rougher, he could request to squeeze her throat a little with his hand, while he choked her with his cock, but today, he was feeling romantic, as was she.

Her hair dripped with flowers of all kinds, as he fashioned her into some kind of Summer Lady. Or maybe a Dusk Lady, since the sun began its descent and shadows spread over the pretty little valley.

“Fuck me, you are so beautiful,” he grunted, looking down at her. “My flower girl, with my cock in her mouth. Bob a little, love, show me how much you like it,” he encouraged and she immediately began to bob her head  up and down on him, drool sliding down his shaft, her eyes pleading for his approval, which he gave generously.

He gently, kindly stroked her face, her throat, feeling his cock deep inside it, moving in her, rubbing at the indentation with his thumb. Then, he cupped her face between his large hands and murmured, “open up”, thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks, as tears slid down when he started to thrust intently, battering her throat. “My girl is sucking so well,” he was relentless now, pounding and pounding, an Elain thought that she might just pass out from the sensation, feeling lightheaded. Azriel had inhuman stamina when he was between her legs, but that also translated to when he was in her mouth, which meant he could ravage her completely. “I’ll feed you all the gelato myself, if you can suck a little more,” he promised with a smirk, pulling out completely. “Breathe,” he ordered, and she gulped in some air, before he thrust back inside, “are you tired?”

She shook her head ‘no’. She was never tired for him. She moaned, though his cock pushed down all sound with brutal, excited enthusiasm, as he cupped his balls tightly in his hand, readying to finally come. “Fuck, baby, you suck so well,” he squeezed her shoulder, stooping over her, the muscled of his abdomen twitching and tensing, his balls tight against her chin. Grabbing her shoulder with one hand, he cupped her under the jaw and kept her head still, as he exploded in her mouth. He poured down her throat with a pleased, blissful moan, throwing his head back, pumping harshly and erratically, filling her mouth over and over. She sucked and drank, swallowing quickly, gluttonously. Azriel always tasted heavenly, but perhaps it was something about being in Italy and all the fruit and wine that they’ve been consuming, but she couldn’t get enough of him now. He shot rope after rope down her throat and she lapped it all with pleasure. He dropped on his knees, exhausted, his cock still in her mouth, and she stroked and caressed his body soothingly, swallowing the last of him.

“Gods, Elain,” was all he managed, as he finally withdrew in an endlessly long pull from her lips.

She gasped, and licked her lips, before placing a loving, playful kiss on the pink, wet head of the shaft.

“Did you have fun, my love?” she cooed tenderly, as Azriel slumped on the blanket, head her on her lap.

“Baby, why do you spoil me like this?” he moaned, reaching for her bare plump breast and cupping lightly.

“Probably because I love you more than it’s prudent,” she smiled, her voice hoarse. “More than anything. Love you like I didn’t know I could love anybody. Also,”

“Yes?”

His chest constricted from her simple admissions, from the pure earnestness of her words, from the love that was shining in her brown eyes. He was undeserving of this woman, of her overwhelming love for him, of everything that she gave him so selflessly. But he listened and listened, because everything she told him was like a balm on all the wounds of his soul, and music to his heart.

Her lips were gorgeously, obscenely swollen, and he dragged his thumb over their plumpness. She added, “you are very hot.”

“Ahhh,” he chuckled. “So you are using me for my body?”

“I’d be stupid not to use you for your body. You got one hell of a body, my mysterious, shadowy Azriel.”

“Well, flower girl, you go ahead and use my body as much as you want, for anything you desire. It’s yours.”

He kissed her hand. Then, reached up and kissed her pretty pink nipple.

“As is my heart,” he added softly. “Anything you want. It’s all yours.”

She lay next to him, both of them sprawled in the blanket of flowers. She picked a poppy and stuck it behind his ear.

“Pretty boy Azriel.”

He propped his cheek and turned to face her. She was still covered in flowers, from all his handiwork.

“We are good together, aren’t we?” she murmured, laying her hand on his neck.

“We are. We are very good together, Lainey.”

She bit her swollen lip and then said, voice quiet, a little uncertain,

“Maybe you want to marry me?” she proposed.

He stilled, waiting for more.

She squeezed the back of his neck a little tighter and continued, no stopping her now, “I know we were thinking later, maybe next y-,”

“Yes,” he nodded, “yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Elain, I want to marry you now.”

She gasped, tears of joy moistening her eyes, “In Florence?” she begged.

“Yes. In Florence,” he cupped her face in his. “Let’s go get married!”

[formulatrash]

Hi hazel. Have you talked/interviewed/interacted with mick schumacher? I just feel like for a person with a very famous last name, I literally have no idea about who he is as a person. I mean I know we will never know these drivers for real, but at least with others (like lando, max, lewis, george, etc) I have a general idea of what their vibe/personality is. With mick… I have nothing. He’s just there like🧍🏼‍♂️. I dont want to call him boring but he comes across as one. 😭 Do you think it’s a schumacher thing? Or a prema/ferrari driver academy thing? I feel like he’s very media managed/coached. I dont even think he has close racing friends? I mean I know he is friends with callum but I feel like it’s not as strong as callum’s friendships with other drivers. You know how Lando is? Like obviously we dont know who Lando is in real life but we know his what his vibe/personality is. That’s why it’s easy to root for him/empathize with him. It makes him familiar. I dont get the same from Mick. He is a stranger with a capital S. He’s gives me “strictly coworker energy” if you know what I’m saying. I just feel like he keeps a distance between him and other drivers. Not necessarily bad tbh. It’s just sad. He’s seems like the type of person who comes to work and then goes home immediately when it’s done. He does not hang out or tries to get to know you beyond “coworker.” Like if you were his coworker, you would only know him as Mick the man who works in the same place as me. Nothing beyond that. I dont know if that makes sense. Sorry if this is annoying. I just want to know your opinion on him or if you have an insight on who he is as a person. This is not a negative criticism against mick by the way. I’m just genuinely curious. I hope you are well Hazel. Take care.

I think something it’s important to remember is that Lando has been around for three seasons now - Mick has only done 9 F1 races, I don’t know that we had that much of a grip on the 2019 rookies by that point, really. I was working in [REDACTED] and I definitely don’t feel like I knew much about George or Alex or Lando at this point in the season.

That being said, Mick is very carefully guarded about his private life. To my knowledge, he’s good friends with a lot of drivers and especially the ones he’s raced against in junior series but he has developed under a scrutiny and media attention very few other drivers face.

Growing up the son of Michael Schumacher meant he got very shielded from the media, which is the right thing for his family to have done. He still is, to some extent, even within the F1 circus and that’s good for Mick not having the pressure of his dad’s achievements over him constantly. 

I haven’t really ever regularly interviewed him and as a member of the press, I’m one of the people he’d be most carefully media trained and curated away from. I think if Mick decides at some point that he wants to be more open then it’s not a case of his family closeting him away, just giving him the option of making it a decision, rather than something that is by default invasive to his life.

My impression of him is that he’s very sweet and sincere and isn’t exactly a closed-off person but has also been asked shitty questions about his dad every time he was interviewed. Like when Phil Duncan asked him what he thought his father would think of his F1 debut and Mick demurred the question as personal, which he has every goddamned right to.

The first time he did a press conference as part of the Grand Prix circus, making his F2 debut, he was asked the worst things about his dad. I actually can’t find the quotes now and tbh I’m glad because the level of invasion journalists seemed to think was acceptable, including asking about Michael’s condition, was absolutely horrifying. 

Mick couldn’t even win the F2 title in his own right without Ross Brawn comparing it to Michael’s victories.

So of course, Mick is careful to protect himself and his family from that, as much as possible. I’m sure there will be plenty of cute content from him, though - Haas are doing stuff with Nikita, after all, when Mick is considerably easier to sell. There was always sweet stuff with him from Prema and FDA when he was in junior series. 

But yeah: it’s only been a few races. There’s that parasocial element of perhaps not feeling like we “know” Mick, the same way we “know” Lando or whoever but that’s kind of just an extended headcanon delusion, innit. Which, like anyone in the public eye, he’ll probably eventually have woven around him. 

[youjustwaitsunshine]

why i love jev and why you should too; an essay

first things first, Jean-Éric Vergne is a french racing driver, driving in f1 for Toro Rosso from 2012 to 2014, and the to date only Formula E bi-champion (this word was used by official fe commentators and i thought it was hilarious so i adapted it). His cat is called Cheetah.

Jev is tall for a racing driver, so he always had trouble with weight regulations simply because he has more body mass than shorter drivers. He had massive health problems especially in his last year in f1 because he needed to meet weight regulations. When he was out of f1, he was with Ferrari as test driver for one year in 2015 while also doing formula e where he was good in qualifying but less good in the races.

In f1, jev was part of the frenchie gang

and a close friend of Jules Bianchi, whose death took a big toll on jev. Jev is still getting on well with the f1 frenchies we have at the moment and he was driving the virtual le mans in a team with Pierre Gasly with whom he is probably already sharing strategies to comb over bald spots.

In his first years in fe, jev was known to be difficult, he was in a really bad place from getting the Red Bull Family Treatment™ and when he got to techeetah from (ds) virgin racing it was said that that was more or less a last hurrah but boy they were wrong.

Techeetah was the right team for Jev and they got their collective shit together and won two driver's and one team championship.

That much for history, now the important stuff:

I like Jev a lot because he has the same personality as my cat: bitchy, mopes if things do not go his way, seems like an ass but is actually a softie.

when he's concentrated, jevs eyes double in size and he goes full 👁️👄👁️

When the australian gp didn't happen jev looked at the trainwreck of f1 and said skdjdhdhdjs lets go virtual i got this and then proceeded to do the not the gp series with veloce just because he could. F1 wishes. The f1 virtual gps were just a pale copy of Jev Virtual Racing inc.

Another point of why i love jev is that he liked a painting i made of him on instagram

i also love jev because he can not sit straight and i identify with that as well as him practically inhaling kinder eggs on stream, which is another point: TWITCH JEV.

This is his twitch and his streams mostly consisted of bad formatting, angry french mumbling and huffing and calling seb buemi to complain/mope

My personal highlight of jev streams was when Cheetah came to sit on his bed during the virtual le mans and also the chaotic amazon box corner he had under his stairs

Jev has a rug in his living room with his logo/intials on it, which says something about his ego as well as his interior design tastes.

Cheetah, his young and very cute bengal cat looks perpetually worried about him (understandable) and takes great interest in sim racing

of course i can not mention jev without jeandre because the fe francophone power couple is the fanfic that writes itself:

from being childish dumbasses as teammates to demonstrating how baby fe cars are made and still getting the first 1-2 in fe history in santiago de chile to dinner dates to jev going to andre's house in gordes on his birthday to jev once again being a human in cat software and inconveniently plopping himself onto andre to "and there was only one bed" irl, jeandre are goals.

Andre is the prime example of what happens when a wild jev meets someone he clicks with and can work with well (still waiting for the jeandre sunglasses brand)

here they can be seen judging anything you put into the blue rectangle, thank me later

when things do not go his way, jev mopes. Getting yeeted by George in the not the gp series? Jev mopes. Qualifying went bad? Jev mopes. Small inconvenience? Jev mopes. Big inconvenience? Jev mopes and says/does something unsportsmanlike which gets him in trouble over which he probably mopes even more. He's a sulky mopey little girl at the playground and i love him for it even though I don't support his rash dumbassery he sometimes shows on track.

Now jev is regularly being described as "the frenchest person possible" and he is not only french but parisian. A true parisian should always be a little slutty and jev can do that no problem.

scandalous.

jev is the kind of person who goes full cleavage on his bike jersey and i respect that

anyways jev is a really cool and sincere dude when he's not sulking at the moment, he's a great driver and while he does have his faults he seems like someone you can genuinely vibe well with.

Also he plays piano beause ofc he does hes the slutty sulky french googly eyes dude

If jev were a pokemon, he'd be roselia in my opinion and with this conclusion i say thank you for reading/sorry you had to scroll through this mess, bye.

go to my jev tag for more screaming about unhinged twitch dinner plate eyes man

[mickstart]

what do you think are some iconic/memorable schumi moments? i just got into f1 and would like to know more about him bc somehow i can’t really find anything like that about him.... just stats which are incredibly impressive but i can’t find anything about how he behaved or just anything about his personality..... thanks <3

:) Hi anon, thank you for unleashing the beast.

Ok I love you for asking me this thank you SO MUCH. Welcome to the circus I’m glad you’re here! Also yeah, Schumi is often talked about in terms of statistics and not as a human, Which is a shame bc like! Schumi is fascinating and the dynamics on the grid in late 90s F1 is so much fun! Also, this is mainly going to be late 90s -> early 2010s stuff bc I was born in 98 so uhhh I didn’t properly witness ANY 90s stuff and had to learn about it.

OK so I got super carried away but I’ve divided this into 3 sections: Drives/races that I think showcase some of his talents, human moments we need to talk about more, and Chaotic Little Bitch moments. The key thing to remember w/ Schumi is that he personally tends to be nice but as soon as you put him in a competition, Bastard Mode activates like a cat’s pupils going wide.

I am so sorry for the following short essay. Also some crashes are briefly mentioned but only ones with absolutely no injuries and there’s no details.

Chaotic Little Bitch Moments

Schumi debuted as a SUBSTITUTE driver for Jordan when one of their drivers was in police custody (yes. really.) The highest a Jordan had qualified all year was 10th and in his DEBUT at SPA, one of the toughest tracks, in the middle of the season, Schumi qualified that Jordan 7th! THEN his clutch failed before the first lap was even complete, but Benetton and Jordan WENT TO COURT to fight each other to sign him for their team before the next race in Monza. He couldn’t debut normally he HAD to cause a scene and set the tone.

The Red Strings of Fate: He qualified 7th, his iconic 7 starred helmet, his first victory next year was ALSO at Spa - his first complete race would be at Monza, Ferrari Holy Ground, and he finished 5th which 👀 1) he was immediately racing with The Greats. 2) Mr 5 Championships With Ferrari.

Winning a race by taking a stop and go penalty on the last lap, crossing the finish line in the pits, and making such a complicated argument about said penalty that in a hearing that was SUPPOSED to be Mclaren protesting the race result the stewards scrapped the entire penalty and the 3 who awarded it handed in their licenses??? Iconic.

Austria 2002 where Rubens was ordered to give the win to Michael. And then Michael fucking made him stand on the top step on the podium like “oh no no no RUBENS deserves this” and made a big SHOW out of it and its like “Michael stop you’re not making it heartwarming you’re making it WORSE Michael STOP” The Tension of germany 2010 podium VS the theatricality of THIS podium.

Team orders were banned because of this which also makes this indirectly responsible for Fernando Is Faster Than You having to be a coded message. You can’t escape him,

Blocking Alonso in Monaco qualifying and then, years later in 2010, overtaking Alonso technically illegally at Monaco (the race was ending under safety car, but the safety car doesn’t lead them over the line it pits and they’d crossed the safety car line and the regulations were NOT specific about the rules) and getting a 20 second penalty bc Damon Hill was a steward. Haunting FERNANDO specifically at Monaco like the ghost of christmas past? Getting a harsh penalty because ANOTHER driver he’d fucked over was a steward? Forcing the FIA to rewrite the rulebook to account for his nonsense when he was in his FOURTIES? I don’t know another chaos king.

Winning the 1995 championship by crashing into Damon Hill, getting AWAY with it for some reason, and then trying to do the same thing in 1997 to Villeneuve, failing to do so and simply rebounding off of him harmlessly, almost COMICALLY, and beaching his own car in a gravel trap at which point the FIA said “I have had ENOUGH of you Wacky Races Man!” and disqualified him from the entire championship

Forcing Mika off the track so bad at Spa 2000 that Mika realized the only way he was gonna be able to get past him was to re-invent the overtake and go for it whilst they were passing a backmarker. (The overtake itself is at 2:05 in the video but the build up to it is Important bc the key part it’s not just badass, it only happened bc Mika knew who he was dealing with.)

Spa 1998 was a Ridiculously Chaotic race it truly was the Mugello 2020 of its year, and after a crash at the start that took out almost the entire grid Schumi accidentally collided with Coulthard later in the race. (The teams used to have a spare car at every race then, so the race was able to continue after a restart.) This wasn’t a racing thing, Coulthard was getting lapped. So something in Schumi SNAPS, and he storms down the pitlane and tries to fight Coulthard while the mclaren and ferrari mechanics both hold him back and finally drag him away. He projected into the future, saw Coulthard was gonna talk non-stop shit about Seb, and acted accordingly.

Monaco 2012 Pole don’t talk to me about this I still can’t believe the audacity of this man to get the only pole of his comeback, at MONACO, at the ONE RACE where he had a 5 place grid penalty to take!!

In general, I know Cheating Bad but. I HAVE to admire the brainpower it must take to have the rulebook so memorized that whilst driving an F1 car Schumi could spot a loophole the size of the eye of a needle and then dance through it, forcing the FIA to add ANOTHER page to the rule book specially for him bc nobody else even REALISED that loophole existed.

Human Moments

A quick rant about Mika and Schumi’s entire friendship. After Spa 2000 Mika goes up to Michael, says something like “Don’t ever do that again” then they’re friends again. They had this mutual understanding that Racing was not Reality. This goes all the way back to their F3 days they were rivals AND friends for their entire career. They truly were the Sewis of the era if Sebastian was like 50% more evil. Their entire dynamic is “You’re the only motherfucker in this pit lane who can handle me”. Schumi would do some bullshit and every other driver would throw up their hands in frustration and Mika would just go “Okay” and drive better to put him in his place bc he was the only one who could keep up, and Schumi very visibly LOVED that he’s grinning after Mika owns his entire ass with that overtake at Spa. They were unstoppable force meets immovable object and I’m so sad their rivalry isn’t more talked about bc the way Mika is the only driver who can get him to behave like a normal human being is SO entertaining.

This is a sad one so I won’t link it but he started crying in the 2000 Monza press-conference with his brother and Mika when he equaled one of Senna’s records. The press kept trying to ask questions about it and Mika just has this death grip on his shoulder and tries to get them to stop or let them take a break and it’s so sad but also important to know about.

Once said he didn’t want Mick to race in F1 bc the pressure of his name would put Mick under so much stress and he wanted his son to be happy. (He fully supported Mick in his endeavors! But only after making absolutely sure it was what Mick wanted, and making sure he knew he could just race for fun if he wanted and it didn’t have to be F1)

This whole interview just after Mick was born with the Schumacher family. Special shout out to Gina on his head the entire video and also Corinna talking to the press while Michael is captivated by Mick. Me too Michael.

Once allegedly pleaded to take a stray kitten home from the track?

I reblogged this yesterday but. Sticking like glue to Sebastian at an F1 test and immediately being like “This is my new son he’s gonna go far”. There’s a lot of pictures out there also of Michael being a guest at the karting races Seb went to as a kid and baby Seb visibly losing his fucking mind at being given a trophy by his idol. Every day of my life I think about him trying to ruffle Seb’s hair through his helmet at Brazil 2012

WInning the championship in 2000. Him thanking the entire team individually and pausing mid-celebration to kiss his wife Corinna so tenderly it’s in the F1 opening. Also, the way it literally cuts from the rest of McLaren looking like they’re attending a funeral to Mika grinning at him and hugging him fucking SENDSSSSS me.

Schumi was a little shit in all the 2010-12 press conferences like, lowering Lewis’ chair, playing with a microphone wire, but ESPECIALLY corrupting baby Seb and getting him to mess with Nico Rosberg.

He’s just GOOFY! Like I refuse to let him be remembered as a terrifying force of nature he was so goofy kind of similarly to Seb. PLEASE watch this incredibly awkward interview he did with Coulthard on a golf buggy where they both had to pretend they hadn’t thought about murdering each other at least once. I think Sky F1 should force Brocedes to do this when covid’s over. “Do you mind if I drive?” “Yes.”

EDIT: I CANNOT BELIEVE I forgot the 1999 Canada press conference where Eddie Irvine and Mika Hakkinen get into a water fight and Schumi immediately grabs a towel and hides behind it and is like “I had NOTHING to do with it” 🥺 adorable, actually

A lot of people at Ferrari, including Rob Smedley (who was on the other side of the garage with Felipe Massa so not in his inner circle) have said that a lot of the success of the team came from Schumi’s LEADERSHIP more than anything, that he’d make the team get together to bond all the time. When Schumi moved to Ferrari in 1996 they were NOT dominant. He did the same thing Lewis did - went to a team that everybody said would be a huge mistake and helped build them up behind the scenes.

THIS bit of the Canada 2011 Rewind where his engineer gives him the strategy and he’s like “... OkaAaAaAay?” and then when it turns out to be the wrong strategy he cheerfully tells them it’s too late. Little shit.

Speaking of Mercedes I also wanna say that like. They were a MESS in 2012 and his car DNF’d because of a failing on their part MULTIPLE times. (In Canada qualifying his DRS was stuck open and they couldn’t close it.) He did not say a single bad word about them EVER even though the press used this to attack him non-stop as washed-up and bad without Ferrari to cheat for him. At Ferrari he was the exact same with the team, any bastard antics Schumi had for his rivals did not extend to the engineers and crew.

OK this one is soured bc Top Gear is trash BUT if you were like, a kid in England who followed motorsports? Schumi’s fake reveal as The Stig on Top Gear was like the coolest, sickest thing,

Please view this image of Schumi and Mika when they were young and stupid

Iconic Races

ok so I have limited myself to a few races that show off some of his key strengths!

Hungary 1998 / France 2004 - STRATEGY/SPEED - Schumi switched to a 3 stop strategy in 98 and a FOUR STOP strategy in 04 and won both races. In order for the strategy call to work he’d have to basically make every single lap a qualifying style ‘flying lap’ and you best fucking believe he DID THAT. God I fucking miss when Ferrari was the king of strategy.

Argentina 1998 -  has it all. Talent, battling Mika, pit lane mind games with mclaren, and bullying coulthard xxx

Spain 1996 / a majority of the wet races - RAIN - One of Schumi’s nicknames was Rain Master bc he was so fucking good in the wet. If it started raining and you were a Schumi stan you were cackling evilly before the red lights even went out. I single out 1996 bc it was his first win for Ferrari and it was unexpected but in most wet races, even Canada 2011 post comeback, you can see Schumi thriving.

Malaysia 1999 - Schumi missed pretty much the entire second half of the season with a broken leg, came back for the last 2 races with everybody murmuring about whether he would struggle, and immediately put the Ferrari on pole. Also worth noting is that he was the number 2 driver for these 2 races bc his teammate Irvine was fighting Mika for the championship and he went along with that without complaint, allowing Ferrari to win the constructor’s championship if not the driver’s.

Monza 2002, 03, 04, or 06 just because it has the energy of the tifosi kneeling at the feet of an idol to their red god.

Brazil 2006 - Fuck All Y’all - Schumi’s last race for Ferrari. He got a puncture and ended up almost lapped, and then drove his way back from that to 4th bc he couldn’t go out without reminding us he’s a bad bitch.

Monza 2012 - Defending - Don’t tell F1 Twitter that there’s actual footage of Lewis and Michael having a genuine lengthy battle on track but DO watch Michael defending like a motherfucker and Lewis breathing down his neck for half the race we need to talk about this more.

Valencia 2012 - This isn’t necessarily anything special but I cried in my living room over the only podium of his comeback so it goes on here. It doesn’t have the same impact if you haven’t been watching him struggle with the car for years, DNF-ing from car failure most of 2012, and having BBC F1 telling you he’s washed up every single weekend, but you can just enjoy one of the best drives of FERNANDO’S entire career as he DRAGS that Ferrari by its hair to a home grand prix win and then watch the crowds embrace him like jesus and also Schumi being happy on the podium. Also, the very start of this clip from the press conference: him forgetting what language he’s supposed to be speaking 

Basically, Schumi was a hyper-competitive ambitious bitch who turned into a goofball as soon as he switched the engine off. This is by NO MEANS everything if I was making an exhaustive best races guide I’d do more research and another post but I hope this is what you were looking for?? THANK YOU SO MUCH for letting me go MAXIMUM SPECIAL INTEREST and I apologize.

[someone-worth-racing-for]

I don’t think Carlos and Lando are that good friends anymore. Carlos is in a much better environment in Ferrari and I think it’s good that he isn’t that close with Lando anymore cause Lando acts like a child and like he always has to get what he wants. I think it would have been very toxic if Carlos had been at McLaren this year. I like your blog cause I love Carlos and you post very good pictures and stuff of him but I don’t like Lando at all. He feels like a very bad person who doesn’t deserve Carlos.

I don't know why people are suddenly thinking stuff like that - is last weekend's race the reason?! Even tho I still don't get it then, but I would really, really like to know what the actual reason is it then, because I see messages like this a lot in the last time (maybe it's just always the same anon, I don't know 🤷🏼‍♀️)?!

And to call Ferrari a good environment 😬 I really don’t know anon 😅 I don’t want to call them a toxic enviroment or something like that - the more I get to see/get to know about Ferrari the more I like them - but I think they are still far away from being a ‘family’ like the team back at McLaren. Or at least it looks like that, as far as we can tell from the stuff we get to see.

Yeah, maybe Lando sometimes acts (doesn’t mean he is like that) like a sulking child aka gremlin like we use to call him, but that’s part of his personality, part of who he is and I think Carlos likes, probably even adores that on him (so he can baby him), otherwise they would have never become such close friends.

And I’m to 101% sure, that the two of them are still pretty close friends.

I actually kind of agree with you here, but once again I wouldn’t call it toxic, if Carlos would still be at McLaren this season. I would better call it kind of difficult, at least it would have been so for me, cause it was already like that for me last season, because I like both, Lando and Carlos, and I want them both to be sucessful, but that’s pretty difficult if my two favourite drivers are in the same team 😅 I have to admit, that during last season I sometimes even “hated” Lando, actually not Lando himself, but all his fans that were nasty towards Carlos whenever Lando was more sucessful than him. I have really started to hate on Lando sometimes, but since the two of them are in different teams, I don’t feel that way anymore. I also dare to say that Carlos’ move to Ferrari was only good for their friendship, because it probably wouldn’t have worked out long-term with the two of them being teammates, especially since Lando wasn’t a rookie anymore. It was great as long as it has last, but in the end, Carlos’ move to Ferrari had probably only deepened their friendship, even tho I would have never thought to say that, especially back in Mai 2020 😅

It’s okay if you don’t like Lando - no one has to like everyone, or has to like someone because so many others do - but if you have planned to keep on following my account, you have to expect me posting stuff about Lando as well. I hope you can live with that 😉

Like I have said, everyone can have their own opinion, but I really wouldn’t call Lando a bad person and to say that Carlos doesn’t deserve Lando (like Carlos is some kind of God) sounds also very exaggerated to me. However, it’s your opinion, not mine 😉

[pierregasly]

Would love to hear your full take on Pierre,,,

Sorry this took me a few days to get to, I meant to answer it immediately but never found the motivation :( Anyways, onto Pierre. 

I believe you are commenting on a post of mine where I stated my fear that the Middle Generation of drivers (Charles, Carlos, Pierre and Max specifically) have/are going to miss out on opportunities and will never reach their full potential in F1. This is similar to what happened to the “Lost Generation” which is comprised of drivers such as Daniel, Kevin, Nico and Checo. To reiterate something that another asker was confused about: it has nothing to do with talent. The generations are not lumped together based on talent but based on their similar ages/entrance into F1 and I am speaking on the wasted potential that this group never got to achieve. (For example, Nico’s full potential was podiums--he never got here. And Daniel’s full potential was a championship--which he’ll never get.) 

I am not going to waste your time and state what I said briefly about Charles, Carlos and Max but I will go into depth more so about what I hardly touched upon with Pierre. As I said, Pierre is a phenomenal talent. As much as his podium and race win may have proven it to the world, many still call him a “luck driver” who is not good enough for a higher team. This is, obviously, because of  his time at Red Bull dramatically overshadowed his career. 

I started following Pierre around 2017 when I first got interested in F1 because of the history. In 2017 he wasn’t racing in Europe but in Super Formula so I took the time to catch up on his career thus far (I will go into depth on this in a moment). I didn’t start watching F1 until 2018 and the only driver (non-historical) I really was attached to was Pierre (others would comes later). Obviously, if you remember, Pierre ended up taking P5 in qualifying and P4 in a Toro Rosso in front of the whole world in only a few races at Bahrain. It was absolutely incredible and for the rest of the season until his Red Bull announcement, Pierre was dishing points place after points place after points place in only his first full season in F1. Therefore, while it was only his FIRST FULL SEASON, the jump to Red Bull ultimately felt justified. 

Of course, this did not end up being the case. Our joy over Pierre getting to be in a higher team made us completely and utterly forget the track record Red Bull has left with its second drivers. For those of you who are new to F1 (either coming in 2019, mid-2019 or 2020) you missed out on Pierre’s debut season which was fantastic for the car he was given. Furthermore, if you came in during mid-2019 or 2020 and you think that the treatment RB gave to Alex is horrible--you are hardly touching the surface. The treatment that RB is giving Alex versus Pierre is like taking your sons on summer vacation and then having one of them sleep on the comfy twin bed with two blankets and the other kid on the floor without so much as PJs. We haven’t even touched upon Daniil. Daniil would be like the parents leaving the kid outside to sleep. 

Let’s move on. It is very easy to look at Pierre’s season and tout only negative things. It was not his best moment and, yes, he certainly could’ve done better. However, with what he was given? Are we even sure about that? For example, Pierre become open with the media following his demotion. Not only did RB leave it to the very last moment but they also would:

1) Use Pierre’s car and car parts to test Max. 

2) When Pierre requested a more experienced engineer, he was denied. However, when Alex requested the same thing, he was given it. 

3) RB consistently spoke horribly of him in front of the media. They constantly spoke that he needed to do better and never tried to build him up. 

4) Emotionally pressured Pierre to his breaking limit.

Now the difference between RB and many other teams is that when the going gets tough for their drivers, many teams choose to build their drivers up to set them up for success. RB’s method is to tear their drivers down and hope that they can pick up their own pieces once they become annoyed with humiliation. The demotion was far, far too quick. Think of Alex--he has been getting worse and worse and worse with a year and half of time at Red Bull. Pierre managed half a season before they gave him the boot. The boot was also without warning even despite Pierre getting better and better each race. 

This is all information you probably already know, I said earlier I would touch upon his younger career and how this has been overshadowed and forgotten due to his time at RB. Here are some facts/statistics that will be important for my point later:

Finished 3rd in the French F4 championship with four wins, two poles and seven podiums over the course of only fourteen races despite having three retirements (the 2nd placer had 0 and the 1st placer only had 1). 

In his first season at Eurocup Formula Renault 2.0 he finished 10th of 51 different racers and every person but one who finished before him in the championship was older than him. Pierre was only 16 when Stoffel V was 20, Daniil K was 18, Oliver R was 20, Norman N was 20, Nyck V was 17, Paul L was 21, Oscar T was 16, Melville M was 18 and Alex R was 18. 

In his second season of Eurocup Formula Renault 2.0 he finished first in front of the likes of Esteban Ocon, Oliver Rowland, Jake Dennis, Nyck de Vries, Luca Ghitto and Alexander Albon.

Finished 6th in the 2013 Formula Renault 2.0 Alps Series despite missing half of the season and there being 42 competitors total (everyone ahead of him completed the full season). 

Finished 2nd of 28 competitors in the 2014 Formula Renault 3.5 Series and lost to none other than Carlos Sainz Jr. 

Finished 1st in his second full season of GP2 (now formally classified as F2).

The GP2 race he won in Silverstone happened right after a huge roadcar accident in which his mother ended up in the hospital. Pierre himself fractured his vertebrae and still went on to win the race while his mother was in the hospital and he had a broken bone. 

Was called in to replace a Renault edams driver in Formula E. He was jet lagged, tired and got only a few hours in the sims. He still managed to secure P4 in qualifying and then was set for a P3 finish but he crashed into the wall on the last corner of the last lap and came home in P4. THIS WAS HIS FIRST TIME EVER IN AN FE RACE OR AN FE CAR.

Finished second in Super Formula in 2017 but lost by only half a point. One of the races in the season was abandoned when he was set to win because of flooding and storm. Had it not been abandoned he would’ve finished first at the end of the season. 

All this pretty much brings you up to speed to when he entered into F1 (which all his amazing stuff you should be familiar with). Moving more onto my “take” regarding Pierre. I have shown evidence for why he is an incredible driver, however, now we’re moving onto the not so great bit. I suppose I must answer one question before I move on. 

Do I think Pierre is good enough, against all the rest of the talent in F1, to get consistent podiums if given the proper car? Absolutely. Do I think Pierre is good enough, against all the rest of the talent in F1, to get consistent wins if given the proper car? Absolutely. Do I think Pierre is good enough, against all the rest of the talent in F1, to fight/win a championship one day if given the proper car? This I firmly believe is possible (other thing I’ll get into if someone wants).

The reason I worry and am distressed about Pierre is because I don’t believe he’ll ever get a go at a higher team again. RB really put a shadow over his career, a shadow that is going to worry other teams from placing him into their cars. He has ultimately proven himself with podiums and, of course, the race win. However, seeing as there is so much young talent coming into F1, I don't see there being a place for him. 

Mercedes is set to most likely be Max and George when Lewis retires. Red Bull would never dare to put him in that seat again. Ferrari has their “golden generation” of Charles and Mick to look after. And those are the seemingly “top teams” (if you can even all Ferrari that). Let’s look at the others. Racing Point is going to be Lance and Seb until Seb retires. I don’t see Pierre ever going to Alpha Romeo. And McLaren is set up for the next few years with Lando and Daniel. Haas--I don’t think so. This is ultimately dangerous for Pierre’s career because RB likes to keep fresh meat in their B team car (or if you trust Horner it’s their “sister team” lol). Pierre’s best chance is the escape the RB family. AND I UNDERSTAND that the regulations could make things VERY different in F1 for the future. These are just my hypothesis and guesses--all is subjective and up to interpretation so @ anybody reading this--relax, buddy. So where does Pierre fit in in the future? These are some scenarios I have conjured up. 

1) Mercedes. Let’s say that, possibly. Max never ends up moving into that second Merc seat and instead remains at RB wasting away until they can get him a better car for the rest of his career (ooo burn sorry it’s for the scenario don’t hate me). This would open up a place at Merc for Pierre to truly shine his potential. Most likely, he would play second fiddle to George but hey--it’s still a seat where can utilize that potential. 

2) Red Bull. This would be if they get desperate. I don’t think if given a second chance, Pierre would say no. If Max were still in the team, he would be second fiddle. I can see Pierre going to RB if Max leaves for Merc in the next few years and they want him to lead Yuki or if Yuki doesn’t shine in AT and they end up dropping him they are going to be slim Pickens... I don’t know if being at RB will give him a place where he can utilize his potential but it’s a possibility. 

3) Ferrari. This would be only a chance if Mick doesn’t do great in Alpha Romeo and they need someone to fill the seat of their obvious place holder Carlos. He would be alongside Charles. Other than that.... Ferrari seems pretty set and there isn’t any space. 

4) McLaren. This I don’t see as very possible? I would love to see him in orange but they seem pretty set with Daniel and Lando. I think Daniel is probably going to ride out the end of his career there. Lando seems very integrated into the team and I can’t see him leaving unless he got a better offer like Merc. If Max didn’t end up taking the second Merc seat in the future and remains at RB then Lando might be given an offer which would open up a place that Pierre could possibly take. Do I count this as realistic? Not really, but it could happen. At McLaren I could see Pierre utilizing his potential. 

5) Renault. This is one of the options that seems most realistic to me. They're set with Fernando for the next few years. If they decided, after 2021, to give the boot to Esteban, that would open up a place for Pierre in a French team that would love a French driver (they already have one but Pierre is a FRENCH WINNER). You know that teams loves their nationalism.... Anyways. Or, possibly, Fernando retires after two years (again lol) which would open up a seat for Pierre to take along Esteban. However, I don’t really see Esteban staying long term because Renault probably needs to put one of their Renault babies like Guanyu or Christian in there. 

6) Williams. Lol. No. 

7) Haas. I don’t see it happening really??? I have my reasons but my gut just says... Au revoir.

8) Racing Point. THIS. This I see as 100% 100% a possibility. Let’s say that Seb retires after two years--this would open up a seat. Pierre is a strong, consistent and stable driver who doesn’t make mistakes. Here he could really use his potential!! #PierreInGreen!!

9) Alpha Romeo. As I said... I really don’t see it. They seem pretty busy with all their young guys. 

So to conclude, the future for Pierre lies at either Renault or Racing Point (less chance but possible includes Merc to McLaren). To not take up any more of  your time, this is what I mean by Pierre being an incredible talent who may or may not get a chance at a higher team. He deserves to have more and to have a second chance. He has really proven himself and is pulling the absolutely maximum out of himself. I really want to see him with more, like he deserves. 

Even Charles wanted him as his teammate at Ferrari back in April... that’s saying even more. Everyone on the grid except Esteban rate him highly as a person and as a driver. His potential deserves smth better. He has proven himself time and time again against everyone who told him he wasn't good enough and who still say it was all just luck. There exists luck. But firmer than luck, there exists skill. 

Pierre Gasly is a race winner in an Alpha Tauri. Do not forget that. 

[brentwatchesmovies]

Brent’s Top 10 Movies of 2019

Scorsese is probably my favorite living filmmaker, but I’ll be honest, when I heard that Scorsese was making this movie, and *how* he was making it (heavily digital de-aged actors) I was a bit skeptical. De Niro and Pacino haven’t been turning in interesting performances in quite awhile, and Pesci came out of a decades-long retirement for the movie as well. On top of that, the first trailer released did little for me. All that to say I was an idiot to doubt the master.

Scorsese returns to the crime genre that he re-invented many times over the years, this time with the eyes of a man in his 70’s, looking back on his life and career. The movie is very long, but in my opinion, it needs the length. The viewer needs to *feel* the totality of a life, and as is his intent with The Irishman, the *consequences* of this specific life. The final hour or so of this movie feels like a culmination of Scorsese’s career in many ways. The energy and entertainment of a crime/mob epic, with the fatalism and philosophical leanings of a movie like ‘Silence’. It’s a 3.5 hour movie that I’ve already rewatched, and actively want to again, so that alone ought to speak volumes.

Harmony Korine made one of my favorite movies of the 2010’s, the neon-soaked and often misunderstood ‘Spring Breakers’, so I was already in the bag for whatever he did next. When I heard it was a freewheeling stoner comedy where Matthew Mcconaughey plays a guy named ‘Moondog’ costarring Snoop Dogg, I reserved its location on my top 10 list.

This movie doesn’t have the empty heart at its core that defines Spring Breakers, opting instead for a character study about a ‘Florida man’ poet after his life pretty much falls apart. It’s basically plotless, stumbling from one insane, borderline hallucinatory sequence to the next, but I just loved living in the world of this movie. Beach Bum almost feels like a deliriously fun VR simulation of hanging out with Matt McConaughey and his weirdo friends down in the Florida keys. This is one that probably won’t pop up on many top 10 lists but I really adore, and will surely rewatch it a dozen times in the years to come.

Let the record show, I’ve been a huge fan of Bong Joon-ho since I first saw his monster movie/family drama ‘The Host’. Some time later, he went on to make ‘Snowpiercer’, one of my favorite movies of the last decade. All that to say, I think Parasite is probably his best movie, and a true masterwork of thriller direction. It also has his usual brand of social commentary and a script filled with darkness and humor, following a South Korean tendency to juggle multiple tones throughout, sometimes all in one moment or scene.

Parasite also follows a big 2019 trend of commenting on class and social dynamics between the rich and the poor. I think that’s part of why it’s done incredibly well at the box office (especially for a Korean language film), the fact that people can relate in a huge way, regardless of which country your from. Parasite is one of the most entertaining movie viewing experiences I’ve had this year and I’d recommend everyone check it out.

If you were to ask me what the funnest movie-going experience I had in 2019 was, I’d have to pick Rian Johnson’s ‘Knives Out’. Hot off making one of the best Star Wars movies ever made (don’t @ me) Johnson decided to make a passion project in the vein of classic Agatha Christie style murder mysteries, and the results are a total blast. Filled with clever twists and turns, weaponizing the structure of murder-mysteries against the audiences expectations, it stays one step ahead of you the entire time.

Aside from the clever mystery of it all, it’s the actors performances and chemistry that really sell this thing. Jamie Lee Curtis and Toni Collette are expectedly great per usual, and Daniel Craig is having the time of his life as Mississippi private-eye Benoit Blanc, but the heart of the movie is relative newcomer Ana de Armas. She brings an emotional weight and anchor to the movie that always keeps you emotionally invested amidst the terrible, money hungry backstabbing by the other heightened characters. I hope everyone sees this movie and Johnson is able to give us another Benoit Blanc adventure somewhere down the line, I’ll be there opening day.

Nobody makes an upbeat, feel-good movie like Ari Aster does! After last years light and breezy ‘Hereditary’ (which I liked a lot but didn’t totally love) he’s back with a completely riveting and emotionally draining (not to mention horrific) masterpiece. What I connected to most in Midsommar is the journey of Dani, played incredibly by Florence Pugh. The way the film portrays the relationship between her and her dog shit boyfriend played by the (usually) charming Jack Reynor keeps you invested in every twist, perfectly paced out over the movies admittedly long runtime.

I won’t get into spoiler territory, but where this movie goes in the end is what makes this a fully 5-star movie for me. After putting you through hell, like Aster loves to do with bells on, Midsommar ends in a euphoric, psychedelic orgy of music and violence that I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Midsommar rules so hard and I can’t wait for whatever twisted thing Aster cooks up next.

One of my increasingly favorite brands of movies is a finely crafted, primo slice of dad-movie cinema, and James Mangold has made one with Ford v Ferrari. The story chronicles the partnership of ex-racer and designer Carroll Shelby and racer Ken Miles as they work to make a Ford that can compete in the 24 hour race of Le Mans. Bale and Damon are a blast to watch bounce off each other and the race sequences are pretty damn thrilling, combining (what I expect is) a solid amount of great VFX with practical racing to great effect.

I also didn’t expect it to have as much to say about the struggle to create something special by passionate people and not committees while also inside the very machine that churns out products on an assembly line. Just a random note, this original movie was just put out by 20th Century Fox, now owned by Disney but that’s completely unrelated and I’m not sure why I’d even bring that up??? Anyway, I love this movie and dads, moms and everybody else should check it out.

If you saw my list last year, then it must appear like I’m some diehard Mr. Rogers fan. I don’t really have many memories watching his show as a child, but what the documentary ‘Won’t You be my Neighbor’ and this film by Marielle Heller have in common is a shared fascination of his immense empathy and character. It’s only right that America’s dad Tom Hanks should play him, and I was surprised at the end that I was able to get over his stardom and accept him as Rogers. He’s not doing a direct impersonation, and I think it’s all the better for it, instead opting for matching his soft tone and laid back movements.

On a pure emotional level, this movie was a freight train. It didn’t help that the movie covers a lot of father stuff, from losing your own to becoming one yourself (2 big boxes on the Brent bingo card). Heller’s direction is clever in its weaponizing of meta/post-modern techniques, such as one incredible fourth wall break in a diner scene. It literally breaks down the barrier between Mr. Rogers, we the audience, and the films intent to make us feel something.

I cry a lot at movies, that much is well known, but it’s rare that a movie makes me weep, and this one did. Even thinking about scenes right now, days later, my eyes are welling up with tears thinking about the messages of the movie. Mr. Rogers and his lessons of empathy and emotional understanding have rarely been as vital and important as they are right now in our world.

Robert Eggers first film ‘The Witch’ from 2015 is one of my favorite movies of this decade, possibly of all time, so my hype for his black and white, period piece two-hander ‘The Lighthouse’ was through the roof. Even with sky-high expectations, it still blew me away. With dialogue reminiscent of The Witch in its specific authenticity to its era, to the two lead actors giving all-time great performances, It was one of the most entertaining film viewing experiences I had this year.

There’s something about both of Egger’s movies that I really keyed into watching this one: his fascination with shame and the liberation from it. Where Witch was from the female perspective, Lighthouse literally has two farting, drunk men in a giant phallic symbol fighting for dominance. It’s less a horror film than his first, but still utterly engrossing, demented and specific to his singular vision. I can’t wait to see 20 more movies from this guy.

This is another big movie of 2019, like The Irishman, where you can see the director looking inward, at what his films mean and represent. It initially caught me so off guard that I really didn’t know how to feel about it, but after seeing it again, it’s one of my favorites of the year, and probably Tarantino’s filmography overall. More akin to something like Boogie Nights or Dazed and Confused, letting us live with and follow a small group of characters, it mostly doesn’t feel like a Tarantino movie (until the inevitable and shocking explosion of violence in the third act, of course).

‘Hollywood’ is the most sincere and loving movie Tarantino has made, interested in giving us a send off to an era of Hollywood and artists that have been lost or forgotten (Some more tragically than others). In the end, the movie functions similarly to ‘Inglorious Basterds’ in it’s rewriting of history to give us catharsis. “If only things could have worked out this way.” Luckily in movies, removed from the restrictions of reality, they can. And once upon a time in Hollywood, they did.

Uncut Gems probably tripled my blood pressure by the time the credits rolled. A slice-of-life story about a gambler/dealer in New York’s diamond district, the movie follows Howard Ratner, played by Adam Sandler in easily the best performance of his career. Ratner is basically addicted to living at the edge of a cliff, being chased by violent debt collectors, juggling a home life and a relationship with an employee, and fully relying on risky sports bets to stay afloat. It makes for a consistently tense and unique viewing experience, expertly directed by the Safdie brothers.

Something that might not work for everyone but that I personally loved, is the chaotic way in which the movie is shot. What feels like loosely directed scenes, with characters talking over each other and multiple conversations happening at once, adds an authenticity and reality lacking from most other movies. It’s more adjacent to Linklater (thanks to Adam for the comparison) or Scorsese’s earlier films (also fitting, that he’s a producer on this). Following Howard Ratner as his life descends into chaotic hell was one of the best times I’ve had watching a movie this year.

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