#there were people on soft tyres

[petit-papillion]

Fastest lap by Charles Leclerc. On 43-lap-old hard tyres...

Saudi Arabian GP | 9 March 2024

🎥 F1

[cheriladycl01]

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 6

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Warnings: Talk of reading taking anti-depressants etc.

After Bahrain you still had no word from Christian on whether or not he had contract negotiations for you. However, in this time you'd had talks with Williams, Aston Martin and Mercedes all having positions open. They knew you were an incredible driver and that it wasn't just the car you were given and they really wanted you on board.

You were in a difficult position of wanting to prove yourself to the RedBull team and stay in a top team while letting opportunities being given to you get thrown away.

Saudi was a strange feeling you stormed through FP1 and FP2 being P1 and P3, however by the time Friday racing came Carlos was out the race due to having his appendix taken out. Ollie Bearman the F2 driver was announced to be taking his place right away and he was thrown in FP3.

FP3 and you were told to calm down and work with your tyres meaning you went 5th fastest rather than topping the leaderboard. Qually came around and you qualified third, your team calling you into the pits and holding you there for too long meant you couldn't get another lap in when Charles did which sent him into P2.

Once again Oscar was starting right behind you, and you could feel the pressure was on. You needed to have a great start to get up there with Max.

Sunday came and went and it was another great day for Red Bull, but not so much for you. Once again your margins were showing that you were quicker than Max right now being on fresher tyres and on the softs from a later race stop.

You for the second weekend in a row were denied an overtake and were asked to ride Max's bumper. The last few laps had tears filling in your eyes from how ridiculous this was... Max was the golden boy and you were just not contracted. You couldn't tell what would work better in your favour to try and get a contract. Follow team orders and keep this 1-2 or don't follow team orders and go for the overtake.

After talks with your race engineer you decided to obey team orders. Meaning you got your second P2 of the season.

Australia was the interesting race, both you and Max were reporting problems with the car, Max's seemingly being fixed by the time qualifying came around but you were still struggling. Your engine fully cut out after going over a bump on an out lap meaning you were starting P17, your worst qualifying yet.

"Y/N, not a great qualifying yeah?" the interviewer asks.

"Nah, P17 i think that was a pretty good run!" you joke back making your PR manager elbow you and shake her head.

"No, obviously it wasn't what myself or the team were looking for. They managed to fix Max's car for today but not mine, I know the team will be working really hard on my car now that Max's is all good and I can just hope to fight tomorrow and grab the team some points!" you nod smiling towards the camera on you.

"And any new on contract talks, i'm sure there are many teams that are looking to have you in their driver line up!" she asks and you nod.

"Yeah of course, most drivers will tell you that there are talks with all the teams and it's true. You know if you work in a office and your in HR you go see the legal department, and hospitality and the receptionists from time to time even though they aren't within your area. It's very natural to talk to the people around me so of course there are talks!" you admit and she nods insightfully.

"So the pictures of you talking to Toto Wolff, Ayao Komatsu and Mike Krack are ... not to be read into?" she pushes and you laugh.

"Honestly read as you will into them. Right now I'm focused on Red Bull, regardless of my future there!" you admit, hoping that might be the jog that Christian needed to hear to keep you in the team.

"Ooooo Oscar!" the interviewer shouts beckoning him over. You start to leave thinking your portion of the interview was over and you could move on to going home.

"Wait no! Y/N don't go, we'll interview you together!" she grins and something in your mind tells you its malicious and she's doing this on purpose to spite you. But she was really just hoping to get you both together as you'd been better than Oscar this season.

"So Oscar how does it feel having finally outqualified Y/N for the first time this season? You did really well!" she smiles and Oscar is looking everywhere but next to him, which is where you are awkwardly stood, trying to get your PR managers attention.

"Yeah i mean, she had car issues so it wasn't really on skill?" he asks more than anything else, tilting his head to the side confused.

"Yes, so the battle is pretty tense between you both especially after last year. But now Oscar your looking really high up in the constructors along with Y/N, do you think you can beat her this year?" the interviewer asks hoping to get a little bit of dramatics.

"I mean, the battle for the top field cars is slowly closing with the upgrades we're all getting so we're looking forward to closing that gap that's up there now!" he nods looking down at you to see if you had anything to add.

For the first time, in months there was a softness in his eyes you hadn't seen for ages. He nodded at you to speak but you became a stuttering mess, not even remembering the question.

"Sorry, but I'm needed!" you stutter awkwardly handing back the microphone before trotting off looking around for anyone that could help the shaking of your hands.

You were struggling to breath.

Why now, why did he make you feel like everything was okay again when it wasn't. He was your best friend and he hasn't spoken to you in months, it ... didn't feel right!

You breathing became more and more strained as you looked around for someone familiar. Your eyes dart between the different motorhomes, just looking for any one of the other drivers. You eventually made it to Red Bull trying to get to your drivers room however, a body stopped you holding you shoulders.

"Hey, great race today Y/N!" the voice of Liam comes through and you just nod, a small thank you coming from you mouth as you try to make your way around him.

"Hey, Y/N? What's up is something bothering you?" he asks not fully noticing your panicked expression.

"I'm fine, just want to get some water from my room!" you nod back towards your room and his eyes glaze over you.

"No your not okay, lets go!" he smiles taking your hand and dragging you to your drivers room.

You knew Liam was just being kind and trying to help, but right now you just really wanted to be alone and think about whatever you needed to think about.

"Water... snack ... vitamin ... ooo pill?" he asks turning to you and you look down.

"Y/N, why are you on these?" he asks with a sigh, nobody apart from your trainer knew that you were on anti-depressants. It started at the end of the 2023, with everything with Oscar and it was manageable but the anxiety of not having a contract renewed mixed with it all, you were tipped over the edge when it came to your mental health.

"You werent supposed to see them. Please don't tell anyone!" you say tears building in your eyes as you can only hope he doesn't say anything.

"It's not my place to say anything Y/N, but ... you only need ask for help and you'd get it. We all love you and I just hope you know that!" he smiles pulling you in for a hug, one that felt genuine and like he was putting all of his comfort into it.

"Thank you Liam!" you say softly before tears roll down your race onto his Racing Bulls team shirt.

"Its okay, I get it!" he smiles down at you as he hands you the water, snack and pills he pulled out.

"Sometimes, i just wish i was Ghost again, it was easier back then" you harshly laugh wiping the tears out your eyes.

"Ghost, or Y/N you are still the same driver ... still have the same heart of gold" he smiles and you smile back thankful for the needed compliment.

"So, don't turn round and tell me this ... is boy troubles!" he laughs and you look down laughing a little.

"Well it's safe to say all of my problems are with men right now... so yeah we'll go with 'boy' troubles!" you joke.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[percervall]

I'm not a woman (I'm a god)

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Horner!reader Words: 3194 Warnings: Greek Mythology AU, descriptions of misogyny and sexism, Christian Horner is painted the villain, implied age gap (both are legal adults), smut, masturbation, p in v, loss of virginity, no beta we die like my sanity during f1 silly season

In which you claim what's rightfully yours

---

As the meeting progresses, you can’t fight the urge to speak up any longer. Had you still been at RedBull, you would’ve; you would have bitten your tongue until it bled because your father didn’t much care for your opinions, as he called it, despite the fact you had spent years on getting your Masters and then spent another three years on studying all the strategy calls the team had ever made to see where things could improve. No, your father allowed you to sit in those meetings just so he could keep an eye on you. But you are no longer under his watchful eye and scrutiny; Toto Wolff made sure of that. Oh, people like to say that you were stolen from the RedBull garage, your father playing the role of victim like he was born to do so, but nothing could be farther from the truth. You weren’t stolen like the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix; no, you chose to be claimed by Mercedes and their team principal. Thus, here you are, part of Lewis’ team as a strategy engineer, about to do the one thing your father always reprimanded you for: speaking out against a figure of authority.

“Are you going to say what’s on your mind or do I have to make do with your facial expressions?” Toto drawls, making your decision for you. You can feel your heart beating against your ribs as nerves flutter in the hollow of your chest.

“With all due respect, sir,” you start, the room breaking out in a mocking chuckle but you will not let that deter you, “With all due respect, but this strategy will cost you points. You are all so sure that this race will lead to a safety car while experience tells us that the chances of that happening this weekend are 2% at most, and all safety cars deployed in the last six years have been due to car malfunctions. If you want to end up in the points, I would propose a two stop strategy, allocating at least two sets of mediums for the race on Sunday and forgoing softs all together seeing as how much they suffer from tyre deg at this circuit.” The room is dead silent when you finish. Toto’s eyes remain on you, his face a stoic mask.

“Check my numbers if you want,” you add, growing in your confidence the longer this staring contest continues. Toto looks at one of the other engineers, eyebrow raised with a silent command. You hear someone frantically typing as they run the numbers. Leaning back in your chair you take a sip of your coffee, willing your hands not to tremble despite how nervous you feel. Whispers of she’s right flitter around the room as more people join in with re-running your calculations. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling smugly at being proven right four times over. 

“Very well, Ms Halliwell,” Toto says, silencing the room once more. “We’ll try your set up with Lewis’ car and stick to what was already decided on by the senior members for George.” This is as much of a win as you are going to get right now, and you will gladly take it, but there’s a twinkle in Toto’s eyes that has your stomach in knots. You’re not sure whether it’s pride or awe; either way, it fills you with a feeling you can’t quite place yet you know you will crave it for weeks to come.  

When Sunday rolls around, you pray to whoever will listen that your numbers check out. You have gone over the statistics of this grand prix so often that you could probably recite them in your sleep at this point. Had it been any other race, you would have accepted whatever outcome, but this one means more. You need Mercedes to do well here in Austria, but more than anything you need your father’s team to suffer the consequences of their misogyny and ignorance. As you walk into the garage ahead of the race, your heels clicking against the cement, your eyes lock with Toto who gives you a slow smile as his eyes rake over you, taking in the way the stark white fabric of your team issued blouse and your tapered black trousers show off all your assets; you know you look delectable, and you know he knows it too. From the moment you met him for your job interview (which you landed under false pretences, using your mother’s name), there’s been an undercurrent of tension. It should’ve made you cautious, fearful even, of powerful men in powerful places, but Toto has been nothing but gracious, always indulging your retorts and meeting you tit for tat, a flirtatious game of cat and mouse that you’re enjoying immensely.

“I want you next to Bono during the race. You decided on the strategy, it’s only fair you get the recognition –whether it works or not,” Toto tells you. Nodding your head, you put on your headphones and take your place at the centre console. No more hiding in plain view, your father will see exactly what you are capable of –what you could have given him. Fighting the urge to chew the skin around your thumb, you keep your back straight and shoulders back as the race starts. You keep an eye on the weather satellite, scanning for any changes that could mess with the chosen strategy while listening to Lewis’ feedback for Bono, making suggestions for minute corrections to the set up of the car. Bono graciously forwards your ideas to the driver who slowly but surely climbs his way through the field. The RedBulls are still leading the pack, but you’re certain that your father’s confidence will be his downfall. As you had predicted, there is no need for a safety car during the race and, judging by the call to pit by your father’s golden child, they had been betting on one by using the softs at the start of the race.

“You were spot on with the tyre deg stats,” Bono tells you and you can’t help but smile wickedly back at him. There’s five laps left, and both RedBulls are on the hard tyre, which will never warm up in time to benefit from their longevity. George seems to be suffering a similar fate while Lewis is fighting with one of the McLarens for P2. Your eyes remain glued to the feed of Lewis’ on board camera as he begins the final lap. He is quickly gaining on the McLaren and in what can only be described as a masterclass, overtakes it to secure a P2 finish. Lewis’ radio message doesn’t even register; all you can hear is white noise as it dawns on you that you have shown everyone just what you’re capable of. It has whetted your appetite for more –for destruction. 

The team is celebrating a podium finish as if it’s a win, and you suppose to them it most definitely feels like one. You’re standing on the edge where the garage meets pit lane, watching them with a smile on your face when Toto comes to stand behind you.

“I want you front and centre when Lewis climbs that podium. You have earned this accolade and should be rewarded as such. Let your father see what he’s done,” he murmurs, voice low. It sends a shiver down your spine but you manage to nod in agreement.

“Good. Oh, and as part of your reward, I think we should celebrate accordingly in private, wouldn’t you agree? The choice is yours, take it or don’t. No hard feelings either way,” he adds, chest brushing against your back as he leans closer. Swallowing thickly, you nod once more, not trusting your voice as heat pools low in your belly at the insinuation. You can feel him slide something into your back pocket and you don’t have to check to know it’s the keycard to his hotel room. 

During the podium celebrations you stood front row, eyes steadfast on the podium with a smile so wide, your cheeks ached. You can only imagine the tales Crofty and Martin are spinning about you; no doubt making inferences about how distraught your father was to have his only daughter working for the rival. Let them spin their fairy tales, you had better things to get on with –or, more accurately, a better man. Sliding the key card into the lock, you enter the hotel room of your boss. Once you take this step, there’s no turning back, but you are willing to eat the proverbial pomegranate seeds. 

Toto turns around when he hears the lock click and you lean against the door. He looks incredible; sleeves of his shirt rolled up and a few of the top buttons are undone. 

“Wine?” he asks, picking up the bottle from the desk. 

“Yes, please,” you respond, accepting the glass he hands you. Toto smiles, and it’s so sly, bordering on debauched, that it has you squeezing your thighs together.

“Still some manners left in you. I wonder how long that will last,” he muses, raising his glass at you as he sits down on the edge of the bed. 

“They claim you have stolen me from RedBull, much like they claim Hades stole Persephone,” you say, straddling him before taking a sip of your wine. He can’t help but laugh when he sees the twinkle in your eyes, one of his large hands coming to rest on your hip.

“Oh, Meine Liebe, we both know you were not some prize that could be stolen. You saw the hell they created for you and thus you fled so you could set the world ablaze.” His use of a term of endearment is not lost on you, and you crave to hear more of it. 

“Stolen or not, I am here. What are you planning on doing to me?” you ask him, holding his gaze. 

“Oh, I plan on doing everything, darling. Every depraved fantasy you could think of and more,” Toto says as he puts his glass on the nightstand. You grow hot all over at his words. Despite your sharp wit –and even sharper tongue, if your father’s word is anything to go on–, you are about to enter previously uncharted waters. Of course you heard stories from your female friends while at University, devoured smutty book after smutty book, but actually doing any of it? Your father would dig himself a grave so he could roll in it if he ever knew what his little girl was about to do. The nervousness you felt earlier today is back in full swing as you try to find the words to tell him your biggest secret. 

“I-.. I’ve never done this before. I attended Oxford so I could live at home, remain under his watch,” you confess, not even able to say the words out loud. Toto studies your face, filling in the blanks with how your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. 

“No man has ever touched you?” You shake your head as you bite your lip. 

“Have you touched yourself, darling?” Toto asks and while he says nothing that could be construed as dirty, you gasp as if he has. Nodding your head, you can’t help but roll your hips against him, inadvertently grinding your pussy against the hardened bulge in his trousers. Toto swears under his breath, gaze darkening as he tightens his grip on you. 

“Will you show me, Liebling? Will you show me how you make yourself feel good?” 

Even if you wanted to, you’re not sure you could ever deny this man any request; not when he asks so caringly, as if your pleasure is the sole purpose of all of this. Breathlessly, you nod, letting Toto take your wine glass from you while you strip out of your work clothes. As you slide your blouse down your arms, you hear Toto groan as he takes in your figure clad in nothing more than your pale lilac bra and panties. It’s not the sexiest set you own, but it’s one of the few that doesn’t show through the white fabric. Before you lose your nerve, you climb back on the bed, eyes locked on Toto who leans against the footboard of the bed. He gives you a look, so openly full of desire that it makes your head spin and your pussy throb at being the object of his lust. Closing your eyes, you lean back into the pillows while your hand wanders. You can almost pretend you’re alone, your brain quickly supplying all the sordid fantasies you would never dare to say out loud. As your fingers inch under the elastic of your underwear, you can’t help but bite your lip as your hips writhe on the sheets. The tip of your pointer finger rubs against your clit and you gasp at the sensation, head thrown back. You’re already so sensitive, it won’t take much to send you over the edge. Applying the slightest bit more pressure, you begin to rub tight little circles, letting out the neediest whining noise.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” Toto groans. 

“Please,” you whisper, lifting your head so you can look at him. His legs are spread and he palms his bulge while he watches you pleasure yourself, and that sight alone sends your head spinning. 

“Let go for me, darling,” Toto orders gently, and who are you to disobey him? Your body arches, head thrown back as you come undone under his watchful eye. 

When you open your eyes, you can see movement to your right. Sitting up on your elbows, you watch how Toto strips down to his underwear, and walks into the ensuite. You can feel your cheeks heat up when you spot the foil packets and the bottle of lube in his hands. Toto drops them on the bed before climbing on. Hovering over you, he brushes a strand of your hair back behind your ears.

“I want this to be enjoyable for you. Please tell me when you feel uncomfortable, tell me when something makes you feel good.” You nod, breath caught in your lungs. Toto smiles so tenderly at you that it makes you forget about everything else. He moves his hand from your cheek, down your neck to your bra strap.

“Can I take this off, Liebling?” he asks quietly. You can only nod, too enthralled by him to form words.

“Need to hear you say it, darling. I will always need to hear you,” Toto murmurs.

“Yes,” you whisper, swallowing down your nerves about him seeing you naked. He gently unclasps your bra, moving the straps down your arms before pulling it away completely.

“Beautiful,” he says softly, his eyes taking you in and you fight the urge to cover yourself up. Toto’s hands caress your skin, as if he is trying to commit every line and curve to memory. You arch up into his touch as he cups your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple and it sets something alight in your core. Toto’s hands move lower, fingers curling around the elastic of your panties.

“What about these?” 

“Yes,” you reply quietly, lifting your hips to help him. He sits back on his knees, hands sliding down your thighs and his fingers are so close to where you’re aching for him, it makes you whine. Toto chuckles, moving his body over yours once more.

“You want it so bad, don’t you Liebling?” he murmurs in your ear, and the only reply you can form is a quiet uhu. He smiles against your skin, pressing a chaste kiss to your jaw before moving away to fully strip. Biting your lip, you watch him tear open one of the foil packets and roll it down his hard cock. Anticipation and nerves flitter low in your stomach; he’s definitely bigger than the vibrator you have hidden away in the back of your closet.

“We’ll take it slow, okay? You decide how far we go, you’re in control,” Toto reassures you, moving closer so he can lean down to kiss you.

“Okay,” you whisper before his lips are on yours. Your fingers tangle in his hair while he drags his cock through your folds and over your clit. Toto moves his lips down your neck, kissing and sucking gently, sure to leave marks. Your body seems to have a mind of its own as your hips grind against him and you feel a desperation taking hold of you.

“Please,” you sigh.

“Tell me Liebling, what do you want?” Toto murmurs.

“Please.. Need you- need you in me,” you all but whimper, “Fill me Toto, please..” He groans against the skin of your neck at your request. Toto fumbles blindly for the lube and applies a generous amount to his cock and your pussy. Biting your lip, you lean up and watch as he slowly, so very slowly, sinks himself inside of you. The stretch has you panting and you feel how you clench around him. He holds you close, letting you adjust to the sensation of being filled completely. 

“Need you to move, Toto,” you moan, fingers clawing at his back. 

“Doing so good for me, darling. Taking me so well, fuck..” he groans against your skin as he sets a languid pace, and while it’s slow, his thrusts are so deep. 

“Ha-harder.. I can take it.. Please..” you whine, Toto eagerly complying with your demand. The only thing you’re able to do is cling to him as he keeps fucking you, whimpering every time he hits a spot inside of you that brings you just that teeny bit closer to the edge.

“Need you to cum, darling. Can you do that for me?” he asks as rubs his thumb over your clit. 

“Uhu,” you whisper meekly, unable to form a single coherent thought as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“Close.. Toto… Please.. Need.. Need to-..” 

“That’s it. God, you look so beautiful, just taking my cock like this. Come for me, darling.” And with that something snaps, your body arching as you feel your pussy clenching around him in waves. Toto keeps fucking you through it, chasing his own release, but you’re too far gone to pay attention. He keeps pressing kisses to your temple and hairline as he carefully pulls out, making sure the condom stays on. The loss has you whimpering.

“I know, I know,” Toto coos, “I’ll be right back. Did so good for me, so proud of you.” He gives you one last kiss before getting up to dispose of the condom and returns with a flannel to clean you up best he can. He throws it down by the side of the bed, and takes you in his arms. Your body feels completely boneless and you try to stifle a yawn. 

“Take a nap, Liebling. We’ll get properly cleaned up in a bit.” Nodding you allow sleep to pull you under as Toto whispers sweet nothings against your hair. 

written as part of @footballffbarbiex’s kink bingo challenge

It's not the 10k fic I joked about, but I finally managed to write the Greek Mythology AU I've been thinking about since early last year. Wanted to get this done and up before more information comes out during this delayed silly season, so if things feel rushed, it's because they are. This fic was heavily influenced by Bea Fitzgerald's Girl, Goddess, Queen; if you love retellings of Greek mythology, please check it out

Please let me know what you think; you comments, tags and likes mean the absolute world to me! 💜

[veryberryjelly]

karaoke time ( send me a song and a character and i'll write a fic inspired by the lyrics ! ) with felix catton and cruel summer by taylor swift

(also i realize this is my second request but i want to give you options bc i assume not everything will resonate with you. also you do not have to write either of them if you don’t want to/aren’t inspired. i’m just having fun coming up with song and character combos.)

felix catton x fem!reader

"I'm drunk in the back of the car " + " And I snuck in through the garden gate, Every night that summer just to seal my fate " [ we're just gonna pretend that felix has a trellis XD ]

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝟏𝐊 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑

you had been forced to be friends with felix and venetia when you were younger, your parents befriending the couple on the next estate.

it was easier for all of your parents if their children could get along.

at first you were resentful of your parents for trying to force two people to be your friends that you didnt even know.

but as soon as you met the catton siblings, your mild hatred towards your parents dissipated,

they quickly became two of your closest friends, if not your closest.

you spent every summer darting back and forth between your estate and theirs, soaking up the sun and each others company.

when the three of you became of age, you started going out into town together, hitting the local pubs every couple of days, switching designated driver every time.

unlucky for felix, it was his turn.

even more unlucky for felix, you and venetia had decided to get absolutely smashed, so getting the both of you safely in the car was a trial in itself.

music played softly through the speakers of the car and you felt the weight of venetia's head against your shoulder.

even with your eyes closed due to the world spinning, you could see felix in the front seat.

you didnt need your eyes open to know how gorgeous he looked sat in the drivers seat, mumbling softly to the words of the song with the wind whipping at his brown locks.

the image brought a soft smile to your lips as you heard the crunch of small rocks under the tyres signalling you were pulling up to your house.

you pulled your eyes open to find felix climbing out of the car and coming around to your side to 'help you out'.

and 'helping you out' meant putting his arms under your knees and around your back to carry you inside and up to your bedroom.

in your intoxicated state you could have sworn you felt him press a kiss onto your forehead after he pulled the blankets over you.

when the sun started blaring through your windows like an alarm clock, you did nothing to get out of bed, only turned onto your side and pulled the covers over your head in hopes of ignoring the fact that a new day had started.

when you actually decided to get out of bed, it was only to grab some water, shut the curtains and find some advil in your bathroom.

after that was all done, you crawled straight back into bed, risking taking a look at your phone to see the time.

along with a few texts from both venetia and felix.

you dropped your phone down onto the bed, ignoring them in favour of sleeping off your hangover.

and when you opened your eyes again it was pitch black.

and you may have slept off your hangover but you also slept all day.

shit.

you move to pick up your phone to see a flood of texts from felix asking why you hadn't come over today or why he hadn't seen you.

after a quick glance at the time you theorised he might be awake, but the rest of his house wouldn't be.

after sliding on a pair of leggings and a sweater you left your house, crossing over onto saltburn with every intention of simply seeing felix.

the front door was locked.

understandably.

and you had left your phone on your bed in your rush out.

fuck.

you rounded the house to the space below felix's window, completed with vine covered trellises outside his window.

at this late hour, it seemed like your only option besides waiting for the morning, and you liked your chances at climbing.

so that's exactly what you did.

you climbed up the back wall of saltburn, clutching onto the wooden trellis with one hand while the other knocked on his window.

thankfully, he was actually awake.

you spotted him crossing the room in some comfy clothes after dropping a book down onto the bed.

he didnt question why you had been climbing up the back of his house, or why you had no shoes on, just helped you into his room and laid back on his bed, opening his arm up for you.

" where've you been all day, lovey ? " he questioned, his arm wrapping around you and his hand moving to take your hair away from your face.

" hungover . " was your simple answer as you nestled your head into the crook of his neck.

it was safe to say that you had another incident of sleeping all through the next day, even if it was a lot more comfortable snuggled up to felix's chest.

[eirianerisdar]

VCARB reliability and strategy:

Mess up Daniel's front axle so he couldn't brake with pressure in his first stint without the front running away

Let multiple cars undercut both Daniel and Yuki; "Let's try to survive," they say

Put Daniel on an aggressive soft tyre 20+ lap final stint but not swap him fast enough for it to mean anything

Force Yuki to switch with Daniel in the last few laps when Daniel's tyres were finally already going

Bungle the timing of said switch even more so both cars go into dirty track and lose time to Kmag, then promptly lose MORE time to blue flags for Max

Fail to switch back in last two corners when it was plain nothing was going to happen

VCARB do you WANT people to be divided over your team and your drivers to be unhappy with you and each other

[race-week]

I mean McLaren gave norris the "freedom" to pick tyres and he rightly chose the medium so?? unless there was unheard radio I don't think the drivers messed this one up😂

He chose the softs not the mediums, and it was the wrong choice

LN: We need to box, the soft tyre is better now … any slick tyre

Pit: We can choose a medium to counter people like Verstappen or we choose a soft to counter Hamilton

LN: I think Hamilton (soft), or you think medium? I don’t mind

Pit: we are going softs.

Softs were the wrong choice from the beginning, they kept a new set of mediums to the side for the race, and instead chose to use 3 lap old softs (when their car isn’t great on softs)

I think that the McLaren pit wall firstly gives the drivers too much information in the moment and gives them too many decisions to make.

(Also they phrased this terribly)

The strategy team have the data for the tyres, the drivers have the best feel of when to switch from wets to drys (and vice versa) but they won’t know the tyre performance as much, and so the decision shouldn’t fall on them so much.

This is a failure on both the driver and the pitwall, Norris decided to stay out another lap and the pitwall are giving too much decision making to the drivers

[uniquexusposts]

Her || Charles

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff  Story type: novel  Part: 14/? Word count: 3144 Co writer: @mistrose23

Story summary: Matilde Jørgensen, the new Scuderia Ferrari team principal, faced the nerve-wracking challenge of reviving the team's fortunes and aiming for a championship. Leading a historic team as a 'newbie' and separating her work and personal opinions posed a significant challenge. The big question: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 12. You Don't Trust Me

The race on Sunday was a race that people were looking forward to. It was a perfect weekend for Ferrari so far; Charles qualified on pole, and Carlos would start from P2. Everyone had hope, hope that they could take the win home. But most importantly, Charles could break his curse. Unfortunately, Arthur was still affected with the Leclerc curse at their home Grand Prix, he had DNF'ed towards the end of the race.

There was pressure resting on Ferrari. They wanted to win, they were eager to win. It felt like they were in Miami again; the dynamic within the team was positive and energetic, but this time, it was real. They were one team, no one was left out.

Before the race, Charles almost couldn't control his nerves. The flawless weekend in Monte Carlo was new to him, he never got the chance to finish it flawless. If it wasn't a mechanical failure, it was a crash. He didn't want to let his friends and family down. He wanted to make them proud. He wanted to make the people of Monaco proud, and his fans, who supported him dearly here in Monaco. There was no way he could afford to fail. Again. Charles could make it, he was confident about it.

From the moment the lights went out, Charles and Carlos executed perfect starts. The Ferrari's roared to life, and they shot forward with precision, entering the first turn perfectly. Charles took the lead, showing his skills. As they navigated through the streets of Monaco, there was an air of confidence around both drivers that could be felt even through the TV screens.

The circumstances weren't too perfect, though. The weather played a big role during the Grand Prix. it threatened to rain multiple times, it could ruin everything. Matilde was monitoring everything closely, nothing would go wrong under her watch.

The team's strategy was spot-on. Pit stops were executed with military precision and exemplary tyre management. Charles and Carlos communicated succinctly with their engineers, providing feedback that allowed them to make real-time and quick adjustments to the cars.

Unfortunately, there was an incident with Carlos and Checo. Checo wanted to overtake Carlos, but his tyres locked up, and he touched Carlos. They both dropped down to the fifth and sixth position, behind Ocon. It was frustrating to the team, mostly because it wasn't a mistake from the team or Carlos, but a racing incident. Matilde was disappointed, but she had to keep her head up for Charles, who was delivering outstanding results.

As the laps counted down, the gap between Charles and Max grew. Every time the drivers passed the crowd, they erupted in cheers. The ambience felt special, it felt like everyone was eagerly waiting for this victory. Matilde felt the pressure coming up, just like the nerves. It would be amazing if she could deliver this home victory to Charles, but little did she know what was about to happen in lap 65.

"I want to switch to new softs," Charles said over the board radio. "I want to go for the fastest lap."

Matilde's eyes shot to the times and other data; he had no chance. Her eyebrows were slightly raised, and she bit her upper lip. She looked at Xavi, waiting for his answer.

"Negative," Xavi replied.

Matilde nodded, the only right answer. As much as she wanted to give Charles a grand slam, it was impossible to do so. Xavi's response was in line with their strategy, and she couldn't afford to gamble that would make a difference between a win and not.

"I'm gliding on these tyres," Charles mentioned again. "We're losing time as well."

"Negative," Xavi said again. "We will not take the risk. We stick to plan A."

"I am losing time because of the tyres."

"You're not losing time. Stay out."

"I am losing time. I want new softs," Charles clarified.

Matilde took a deep breath, and she looked annoyed. What part of the 'we will not take the risk' does he not understand?

"I want to take the risk and go for the fastest lap," Charles explained again.

"Negative."

"I'm coming in," Charles repeated, his frustration clear in his voice.

It was time for Matilde to stir. She felt a pang of irritation. She knew Charles was a fierce competitor, especially now he was about to win his home Grand Prix after a faultless weekend, but right now, he couldn't afford a pit stop. "Stay out, I repeat, stay out," she replied on the board radio, her irritation subtle creeping into her tone.

"I am losing time!" Charles protested.

"We do not have a free pit stop." She looked at his position on the track. "If you pit right now, you will end up behind Max with a gap of five seconds. There will be no chance to overtake him in the time that is left," she sternly said. Her eyes shot to the data; yes, Max was gaining time every lap, but Charles didn't lose time. By the time they finish, Charles would still be far ahead of Max if he stayed out. Matilde's eyes darted to the pits, the Ferrari crew was ready with fresh tyres. "If you come in, you will lose your chance for a victory. Stay out," she mentioned again, her patience wearing thin. "Abort this pitstop."

The pit stop crew were stepping inside the garage again, exactly what Matilde told them to do. She looked back at the screens again, Charles was pushing, exactly what he needed to do if he wanted a free pit stop. Seconds passed, and everything looked great again.

"... I'm already in."

Matilde's face straightened, and she looked at her screen; indeed, he had entered the pits. She turned around and saw a red car approaching their garage. "Are you serious?" she mumbled to herself, looking disapprovingly at Charles, who now stopped. She ignored his rant over the board radio, letting it all happen. The pit crew panicked and ran out with the fresh tyres. Matilde looked down, seeing how the guys struggled. Malicious pleasure, this was an almost malicious pleasure.

To make matters worse, the right rear tyre didn't want to go on. They were struggling. Matilde could only look at it and think how unnecessary this was. After a good twenty extra seconds, the tyre was on, and Charles drove away. It was silent, completely silent. Matilde's eyes followed the car to the exit. She turned around, facing the data and standings.

P5.

"No, no, no! Fuck!" Charles yelled.

Consequences of his own actions, she thought. This hurt. She couldn't help but feel annoyed at how a possible win had slipped away. The camera filmed how the crew in the garage reacted: they were bummed. She felt a camera on her, filming her reaction; she wanted to laugh and yell at the same time, but she told him not to come in, and this was not her mistake.

The data continued to roll in. Carlos moved a position up, making him a podium candidate. He was pushing, closing the gap with Alonso, trying to take the second position from him. Charles was pushing hard, trying to regain his lost positions during the disastrous pit stop. However, time was running out, and the gap between the cars in front of him was significant.

As the laps ticked away, Charles managed to close the gap with Ocon, but he couldn't pass him. It was a bummer that the victory that had seemed so certain earlier in this race had slipped through his fingers. Charles finished fifth, and Carlos was third. It wasn't the result the team hoped for, but the third position was the best they could accept this weekend. Matilde thanked the entire team for their performances and left the pit wall.

On the way to the podium, Matilde ran into Sylvia. They made eye contact.

"Expression," Sylvia said, pointed at her face and passed her.

Matilde straightened her face, trying to keep it neutral. She knew she had a face that was easy to read, but she had no idea it was that obvious. And apparently, her face showed what she thought during the race. When she entered the track, many people were already applauding Max, who got out of his car. Matilde decided to stand in the back, she didn't want to face the media and show her face. She wanted to give the team the celebration, they were standing in the front for Carlos.

"So, eh..." Christian found Matilde in the crowd and stood next to her. "What happened?"

"The Monaco curse," Matilde casually replied.

His eyebrows raised.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked in front of her. "It's a circus," she concluded and shook her head.

He leaned closer to her. "They can read lips, you know," he whispered.

"Consequences of his own actions."

"You can't really say that as team principal, Matilde. You can think it, not say it."

Her eyebrows raised, and she looked at her former boss. The man was known for openly sharing his opinions. "I'm saying this as Matilde, a supporter of the sport, to a friend. You will not hear me say this in the media or in front of the team."

Christian looked at her; he was impressed. He knew her as a sweet woman who barely shared her thoughts. Now she turned into a confident woman with an opinion, she showed no insecurities. A real leader.

"What?"

"Nothing," Christian said.

"But, eh, what was that? With Checo?" She looked unamused at him. Christian's eyes widened. She shook her head in disappointment. "It's a shame. Again."

"We haven't had a chance to speak to our drivers yet. It's too soon to speak."

"Yeah," she mumbled. "We will talk." Matilde looked at him, sharing a waitingful look before snorting when she saw his smile, a playful smile, he still couldn't accept the fact how much she had grown into a leader in a couple of months. "No, but for real, I don't accept this - professional-wise."

"We will talk," he repeated. "But hey, I wanted to ask if you want to join us for dinner tonight. Toto and Susie are coming as well."

Matilde let out a smirk. "You and Toto?" She turned to him. "Secret bromance?"

"Get out of here," he responded immediately. "No, Geri and Susie organised something. We are just being good husbands."

She nodded. "Thank you, but I will have to pass. You have no idea how much trouble I got into the last time I went out with you."

"Was it that bad?"

She blew up her cheeks and looked at him with a 'you don't want to know' look. "Maybe next time, but I really appreciate it." Matilde gave a nod to the front. "Go to your team, celebrate the victory."

Christian padded her shoulder. "Have a good word with your team before leaving."

Matilde looked at him when he walked away. Of course, she would have a good word with her team. Her eyes shot to the podium, she clapped and smiled proudly when Carlos entered the podium, she was still satisfied with the result. It may not be the win they were hoping and aiming for and definitely not the position, but at least one of the Ferrari drivers ended up on the podium after a difficult battle. When Alonso entered the podium, she also clapped. As a supporter, she liked to see Alonso on the podium - she grew up watching him as one of the best on the grid. And then Max, she smiled again and clapped. She grew up with Max at Red Bull, they were close friends, and she was proud of him. The Dutch and Austrian anthems blew through the speakers; once, they were anthems, Matilde lived for.

After the ceremony, Matilde went to Carlos to congratulate him on the podium. They had a brief chat about the race and the slightly disappointing result. Matilde said she was still satisfied with his performance and how helpful he was to the team throughout the race. Then, she told him to go to the media pen for the interviews. Once she arrived in the paddock, she got stopped for an interview with Sky Sports Italy.

"Matilde, there was a dramatic moment when Carlos collided with Checo. Can you tell us something about it?"

Matilde's expression was serious. "The incident was unfortunate, especially in the position Sainz was racing in. He lost some positions, but he managed to make it up and ended up on the podium. We still have to talk about it during the debrief, so I can't share much."

The reporter then asked about the disastrous pit stop. "What happened? How did it go wrong? It seemed to create a lot of tension between you and Charles. Can you talk us through the moment?"

Matilde maintained her professionalism, but couldn't hide a glance of disappointment. "Unfortunately, I cannot give you a comment on it. That is something the team and I have to talk about first."

"But how did it go so wrong? Charles was leading the race, having an outstanding race, a fantastic weekend... And then this?"

"As I said, the team and I have to talk about it before we can share any thoughts," Matilde gave the people a nod and stepped away, not wanting to participate in the interview if they only wanted to talk about the pit stop.

She was forced to stop for another couple of interviews. She stayed professional and refused to share anything about the pit stop. Matilde returned to the hospitality and let out a deep sigh; it was the tension she was holding in. She ran both her hands through her hair; this was a disaster. The potential for the Monaco victory had been within reach, and it had slipped away. Matilde knew that as the team principal, she needed to remain composed and focused on the path forward, but in this private moment, she allowed herself to acknowledge the disappointment and frustration she felt.

She grabbed her stuff and joined everyone in the briefing room, waiting for Charles and Carlos. It was silent, an uncomfortable silence. A few minutes later, Carlos and Charles entered the briefing room. If looks could kill... They sat down next to their engineers.

The debrief started.

"Fire away," Matilde opened the debrief. She understood that the disappointment and frustration among the team needed to be addressed openly for progress to be made. People looked at her, not knowing what she meant. "Fire away," she repeated. "If something stays unspoken, it will lead to further issues. Speak, talk, share." She encouraged everyone to speak their minds.

Charles scoffed and looked away. He seemed sceptical and even dismissive of this approach. He questioned her seriousness. "Are you being serious?" He made eye contact and raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

She met his gaze with unwavering determination. "Very much. We can only learn from this." They glanced at each other for some time.

He shook his head and looked away again. "My goodness. I just want to go through the race and go home," he mentioned.

Matilde took a deep breath and looked around the room. "Anyone else?" It stayed quiet. "Fine, let's begin then," she mumbled, knowing this would cause trouble in the near future.

People spoke about the race, and feedback was collected. Tension hung in the room. Everybody said what needed to be said, but not one word more. Matilde looked around, this team was everything but open to each other. She rubbed her face with her hands and looked outside for a brief second; she had to stay professional, but she was close to losing it. Did she fail as team principal or did... She was failing. When she looked back, she noticed Charles looking at her with a 'if looks could kill' and a disappointing look on his face.

They reached the pit stop during their conversation. The words about the pit stop were being rushed. On to the next part of the race.

"May I ask why you called for a pit stop?" Matilde asked Charles. She crossed her arms and leaned back on her chair. No one dared to ask it, so she would do it.

Charles licked his lips and raised his eyebrows.

"I am just trying to understand. Because you didn't show any errors or slow laps. In fact, your lap times were consistent."

"I saw an opportunity for the fastest lap," he casually replied.

"Where?" It was silent. "You didn't have a free pit stop, and Max was gaining time, but not enough to overtake you before the end of the race." Matilde leaned against the table again. "We told you multiple times not to come in. And what did you do? You come in. When I tell you to stay out, you stay out."

"I saw a gap."

"We did not."

"With all due respect, Matilde, I know what I felt in the car. I knew I had an opportunity, and it was taken away."

"I absolutely respect your passion for winning, and I, and if I may speak for the team, want nothing more than to see you win or to see Carlos win. We aim to be the best, be at the top of the podium as many times as possible, and bring a championship home to you both. However, the decision was made regarding this race with the team's best interests in mind. And I rely on your input, but also on everyone else's input within the team," Matilde spoke, hoping Charles would also understand her point of view on this race and the disaster.

"You don't trust me."

Matilde's eyebrows raised, and she looked at him with a confused but hurt face. "You came in seconds after I told everyone to abort the pit stop. You only mentioned you were in the pit lane when you were already in the pit lane. If you still decide to come in, be kind and tell us sooner next time."

"I did tell you!" Charles raised his voice. "Didn't you look at your monitors?"

"When I say to stay out, you stay out, and I trust you to stay out," Matilde mentioned, remaining calm. "What did you expect?" She waited for an answer. "You know why we told you no? Look at the results yourself."

"I saw an opportunity-"

"And we didn't!" She cut him off. "There was no need to stop. We could not afford to take the risk to pit. If there was no risk, you were more than welcome to come in and change your tyres, but there was no margin to do it. We wanted to go for the win, a safe win, to bring home a win," she responded, overruling his statement. "Even with a perfect pit stop, you still would not be able to pass Max. What was your goal in doing this?" 

Next chapter

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc

[moonbyulsstuff]

Hello luv <3 can i request a Shun Kaidou x male!reader with the reader being academically smart, a jerk and a huge flirt😣

A Tease.

Male Reader.

Requested by: @yanderesimp-san

Masterlist.

Request Rules.

The reader is more flirtatious than a a jerk.

[Name] [L.Name].

The name was infamous in PK Academy.

A man who was popular with the girls, and the smartest student in the entire school.

And also, a huge flirtatious jerk.

Girls everywhere was smitten by the man, wanting tp be his, wanting to be the one to change him, wanting to be the first one to see his soft side.

But no one, and I mean no one ever got the chance. Because he doesn't give a shit about anyone of that.

But it didn't stop anyone from trying though, like come on! [Name] was seriously attractive so, people weren't going to stop.

But of course, since the man was the most smartest man in the entire school.So people would use the excuse that they would like for the male to tutor them on a certain subject, which only ended with them tyring to impress adn get the "soft" side out of [Name].

Which pissed the male off greatly, which lead to him not accepting any offers at all.

But today was different.

"So, I heard you are the smartest student in PK Academy. Can you tutor my son? He has been troubling with a certain subject lately."

Shun Kaidou mom had asked him to tutor her son, [Name] was a little hesitant but eventually caved in when Mrs. Kaidou offered to pay him. So, here he was, standing inside of Kaidou room. Who was in absolute shock when he saw the infamous [Name] in his room right now.

He got up instantly and pointed at [Name]. "W-What a-r-are you doi-doing here?!" He exclaimed as [Name] chuckled and smirked. "Your mother is paying me to tutor you on Math." [Name] said while winking, Kaidou was shocked to say the least.

"W-What?!"

"Come on now! Let's get to tutoring."

So the past few days, [Name] has been tutoring Kaidou while making flirtatious remark once a minute. Which flustered Kaidou greatly, leaving him red and steaming which makes [Name] chuckled and pinched at his cheek before going back like nothing happened.

But today, [Name] wanted to do something different.

it went on like usually, him getting a reaction from Kaidou but this time, things were going to get different.

He then pinned Kaidou down on the floor, shocked at the sudden move from the other. "[Na}-[Name]?" He called out while trying to avoid eye contact with the male.

[Name] smirked and leaned DOWN AGAINST HIS EAR. "Kaidou~ If you don't do well on your test this week. I have no choice but to punish you. you bad boy."

Kaidou face turned red as cherry as steams started to come out because of how flustered he was right now. [Name] leaned away and chuckeld.

"So cute~" -

After that incident, Kaidou wouldn't be able to look at you the same way once again. Saiki had to bear the consequences of that incident, and he was tired of hearing those thoughts.

And while the three were walking down the hallway, heading to the cafeteria. they came across each other as the two made eye contact which made [Name] wink at the blue haired male who blushed and looked down.

[Name] chuckled as Saiki sighed as he heard [Name] thoughts.

'He look so cute.'

[scenetocause]

lil headcanon of girloscar for silverstone '24 weekend plz if u would be open to it??

i'm actually writing a chewy girloscar first win/austria/logan's 2024 thing that's all got a bit in depth and will probably end at silverstone but here's a little fluffy bit of side scene

It's wet and - Lando doesn't like it, obviously but - Oscar gets a unique level of miserable in the rain. She can't wear shorts or she'll get wet legs, which always pisses her off and then apparently her jeans rub her between her thighs when they're wet and the team shoes aren't waterproof and even though this year Lando actually made her request one of the proper team coats she really resents wearing it.

Especially at Silverstone, which he hadn't realised sort of makes Oscar grumpy as a place. He'd quite enjoyed Melbourne, with all of Oscar's people around them but the scale is pretty different here. It's not just Lando's family and a few early-years sponsors or something, it's the entire UK (or something) showing up and Sky breathlessly hyping that he's going to win and then some sort of patriotic collective orgasm will happen.

He forgot to vote in the election, too, which feels like it should be understandable given they were doing twenty interviews that day but Oscar had a go at him about it in some sort of stressed way and he's just not really sure what's up with her this week.

They're sharing a driver room because of the motorhome thing, which he'd thought would be nice but seems to be exacerbating whatever Oscar's beef is. Normally they hang out with each other in one of them anyway, hiding together from media and VIP commitments and getting each other off when they're not meant to be.

Instead, Oscar is glaring at something on an iPad - probably Lando's tyre data - and jiggling her slightly-damp leg like it will help the denim dry faster. It's setting his teeth on edge.

Her digging through his data is nothing new and he doesn't mind, that's sort of the point. He's had a cheeky look through some of Jenson's and Lewis' from 2008, it can't hurt. But this feels less like something she's doing to gain something and more like distraction or even self-flagellation.

Well, he's been told he's very distracting. "Hey."

Him grabbing her ankle makes her look up, at least. Sometimes it's best to be blunt. "What's up with you?"

She sighs, makes a sort of grumbling noise and pushes the heels of her palms into her eyes, huffing. "Nothing - it's stupid."

Lando has to bite his lip for a second before leaning into a cliche. "If it's bothering you it's not nothing. Or stupid."

At least that makes her glare at him, rather than the iPad. She sighs again, kicking her legs out and slumping back on the sofa, eyes closed like she can't bear to perceive this too much.

"You didn't - yesterday, you didn't tell me you were going to be sexy and I turned up in a fucking sweater."

It almost has him blindsided for a moment because this is a completely unreal thing for Oscar to care about. "What?"

"You were all-" she does something with her hand that he thinks means 'fancy' or something "-and I'm fucking dressed like a toddler. Because it's your home race and I'm not trying to - I mean, I don't anyway but like. I don't want to look like a bad girlfriend and it's just-"

"It was a sexy sweater." It's probably not the most helpful thing he can say but still.

"What?" She's looking at him again but with total incredulity.

"Sexy. Makes you look all soft and warm to, uh, hug. Nice shoulders, good to kiss. Like you could pick me up in the paddock again."

In all fairness, the first time had been because he'd only had his socks on when the motorhome caught fire. But Oscar carrying him over to a chair in a bridal hold has spawned a thousand TikTok edits that Lando can't pretend he's stopped watching.

Even when they're calling him pathetic, he can see the tender way she picks him up, uses her forearm to support his back so she doesn't hurt him, holds him close to her as she puts him down. It's a type of loved he'd never realised he wanted to be, until she showed him how nice it is to be looked after.

It's his turn to do that for her, though.

She blinks up at him, where he's perched on the arm of the sofa, avoiding her agitated jiggling earlier. It's enough to make him not quite launch himself at her but tumble down so they can tangle together, cuddling the way he'd wanted to earlier.

"You think weird shit is sexy," she observes, stroking his hair to take the sting out of it.

That just makes him snort. "You think I'm sexy."

Oscar's laughing, at least, when she says "Well fucking everyone thinks that now, don't they? Slutty little vest thing."

"Don't slut-shame me or I won't let you put anything up my arse." He nestles closer to her, gets a hand on her boobs, through her team shirt, in the way that gives Sophie a headache because it leaves visible crumpling.

"Yeah you will," Oscar sounds a little bit amused, still. "Who doesn't want to get fisted after winning their home race?"

When he's squirming his way through a fucking - he still has no idea what Darktrace actually is - sponsor session later, still half-chubbed with way too little time before qualifying, at least she's knocking her hand against his and giggling at their inside jokes again.

[loganswdc]

so....! yesterday's race was.... something....

firstly LET'S GO OSCAR !!!! HECK YEAH I'M SO PROUD OF HIM I CAN'T BELIEVE I GOT TO SEE HIM WIN HIS FIRST RACE !??!?!?! i do feel awful for lando ,, that entire situation created by mclaren was entirely unnecessary . their bullshit reason saying they needed to cover hamilton hence why lando got pitted first is so stupid -- it's like they realized they messed up and suddenly needed to come up with something to explain it .

it's especially frustrating because that entire mess that mclaren created only made it so that no matter what happened , fans would be mad: if lando won , people would be pissed that oscar didn't get his first win . oscar won , and now people are pissed that lando didn't win . and the entire win for oscar just doesn't feel the way it should: the energy surrounding his first win isn't as positive and exciting as it should be .

and that genuinely makes me so sad for oscar , because i know he's been waiting for this day . he's been waiting for his first win , and it's completely dampened and stomped on because of mclaren's awful strategy calls near the end . i was genuinely yelling at the screen when they pitted lando first , because what was that for ?? why pit him first ?? he did NOT need to cover hamilton , like there was genuinely no need for that . they were leagues away and lando was fast enough that he could have pitted second and still gotten p2 , or lando and oscar could have actually fought for p1 . and it wouldn't have had this bad , awkward energy around it like it does now .

mclaren seriously needs to get their shit together because they're only harming both of their drivers through these things . and them airing out dirty laundry (considering how they were saying "you need the team to win this championship" or how his race engineer mentioned the morning debriefs , etc. etc.) and trying to guilt trip lando over the radio is actually insane !!

it was honestly just a mess .

i also lowkey found it so funny how lewis was trying to break the tension in the cooldown room and lando was just NOT having it . bro was so mad , he threw his p2 cap on the floor and lewis just side-eyed him 😭 multi-21 all over again literally and lewis is in the middle of it , poor guy HAHA

now on to logan's race !! i felt so bad for him , i know he could have done well but unfortunately he had a really bad start and it all just went downhill from there :( the tyre strategy they had him on was... it actually pulled out of no man's land . i genuinely don't get what they were trying to go for there . it seriously sucks man , this weekend was almost his weekend and then it all went to hell 😭 his post-race interview broke me , too . the fact he looked like he was about to sob and said that start will haunt him ... please someone give him a HUG i need him to know we're so proud of him no matter what . shit start or not he did everything he could to fight for positions in that race :(

i was genuinely so confused about what their thought process was ,, and then the fact that logan had to pit for softs at the end because his hard tyres were destroyed... ugh . and we know logan is good at tyre management !! like that man gets a new set of tyres and he is gonna treat em REAL GOOD . so it just goes to show how much of a mess the tyre strategy was .

especially considering how on the radio alex was practically yelling at his engineer for being indecisive with the strategy , saying that the tyres are destroyed already and that they need to be more sure with what they want to do . williams seriously needs to start listening to both their drivers , honestly . it's incredible to me that this tyre fiasco happens SO often on race weekends . they need to get it fixed , and they need to fix it now.

also the fact we found out that alex's teammate is going to be revealed in two weeks... i am actually terrified !! i need either logan to stay with williams and they pull themselves together or he goes to another team that will treat him better .

overall this race was just . it was something . exciting for oscar , but still dampened by mclaren's mess ups and logan's race was doomed from the beginning , both because of his unfortunate start and tyre strat :/

hopefully next week will be better , for everyone , and the teams will get their shit together !!

and that concludes my weekly rant session , thank you very much for reading <3

[whositmcwhatsit]

Save Me

Written for the prompt: How are we going to solve this problem?

1976 Elvis in a leather coat for my beloved @vintageshanny This one got away from me, there's so much more to come!

@thatbanditqueen, @be-my-ally, @missmaywemeetagain, @ellie-24, @from-memphis-with-love, you are the best, funniest, kindest and most awesome people.

The air shimmered and glittered across the tarmac of the highway, promising oases, lights and civilisation, all of which would turn out to be mirages, as Cindy had discovered after walking five miles in the unrelenting searing wind wearing cowboy boots. The lukewarm can of coke she had been nursing the entire way was bone dry now and she had to admit that she was beginning to panic.

It made no sense, this highway was usually jam packed with people heading to and from LA for the  weekend, but there had only been a smattering of traffic heading in either direction, and none of the hoity toity rich folks had apparently felt inclined to stop for a dusty, sweaty woman standing by the side of the road.

No one at home would even realise anything was amiss before Monday when she was supposed to be at work. They’d probably call home to find out why she was missing her shift, and her dad would think she was pulling a sick day and cover for her, not knowing… God, she was going to end up being eaten alive by buzzards. She squinted up at the sky, paranoid that she could see shadows circling overhead.

The cream car slid through the glimmering haze like it was heaven sent, its gold-plated grille and finishes adding to the surreal quality as it sped on, looking like it was going to rush past her in a fog of sand and exhaust fumes like all the others. It was heading in the wrong direction anyway, she told herself. Though there was no wrong direction away from death by overheating and scavengers.

The sound of tyres skidding in grit behind her made her turn and she saw the car had stopped a couple of hundred yards up the road. She paused, surprised, then broke into an anxious jog, almost sliding over in the roadside dust, her boot soles worn to slipperiness.

Coming to the driver’s window, she hesitated as, instead of the usual well to do middle aged couple or family, she came face to face with a car full of men. They were all wearing sunglasses and, frankly, unwelcoming expressions.

“Uh, thank you for stopping,” she mumbled, her tongue dry and oversized in her mouth. “I was starting to get worried.” The moustachioed man at the wheel just stared at her from behind dark brown lenses.

“Where you headed, honey?” asked a soft voice in the backseat. She frowned, shooting a last look at the blank faced driver before side-stepping to the window behind. She blinked rapidly, sure that what she saw was the result of dehydration, heatstroke and probably the remnants of the acid she had ingested at the beginning of road trip yesterday.

“Uh, well, I was heading back to LA,” she managed, nodding her head in the opposite direction, “but right now I’d settle for a ride to the nearest town with a phone.”

“You got car trouble?”

“In a way,” she shrugged, not wanting to go into her pathetic predicament with him, of all people. She didn’t miss the way that the other men in the car were looking at each other, sharing some sort of communication, and it made her question how desperate her situation really was. Maybe she could wait for the next car…

“You know, my guys here think that we should’ve driven right on by you. They said you could be dangerous like one of those Manson chicks. You know what a honeypot is, darlin’?” She could hear someone sniggering inside the car.

“I’m not anyone’s chick,” she retorted, rubbing sand out of her eye. “And definitely not that psycho’s. Look, thanks for stopping, but I’m fine.” She stomped off, heading back to where she had been standing.

Wrapping her hands around herself, she tried to force her heart to stop pounding. She would be fine, someone would come along, a nice family with a dog she could pet. It would all be fine.

She clenched her jaw as she heard a car door click shut and then heavy footsteps crunch towards her.

“Goddamn, it’s hot,” said Elvis Presley as he stopped at her side wearing a knee length leather coat fastened and belted in the California desert. He must’ve caught her look because he hiccupped a laugh and glanced down at himself. “Well, the car has air conditioning… A-a-and not all of us can look as good as you do in little shorts, honey.” She snorted in spite of herself, feeling her shoulders drop slightly.

“Look, I was only teasin’ before,” he said, adjusting his sunglasses and jutting his jaw pensively. “You’re a good girl, I know. I can tell that about you. I have a sense for these things.” She glanced over at the car and the two big, older guys who were leaning against it, arms crossed to show off their shoulder holsters. “And them- Well, they all do and think what I tell ‘em to, so…”

“I think I’ll be okay,” she murmured. “I’m probably better off waiting for a car going the other way anyway.”

“You’ll be waiting a while, sweetheart, Highway Patrol closed the road about twenty miles that way.”

Well, that explained that.

“Oh God,” she groaned, bending forward at the waist and just dropping like a rag doll until her hair poked into the top of her boots. “Why is this happening?! Wait, if the road’s closed, how come you’re here?”

Well, it’s closed for the public,” he answered, like this explained everything. At her questioning look, he pulled a wallet from the pocket of his coat and flashed her a shiny silver badge. “I ain’t the public.” Her eyebrows knitted tighter together and, after a moment, she reached out and pinched his arm.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, this is just really weird. I had to check.” He smiled, but it took him a minute and he was still rubbing his arm like she had stabbed him rather than given him a little pinch. “You are Elvis, right?”

“Last time I checked, but keep your voice down, honey, I’m travelling incognito.” He gave her a wink and she found herself smiling even though she didn’t know why. “Now, look, let’s get in the car before I melt like a goddamn snowman and we can figure out how to get you where you need to go on the way.”

“On the way to where?”

“My house in Palm Springs.”

As she was deliberating, another fancy car pulled up alongside the cream Cadillac station wagon and a smaller, lean man with a moustache hurried out of the driver’s seat to them.

“Hey, what’s going on, why are y’all by the side of the road?”

“Just rescuing, er- What’s your name, honey?”

“Cindy.”

“We were just rescuing Cindy here. This here’s my cousin, Billy. He might look like a marble-eyed sonovabitch, but-” The other man, Billy, gave Elvis’ arm a punch, but even Cindy could see that there was barely any force behind it, and certainly nowhere near what Elvis retaliated with. Both men burst into laughter, though Billy’s seemed pained.

“I can’t ride with you,” she tried one last time. “There isn’t any space for me, your car is full.”

“Huh, you’re right. How are we going to solve this problem? Hey, Sonny, Red!” The two big men looked over, straightening. “You guys ride in the Stutz with Ricky and David. Billy and Jo are coming with us.”

“Hey, E,” the dark haired one started in a disgruntled voice. Cindy didn’t miss the way that Elvis’s face snapped towards him and whatever expression he had put an end to the complaint.

“I’ve been defending myself from little girls for over twenty years, man, I’m sure I won’t have any problems here.” Lowering his voice, he finished so that only Cindy and probably Billy could hear, “Don’t exactly think I wanna defend myself anyhow.”

Travel arrangements made, Cindy followed Elvis’s broad back on her way back to the Cadillac. She questioned what she was doing, wondering what he was expecting from her in terms of gratitude. Then she shook her head. This was Elvis Presley, after all, he was probably dripping in beautiful models, he didn’t need to pick up damsels in distress by the side of the road to get lucky. He looked different to how she thought though, heavier for sure, that leather coat seemed uncomfortably tight, pale too, and his hair looked like it hadn’t been combed. Of course, she was in no position to judge since her skin had acquired a new layer of dirt and dust and her hair was ratty from sleeping in the van the night before.

The car was deliciously cool as promised, and she sighed as she climbed into the soft leather back seat. Elvis managed to summon up a cold bottle of Mountain Valley spring water and his mouth quirked at the corner as she moaned a little gulping it down.

Billy and a dark-haired woman, who was apparently his wife Jo, sat in the front seat, leaving them alone in the back. It was quiet at first. Cindy gripped the glass bottle in her hands, savouring the cool surface against her hot, sweaty skin. She shifted slightly on the seat, hoping that she wasn’t marking it with her grime. It figured that she would finally meet her first famous person looking her absolute worst.

“So, uh, what happened to your car?” Elvis asked, turning a little so that he was inclined towards her. Her eyes fell on the three- three- thick gold chains around his neck that rested in the dark hair on his chest, disappearing beneath the lapels of his leather coat and the light blue tracksuit jacket was wearing underneath. She blinked and looked back up at his face.

“Well, nothing. It’s still at home back in the city,” she replied. “I- uh. See, I was out in the desert with some friends… camping.” She nodded, yes, ‘camping’. “And there was a misunderstanding between me and one of my friends. She thought I was into her boyfriend and she got mad and- They left me behind.”

“But you weren’t?” he asked. She was looking into his eyes, partially hidden by the tinted lenses of his sunglasses, and asking herself why the hell she was laying out the events of her pathetic life to Elvis fucking Presley. She lifted her eyebrows questioningly. “You weren’t fooling around with your friend’s boyfriend?”

“No,” she demurred. “No, he’s an idiot.” Elvis grinned and nodded, which somehow made her smile right back without thinking about it.

“You’ve had yourself an awfully bad day, haven’t you, Cindy honey. I, myself, have not been having a great day either. Kinda lucky of us to cross paths out here in the middle of nowhere, don’t you think?”

“Why are you having a bad day?” she asked.

“Don’t matter now,” he replied, giving her hand a quick pat. “So, where d’you live in Los Angeles?”

It went on like that, him questioning her and Cindy answering before returning the question back to him. Sometimes he’d answer, but most of the time he would just ask another question. She felt like she was being interviewed for a job she hadn’t applied for.

As the car drew up to a low, white Spanish style house, she was beginning to wonder if she might want the job after all, whatever it was.

Billy opened the car door and Elvis climbed out with a grunt, reaching out a hand to her. It felt like climbing out of a carriage, only she was the regular Cinderella before the fairy godmother had shown up, all covered in dirt and ashes. His fingers curled around hers, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand, and he didn’t release it once she was by his side.

“So, here we are, little honeypot,” he said with an endearing smirk, “come on in.”

Stepping into the house was like walking into a meat locker after the heavy, dry heat of the afternoon. She wanted to pause and bask in it, but Elvis still had hold of her hand and he was not stopping. He gave her the tour, introducing her to the cook, while the other men arrived in the black car and there was a flurry of activity, cases and bags being deposited in the foyer and quickly whisked away.

The whole time, Elvis was walking around, talking about views and telling her a funny story about the time a photographer tried to climb the canyon to get pictures of him in the backyard and he and the guys scared the man so bad that he dropped his camera down a steep incline.

“Bought him another one, of course,” he shrugged with a small smile. “Still, taught him a lesson about being sneaky. Can’t stand sneaky sons of bitches, just come and ask me if you want a picture, don’t- don’t be all underhanded about it.” He stared off out the window at the rocky canyon beyond and she watched and waited, wondering if she was supposed to respond. Finally, he gave his head a little shake and flashed a grin at her, looking at her sideways. And that moment was over.

“So, I’ve been thinking, Cindy honey,” he began, leading her to an upright chair by the window and gesturing for her to sit down. “About you having a bad day and me… And it seems like there’s more to this than meets the eye, I think what we have here is a touch of divine intervention.”

Mouth open, she parsed his words, trying to understand what she was being told. She didn’t.

“Ain’t no way we should have met, you being a little girl pretty much as far from Beverly Hills as you can get and me not going nowhere else, but somehow we did meet. I saved you, and maybe… maybe you can s- you can help me… too.”

“Well, what do you need help with?” she asked. He grinned his famous lopsided smile, reminding her that she was sitting in front of a musical legend, one of the most famous men on the planet, just like he was a regular person.

“Well, for one thing, I don’t like being on my own much and- and my date for the weekend kinda flaked out.” He huffed an awkward, endearing laugh. “You think you might wanna hang around, honey?”

“Well, I have to be at work on Monday,” she said dubiously, feeling a pang at the way he was looking down at her, like she had power.

“I’ll get you to work on Monday,” he replied emphatically. “I can promise you that.”

“But I don’t even have any of my things,” she murmured, thinking out loud. “I left them all in the van and-”

“I’ll get you whatever you need.” He raised his eyebrows. “Anything else? C’mon, while we’re on a roll, throw something else at me, honey.” She laughed, giving his hand a squeeze that he returned.

“Can I use your phone?”

“You got a guy you need to call?” he asked flatly.

“Sorta,” she shrugged. “My father- he’s sick and I don’t like to make him worry about where I am.”

“My daddy’s been sick too,” he murmured, “but he’s getting better.”

There was such determination in his voice that she felt like she had to nod back like she was convinced.

He took her into his bedroom, which she knew must look out over the pool from the layout of the rest of the house, but the curtains were already pulled tightly closed and it felt, if possible, even colder in this room.

“You can make your call in here,” he said, squeezing her shoulder as she perched on the edge of the bed next to the phone. “No one’ll bother you. I’m just gonna make some arrangements, deal with some things. I’ll be back.”

She watched him leave, pulling the door closed behind him, and reflected on the weirdness of everything that had happened in the past few hours. She reached for the phone, but stopped.

As far as her dad knew, she was camping with some girls from work. It had been hard enough to reassure him that she would be okay doing this. If she called him now and said that not only had those girls ditched her in the middle of nowhere, but that she had been picked up by Elvis and whisked away to this house in Palms Springs… Well, he might have the stroke that was going to finish him off, the one they had been warding against for five years.

There was a tap at the door and it opened before she could respond, but it was not Elvis. Jo, the woman married to his cousin, was standing there looking at her like she was a naughty child who had refused to tidy her room.

“What size are you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Size. I’m guessing a…” Her eyes flicked up and down with disinterest. “A six?”

“Four on the bottom half,” Cindy returned. “Why-“

“Shoes? What shoe size are you?”

Baffled and feeling a little bit harried, Cindy gave her the information she asked for, wondering if the woman was lending her some clean clothes or if maybe Elvis Presley of the famed pelvis, who reduced women to screaming, creaming morons with just a jiggle of his leg, had a special wardrobe for all his conquests.

“Okay, so you need to shower,” the older woman continued, directing her to a bathroom away from the bedroom. “Everything you need is just in here. Make sure you wash your hair, clean your nails, brush your teeth. Everything. He likes girls to be clean.”

What do you say to that? Cindy wondered, staring blankly as Jo repeated the instructions like it was normal, like this was an every day occurrence. To be fair, it probably was.

“Today is so weird,” Cindy murmured to herself as she stepped into the bathroom, holding the large, white terrycloth robe Jo had shoved at her. There were toiletries in a big basket, all brand new and unopened. Shampoos, conditioners, soaps and lotions. A toothbrush still in its packaging, razor, and hairbrush and combs. It was like visiting a hotel, an expensive one too, not just a roadside motel.

Turning on the shower, she spotted a little pink transistor radio on the vanity and she switched it on. She couldn’t shower in silence, she needed something to drown out her singing other than the noisy spray. Warbling along to whatever the DJ played, she did everything she had been told, scrubbing and rubbing and rinsing over and over until she finally felt like she had exfoliated the desert from her skin and her mind.

Wrapping the oversized robe around herself, she sashayed like it was a fur coat and she was walking past the velvet ropes at Studio 54, hoping to catch Jagger’s eye. She opened the bathroom door and stumbled back with a muffled shriek when she found a man about her age standing outside. He had shaggy dark hair and was wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, which she appreciated.

“You done?” he asked, eyes sliding up her bare legs like a snail leaving a trail across a rock. “You brush your teeth? Clean your nails?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” she returned. “Yes, I brushed, I cleaned, I buffed myself to within an inch of my life! God!”

“All right,” he shot back. “I was just checking, because the Boss likes girls to be-”

“Clean, yes, I’ve got it.” She was starting to wonder whether it was Elvis or Howard Hughes who had picked her up.

The man directed her back to the living room, which was dim and shaded now with the curtains pulled across most of the windows against the late afternoon sun.

“Just wait here for a minute,” he said, closing the door behind him.

Cindy shifted from bare foot to bare foot, looking up at the low, sloping ceiling and the immaculately clean fireplace. Her eyes fell on the coffee table and the thick stack of bills placed neatly there.

She wandered over as if called, eyes bugging when she saw that the pile was topped with a hundred. If they were all hundreds, there had to be five thousand dollars there, easy. She thought about all the hospital bills that kept coming to the house, red overdue stamp looking like blood. Then she thought about her dad finding out that she had stolen money to pay them.

Sighing, she forced her feet away from the coffee table and stalked over to the couch, throwing herself down. Having a conscience could be a curse sometimes.

A little while later, the door opened and the man himself finally appeared. He was wearing a short sleeve light blue leisure suit and his hair looked washed and blow-dried. He didn’t look well, she decided, but she couldn’t decide why that thought had popped into her head.

“You look like you’re being eaten by a cloud,” he observed with a little smile, exhaling sharply as he dropped onto the couch beside her. He nudged his leg against her, but didn’t seem to notice, almost like he couldn’t keep still. “You get everything you need, honey? You speak to your father?”

“Yes, thank you,” she lied.

It was probably a good idea to make him think that people knew where she was, she decided. He leant back, stretching his arm like he had a twinge in his shoulder and then resting it along the back of the couch behind her. She had to work hard not to giggle. It was like being back in middle school.

“Why d’you wear sunglasses indoors?” she asked, wincing at her words as soon as she spoke them. “Sorry, that was rude-" He laughed softly and shook his head; his arm slid forward slightly against her shoulders.

“No, no, it’s fine, honey. I, er, have to wear ‘em because I got sensitive eyes. The light messes with ‘em sometimes, that’s all.”

“It’s not very bright in here,” she observed, glancing around at the lengthening shadows around the room.

“Yeah, well, I- I kinda need ‘em to see as well,” he admitted, ducking his head. “Can’t see as good as I used to.”

“Oh, well, that makes sense.” His smile widened and she felt his fingers wrap around the top of her arm.

Sitting so close to him felt like sitting with her side to the Sun, he gave off so much warmth and also a sense of power, like he was the centre of the whole galaxy. He was stroking her arm with his fingers, and she could feel the rough end of his rings scraping the folds in her sleeve and she shivered.

He smirked and, despite the fuller face and the beginnings of a double chin, she could see the man who had made her feel tickly in her tummy during the Saturday matinees her dad had taken her to. She was looking into his eyes through the pinkish tinted lenses of his glasses, their faces drawing closer, when there was a tap on the door.

“Goddamn it,” Elvis muttered under his breath, probably louder than he thought he was. “Come in!”

Billy appeared with several bags, seemingly oblivious or indifferent to Elvis’ obvious annoyance.

“Here ya are, got what you asked for,” he said, lifting the bags.

“Well, just leave it by the door,” Elvis snapped back. “And why the hell d’you leave this cash here? You just throwing my money away now, man?”

There was a weird note in the exchange that Cindy couldn’t quite figure out, but Billy gathered up the money without argument and left, dropping the bags by the door.

“Families, huh,” she observed as he huffed an exasperated sigh, his round stomach rapidly expanding and deflating. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.”

“Yeah, so they tell me,” he returned, shooting the door one last look of annoyance, before turning back to her. “You know, I just wanted to say thank you, Cindy honey.”

 “For what?” Grabbing a ride? Taking a shower?

“For staying. It’s real nice of you."

Her mouth twisted into a baffled smile as her brain puzzled over whether she had heard him right. He did know who he was, right? He rubbed her arm over the terrycloth sleeve and twisted towards her. Her eyes dropped to his lips and, though they looked a little dry, they were plump and inviting. Soft too as he pressed them against hers.

It was a chaste, sweet kiss, he didn’t even try slip her any tongue. Cindy never made it to a dance in her sophomore year, but she imagined this was what it would have felt like. She reached up to hang her fingers from his neck, surprised again by how warm his skin was. The hair at the nape of his neck was damp with sweat and his breath wavered as she ran her thumbs curiously through his long sideburns. They felt soft and coarse at the same time and she couldn’t explain how.

“Yeah, I think someone or something has put you in my way for a reason,” he murmured, eyes fixed on her lips as he pulled back. She could feel herself begin to broil under his gaze. He pecked her lips again, pressing his weight against her. “Let’s get you ready, honey.”

Elvis led her around by the hand like she was a cross between a little child and a delicate princess. They went back into the kitchen where he told the cook that he wanted fried chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner, reminding her that the gravy wasn’t thick enough last time. He turned to Cindy, asking what she would like to eat.

“Aren't I having the same as you?” she asked. Asking for two different meals seemed… rude, somehow.

“Oh, honey, you don’t have-” He ducked his head and smiled. “She’ll have the same, just a regular size, okay?”

The woman smiled at Elvis the way that most women smiled at him, indulgently and kind of wistful. It was a strange thing to experience and then to see.

“Okay, lil honeypot, let’s get you dressed and ready for dinner,” he said, throwing a smile over his shoulder as he led her back to the bedroom.

The bags that Billy had left in the living room had been transported here and Elvis gestured to them. She peered inside, finding a white dress, underwear, and even shoes. She hadn’t worn so much white since her mom passed and her dad had turned everything grey with a misplaced sock when she was ten. She hesitated, wondering if he wanted her to put on a show, to earn them, but after she had waited for several minutes, he lifted a hand to the adjoining bathroom and motioned for her to go.

Wavering on the white, naturally, platformed heels, she tottered back into the bedroom where Elvis was reclined against the pillows reading a book. He glanced up over the top and gave an exaggerated double take.

“Who’s this sweet lil angel who’s showed up in my bedroom?” he asked, dropping the book on the bed and clambering up.

He crossed the room to her a little unsteadily and suddenly threw his arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She could barely breathe with how close he was holding her, his arms pinning hers to her sides, his stomach tight against hers, constricting her air. Even his thighs were hard against hers. She didn’t know what to do, so she lifted her arm as much as she was able to stroke the small of his back.

“You look so pretty,” he murmured, when he finally drew back, running his thumb over her lips in concentration. “We’ll get Jo in here to do your make up and you’ll be perfect.”

“I can do my own make-up,” she insisted, not wanting to be a source of irritation for the other woman yet again.

“No, honey, Jo knows how to do it the way I like it,” he replied, biting on his lip before leaning forward and kissing her, lingering on her lips this time, almost as if he wanted to deepen the kiss but lost his nerve. “I want you to look like you’re all mine.”

He ducked his head down bashfully in the way that she was already getting accustomed to, but this time there seemed to be more of a purpose to it. She glanced down too when she felt him fumbling with her wrist and she watched as he fastened a thick, heavy gold ID bracelet around it. On the front, Elvis was spelled out in large diamonds.

“There,” he mumbled, sounding self-satisfied. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”

She didn’t know how to respond to this, not in a way that didn’t hurt his feelings, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. No, she was already feeling an overwhelming need to protect him, this much older, richer, more powerful man.

Jo didn’t really speak to her as she did her make up. Cindy could barely open her eyes with the weight of the eyeliner and mascara they had been coated in. She barely recognised the woman she saw staring back at her in the mirror, especially not when she lifted her arm to peer at the bracelet. Such a weird day.

The table was full of men at dinner, with only Jo and Cindy adding some much-needed female companionship. Elvis and the other men laughed and chatted through the meal, arguing and guffawing over old stories; stories that always seemed to feature Elvis doing something insane, dangerous and/or reckless and somehow getting away with it. He grinned at her at every conclusion, looking pleased with himself and she tried her best to look impressed and amused.

Cindy understood what Elvis had meant when he instructed the cook to make her meal regular-sized. He and the rest of the men devoured prodigious amounts of food and it felt like dinner went on for hours waiting for them to finish.

As soon as she put down her knife and fork, Elvis reached over and clasped her hand with his, maintaining that hold even as he was eating and talking to everyone around her. It was like sitting with a spotlight on you, seen but unseen, valued but ignored.

After dinner, Elvis led her over to the piano. A couple of the guys, one of the large ones with all the guns, and a small one, picked up guitars and perched on a footstool and the sofa around him. He insisted, though there was barely enough room, that she sat next to him on the piano stool. She leant into his side, trying to maintain her balance.

“What d’you wanna hear us sing, Cindy honey?” he asked, like she would be fine with that, like she would casually accept Elvis Presley asking for requests.

“Lawdy Miss Clawdy?” she asked. It was one of two Elvis songs her father had played her religiously on a Saturday afternoon when they needed to jump around and use up some energy.

“Aw, that’s so damn old,” he remarked. “Can’t you think of nothing from this century?” He hiccupped a small laugh, which his guys echoed far louder, but she could sense that she had upset or offended him somehow. Probably by making him feel that only his old songs were the best, she guessed. She had hurt his feelings.

“You should sing what you want to sing,” she said quickly, rubbing his jiggling knee. “Anything you sing will blow me away.”

The smaller guy with the guitar suggested ‘Love is a Many Splendored Thing’, but before he had even finished his sentence, Elvis was pounding the keys of the piano in the very familiar introduction to ‘Lawdy Miss Clawdy’.

Everyone who had ever listened to an Elvis record always felt like he was singing directly to them. That was part of his magic and charm, but Cindy now knew that that feeling was nothing compared to knowing that he was singing directly to you. Her face was throbbing with heat as the blood rushed there. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, clasping them in her lap like she had to hold in her vital organs or she would die. He frowned over the piano as he sang, but every now and again, shot her a look from the side of his eye, his cheekbones round and prominent as he held back a smile.

As the last chords of the piano faded out, he cleared his throat, making fun of how much higher his voice used to be. Cindy clapped, ignoring the eyerolls and looks of derision that some of the men were throwing her. She had never been able to get to a concert. They usually sold out in hours and there was no way she could skip work to queue overnight and all day. So this was probably the closest she was ever going to get to seeing Elvis live, and she was making the most of it.

“Thank you, honey,” he mumbled, angling his face so that he could kiss her cheek. He grabbed her hand that was still clapping and brought it to his lips, giving her fingers a soft peck also.

Forgetting all the eyes, the uncomfortable shoes, the skimpy dress that made her shiver in the air conditioning, and the mask of make-up she was wearing, Cindy ducked forward and kissed him. She almost missed completely, catching only the corner of his mouth, but he rescued her for the second time that day, wrapping his arms around her, hot palms against her back and turning his head, sliding his tongue in to brush against hers. Maybe he was right, they could both save each other.

[j0shm0]

2022 Emilia Romagna Grand Prix - 63 Laps / 19 'Turns'

I took time out of night since we did not have a "FORMULA 1 MSC CRUISES GRAN PREMIO DEL MADE IN ITALY E DELL'EMILIA-ROMAGNA" in 2023 and went back to watch the 2022 Race to take down some notes about the race and atmosphere at that time.

Sprint Race Weekend (Format was FP1, Quali, FP2, Sprint Quali, Sprint Race, Race)

Sprint Podium (Max, Charles, Sergio)

In 2022 it was the 4th race of the year (Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Australia)

Top 3 Driver standings going into the weekend was Charles, George, Carlos (Max 6th)

Top 3 Driver Standing after the race weekend was Charles, Max, Sergio (only Schumacher, Hulkenberg, Latifi; no points)

Weather all weekend was cold and wet, race day was "Cloudy in a wet and drying track"

Tyre Selection was Inter/Wet, C4, C3, C2

Lewis Hamilton owns Lap Record with a 1:15 set in 2020

"championship leader Charles Leclerc on the front row next to Max Verstappen the world champion"

Max had Fuel System issues in Bahrain and Austraila allowing Charles to have 2 wins

The box on F1TV was Joylon Palmer and Will Buxton

Fastest Pit stop at this time was 2.27sec by RB in Australia

Pierre radio message in formation lap about rain in 20-25mins

Previous winners were Max - 2021, Hamilton- 2020, Schumacher - 2006, Alonso - 2005, Schumacher - 2004

No Imola race from 2007 - 2020 due to poor maintenance and legal battles

Mick Schumacher was the Logan Sargent of 2022 (finishing just outside points but people only talk about the impacts)

Checo and Lando jumped up to 2 and 3 on the start putting Charles in 4th

Daniel spun Carlos and beached him in the gravel of turn 2 (racing incident)

Mick dropped from 10th to 17th after getting spun by himself hitting a puddle on the strips heading into turn 3

Fernando got a whack in his right side pod early on and by lap 7 had a giant hole (Schumacher spun tapped)

Kmag being a defender forever, keeping George behind for multiple laps

By lap 20 everyone moved to the medium tyre; with Daniel down in 18th being the first to try it and say big gains

Esteban 5sec penalty for unsafe release during the pit stops

After pitting top 3 were Max, Perez, Charles

Lap 26 Mick was didn’t make a turn going against Latifi and went through the wet grass on slicks so he spun again

Yuki has been leading the Train in 9th for so long

Daniel pitted on lap 31 for Hard Tyre - could take him to the end if the rain stays away

DRS Enabled Lap 34 with drying track

Pierre putting on a mega defense to keep Lewis locked in 15th

Lap 38 Max was getting close to lapping people in 15th/14th/13th; Completed on Lap 41

Ferrari and Mclaren radio messages opting to stay on Medium Tyre from lap 20 pit O_O

Lando holding 4th with a 23sec gap to Charles in 3rd; Sebastian in 7th 17sec gap to Valterri

Lap 43 Exhaust bracket/valve piece from Latifis Williams could have lead to a safety car potentially

Leclerc pitted lap 50 for Soft Tyres O_O extra point fastest lap

LANDO FASTER AND TRYES COLD OUT OF THE PITS SO CHARLES COMES OUT IN 4th (swapped back following lap)

Perez Lap 51 Max Lap 52 also Soft Tyres since they had huge leads

Charles message lap 52 "Should have gone Mediums"

LAP 53 CHARLES HIT THE SAUSGE CURB IN TURN 15 and hit the wall; pitted for tyres and wing; dropped to 9th

Yuki also passed Sebastian and went up to 6th ^_^

Max, Sergio, Lando Podium; with Max lapping from Lance Stroll in 10th down to 18th

Starting Grid and Constructor standings (even left odd right as is on track)

Finishing position for Drivers and Constructors (1-10 Left/11-20 Right)

[goatcheesecak3]

Dean Taylor x reader fluff

Had to write about Dean again because I love him hehe

This one goes out to all the "I can fix him" girlies out there

You sat on the sofa patiently waiting for dean to return home. You'd been proud of him lately, he'd been making a conscious effort to keep on the straight and narrow since meeting you. You helped him deal with his anger issues and violent tendencies in a way that didn't get people hurt. Often visiting the shooting range together, you'd even signed dean up to a boxing club, just to try and channel some of his abundance of rage into something positive. It had been hard for him at first, but he'd stuck to it, which was incredibly flattering to you. Dean wasn't the type to say "I love you," but you knew the fact that he was actually willing to keep himself out of jail for you meant the same thing.

You heard the door to the apartment open, and turned around to see a very flustered looking dean. His hands were dirty, his hair unruly and his eyes filled with lust. God fucking damn it.

"Dean what did you do this time?" You asked, disappointed.

Dean said nothing, as he sat down next you and took your face in his hands, kissing you aggressively.

"I didn't do shit" he lied, mumbling against your lips.

You pulled away

"Dean I'm not fucking stupid, what did you do?"

You could always tell when Dean had slipped up and committed some sort of crime. It turned him on, so he'd always come home raring to go.

"Fucking hell y/n it was nothing alright!" He snapped, staring into your very soul as he shouted.

"It was just a cop car, that's all. I slashed the tyres. No one got hurt, so you can get off my fuckin back"

"Dean.." You began quietly, "what if you'd been caught? They might've linked you to a bunch of other stuff. You wouldn't be coming home tonight if they did, I would have been sat here worried sick about you all night"

Dean's gaze softened, he hadn't thought about that. It never even occurred to him that you'd wait up for him, or that you cared enough to be worried when he didn't come home.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, ever so gently stroking your cheek. You felt your face heat up and struggled to keep eye contact.

Dean noticed this and smiled to himself. He loved knowing just how easily he could have this sort of effect on you. It gave him a sense of control and stability.

"It won't happen again y/n" he cooed softly, his eyes still piercing yours.

Before you even knew what you were doing you'd placed a hand on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to kiss you. This kiss was more gentle than before, but still charged and passionate. Dean's hand stayed on your cheek, his thumb lightly stroking your soft skin.

It wasn't often that you got to see this side of Dean, so you knew to savour every second of it. That being said, you had noticed him becoming more affectionate lately - and not just when he wanted something - it almost seemed like he was beginning to enjoy doing all the normal boyfriend things like holding your hand, kissing you, and even cuddling.

He pulled away from the kiss and stared at you, with something akin to adoration in his eyes.

"You forgive me?" He asked, his eyes big and almost human.

You nodded, feeling a warmth inside your chest.

"C'mere," he mumbled, leaning back and opening his arms up, inviting you to cuddle up to his chest.

This was out of character, but you weren't complaining.

"You know I love you" he breathed, carefully placing his strong hand on the back of your head and stroking.

"You've never actually said that before" you muttered casually, you felt yourself growing sleepy in his warm embrace.

"Didn't think I had to," Dean replied, "you're a smart girl, I figured you already knew"

He leaned his head down slightly to look at your face, which had a dopey smile plastered all over it.

"I did know. I love you too Dean"

He placed a light kiss on your forehead, before you snuggled back into his chest.

You hoped nights like this would become more frequent. And secretly Dean did too.

A/n I hope I did Dean some justice, it's really hard to write for him without making him a super cliche bad boy type lmao :^) anyways, requests are still open! Check my pinned post for details :^)

[uniquexusposts]

Her || Charles Leclerc

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fan fiction, fluff  Story type: novel  Part: 3/? Word count: 1510 Co writer: @mistrose23

Story summary: Matilde Jørgensen, the new Scuderia Ferrari team principal, faced the nerve-wracking challenge of reviving the team's fortunes and aiming for a championship. Leading a historic team as a 'newbie' and separating her work and personal opinions posed a significant challenge. The big question: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 1. A New Role, A Nervous Start

Matilde entered the meeting room with an apologetic look on her face. She was holding her laptop and notebook under her arm, having a cup of tea in her other hand. "I'm sorry, I walked to the wrong truck," she said and sat down.

"No worries."

As the team principal settled behind her laptop, the other people in her team got ready for the pre-race debrief. They all were eager to discuss the strategy for the upcoming race, the first race, but also talk about track limits, and other information. Yesterday, after qualifying, they talked about the outcomes and the possible strategy for today. Today, it was time to finalise it.

It was the first time Matilde was about to witness the pre-race briefing at her new team. She had been at the briefing yesterday and the day before, but this was different. She still had to figure out how the briefings at Ferrari worked. Matilde was nervous; what could she expect later today? She decided to let the team lead the briefing, since it was them who had to lead their drivers through the race.

"Just like last year, we are considering a two-stop strategy with a soft-hard-hard combination for plan A," Carlos Galbally, Head of Tyre Science, announced after discussing other key points.

Everyone nodded in agreement; they agreed on this yesterday, and it seemed like the right tyre strategy. However, Matilde looked doubtful, keeping her opinion to herself. She listened to the other plans, but none of them felt right to her.

"Do we have other options we are looking at?" Matilde then asked out of curiosity.

The room fell into a brief silence as everyone pondered the options. Matilde could sense the tension, it was like she had said something out of place or that was too personal.

"Just asking," she added, attempting to ease the atmosphere with a soft smile.

"At the moment, not really. Why?" Xavi, the engineer of Charles Leclerc, asked.

"The data shows that the C3 has shown a strong pace," Matilde said. "I suggest we do soft-soft-hard. Gain a safe advantage, perhaps even perform an under or overcut and gain a few spots."

Ravin Jain, Strategy Director, looked at the only woman in the room. "Sounds reasonable," he admitted, but before he could continue, he got interrupted.

"The softs may have shown a strong pace, but they won't last long in these higher temperatures," Charles said, leaning forward. He was confident in understanding how the car felt with different tyres.

Matilde nodded, acknowledging his point. "They won't last long indeed, but they are great to push and gain some positions," she responded. "We expect everyone to start on softs, except Magnussen, and we have seen everyone fly away. If you get the softs in the second stint and push even more, the second stop may be free. And it brings you to the front of the field."

"The hards allow us to postpone the pit stops."

"But you have to stop eventually whether you have softs or hards under your car," Matilde brought in.

Charles sighed and looked at his laptop screen, visibly frustrated by the discussion. "The softs won't last long. It's great to start with them, but the hards give us more time," he said. You should know that, he thought. Charles looked up, gazing into her eyes.

Eyes shot from Charles to Matilde. She felt a hint of dislike in his gaze. "I suggest to pit around lap 15 for softs and then pit around lap 35 for hards to finish it. You both have shown that you can extend your stints on softs to twenty-five laps. I believe we can build a gap early on and keep it growing after the first pit stop."

It became silent. Both the Strategy Director and Head of Tyre Science were considering both approaches, weighing the risks and benefits of each strategy.

Charles didn't hesitate to reply to the suggestion. "I will stick to plan A. I know this track better than anyone, and I'll make the call if I sense an opportunity."

Matilde wished she could protest his decision, but she knew she couldn't change his mind because the entire team stood behind the plans. Carlos agreed with Charles, admitting he preferred the first strategy better.

"Then we will go for those plans. Thank you for your input," Matilde then said. "But if we see an opportunity to make a change, we will go for it. Whether you sit in the car or not, we will go for the opportunity," she said, determined to start with a podium this season.

With the strategy decided, the briefing continued, discussing various other aspects of the race. Matilde made sure to hear everyone's input and ensured that they felt valued and motivated.

The briefing ended, and all the staff left, heading to their respective duties. Matilde made some quick notes for herself and looked in front of her, taking a moment to gather her thoughts and emotions. It felt so unnatural to her to lead a team instead of being part of the plan. She had to think of so many other things now. It felt unnatural, but also cool.

Matilde got up and left the room, ready to attend media meetings. All eyes were on her, her first race as principal. During the interviews, she was asked about her thoughts on the race and the results she expected. Everyone remembered the disappointing results of last year like it was yesterday. Matilde refused to promise anything, but she would try and do her best to get the best possible results. She told the media that she was excited to see the race and that she was looking forward to seeing what her team could do with her as principal for a week.

After some time, every car lined up on the grid. Matilde finished up the last interview and made her way to the grid. At first, she walked to one of the red cars in the third position.  Charles was standing with his engineers, going over some last-minute details. As she approached them, she wondered what she had to do here. What was Christian always doing on the grid? When she was a strategist, she sat behind in the garage, observing the footage. Now she was facing cameras and a lot of people. Matilde put on a professional smile.

"Good luck, Charles," Matilde said and smiled warmly.

She guessed she could wish her drivers all the best.

"Thank you," Charles replied, his eyes avoiding hers.

Mathile looked at the engineers and gave them a nod before walking over to the other side of the track: P4 and one of the other red cars. "Good luck, Carlos," she said.

Carlos looked gratefully at her. "Thanks, Matilde," he said.

When she wanted to walk back towards the garages, she got stopped by Martin Brundle. A polite smile came on her face.

"How are you holding up, Matilde?"

"I'm pretty nervous," she replied. "It is the first time in over a year since I am back on the grid, and of course, the new role at Ferrari."

"How do you think it will go?"

"Realistically, it won't be a winning race. Of course, we all have hope, but Red Bull is just immensely strong. We have a new team, we have to see if it all works out and how we react to it. But I think we will get a decent race, we are well prepared, and we have the pace," she replied.

Brundle smiled and nodded. "How does it feel to see your old mates work in a different team?"

"Weird," was her first response. "I must admit, I walked to the wrong garage this morning when I was in my own mind," she laughed. "And seeing them work, I almost want to go over and stir into the conversation. But those are habits that need to wear out. I am excited to start this new chapter and fight against them."

He nodded again. "Thank you. And good luck."

"Thank you," Matilde replied and briefly looked at her assistant next to her. Galileo looked satisfied.

As the drivers got ready to step into their cars, Matilde walked back towards the Ferrari garage. She still observed the mechanics performing their final checks on the screens in the garage. It was a tough first week. She got along with Carlos pretty well, but she knew she had to earn Charles' respect, and it wouldn't be an easy task. The team reacted well to her, but it had only been a week. The media and some fans weren't sure about this decision. Matilde had encountered similar challenges before in a male-dominated sport, but this felt different.

Matilde sat down at the pit wall, taking the middle seat. This was new to her, but a dream came true. The formation lap came to an end, and the cars lined up. She took a deep breath and felt her heart race in her chest as the lights popped up one by one. The lights went out, and the race began.

Next chapter

[newtonsheffield]

Princess Edwina really out there driving a sexy sports car with her hot girlfriend in the passenger seat. She’s giving BDE

Princess Edwina, is the party princess of the people, honestly.

She’s beautiful, obviously, and she loves pretty dresses and nice shoes and she has tattoos dotted over her arms and thankfully Kate was able to intervene before Edwina got “Come Here” tattooed on her thigh once but really what she has is confidence.

She really swooped back into Josie’s life and made her question everything she’s ever thought about her sexuality and it surprised her for a lot of reasons but partly because she didn’t actually think she was that girl.

She didn’t think she’d have her stomach drop when she sees Edwina slide out of a bright red car and wink at her while she hands her keys and her bloody sunglasses even, off to somebody else. And sure, it might be because Edwina made her dog a jumper but it’s a little bit because Edwina at the wheel of that car is an image.

She kind of likes the way the engine feels when she’s sitting in the passenger seat and the slightly wild smile on Edwina’s face as she shifts through the gears far too fast. She also kind of hates that a lot of other women look at her new girlfriend exactly the same way she does.

“How many phone numbers did you just get?”

Edwina chuckled as the door closed behind her and the engine revved while the crowd they’d just walked through screamed.

“I dunno, I gave them to Sophie to get rid of.”

“I’m sure she’s thrilled.” Josie sighed as the tyres squealed against the road.

Edwina shrugged sighing, “It’s the car, Adrienne vibrates the knickers off girls.”

Josie scoffed, “And just how many hook ups has Adrienne been witness to?”

She looked a little guilty, and Josie tutted, “Well, guess who won’t be taking my knickers off in here then.”

Edwina gasped, “But! What?! No!”

“I am not getting a yeast infection for you.”

“Adrienne’s very clean, thank you!”

But of course, a few weeks later when Edwina arrives at her door she’s sitting on the hood of a blue car instead.

“What do you think?”

Josie raised her eyebrows, “You painted Adrienne blue instead of red?”

“You’re so pretty,” Edwina sighed, “But seriously, Adrienne is Rosso Corsa, thank you. She’s not Red . And this is Eva.”

Josie paused. “And Eva is… blue?”

“She’s Azzurro la-“ Edwina cut herself off, “You know what, no. No. Yes, she’s blue but also you are the only other woman who’s ever been in this car.”

She was trying to make Josie more comfortable, she knew that, and it probably shouldn’t have been as sweet as it was. Edwina, buying an entirely new car just so she wouldn’t always think of it when they were in it.

“You know the chances of me taking my knickers off for you in a sports car are still very very low right?”

Edwina rolled her eyes, leaning forward to kiss her gently, “Don’t be hasty. You haven’t even felt how soft her seats are.”

And damnit josie had absolutely no idea how she ended up here, but the leather was very soft against her skin when her underwear were hanging off the rear view mirror later.

[wordsbymae]

👀‼️ big gruff farmer man perhaps catching his house ‘wife’ keeping themselves uhh..company (they’re jacking it off babeeyy(or flicking the bean for the girlies, I think???))

I just wanna say the way you worded this was so funny to me. I love it. and yes I think that's what some people call it? I should know but I would also never say that lol. This is also kinda from his pov and the reader is gn :)

swearing and implied smut! you've been warned. Don't like it then scroll away please

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He was gone for much longer than he liked.

It was worrying.

He trained them well, of course, and had strict rules and promises of rewards and harsh punishments. But you never really knew do you?

They could have been pretending this whole time, making him believe they were conditioned. Or they might have a break in their training, a flaw. Something that sets them off. Or worse, a nosy do-gooder rocking up to the homestead asking silly questions.

It was all so worrying.

He left as quickly as he could, dropping off this year's bull calves to the sale yards. He would collect his money later, maybe even bringing his pumpkin for a drive.

No, of course not. What a silly idea.

He drove home as fast as his old stock truck would let him. The gears screeched and revved as he went around corners.

The house quickly came into view. The homestead overlooks the valley on top of a hill.

After roaring the truck up the dirt driveway, dust billowing behind him, and nearly running over his pumpkin's prized hens, he parked and jumped out.

There were no strange tyre tracks that weren't his. The washing had been done as he asked. Smoke was lazily drifting from the chimney, a sign of dinner on the stove. It seemed like everything was ok, that there was no need to worry.

But they weren't there to greet him. His love wasn't standing by the door waiting with open arms and a smile. There were no soft words nor a kiss on the cheek.

That was worrying.

He marched up to the front door and ripped it open. Expecting them to be just behind it, just moments until opening the door themselves.

But they weren't.

The farmer slowly walked in slowly, listening carefully.

Had they left? Runaway? Did someone take them? What if they were hur-

A soft moan came from upstairs.

It was nothing more than a breath but it was damming.

With careful and quiet steps, the farmer made his way to the bedroom. The closer he got the louder the moans become.

He was furious.

Did his pumpkin really think they could sleep around with someone else?

Who the fuck even was it? They didn't know anyone else than him.

Were they really such a cock hungry whore they would let anyone fuck them?

He stopped just before the door. The moans and sighs were deafening, he could tell his pumpkin was close.

He grabbed his revolver from his jeans and checked to see if it was loaded (not very gun safe mate)

Somebody needed to die tonight and it sure wasn't gonna be his pumpkin.

He kicked the door with a vengeance and raised the gun up ready to murder the fucker who didn't understand how much his love meant to him.

He was expecting pumpkin to scream, maybe even the fucker too as well, maybe even a fight.

He wasn't expecting his love to scream alone in the bedroom.

"Where is he?" he growled, the gun now pointing at the floor. "He under the bed?"

"Where's who?" pumpkin shouted while pulling the sheets over their naked body.

"Don't act stupid pumpkin! Where's the dead man who's been fucking you!"

"What?" they asked confused.

He should give them credit, they were quite the actor.

"Pumpkin, you can't save him alright. He's gonna end his last day with a bullet in his skull. So just tell me where he is and I'll give you the benefit of not having to see it." he growled, opening closests and looking under the bed.

Nothing, there was no one.

This fucker was quick. Did he jump out the window?

"There is no one else! It's just me" pumpkin urged

"You think I'm a fool, don't ya sweet pea. I heard you fucking him!"

Pumpkin's face went read

"See! You were fucking another. So where'd he go? Outside?" he said, about to make his way outside, swap his revolver for a rifle on the way out.

"No! I wasn't sleeping with anyone else... I, while I was"

"You were what? Cmon spit it out"

"I was...Touching myself" pumpkin whispered, face dark with embarrassment.

"Oh"

"I promise I wasn't sleeping with someone else... I don't even know anyone else"

"Yeah, I know" he grumbled sitting on the edge of the bed "I was just worried"

"You kicked our door off the hinges and had a gun pointed at an imaginary figure, you were much more than worried."

"Fine! I was jealous. You got me" he scoffed, he didn't like admitting to his sins. A moment passed, pumpkin still naked under the thin cream sheets.

"who were you thinking of?"

"Pardon?"

"when you were touching yourself and getting all flustered. Was it me?"

"Maybe..." they giggled

"That ain't a funny joke. If it wasn't me tell me who it was and I'll kill him"

"It was you, I promise" pumpkin rushed, the farmer had a sense of humour like a rock.

"Good. I better be the only one you think of....I'm still jealous"

"Of who? Of you in my head?" pumpkin sassed

"Watch the attitude, do I have to wash that mouth out?"

"No sir," pumpkin said, face stern. Too many jokes at his expense often led to punishment.

"I was gonna say I'm jealous of your hands' sweet pea. Getting to touch you when I'm not here. It's not fair, darlin', it ain't right for a Husband to not be the one to bring his partner pleasure. Ain't natural." He stated, a hand on pumpkin's cheek "I think you need to be punished"

"Punished?" pumpkin whispered.

"Of course! To teach you a lesson to not touch what doesn't belong to you. Now bend over pumpkin, show your husband what's his"