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fxrmuladaydreams · 5 months

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red flags (cs55)

🤍sequel to drunken bets🤍

carlos x mclaren social media!reader

summary: some new information comes to light that taints your perfect relationship

notes: i know i said this was only going to be two parts, but it’s actually going to be three

prev part next part

You wipe the tears from your face as you practically run outside. He calls your name and attempts to run after you, but gets stopped by people who just want a moment with the Singapore Grand Prix winner. You feel like you’re suffocating, surrounded by people, your lungs closing up, until you’ve made it outside. You gasp, and squeeze your eyes shut as a wave of tears spill down your cheeks.

The bottom of your dress is crumpled, most likely from when you were squeezing it in your hands. The dark red fabric makes you feel sick. It’s just another reminder that he played you, and you fell for it.

You scold yourself. You should’ve seen the red flags appearing, but maybe after that week in Spain you had gotten used to looking at him through rose colored glasses.

You were happy to get back to work after your little vacation with Carlos. You felt like you were in a genuinely good place. You had the job of your dreams, and an amazing boyfriend.

Your walks into the paddock with the Spaniard had become routine before your trip, but now he kept your hand intertwined with his, holding you close as you walked through the crowds. He leaves you at the McLaren building with a soft kiss on your cheek, which leaves you giddy for the rest of the day.

He meets you after work so you can both go back to your hotel together, spending your time in one room together rather than separate rooms.

To anyone outside of the paddock it simply looked like your friendship had grown. You had found a confidant to spend your time with. But to those who saw you regularly, they could see there was something more, something you weren’t sharing with the rest of the world yet.

Lando pulled you aside one day after Carlos gives you a soft kiss on the cheek and whispers a sweet goodbye to you then walks off, on his way to his own garage.

“That was quite affectionate.” He says. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his face. “But then again, Carlos did always have a thing for McLaren employees.” He gestures to himself.

You scoff and nudge him away from you. “It was nothing.” But you can’t stop the smile from spreading on your face.

“What did he say to you? Was it ‘Y/n, I love you so much, let’s run away together!’” He spins and clasps his hands under his chin.

You try to shush him, but you’ve come to learn there’s almost no stopping the dramatics of Lando Norris.

“Oh come on! I’m only joking!” He says in between laughs. “Besides, it’s obvious he’s obsessed with you anyways.”

You shake your head. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for qualifying?”

“Shouldn’t you be editing? Instead I find you out here about to lock lips with the enemy.” He teases as he walks back into the garage.

“Since when is Carlos your enemy?” You call out, following him.

That night you lay with Carlos in your hotel room. You wear one of his t-shirts that falls just past your underwear. He wears a pair of grey sweatpants. You lay with your head resting on his bare chest, your fingers softly tracing delicate patterns over his tanned torso. He has an arm behind his head, and the other over you, lazily running his hand up and down your back.

Lando’s words from earlier echo in your head.

It’s obvious he’s obsessed with you.

“Carlos?” You lift your head resting your chin on his chest to look in his eyes. “Have you ever thought about going public? With our relationship?”

He doesn’t answer at first, sending your heart plummeting into your stomach. He takes a deep breath before taking the hand the rests against his chest in his.

“I have. But I didn’t know if we should. You’re a private person and I want to respect that.” He says, softly squeezing your hand.

Your heart suddenly feels to full, full of love for him. You tilt your head down and place a soft kiss to his chest. “Thank you, really.”

You sit in silence for a few minutes, just admiring one another, then you speak again.

“I want to kiss you in the paddock.” Your voice is soft, your words trailing off at the end. “I want to be able to kiss you in front of other people, maybe then Lando will stop with the teasing.”

“You want to kiss me in front of Lando?” He giggles.

You give him a dramatic exasperated sigh, but laugh as you answer. “No, I just want to be able to kiss you whenever I want to. Whether that be in front of Lando or not.”

“I don’t know mi amor.” He sighs. “I don’t want anyone else to ruin what we have.”

This should have been your first red flag, his wanting to keep your relationship a secret.

“Oh, alright…” You murmur, leaning your head back down to lay against his chest.

You lay in silence for a few moments until Carlos shifts. He kisses the top of your head and holds you tighter against him.

“If you really want to, we can go public.” He says softly.

You look back up at him. “Really? You’re not just saying that because I want to?”

“No, I would love to be able to kiss you in front of Lando too.” He teases you.

You scoff and lightly smack his chest. “I don’t think I want to kiss you anymore, actually.”

When you start to get up Carlos pulls you back down to him, rolling over to keep you under him, locked in his arms. He peppers your face in kisses, leaving no skin free from the touch of his lips.

You squeal when he softly tickles your sides, laughter from both of you filling the room.

Later that night as you get ready to go to bed, Carlos sits on the bed with his phone in his hand and a disgruntled look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, as you climb into bed next to him.

He quickly locks his phone and sets it face down on the bedside table.

“Nothing.” His answer is quick and brief as he wraps his arms around you and nuzzles his face into your neck. “Goodnight, mi amor.”

“Goodnight Carlos.”

The next day starts the same as the previous one, you walk hand in hand with Carlos into the paddock as he guides you to the McLaren garage. This time though when you stop in front of the entrance he gives you a questioning glance. He smiles when you nod and tilts his head down to capture your lips with his.

It’s not the first time you’ve kissed Carlos, not by a long shot, but it’s different kissing him somewhere that isn’t in a hotel room or on a secluded faraway vacation. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

You smile into the kiss, pulling away only when you feel his tongue slip into your mouth. You press your hands to his chest and let out a light laugh.

“Slow down there Chili, they don’t need to see everything.” You tell him.

He’s got a faint dusting of pink over his cheeks as he nods. “I’m sorry amor, I just can’t help it when I’m with you.”

You hear a gagging sound behind you, you turn to see none other than Lando Norris, dramatically hunched over the railing on the side of the ramp that leads inside.

“You two are disgusting.” He says, shaking his head.

“Jealous Lando?” Carlos calls back to him.

Lando scoffs. “No! You’re just getting your Ferrari germs all over her, you muppet!”

“And I’ll keep doing it too!” He kisses you again, this time making a show about it as he fully leans into you, sending Lando into a hissy fit.

News travels among the grid quickly. While no photos or recordings of your affections have been spread, though fans are still suspicious, it seems everyone in the paddock is quickly informed about your relationship.

Once fans do start to catch on, it spreads like wildfire. Your relationship with the Ferrari driver becomes the hot topic of conversation all over social media. Tweets, photos, and edits of and about the two of you flood your phone, so much so that you try to ignore it for a while.

You know you’re the one who wanted to go public, but you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. An uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as fans start to refer to you as “the boat girl”. Photos from your Spain trip are now attached to your name. None of them are all too bad, but it does feel like a major invasion of privacy.

It makes you feel vulnerable. These people that know nothing about you have access to these photos of you wearing your swimsuit, cuddled up with your boyfriend while you thought you were alone.

It doesn’t take long for you to start wondering what this means for your future. You’re officially a WAG now, what would happen if you and Carlos were to ever break up? Would you still only be known as “the boat girl”? Would people even remember the work you’ve done at McLaren?

While you want to talk to Carlos about it, you know there’s not much he can do. He’s used to this, he’s been a famous Formula One driver for years now. You try to swallow down your discomfort and just focus on your current relationship and your work.

Since you’ve gone public, Carlos can’t seem to look away from his phone for more than a few minutes. You don’t know what he’s looking at, every time you get near him he’s quick to turn it off and shove it in his pocket, instead wrapping you up in his arms.

When asked about what he was doing he’d simply say “Nothing amor.” Then bury his face in your neck, giving you little kisses.

Clearly he was hiding something, another red flag.

Everything came crashing down at the Singapore grand prix.

With Max having been knocked out of qualifying by a surprised Liam Lawson, it left the rest of qualifying up in the air for everyone. Carlos had managed to pull through, earning himself the P1 starting spot, and through carefully calculated driving was able to keep P1 for himself and give Lando a P2 finish.

The crowd was roaring, this was the first race of the season that wasn’t won by a Red Bull driver, and fans were eating it up.

He jumped out of his car, and tossed his helmet to the side. His hair was wet, slick with sweat yet still effortlessly beautiful. His cheeks were tinted red, and a bright grin was spread across his face.

It was no surprise to anyone, well any of the other drivers, to see him dash over to the McLaren team and sweep a girl wearing papaya into his arms.

His eyes sparkled in the shining lights, you couldn’t help yourself, jumping up into his arms and kissing him.

He spun you around, practically jumping with joy. He was a little disgruntled to have to let you go, but thrilled again when he got to hug Lando. Nothing could bring him down from this high he was experiencing.

He sprays you with champagne from above, laughing as you look up at him with a fake pout on your lips.

You knew that celebrations were in order, not only for your boyfriend but for Lando as well, the two eager to go to a club to celebrate their wins.

You pulled out a dress you had been hoping to wear. It was a dark red color, the fabric soft between your fingers. You had been saving it for a while, hoping to surprise Carlos with it, and what better way than to wear his team’s color after he won?

He was surprised to see you in the new dress, his eyes trailing up and down your body, as if trying to commit you to memory.

“Mi amor… you look beautiful.” He practically groans, pulling you flush against him. “We could just stay here, celebrate on our own? I’d love to see if there’s anything else this beautiful under the dress…” His lips trail over your neck as he lets himself drown in the scent of your perfume.

“C’mon Chili, you’ve got people who want to celebrate you, we can celebrate later.” You wink, lacing your fingers with his as you tug him down the hall.

The club is loud, buzzing with excitement as people cheer when they spot Carlos. He keeps an arm locked around your waist so you don’t stray too far from him and he won’t lose you in the crowd. You were right, everyone wants a piece of your boyfriend tonight. You’re both dragged from person to person, trying to at least feign interest in those who are talking to you.

Carlos slowly sips on one drink throughout the night, allowing you to have a few without worry. You feel a slight buzz by the time you reach a few of the other drivers. Max leans against the wall, seemingly in deep conversation with Charles. Alex and George sit with Lily and Carmen. Oscar and Logan stand with each other chatting and glancing over at the rest of the crowd. Lando hops back and forth between groups, but visibly lights up when he sees the two of you.

“I’ll be right back amor.” Carlos says before kissing your cheek and heading to the bar. You see him start talking with Pierre and Lance, then your attention is pulled away by Lando.

“Already wearing red? My poor heart!” He exclaims, throwing a hand over his forehead.

You laugh. “Just for tonight. Tomorrow it’s back to papaya.”

You hang out with him for a little while longer, then excuse yourself to go back to Carlos.

Once at the bar it’s made pretty clear that Pierre and Lance have both had plenty to drink. They’ll definitely feel the repercussions of it tomorrow morning.

Carlos throws an arm over your shoulder as you nestle into his side.

“They’re so cute.” Lance says, looking over at Pierre.

“Thank you.” You feel your face flush.

“You’ll have a great story for your kids about how you met.” Pierre hiccups, then giggles.

“Yeah, walking into each other multiple times blossomed into a friendship, and now look at us.” You beam up at Carlos, who looks uncomfortable as he nods down at you.

“You walked into her? That was your big move? I need to use that!” Pierre laughs.

“Big move? What do you mean?” You ask Pierre.

“Amor-”

“His big move to get you to go out with him. He did it, and now I’ve lost money to him.” Pierre groans.

You feel a tingling sensation spread over you as you turn to look at Carlos. His arm drops from your shoulders.

“What is he talking about?”

“The bet, obviously.” Lance shrugs, then turns back to the bar.

“It was all a bet?” Your voice is soft, cracking slightly as you let your emotions wash over you.

When you turn back to him with tears in your eyes he can feel his heart break. He reaches for your hand, only for you to pull your back from him, almost flinching away.

“Mi amor-”

“Don’t call me that.” You back away from him.

“Y/n, please, I can explain.”

“Explain what? That you used me? And now you’ve got what you wanted, so you’re ready to toss me aside?”

“No!” He tries to step towards you again.

“It was all just a bet! None of it was real? The trip to Spain? The nights in hotel rooms? You probably hired that photographer yourself, right?”

“I would never! It started as a bet, but I promise you, my feelings are real!”

“How much did you bet them? Huh?” You reach into your bag and grab a wad of cash, shoving it into his chest. “That should cover it, right?” You scoff, and turn from him, towards the exit of the club.

“Y/n, wait!” He tries to call after you.

“It’s okay Carlos. You won your bet. Now you won’t have to see me ever again.” You tell him, rushing for the exit.

You finally let the tears fall once you’re outside, cursing the day you met the Ferrari driver and the day you gave him your heart.

#carlos sainz x reader #cs55 x reader #formula one x reader #carlos sainz

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esotericpluto · 1 year

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where is your future spouse from

from left to right; intuitively choose the pile you feel more connected to. To make it easier, you can take a deep breathe, close your eyes and ask for guidance to your deities or guides. These are all general messages, so just take what resonates and leave what doesn't. This reading is timeless. If it resonates, feedback is always appreciated and motivates to keep doing pick a card readings. You can donate here.

dividers: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

pile 1

I feel like for most of you who picked this pile this person is of Asian descent. Keep in mind that Asia is a big country with many countries and ethnic groups, so I will try to break it down more.

I do feel like for some of you who chose this pile, your future spouse might be of korean origin, but I feel like they will be half white and/or live in the west, like Europe or North America. This message seems to be more true for those of you who have strong scorpio, aquarius and possibly aries influences in your chart. If your name starts with C, E or P or has a more vintage vibe to it, it can still be for you.

For another group who chose this pile, I'm sensing someone of indian origin, I'm getting they could be kashmir and, for some of you, even telugu as well. This feels especially true for those of you that have a strong sagittarius or leo influence in your charts or if your name starts by A, L or U.

I am getting for a minority of people who chose this pile, your fs might be of levantine origin, mainly lebanese and/or palestinian, living most likely in Lebanon, for some of you, or in Southern Europe as of now. I feel like this message is especially true for those of you with strong scorpio, taurus or libra placements. Especially those who get M, S or V as first names.

pile 2

For this pile, I'm specifically getting southeast asian, most likely indonesian and/or malay. I feel like they might be living in Singapore right now. If you are a capricorn, a virgo or a cancer or have strong influences from these signs, this might be the ethnicity of your fs.

I'm getting potentially someone is of sub-saharian african descent mixed with european for some people who picked this pile. I'm getting this person might have ancestors from different parts of Africa and Europe and I'm getting difficulty pinpointing some exact places. I feel like for some of you, they might be west african and partially british. For others, this person could be afrolatino from the caribbean. Signs for this one I'm only getting scorpio and pisces, but I'm also gettingthe initials C, M and D.

There is a smaller group of you that could have a fs from a eastern african country too, potentially Ethiopia or Somalia. I'm getting this is likely true for you especially if you always enjoyed cultures and foods from different african countries, if you like the color red or if your name starts by J, F or E. Potentially if you like orange or are a capricorn rising/sun/moon.

pile 3

I'm getting a strong european influence here. I feel like this person might be italian and, for some of you, of a similar background like iberian, balkan or greek. You will meet them while on a trip to their country or city, if you are from the same country. This might resonate the most with those of you who like the color green, to wear t-shirts or whose name starts with B. If you are a cancer, leo, libra or taurus, this might also be true for you.

For others of you, I'm getting this person might be mexican, likely of a mestizo background. I feel like they might be in the US living right now, although for some it could even be Canada. This might resonate more with you if you like green vegetables like spinach or broccoli, if you like coke, if you like the colors red and pink, if you like mermaids or are of strong aquarius, aries or gemini.

For some of you, although a larger minority, your fs might also be argentinian or brazillian. This can be true especially if you like soccer (I think this one are my guides joking), cinema, romance movies/books, the color white and pink, lana del rey. Alternatively, if your name starts by N, A or Z and your signs are leo, virgo or cancer.

#pac #pick a card #pick a pile #fs pac #fs pac reading #fs pick a card #future spouse readings #future spouse pac #future spouse pick a card #free readings #intuitive readings #tarot readings #love readings #love pac readings #free intuitive readings #free tarot readings

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khristie16 · 5 months

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The Fast and Forbidden

Charles is a famous F1 driver with everything one could want: fame, fortune, and fans. But he is missing one thing. Being his new personal assistant changes everything for both of them.

— chapter 2 An unspoken connection gradually weaves between them—forged through chess, shared glances, and a mysterious musical encounter.

warnings: sweet af, sexual tension, invading privacy (not the intention), sentimental and romantic author's note: hi guuys, i missed you, uni gets the best of me the past couple months. I received some new requests and I have them all saved for future work. Don't worry, now I have more free time:) stay awesome! taglist: @buendiabebeta, @pondysselth, @clomo12345, @naty-1001, @maxv33rstappen, @f1lov3r, @cmleitora

The next day, I found myself 10,000 meters in the sky, going at such a fast speed that I was relieved my stomach didn't protest. Our destination was Charles's home. I'd never been to Monaco, and my curiosity grew as we got closer. What would it be like standing in the middle of a street, taking in all the beautiful scenery with my own eyes? I adore the sea and warm weather, the culture, and the food. I appreciate different things. That's one more reason I took this job — the chance to travel. It can really shake up your whole routine, but the opportunity to see Monaco and Singapore in less than a week was unimaginable just two months ago. Thank goodness this job pays well.

Watching Charles absorbed in his iPhone made me feel unwelcome. It seemed like I could make funny faces, and he wouldn't even notice. It wasn't a new feeling for me. Sometimes, during quiet nights, I wondered why he was so distant, especially when I'd seen him be a sunshine around others. Initially, I thought it was because we were purely business for each other. But that could apply to anyone on the Ferrari team. Maybe I was overthinking it, and the simple reason was that he just didn't like me. I decided to let it go; there were better things to focus on. Tilting my head, I wondered if things might improve over time. Silently grumbling, I readjusted my seat, still lost in thoughts about him.

"Hey, do you play chess?"

I looked at him like he was an alien and gulped nervously. Yes, I had played chess — once. And to top it off, I was still learning the basics. Not something I was proud of, but hey, not everyone can be Ron Weasley. I laughed like a maniac at my own joke, resulting in his raised eyebrows.

"Sorry… and no, I've never learned."

Surprise and interest showed in his body language as he leaned closer, his blue T-shirt moving against his skin. With a surprisingly high-pitched voice, he laughed.

"Really?"

Fire me or spare me, but please, not this. I didn't know where to focus first — on his beautiful dimples or the fact that he just laughed at me? The smile vanished from his face as he seemed to notice my confusion, but he still smiled with his eyes.

"I mean, I'm surprised. It's like when Carlos once told me he listens to jazz in the morning."

I burst into laughter. It sounded so much like Carlos.

"I just thought you played chess. You look so serious."

Okay, this is getting worse. I must have looked like a crazy woman with diagnosed schizophrenia, and he tells me I look serious? Tell that to a woman, and you shut her down completely. Readjusting my seat again, I focus on the rug under the wooden table.

"I can teach you if you want."

Lifting my gaze, I try to find some hidden answers behind his green eyes, but all I feel is a hot sensation in the pit of my stomach. Wearing a white tank top, I know it's not because of the fabric. He's genuinely smiling, and I take a pause to exhale before nodding my head.

"Do you like to play a lot?"

I ask to smooth things between us, but he just nods and focuses back on the chess pieces on the board. Turning my head to the side, I notice that the closer, the less cloudy it is outside, and I feel an energetic shiver run down my spine.

"I always win. But for you, — I'll make an exception."

My heart stops beating. Why is it so hot in here all of a sudden?

After we landed, our shared ride slipped into an uneasy quiet. In the midst of my spontaneous chess lesson with Charles, laughter and focus filled the air, creating a vibrant atmosphere akin to the scattered energy of someone wrestling with ADHD. Amid our animated conversation, I lost track of our surroundings; the outside world turned into a distant blur.

A smile graced Charles's lips as he locked eyes with me. In that shared gaze, a fleeting connection unfolded. Happiness shimmered in his green eyes, and an unexplainable urge to draw closer wrapped around me. It felt as if his eyes held a depth I yearned to explore. However, the moment dissolved abruptly. Charles, with a subtle shift in demeanor, reverted to his usual aloofness, extinguishing the warmth that had briefly ignited between us.

"I got my keys copied for you in case you need something from my apartment," he offered, extending the keys.

An unexpected gesture left me grappling with a mix of surprise and uneasiness. Taking the keys, I delicately stashed them into my bag, careful not to make direct contact with his skin.

"My driver will first go to your place. Tell him the address," Charles instructed. Uncomfortable, I shifted in my seat, seeking distraction by scanning the outside world. Families strolled happily, painting picturesque scenes. A flicker of yearning for such simplicity rose within me—an ache for a love that protects and cherishes.

"YN?" Charles's voice interrupted my reverie, demanding my attention.

"I don't have a home," I stated matter-of-factly, my gaze returning to the outside world. Despite the nonchalant tone, the admission carried a weight that lingered in the air.

"I need to visit some company for renting a flat here."

I took in a deep breath, feeling the cool air settle around me. My eyes drifted down, observing how the white tank top hugged my body like a second skin, accentuating the curves beneath. Fingers idly played with the fabric, a quiet excitement brewing inside. In my mind, thoughts twirled, a hidden longing to peel away the clothing, exposing the vulnerability beneath. And this is what Charles does to me. And it is getting dangerous.

"I know a place," Charles declared. He reached for his phone, dialed a number, and engaged in a focused conversation. His determined expression and the play of his toned arms intrigued me. A heat lingered in the air, intensifying the atmosphere within the car.

"Ciao l'amigo," Charles spoke into the phone.

Charles's words flowed, a steady stream escaping his perfect pink lips. My gaze fixated on his profile, an intense scrutiny fueled by a hunger simmering beneath the surface —an irresistible force tempting me to devour him, a longing I hadn't anticipated when accepting this job.

The struggle intensified, threatening to override the professional boundaries I had naively assumed would be steadfast. As Charles's eyes met mine, a sudden freeze paralyzed me in place. His gaze lingered, delight evident in the subtle nuances of his expression, as if he sought to unveil the secrets hidden in the depths of my eyes. The hum of conversation from his friend acted as a backdrop to this silent exchange, heightening the tension that hung between us. I braced myself in anticipation, uncertain of what he sought to uncover.

Abruptly, his attention shifted, his head turning back to its previous position. A wide smile adorned his face as he concluded the call, the sheer charm of it momentarily rendering me breathless. Even without facing me, he seamlessly transitioned to a task on his phone, leaving me suspended in a state of uncertainty and unspoken intrigue.

"I found you a free apartment. Do not worry about money," he said, his attention now absorbed in his phone, leaving me to deal with the unexpected twist.

Days slipped away, and the looming Grand Prix trip to Japan demanded my attention. I meticulously handled remote tasks for Charles, consciously keeping a distance to avoid the unraveling of my composure under the weight of desire. Knowing Charles would be engrossed in a morning squash match with his brothers, I discreetly seized the opportunity to attend to a domestic task: swapping clean laundry for the soiled.

Entering his apartment, arms loaded with bags, I navigated purposefully down the hallway. A distant melody reached my ears, halting my steps. Recognizing the tune, my thoughts paused, and I followed the enchanting notes to their origin.

In the sunlit living room, a grand piano stood like a silent sentinel. There, orchestrating a melancholic melody, was Charles. Our eyes met as I stood there, and he smiled in response to the unexpected serenade.

"That's 'Sadness and Sorrow,'" I stated the obvious, and Charles observed me cautiously. Surprisingly, I overcame hesitation, moving closer and placing my hand on the piano keys. Each note, played with sincerity, carried a hum of remembrance. Charles shifted, creating space for me to join him. As I sat down, my focus on the piano, he positioned his hands beside mine, and we began to play in harmony.

Eyes closed, I allowed the music to transport me, feeling the warmth of our synchronized notes. The vibrational waves between us painted an imagined scene, where I lay on the sea's surface, gently swaying with the waves.

The room resonated with harmonious echoes, our shared melody creating a tangible connection between Charles and me. Vibrational waves seemed to ripple, as if an unseen force wove a tapestry of connection, binding our notes into a seamless symphony. Amid our synchronized play, the world around us faded, and I found myself transported to a different realm.

In my mind's eye, I lay on a mat, gently drifting atop the surface of a tranquil sea. The sun cast a warm embrace, painting the water with hues of gold and azure. The waves, like delicate fingers, played a tender serenade, cradling my body with rhythmic caresses. I surrendered to the immersive sensation, the music becoming the gentle current that carried us on this shared journey.

With Charles beside me, the connection forged through the shared music was palpable, creating a timeless moment where the ordinary world ceased to exist. It was a serendipitous encounter, a convergence of hearts and melodies, leaving me suspended in the beauty of our shared composition on the sea of music.

A genuine smile adorned my face as we played, stealing glances at Charles. His concentration on the music was profound, but when our gazes met, I detected an ocean of emotions in his eyes. The desire to caress his cheek and offer comfort overwhelmed me.

Our fingers danced on the keys, minds lost in the melody. As Charles and I maintained our gaze, I discerned a myriad of colors in his eyes, each shade revealing a facet of emotion that resonated with the melodic symphony we created. In this suspended moment, his face drew nearer, an invisible force pulling us together until we were so close that our breaths mingled, and the air became a shared essence.

The piano keys, now a conduit for our unspoken connection, echoed the final cadence of the song. With a delicate touch, my right arm, closer to him, found a resting place on my thigh, bridging the physical space between us. As the final chords resonated, the room held its breath, encapsulating the unspoken intensity of our shared musical communion. And Charles, hesitating only briefly, mirrored the gesture, his eyes lingering on my lips.

"You're the boat I would protect in my full stormy ocean," he spoke, and the sweet sentiment ignited warmth within. In that moment, nothing else existed but him and his words, a connection forged through music and unspoken understanding.

#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you

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youjustwaitsunshine · 2 months

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Seb helmets: the long awaited sequel

Mugello 2020:

Not on Seb's website, but still on ferraris instagram, Seb had this helmet to celebrate Ferraris 1000th gp. (in the same week, he announced his move to aston martin)

Turkish GP 2021

a beautiful sea creature design to remind us to save our oceans. i personally really love the turtles

Singapore GP 2022

gorgeous neon rainbow on super light absorbent black design. now it can be said with finality (as of yet): jens munser and sebastian vettel never missed when it was about helmets in singapore. i have a keychain of this helmet so I'm especially fond of it.

British GP 2022

ngl i cried a bit just from pulling those pictures up again. he is so loved. i love how even though we know barely anything about sebs family, this helmet shows so much personality from his kids and hanna. this is the most gorgeous helmet of them all. however, shoutout to the subtle nigel mansell design hed have driven with if his family hadn't made a secret birthday helmet for him.

Abu Dhabi 2022

I'm so so proud to be a fan of a driver who loves his fans. The few times I've met Seb, he's always taken his time - often more than allotted - to greet as many people as he could, pose for pictures sign things etc. He feels very genuine in showing his appreciation for his fans and so I think this helmet is a beautiful monument to the love people have for him. He is deeply beloved and in turn, he loves his fans and has shown this from his retirement message that was so much more personal than a press release, over the time between the announcement to his last race and beyond. This helmet is a testament to the way we love Seb and the way he loves us back.

USGP 2022

Peace and Love baby! this gorgeous woodstock inspired piece is incredibly gaudy and glittery and very unapologetically so. i love it deeply but opinions were very split on it

Japan 2022

a very cleverly done thank you to helmet provider arai. who doesn't love opening packages? especially one as beautiful as this one! it's a bit sad to not have the little ninja mascot on the helmet for sebs last f1 race in japan, however, with his 2022 helmet designs being so beautiful and elevated, he outgrew it a bit. important side note about japan 2022 here is sebs battle to the line with fernando alonso.

Hungary 2021

Let us remember this GP for the joy it brought and not the desperation that followed. Seb came, saw and served cunt in his rainbow sneakers, rainbow shirt, rainbow mask and rainbow helmet. He drove to the podium and nothing bad or terrible happened after.

Brazil 2022

the intertwined bars of the german and then, further up, the climate change flag (and the brazilian one on top) are reminiscent of the 2018 german gp helmet!

Austria 2022

The iconic bee helmet! I actually have a few pics of this one from the Austrian GP that i took myself. Even though that GP specifically sucked so hard it made Seb sway towards retiring, the helmet is beautiful and iconic.

Honourable Mentions:

- Miami 2022: the snorkel helmet! first GP underwater, also premiering sebs GIGANTICALLY OVERSIZED climate change t shirt also found in his shoo

- Canada 2022: Canadas Climate Crimes/ stop mining tar sands. this one made a politician on twitter sooooo angry. it lost her rant a bit of credibility that she directly profited from the tar sand mining.

- LGBTQ+ CLEAN OUR OCEANS (Abu Dhabi 2021): the world's to do list. i mostly have to laugh at the unlucky placement of the lgbtq+ and the clean our oceans phrase. why are the cishets exempt from cleaning our oceans? questionable.

- Race4Women: Saudi Arabia 2021. a return of the beautiful day-glow paint.

almost all of sebs helmets are either on the sebsite or deep in jens munsers archives (difficult but not impossible to find)

Seb helmet masterpost

#sebastian vettel #ive seen a few of these helmets irl at the essen motorshow and i honestly just stood there in awe #helmets like this are such an underrated art form

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pitconfirmbutton · 1 year

Text

wildflowers and fruits (I) | lance stroll

lance stroll x reader

wc: 4833 words

warnings: controlling relationship (not an f1 driver, made up character), physical abuse (never written but implied), emotional abuse, eating disorder/not eating, smoking, 2 tiny mentions of su*cide (not depicted but implied) everyone is sad, so very sad

wildflowers and fruits (part i)

petals and peaches (part ii)

summer roses and winter strawberries (part iii)

carnations and clementines (part iv)

____________________________________________________

“You don’t even love him, Bug, you know that, don’t you?” Seb had always been right, whether it was his knack for details or the wisdom of age, he was never wrong. That was why you had jumped at his offer to mentor you through your first year as a Formula 1 driver, well one of many reasons why.

You brushed his hand from your shoulder and stood up. “Thanks for the coffee, Seb.” He had figured it out and it scared you but he couldn’t know that. He grabbed your hand, a last-ditch effort to talk some sense into you. “I’ll sponsor you! I will sponsor the team, whatever he pays, I will double it. Just please don’t feel like you have to do this.” He looked up at you, his blonde curls dishevelled from running his hands through them and his eyes wide and pleading, staring straight into your soul. “I love him, Seb” and with that you pulled your hand from his, leaving your driver’s room for the garage.

---

Lance watched as you made your way into the engineering room, apologising for your tardiness, as you quickly took your seat and put your headset on. You didn’t look up, you didn’t turn to him and smile. Lance frowned, the weather in Singapore was unbearably hot, his Aston Martin t-shirt and shorts bringing him, not nearly as much reprieve as he wished. But in comparison to you, he felt cold, your body covered by an Aston Martin hoodie and leggings. He knew why, all the drivers did. Despite his naive and at times spaced-out appearance, he picked up on things, especially when it came to you.

The latest title sponsor for Aston Martin, ‘Securitic’, a large UK-based crypto banking app, was owned by Harry Lyons, a pompous, sharp-dressed British man whose good looks charmed many into thinking he wasn’t a terrible person. But Lance knew. To be fair, even Yuki knew, Oscar too, despite the young drivers being rather wet behind the ears. Lance hated the man keeping his racing team afloat, a phrase never before uttered by a Formula 1 driver. Why? Harry Lyons had trapped his teammate and the love of his life.

Lance had met you back in Italian Formula 4, you were 14, he was 15 and you were teammates in Prema, coming in 2nd behind him in the championship that year. His dad had nudged him as you walked into the trailer, hinting at him to pick his jaw off the floor. Since then you had both become the best of friends, finally meeting back up as teammates to drive in Aston Martin together. He just never mentioned how deeply in love with you he had fallen.

“How did you find the brake bias change, Lance?” He was pulled from his thoughts, looking up to his engineer, Ben. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, it was better than FP1 for sure.” Ben nodded along, scribbling a note on his paper before continuing. Lance’s gaze drifted back to you, shocking himself when he met your eyes, gazing over your laptop at him. He smiled softly and lifted his hand, giving you a small wave. You smiled back but it never reached your eyes, a smile he didn’t recognise.

After an engineering meeting and a PR meeting, Lance was free, leaving the motorhome to be enveloped in the warm Singaporean air, the smell of rubber and oil mixing with the smell of local food and flowers. “Lance!” He turned around to find the voice, seeing Esteban, Pierre and Charles walking through the paddock towards him. “Hey guys, how are you all?�� The company was welcome, pulling him from his thoughts. “Good mate! The car is actually looking good for us” Esteban explained, Pierre nodding along in agreeance. Before Lance could ask Charles about his day too, he watched the Monégasque roll his eyes, tracking something across the paddock. “What a wanker!” Lando had slotted himself in between Charles and Pierre, also distracted by the sight in front of him. Lance turned around, heart sinking as he watched you walk beside Harry towards the paddock exit.

As Lance watched, he noticed your body language, your jaw tightly set, shoulders rigid and eyes wide, staring down at the ground. You appeared to be holding hands but on second glance, your fingers were splayed, your hand being crushed by Harry’s possessive grip. Lance saw red, taking a step forward to instinctively protect you before Esteban’s hand found his shoulder. “Not in the middle of the paddock, mate. Not now.” He was right. As Lance turned around he saw numerous reporters, all live on camera. As much as Lance dreamed of breaking Harry’s nose to the left, it wasn’t the best decision for your career or his for that matter. He looked back at you, making eye contact for the second time today as you walked past, your eyes quickly falling back to the floor. Lance’s eyes then settled on the devil’s. Harry simply looked Lance up and down, smirking at him, before turning you to him and kissing your lips harshly. Lance looked away, feeling sick to his stomach. “Can we please just go?” Lance’s voice was meek and the group was quick to rally around him. As they walked to the exit, they chatted about their plans for the weekend, the FIA sponsor gala and the sick feeling they all had watching you with Harry was seemingly avoided within the conversation.

---

It was 2 am and tomorrow was FP3 and qualifying and that meant you should have been asleep 5 hours ago but here you were, wide awake. This was how most nights went for you now, Harry taking you back to the hotel suite or his Monaco penthouse, either having sex with you or screaming at you through a locked bathroom door and then you inevitably up, unable to sleep as he lay there peacefully. It had gone on for just over 3 months now, ever since he had pulled you into a dark meeting room at the Silverstone HQ and explained everything he wanted. You could still hear his voice in your head.

“I have been watching you for a while darling and I know how much you value Stroll Junior, so, if you want him to have a race seat for next year, I recommend you listen rather closely. I also recommend that you don’t tell anyone about this little arrangement, otherwise, you and little Stroll may both be seatless for next year. I wouldn’t doubt it, sweetheart, Lawrence and I go an awful way back, that is the reason why he gave me such a good contract, which stipulates that I even have control over the future Aston Martin lineup.”

You shivered, the memory making you feel cold as you sat by the hotel pool, cigarette perched between your fingers as you lamented your situation. It was a bad habit, especially for a professional athlete but it seemed to be the only control you had these days, between your strict F1 schedule and Harry’s restriction on anything that brought you joy, you justified the cigarette. You also allowed yourself the luxury of a tank top and shorts in the warm weather, the only light cast over your ever-thinning body and the purple marks that littered it was coming from the entrance hall to the pool area, at least 20 metres away.

You took a long drag and looked out over the city, wishing at that moment that you could be anyone else. An F1 fan barely able to sleep from the excitement of the impending race, a child in a soft slumber, a night shift worker, slaving away to make less money in a year than I made off one race. You would trade roles in a heartbeat, just to be away from Harry.

Footsteps broke you from your thoughts and you froze in place, a default response after these last few months. From the dark garden bed in the corner you were perched on, you squinted to see who had joined you in your melancholy. Lance. Of course, it was Lance. Your heart ached to look at him, his hair was as boofy as the day you met and you had to stop yourself from chuckling at the way he dragged his slipper-clad feet over the pool tiles, a comforting shuffle noise echoing out. The sound brought you back to beach holidays together, the sound of flip-flops on a boardwalk and the feeling of the sun on your neck and of snowed-in days in Canada, slippers on a wood cabin floor as yourself, Lance, Chloe, Scotty and Jack the dog made pancakes and played Monopoly together.

But none of that happiness existed anymore and those memories felt like they belonged to someone else. In a way they did because you were here looking at the pool wondering which poor staff member would find you at the bottom and Lance was over there, crying enough tears to fill it up all over again. He was crying. Why? Your heart sank further and the guilt you felt inside was enough to make you want to throw up the one apple you’d eaten yesterday. As you peeked further around the monstera shielding you from view, your foot slipped, garden pebbles tumbling onto the pool tiles below.

“Who’s there?” Lance called out into the darkness, wiping his eyes quickly and standing up. You were speechless. You hadn’t uttered more than a ‘hello’, ‘good luck’ or ‘see you around’ in 3 and a half months and you didn’t know what you would say if he found you. “I didn’t know the Ritz-Carlton had a pool boy ghost?” Lance chuckled to himself as he made his way over cautiously. It was good to know his awkward humour hadn’t left since you last talked. There was probably no avoiding this, so here goes nothing. As you stood up and emerged from behind the plants, Lance stopped dead in his tracks, mouth hanging open. Except it wasn’t like when you caught him staring at you in that god-awful bright blue Sherri Hill prom dress at the 2014 FIA gala, this time he wasn’t in awe, he was horrified.

“Hey, Lance.” You stood there in a spaghetti strap tank, Italian national team soccer shorts and no shoes, hair pulled back into a ponytail, exposing your ever-fading cheeks, cigarette still smoking in your right hand. His eyes dragged down your body in the same way you imagined it would look to drag your hand over sandpaper, his mouth in a thin line, trying to hold back how terrorised he was seeing you this way. One on your left wrist, three on your upper right arm, more than he could count across your shins and knees, one on the left-hand side of your abdomen and as he brought his eyes to yours, he gasped. One growing darker by the minute right around your left eye. You suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious, remembering why you had only given yourself a reprieve from the heat under the blanket of darkness.

“I-I should probably go, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You quickly snubbed your cigarette, chuckling it into the bin before starting to walk back to the hallway, brushing past Lance along the way. “Hey, no, wait, we um, we haven’t talked in so long, buttercup. I am really worried about you.” His eyes carried so much love that you considered throwing yourself into his arms again, knowing he would do anything to keep you safe, but in turn, ruining his career and that is all you were worried about.

“I’ve just been busy, I’m fi-” How were you supposed to stand here looking the way you were and tell him you’re fine? You didn’t have the strength to tell him everything and you knew that if you stayed here much longer, Harry might wake up and come looking for you and that would be the end of both of your careers. You tried to think of what to say but Lance got there first.

“Does Seb know?” You shook your head. The man wasn’t dumb if anything quite the opposite and you suspected he knew. Hanna had even talked to you a few times about your relationship and you suspect it was because they were both worried. Your parents were out of the picture, meaning that the Vettels had been the closest thing you had to a mum and dad. You suspected Harry had also picked up on your lack of familial ties too.

“Did I do anything wrong, Petal?” His eyes were glassy again and you wondered if when he had been crying earlier, he had been crying about you. You again wanted to fling yourself into his arms and give him the world, the emotions resulting in you letting your guide down for a second. “You could never do anything wrong, Lanny.” The nickname tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop it and it tasted of home-cooked pasta, overpriced beach ice cream and red-wine-tainted kisses. Before you let him answer you continued. “You did nothing wrong, this is all me, please just don’t worry about me. I’ve got you, ok? You are going to be ok. I will see you tomorrow.” And before Lance could process what that meant, you had slipped past him, back to your hotel room to hop under the sheets and lie as still as possible so as not to wake Harry.

---

You were surprised you had even finished the race at all, let alone ended up in P4. It was the kind of race in which you hoped you would DNF, engine overheat, electric issue, or plough head-first into the wall - all were options that crossed your mind during the 61 laps. Lance had gotten P3 and your heart swelled with pride for him. The mechanics tapped you on the back and pulled you along to the podium to watch. You hadn’t seen Lance up there on those steps in 3 months, despite him scoring numerous 2nd and 3rd place victories. ‘Go and stand under his podium and clap all you want, just don’t come crying to me when the world calls you a gold-digging whore, dear’. It was enough for you to not go anymore. That and the look in Harry’s eyes when he said it. There was no compromising on this. But when you watched the podium celebrations back, always in the early hours of the morning with a cigarette in hand, on a balcony, roof-top or terrace somewhere, you never missed the way his eyes scanned the team, hoping to catch you down there, smiling up at him.

This time you would get to do that, although you were suspicious about how you had made it to the podium celebration without a firm grip pulling you away. When you turned back around, looking through the team, you saw him, linen suit pressed and arms folded. He didn’t scowl at you this time, instead raising an eyebrow at you and cocking his head. Your blood ran cold. His unpredictability scared you the most. What was he planning?

You quickly whipped your head back to the podium, clapping softly as the team cheered and screamed for Lance as he made his way to the 3rd place step. His eyes caught yours as he skimmed the team, glancing past you before backtracking to make sure you were real and not a dehydration-induced mirage. He smiled brightly and waved. In that moment, riding the high of the podium he believed that last night had fixed everything, that you had gone back to your room and dumped Harry, gotten a night of good sleep, eaten breakfast, and covered your black eye in makeup while singing along to The Beach Boys as you used to every morning. He let himself believe that you were coming back to him and in that moment you let yourself also go along with that crazy thought. The idea that Harry had maybe let you go to the podium celebration because he was done with you because he wanted to break up and free you.

He had come back to the garage, drenched in champagne, smile wide and toothy. He couldn’t take a step without being congratulated again. ‘Thanks, man’, ‘I appreciate it, bro’, ‘couldn’t have done it without you’. They were sincere, every word but he was on a mission. Mid-conversation and trying to track down your body within the garage.

“Lance! Well done, an amazing drive, truly fantastic defending from Charles there at the end.” Seb was your mentor but that didn’t stop him from showing his ex-teammate some love when he did well. “Thanks, hey have you seen her?” Lance’s eyes were still darting around as Seb held his shoulders, having pulled back from a quick hug. “Already left, gone to go and get pretty for tonight, I suspect.” Lance had just gotten a trophy and yet he couldn’t control the way his face dropped at you having already left, without congratulating him first. “She’s already pretty” was all he could mumble out. Seb patted his shoulder and nodded, his smile tight-lipped, acknowledging the hurt in the young Aston Martin driver's voice. “I agree, Lance, I agree,” he said contemplatively.

---

Boss had provided Lance with a deep green suit for tonight’s FIA Sponsor's gala at Marina Bay Sands, along with a pair of black, shiny loafers. He thanked the universe that the material was light as he placed his jacket on before slipping out of his room to meet Mick and Esteban in the hotel bar for a drink before they left for the event. On the elevator ride down, he let himself imagine what you might be wearing tonight and let his cheeks darken at the thought of the dresses he had seen you in for galas and events over the years, standing out like a daisy growing in a patch of grass. His heart sank once again as he thought about how you were probably trying to cover bruises, doing a 360 spin in front of the mirror. Not to admire yourself but to ensure no one would find out the truth.

Mick and Esteban waved at him from the bar, sliding a gin and tonic over to him as he took a seat with them. “Looking very dashing, mate.” Esteban gave him an eyebrow raise and two thumbs up, Mick laughing along at his antics. A ‘thanks’ was all Lance had replied with before grabbing his drink and downing ¾ of it, not noticing the way the his friends looked at each other in worry.

“You know you can always talk to us right, Lance? I speak for both of us when I say that it is awful seeing you so down the last few months.” Mick grabbed his shoulder firmly but the grip provided Lance with some comfort, enough comfort to tell his two friends just how sad he really was, and more importantly, why.

“Wait, so you had started seeing each other in private… and she left you for Harry?” Mick had a quizzical look on his face, trying to determine whether he had gotten the timeline correct. Lance nodded, taking a small sip of the remaining ¼ of his G&T. “That is really not like her, is it?” Esteban followed up with. Lance nodded again. “Oh! Oh… Oh ok, I put it together.” Esteban said, composing himself as he realised what answer he had stumbled upon. “What?” Mick was slightly confused, still trying to work out why one of the sweetest, most loyal people he knew left Lance for Harry. “Mate, I know you aren’t blind, surely you see the awful way he treats her, I suspect… obviously I don’t know but I think he might be forcing her hand a bit.” Esteban chose his words carefully, glancing at Lance occasionally as he informed Mick of his hypothesis. “I had my suspicions but I guess I just wanted to live in denial for a while.” The boys sat quietly for a few minutes, all deep in thought regarding the unearthed information.

“Wait, how long had you two been seeing each other?” It was like Esteban to have an unnecessary follow-up question. “2 months, no one knew though, I don’t think even Harry does. I mean… I am well aware that he knows I am head over heels for her, he takes every opportunity to remind me that I lost but he doesn’t seem to know we were seeing each other.” The group hummed in contemplation once again.

“I think we should talk to Seb about this. I trust his advice and he always has good ideas.” Lance nodded, standing up from the bar before heading to the venue with the others.

When he entered, he was congratulated some more, by everyone except the person that mattered most, you. He spotted you over to the side, chatting with Securitic higher-ups and just like had happened all those years ago, his jaw hit the floor. You were in a long sleeve, floor-length dress, emerald green but overlaid with intricate floral lace, orange, red, pink and yellow flowers standing out. Your hair fell around your face and your lips had the faintest hint of sparkle and for a second Lance let himself wonder if they tasted like strawberry, just like they had that night under the dim lights of your villa’s balcony in Spain. And just like all those years ago, he felt an elbow nudge his side. He turned his head, looking over at his father.

“I always thought that you two would end up together. A woman as sweet and fierce as her, she always had you wrapped around her finger. I never saw her with a guy like Harry, so brash and inauthentic.” Lance scrunched his eyebrows at his father’s comment, he had never heard him speak ill of Harry, even for a second, so the comment caught him off-guard. “What do you mean, Dad?” Lance knew he was just snooping now, but he had the tiniest speck of hope. His father was a kind and family-oriented man but Lawrence Stroll, the businessman, got rid of people the second they couldn’t continue his vision, and god he hoped Harry was in that category. “Let’s just say a lot is happening behind closed doors right now that I can’t discuss but… he wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

Mick and Seb had tucked themselves inconspicuously away from the bustle of crowds and conversations and were chatting about hiking trips before Mick blurted out his question. “What do you do if you think a friend is in a relationship she can’t escape?” Mick cringed internally at the execution of his question but he knew he had to rip it off like a bandaid, so to speak. “It sure doesn’t help when that someone she is with is a multi-billion dollar sponsor” Seb muttered, more to himself than Mick, but regardless, the young German was shocked to hear what Seb had said. He knew too. “You know?” “I have had my suspicions for a long time. Only so many bruises you can get from training before I don’t believe you anymore.” Mick knew Seb was trying to keep it light-hearted and when he looked into the older man's eyes, he could see the tears forming.

It pained Seb as much as it pained your grid mates. You were incredibly close with Mick, having weaselled your way into his introverted heart when you had mentioned never having a dog before politely asking if you could come on a walk with Angie sometime. You were so simple, yet so complex at the same time, you and Mick had never run out of things to talk about. You were the bright sunshine and he was the glowing moon, complete opposites that just work. Just worked, past tense. Like Lance, he hadn’t gotten more than a hello since Harry came along.

Esteban, Mick, Lance, Charles, Lando and Pierre had made an impromptu circle to discuss the race together, laughing at Lando’s misfortune in losing his front wing six seconds into the race. Lance had finally gotten you out of his mind for the first time today before the clinking of a wine glass was heard and all the boys looked up to see Harry standing next to you. Lance’s heart sank. Charles placed his hand on Lance’s shoulder, a physical and emotional support. Lance had never confessed his crush for you to any of the other drivers, excluding Esteban and Mick an hour ago, but they all knew, especially Charles who had noticed long before you all made it to Formula 1.

“Hey everyone, I just wanted to start off by saying a big thank you to the FIA for hosting us tonight at this amazing gala.” Eye roll, from all six men standing together. “As I am sure you all know, I have been with a very special woman now for a while. She drives a Formula 1 car and she is drop-dead gorgeous, what more could you want right?” While Harry chuckled, eliciting a laugh from the douchebag CEOs at the event, Lance’s fists balled tighter and tighter, hearing the words that dripped from his mouth, so insincere, so misogynistic. He looked across at you, a well-trained PR smile on your face. To anyone who didn’t know you, it looked genuine. But it wasn’t your happy smile. It wasn’t the smile you had when he had won you a Pikachu plushie at the arcade or the smile on your face when you got offered an F1 seat with your best friend and it wasn’t the smile on your face when Chloe and Scotty had told you that their daughter’s name was Daisy, your middle name. You weren’t happy right now, you were feigning happiness to survive. Building all your walls up to stay safe.

“Well, honey, I have only one question for you…” Pierre gasped and looked at the rest of his friends, trying to see if he was reading the situation correctly. Lando hadn’t got there yet but everyone else had. Lance was in a state of shock, feeling only Charles’ hand rub his shoulder and his heart break into a million pieces. Seb had grabbed Hanna, not out of joy or surprise but out of horror and shock, holding tightly to his rock in order to process the terrible event. He was about to propose to you… in front of your friends, bosses, rivals and sponsors because he knew you couldn’t say no in front of people.

“Will you marry me?” And with that, Harry got down on one knee in front of you. You had been focusing so hard on smiling and not crying that you had taken a second to even process that he was in front of you, on one knee with a little velvet box and the flashiest and most kitsch ring you had ever seen. You knew he didn’t know you at all, he didn’t even know your favourite colour, but this ring couldn’t be more unlike you if he tried. If anything, it looked like he was proposing to himself with how outlandish it was. You broke yourself away from the thought to look at the crowd, your PR smile still sitting perfectly on your strawberry-scented lips, a taste Harry said he couldn’t stand.

There he was, the man you thought and had always wished would be down on one knee for you, asking you to be his wife. Except he was standing in between your friends, all with shocked and scared expressions on their faces. While everyone else was politely clapping or cheering for you and Harry, they, along with Seb and Hanna looked distraught. You looked back to your teammate, realising you only had a few more seconds before you would be forced to answer and you wanted to spend every single one of them staring at Lance Stroll, the love of your life, your best friend. You tried to send him an ‘I’m sorry’ message with your eyes but it felt helpless.

Time was up and you looked back down at Harry, his jaw was stiff and his eyes daring you to say no. You were well and truly trapped and you had no way out.

“Yes. I will marry you.” With that, everyone cheered and clapped, except your loved ones. As you placed your chin on Harry’s shoulder, embracing him, you watched Lance wipe away his tears before turning around to walk off, Charles and Mick chasing after him. Lando stood there, his mouth wide while Esteban and Pierre shook their heads sadly before trying to coax Lando out of shock. You couldn’t see Seb and Hanna but you knew they were here and you knew they would be disappointed.

You just hoped that one day you could apologise for all of this.

____________________________________________________

Don't worry y'all, part 2 will be coming very soon. Thanks for letting me vent in the form of lance stroll angst at 2am. Love you all <3

#lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll x you #lance stroll angst #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic

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vague-humanoid · 28 days

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To fully grasp the current situation in San Francisco, where venture capitalists are trying to take control of City Hall, you must listen to Balaji Srinivasan. Before you do, steel yourself for what’s to come: A normal person could easily mistake his rambling train wrecks of thought for a crackpot’s ravings, but influential Silicon Valley billionaires regard him as a genius.

“Balaji has the highest rate of output per minute of good new ideas of anybody I’ve ever met,” wrote Marc Andreessen, co-founder of the V.C. firm Andreessen-Horowitz, in a blurb for Balaji’s 2022 book, The Network State: How to Start a New Country. The book outlines a plan for tech plutocrats to exit democracy and establish new sovereign territories. I mentioned Balaji’s ideas in two previous stories about Network State–related efforts in California—a proposed tech colony called California Forever and the tech-funded campaign to capture San Francisco’s government.

Balaji, a 43-year-old Long Island native who goes by his first name, has a solid Valley pedigree: He earned multiple degrees from Stanford University, founded multiple startups, became a partner at Andreessen-Horowitz and then served as chief technology officer at Coinbase. He is also the leader of a cultish and increasingly strident neo-reactionary tech political movement that sees American democracy as an enemy. In 2013, a New York Times story headlined “Silicon Valley Roused by Secession Call” described a speech in which he “told a group of young entrepreneurs that the United States had become ‘the Microsoft of nations’: outdated and obsolescent.”

“The speech won roars from the audience at Y Combinator, a leading start-up incubator,” reported the Times. Balaji paints a bleak picture of a dystopian future in a U.S. in chaos and decline, but his prophecies sometimes fall short. Last year, he lost $1 million in a public bet after wrongly predicting a massive surge in the price of Bitcoin.

Still, his appetite for autocracy is bottomless. Last October, Balaji hosted the first-ever Network State Conference. Garry Tan—the current Y Combinator CEO who’s attempting to spearhead a political takeover of San Francisco—participated in an interview with Balaji and cast the effort as part of the Network State movement. Tan, who made headlines in January after tweeting “die slow motherfuckers” at local progressive politicians, frames his campaign as an experiment in “moderate” politics. But in a podcast interview one month before the conference, Balaji laid out a more disturbing and extreme vision.

“What I’m really calling for is something like tech Zionism,” he said, after comparing his movement to those started by the biblical Abraham, Jesus Christ, Joseph Smith (founder of Mormonism), Theodor Herzl (“spiritual father” of the state of Israel), and Lee Kuan Yew (former authoritarian ruler of Singapore). Balaji then revealed his shocking ideas for a tech-governed city where citizens loyal to tech companies would form a new political tribe clad in gray t-shirts. “And if you see another Gray on the street … you do the nod,” he said, during a four-hour talk on the Moment of Zen podcast. “You’re a fellow Gray.”

The Grays’ shirts would feature “Bitcoin or Elon or other kinds of logos … Y Combinator is a good one for the city of San Francisco in particular.” Grays would also receive special ID cards providing access to exclusive, Gray-controlled sectors of the city. In addition, the Grays would make an alliance with the police department, funding weekly “policeman’s banquets” to win them over.

“Grays should embrace the police, okay? All-in on the police,” said Srinivasan. “What does that mean? That’s, as I said, banquets. That means every policeman’s son, daughter, wife, cousin, you know, sibling, whatever, should get a job at a tech company in security.”

@karpad @quasi-normalcy @ubernegro

#cool and normal

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twoset-updates · 1 year

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[270223 词不达意的劳拉 weibo post]

tl;dr: this fan met eddy in a cafe and got to chat with him. translation below (it's quite long but very sweet)

I was helping Twosetter friends in Singapore get tickets [for the Twoset vs Davie show], and I was lucky enough to get a spot ahead in the queue. You could only buy a maximum of four tickets with one account, and she needed three. I thought I shouldn’t waste the luck, so I decided to buy four anyway. At the time it was an impulse decision; I hadn’t even decided whether I’d let someone else have the ticket, or go to the concert myself. So although I had the ticket, I hesitated for a long time thinking whether I should go after all. For one thing, Twoset wouldn't be the only ones performing, and for another, borders had just reopened. Time would be tight to get a visa, and air tickets and hotels in Singapore aren’t cheap, either.

Just like that, Lunar New Year passed. When my friend asked me what I would be doing with the extra ticket, and if I needed help finding someone to take it, I thought of Boss Yang’s “just do it”. Even if it wasn’t for Twoset, I hadn’t been overseas in three years. Recently I had been troubled by certain comments from some people, so I might as well treat it as a vacation to relax. So I applied for the visa, and told myself that I would go if I managed to get it. As it turned out, I really did end up getting it.

I won’t elaborate too much on the performance itself. It was my first time seeing Twoset live, and my first time meeting Twosetters in person, so I was really happy. I felt that the more talented Twosetters are, the more humble they are. They’re all really friendly, too. Someone even brought cookies they had baked (I brought them back with me and still can't bear to eat them). It was like a grand exchange of things everyone had made.

So many things were exchanged

I was also happy to visit the places where Twoset had shot videos, the National Museum of Singapore, Victoria Concert Hall, Merlion Park, the mall where Davie pretended to be tailing Twoset—so many places. I also ate and drank lots of delicious things. Out of all the fans who had flown in, I might be the one who stayed the longest in Singapore. I thought the trip would end just like that, but I didn't expect that the day I was to fly back home, I got a huuuuuuuuge surprise.

In retrospect, meeting Eddy was such a coincidence, it felt like fate. I had only wanted to get a coffee to go from this cafe, and was planning to eat at another restaurant. But when I went in, the staff asked if I wanted to eat in or takeaway, and for some reason, I said I would eat in. The cafe was pretty full, and I was brought to a seat quite far inside the cafe. Then I ordered my meal and the food arrived, and just as I had finished taking photos and was about to start eating, out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone walk by me to wash their hands. I glanced at them, and got a shock. Was that Eddy?! But I didn't dare to stare at them directly, so I just observed them through my peripheral vision.

The person walked by my table again after washing their hands, and I only saw their side profile and back. Those glasses, the brick red T-shirt from the Christmas video, black skinny jeans, and white Gucci sneakers—who could that be other than Eddy?! I watched as he walked to the seat right by the entrance and sat down.

I was calm on the outside, but on the inside: AHHHHHHH HELP! When did he come in?! Should I go say hi? What if he ate and left quickly! But I thought, I'd be flying back in the afternoon, and I might never get another chance like this. So I took a deep breath and walked towards the entrance.

He was eating alone (I was so lucky; if he had been discussing something with someone else, or if he was with a friend, I would probably have walked back to my seat as I wouldn't dare to disturb him), and had ordered a coffee. On the chair opposite him he had placed his backpack, and there was a large notebook on the table. When I reached his table, he realised I was there, and stopped eating to look up at me. For about two seconds, we just looked at each other silently, neither of us saying a word.

(Me, internally: say something! Don't be such a freak!)

(For the below conversation, it happened in English, unless mentioned otherwise. {} indicates actions, expressions, and additional explanations, and () indicates my thoughts.)

Me: OMG Eddy

E {realised I was a fan so he was a little cautious but smiling}: Hey hello!

Me: OMG, can I sit next to you? {The table next to him was free}

E: Sure, do you want a photo?

Me {nodding vigorously}: I actually came to see your performance, but I'm flying back this afternoon. Actually, this is the last place I'm going to before I head to the airport {I can't stop talking when I'm nervous, sorry, I don't know what I was saying}

E {his tone of voice was very gentle}: Oh where are you from? What's your name?

Me: I'm Laura, from Shanghai, China {I sat on the seat next to him, and turned to face him}

EDIT: I forgot to mention, amidst all this I also asked if he remembered, during the video they filmed in Taiwan about giving fans gifts, I'd asked Lisa to pass him a gift from me. (None of us knew whether Lisa would be chosen, but I told Lisa I'd send the gift to her anyway, and if she wasn't chosen it would be my Christmas gift to her. I'm thankful to Lisa for being such a nice person and agreeing to my request.) [I told him,] I gave him and Brett a Mario luggage tag each, did he remember, those were actually from me. He said, "Oh yea yea I remember that gift." (He really remembered, I'm so happy)

Then Eddy talked a bit about Shanghai with me. He said he'd been to Shanghai, and I couldn't resist teasing him about when he said "Shanghai Stock Exchange" [T/N: during Landmark Charades] (Eddy internally, probably: Why won't the fans from Shanghai give me a break about this). He seemed like he was cringing at himself (super cute!). He said he really didn't know why he said it during the video, and I asked if it was because the tour guide had brought them there when he was in Shanghai? He said he'd actually never been there, and had only been to the Oriental Pearl Tower. I told him he should come to Shanghai and see the Shanghai Stock Exchange, the building is really quite magnificent. I said, "please come to Shanghai, come to China, we fans in Shanghai really look forward to you visiting," and he said they'd look into it. (I know he was just saying it though; it seemed like it would be difficult for them to come to Mainland China.)

At one point, I apologised for my bad English, and he said, in Mandarin, "it's okay, we can speak in Mandarin too." But I kept speaking in English to him (I have no words for myself, I could have listened to him speak more Mandarin!). When he said they'd "look into it" he said it in Mandarin [T/N: original phrase is 再研究一下看看].

I told him his Mandarin is really good, and joked that Brett's sucks, and he laughed. But I hurriedly added that Brett's pronunciation is really good, and with his usual serious/earnest expression, he nodded, saying, "Hm, that is true." I said Brett seems like a pronunciation prodigy—previously there was a German fan who said his German pronunciation was good (and there was a German fan who watched the show with us this time who said the same). Eddy said that is indeed the case, as Brett had a lot of friends from Germany when he was in Europe. But I told him that since he could understand Mandarin puns, it was really impressive too. He smiled bashfully after being praised. (So so so cute!)

Then I suddenly remembered that I had interrupted his meal, and I was worried whether he would have other plans later in the day, so I asked him. I said, "I'm very sorry I interrupted your meal, I don't know if you have any other plans later, is it okay?"

He very seriously looked at his watch, and really thought for a bit, and only then did he tell me he actually did have something on later, but it was alright as there was still a bit of time, and we could continue chatting for a while. {He didn't immediately say "it's okay", and didn't take the chance to end the conversation either; he's really a sincere and nice person.}

At that moment, he suddenly pointed at my right shoulder, and said, "This is really cute." I took a second before I realised he was referring to the violin earrings I was wearing that day. I said, "Yes, this is for the violin gang." He said, "Yea!", and I replied, "I'm part of the piano gang though." He smiled and said, "Oh, that's great." I said, "But a lot of times I'm lazy and don't practice," and I took the chance to ask him if he would sign a mini metronome. I told him I'd actually bought it at Synwin the previous day (and luckily I had it in my bag as I was afraid it would be damaged [if I kept it in my luggage]). He agreed and asked if I had a marker. I said, "Yes, I even have a gold autograph marker." He said, "Cool," and wrote "Go Practice" for me. As he did so, he toyed with the metronome a little, and said, "I didn't know there were mini metronomes like this, it's really cute." I asked (greedily) if he could address the autograph to me, and he checked again that my name is Laura. It's actually a really common name, and I thought he would just write it straight away, but he was considerate and still asked me how to spell it. (He's so nice.)

He even added a emoji, really cute

Alright, I'll "Go Practice"

Because I had to take the metronome and autograph marker out of my bag, I had picked my bag up from the ground, and he noticed that my bag had two pins on it (Puganini and Meowzart pins from the SSO; a Twosetter in Singapore had mailed it to China for us). He said, "Oh, this is cute," and I replied, "Yeah, It's from the SSO," and he said he knew, but he only knew they had made Puganini pins and not Meowzart ones. {He really pronounced the "meow" sound, it was cute.} I said, "Yeah, and it so happens that it's Paganini and Mozart (referring to him and Brett), what a coincidence." He agreed.

My SSO Puganini and Meowzart pins.

Then I remembered that I had made three headbands for the concert—one for Twoset, and two other Paganini and Mozart ones (because I had thought those characters would appear during the show)—and I still had them in my bag, so I hurriedly took them out to show him. First I showed him the TwoSet Violin one, and I told him I'd even glued on LED lights by hand, and turned the lights on to demonstrate. It seemed like he was happy about it but also thought it was a little embarrassing. He hid his face in his hands (ahhh so cute). Then I showed him the Paganini and Mozart headbands, and said, "These don't have lights though." He said they were really cute, and I told him the Mozart one has rabbit ears because Mozart had made the rabbit ear gesture, and the Paganini one has devil horns. Then I paused, and asked if he wanted the headbands. (I thought I'd just ask.)

TwoSet Violin (I put the LED lights on by hand, sorry for the poor craftsmanship)

Paganini (I originally wanted to add lights too, but I gave up afterwards)

Mozart

Unexpectedly, he said, "Sure!" He took them from me, and said, "I'll give this {the Mozart one} to Mozart Brett." Then he wore the Paganini one himself ahhhh (I was so stunned in that moment, I completely wasn't expecting him to take the initiative to wear it, so I just dumbly stared while we continued to talk). After about five seconds, I realised he might feel awkward wearing the headband, so I asked if he wanted to take it off for now, wasn't it awkward? Then he suggested that we should take a selfie first (I completely didn't think that he himself would suggest a selfie with the headband), so he could take the headband off after the selfie, because it did feel awkward after all. (Ahhhhh I'm sorry I keep saying this, but he was so cute when he was being bashful ahhh)

Paganini Eddy is so cute and looks so good!

After the selfie, I told him I was in too much of a rush this time to finish lights on all the headbands, so if they came to Shanghai, I would make a full set of headbands with lights for them, and he said, "Deal!" (So, please come for real TAT)

That was almost it, but just then, I remembered that a while ago a lot of people were curious if they had ever tested which Hogwarts house they were in? At first, he didn't really get what test I was talking about, but when he understood, he said that they'd never done the test.

E: Do you think the test is fun? Should we do it?

Me {nodding}: It's really fun, I think you guys can try it.

E: Which house do you think I'd be in?

Me: I think you're Ravenclaw

E: I think I'm Ravenclaw, too

Me {quietly}: I'm also Ravenclaw (shameless)

E: What about Brett, which house do you think he's in?

Me (I didn't think he would bring up Brett on his own): Hm...... I think he's either Gryffindor or Slytherin

E: Oh? {He seemed to be surprised that I chose two houses; I'm guessing the one he was surprised about was Slytherin.}

Me: Gryffindor because he's very courageous, but Slytherin because he has a realistic {I said it in English and Mandarin} side as well. [T/N: original word for "realistic" was "现实"]

E: Oho, Brett, Slytherin, hehehehehe {a teasing laugh} (I thought, does he think that Slytherins are villains, so he thinks it's funny that a fan thinks Brett is a villain?)

Really, I took up quite a bit of his time, and I apologised a few times throughout the conversation, but he amiably said that it's alright. He listened to me patiently, replied to me earnestly, and fulfilled all my requests. (Now that I think about it, it might be because I told him in the beginning that I would be flying back to Shanghai in the afternoon, that he was very forgiving of me, and for that I'm very, very thankful to him.

P.S. Eddy is more handsome and good-looking close-up than in videos; his eyes are round and bright, his iris and sclera are clearly defined, he looks here and there when he's thinking, and he has double eyelids on both eyes. Sob, he's really cute (for the millionth time)

Finally, he really was like he said: a very gentle listener. At the start of the post, I mentioned that I was feeling troubled, and part of it was for reasons related to my work. There were some issues that I couldn't figure out an answer to, and in the course of my conversation with him I couldn't help but tell him some of it (it's strange, he has the power to disarm people). He patiently and carefully listened to my troubles, and in reply, he didn't simply say something like "you should just do it," but instead he said that it was a tough problem indeed. I told him that that's why I'm grateful to them for making videos and performances that inspired me, and he told me, "If you decide to do it, you can do it."

Me: ......well, since you've said that, I have to do it now.

At this point, I guess I can't get out of the fandom anymore...... It feels like all the challenges I faced in making this trip to Singapore happen were worth it. In the process, I received a lot of sincere help from Twosetters, and I think I did my best to help them sincerely as well. As expected, sincerity is really the solution to everything. I guess that's how it is with Twoset, and this community that formed around them. I think that's one thing about Twoset that differs from others, the most special thing: they brought together this amazing, talented community. It seems if you treat others with sincerity, and have a little luck, you'll be able to make your wishes come true.

#twosetviolin #twoset violin #tsv in the wild

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multifamdomfan12 · 2 years

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Formula One Drivers

Fic Recs

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Max is convinced that his sisters realitionship with Lando is inappropriate. The two of them testing his patience over and over again. But he will soon find out that them being apart isn’t much better. (ft. Pierre Gasly)

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Medicine

food poisoning in brazil means your boyfriend needs some medicine

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heard your every word

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The one where pranking your teammate made two rivals fall in love

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#masterlist #Formula one masterlist #under construction

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totowlff · 2 years

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chapter two — fireworks

➝ elisabeth wasn’t fond of parties, and a new year’s eve party in vienna was no exception. niki would never refuse such a generous invitation from his new business partner, and he wouldn’t let elisabeth get out of it, either.

➝ word count: 1,6k

➝ warnings: none

➝ author’s note: another day, another chapter. hope you enjoy!

DECEMBER, 2012

The air inside the apartment was hot, almost suffocating.

Conversations in the room were backed by the sickening notes of a violin.

“I shouldn’t have come”, Elisabeth thought, watching her father in an animated conversation. He was gesturing effusively as he explained something to her eldest brother, Lukas, as well to two other men, all of them hanging on to his every word.

Elsewhere in the room, her mother, in an elegant white dress with her gray hair tied back in her trademark bun, was chuckling at some comment made by a woman Elisabeth had been introduced to earlier, but whose name she didn't care to remember.

She took a sip of the red wine from the glass in her hand, looking at her feet.

Even if she had invented some excuse to not come, her dear father would have dragged her to that penthouse in downtown Vienna one way or another. She could almost hear his voice in her head, scolding her for even thinking about turning down such a generous invitation from their new partner in “the great Mercedes adventure”, as Niki liked to call the acquisition of 10% of the company's shares.

She sighed, scanning the crowd, searching for the party’s host.

Toto Wolff wasn’t difficult to spot, considering he was, almost everywhere he went, the tallest person in the room. Elisabeth spotted him in one of the many crowds of people, deep in conversation. He was wearing dark dress pants and a white dress shirt, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows. He was very obviously the center of conversation, everyone else around him looking at him as he spoke.

Not without reason — Toto had a magnetic aura. He was able to command attention in any environment just by stepping into it. She’d realized that at that first dinner at Edvard when she was completely absorbed by his presence, listening to him talk about cars, tyres, and lap times despite not understanding a thing about motorsport. Mesmerized by his hand gestures and the smooth baritone of his voice, Elisabeth couldn’t help but be drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

It had only gotten worse since then.

The trip they had taken to Singapore had been, to a certain extent, a success. Niki had managed to convince Lewis Hamilton, in a middle of the night meeting in his hotel room, to sign with Mercedes for the next season. It was what Elisabeth considered the greatest win of the weekend.

However, the trip allowed Elisabeth — in addition to having more coffee than would normally be acceptable due to jet lag — the chance to get closer to the man who had thoroughly captured her attention during that dinner at Edvard.

She had the opportunity to get to know him one-on-one on the Friday of the race weekend, at lunch between free practice sessions. Niki passed on going with them, claiming he had more important things to do in the garage. Toto insisted on accompanying Elisabeth to the hotel's restaurant so that she wouldn’t be alone. Between glasses of wine and forkfuls of fish, he shared a little bit of his life with her.

Toto wasn’t actually named “Toto”. Rather, it was a nickname for “Torger”. He was born and raised in Vienna, and studied at the Lycée Français. When he was 17, he attended his first race — a German Formula 3 race his friend was competing in — and fell in love with motor racing. He spent a few years trying to become competitive, but his height and his main sponsor pulling out of racing forced him to focus solely on business. He had enrolled in a course at the Vienna University of Economics and Business, but decided he would learn more in the real world, so he got an internship at a bank in Warsaw.

He had previously been married, and had two children, a boy and a girl, and went through a messy divorce that had him plunging into work to distract himself. As a result, he decided to resume his dream of getting involved with motorsport. He started racing again, as a hobby, mostly doing endurance races and rallying.

Listening to him talk during their lunch together made Elisabeth feel something completely new to her. She could feel heart beat faster every time he looked at her, and a warmth spread through her chest as she listened to him talk about his passions. She was completely enchanted by him.

However, it was wrong.

“Wrong”, she repeated the word in her head, looking back at her father.

Niki had always said he didn't have any friends. Elisabeth thought that was silly, after all, it was impossible for a popular man like him not to have friends. However, what worried her was that her father referred to Toto as a good colleague after they’d returned to Vienna. She knew it was his way of saying he was a friend of his. And her dad's friends were definitely off limits to her, even if they made her feel butterflies in her stomach for the first time in her life.

Gripping her wine glass a bit tighter, Elisabeth decided it would be better to leave the crowded living room and seek a quieter spot. She made her way through the crowd of people and down a hallway. There were a few doors down the corridor. She entered the first one on her right, and closed it quietly behind her back.

When Elisabeth turned around, she found herself facing Vienna’s night skyline, stretched out through a large window. It was almost the size of the entire wall. In the dim light filtering in from the streetlights below, she saw an outline of a desk, chair, and some bookshelves. An office.

“Perfect”, she thought as approached the desk and set down her half-full wine glass. Her eyes wandered over the things spread out on the desktop — a neat row of pens next to square-framed glasses, an iPad, and an orderly stack of papers.

In the corner, Elisabeth spotted a framed photo of Toto next to two light-haired children. “Benedict and Rosa”, she recalled. A smile passed over her lips as she noticed how similar they looked to their father.

With a sigh, she turned toward the window to take in the view. From here, it was possible to see the colorful tiles of the roof of St. Stephen’s Cathedral, as well as the terraces and balconies of other buildings, crowded with people, all waiting to welcome the new year. Elisabeth picked up her glass again and took another sip of wine. Clearly, their night was going better than hers.

— Elisabeth? — she heard a voice behind her. It was the one voice she didn’t want to hear. She turned around to see Toto standing in the doorway, hands in the pockets of his dark pants — Are you okay?

— Yes — she replied, her voice thin.

— Your father said you didn’t look well, I just came to check on you.

— I just needed some quiet.

He approached her, walking around the desk. Then, he stood next to her, leaning against the surface.

— You look worried. Is something bothering you?

She pursed her lips, feeling tense.

— It’s not a big deal — she said.

— If it weren’t a big deal, you wouldn’t be hiding in a dark office on New Year’s Eve — Toto replied, the corner of his mouth turning upward into a smile. Elisabeth could feel her heart start to race.

“Shit”, she thought.

— Just thinking about next year — she lied — And dad.

— Do you think he can’t handle it?

— You know how it is, always wanting to be the tough guy. But he’s not getting any younger.

— But he’s strong. He has already proven it so many times.

Elisabeth sighed, letting silence hang between them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though — it felt natural to her to stand beside him, listening to the din of muffled conversations from the living room and the sound of each other’s breathing.

— Besides, he has you — Toto said, after a few moments.

— Me?

— Yeah. You’re smart, focused, and serious. It’s everything Niki needs in a business partner.

She felt a wave of heat rise to her cheeks.

— Funny, he says that about you — she said, hoping Toto wouldn’t notice her blush.

— Oh, really? I’m flattered — he replied, laughing.

A muffled voice from the living room called out that it was less than a minute to midnight. However, neither of them made a point to leave their places. From the window, Elisabeth could see people moving on the balconies as they gathered to see the upcoming fireworks display.

Funf.

— My father likes you very much — she said, quietly, looking at him.

Vier.

— I like him a lot too, Elisabeth.

Drei.

“Should I or shouldn’t I?”, Elisabeth asked herself, her pulse roaring in her ears.

Zwei.

— He’s a real inspiration, not just to me, but to a lot of people — Toto continued. His eyes were fixed on hers.

Elisabeth wasn’t fond of parties, and a New Year’s Eve party in Vienna was no exception. Niki would never refuse such a generous invitation from his new business partner, and he wouldn’t let Elisabeth get out of it, either.

Fireworks soared through the sky with a series of loud whistles, lighting up the Vienna skyline with a series of bangs and pops. She looked outside, admiring the lights coloring the city’s skyline. She could hear people cheering from the living room, making toasts and wishes for a 2013 filled with victories.

— Toto — Elisabeth said, a little hesitantly.

He looked at her with a smile. Something inside of her felt warm.

“What if we — ?”, she thought.

— Yes?

“No, we can’t”, she chided herself.

— Happy New Year — she said.

— Happy New Year, Elisabeth — Toto replied, placing his hand over hers. His thumb was caressing her skin tenderly.

At that moment, she could feel fireworks going off in her heart, too.

#toto wolff #toto wolff fluff #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #wlffog #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #natsversion #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc #toto wolff x oc #scwlff

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kylo-wrecked · 8 months

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@itmeanspeace sent:// [ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 ] : as sender is about to leave, receiver grabs them by the wrist,' and now it's the starter of all time

—☾—

New York City was a good place to disappear completely. Historically, Manhattan was the mythical megalopolis where people came to create themselves in Their image fading into ghosts and withered gods over time by choice or natural selection. Ben told himself he was back in the Apple temporarily. He was in public transit purgatory until further notice. That was all.

On this muggy, pre-fall day in limbo, Ben was on his way to 'pick up Rey from work,' though Rey, being both the mechanic and the one with a valid driver's license, ruled the wheels. Ben was a tolerated, eternally grateful passenger. Since his license had been suspended, Ben joked that he'd sold his car to a really talkative guy named Greg Arias.

In all seriousness, he had.

Rey wasn't waiting outside Salerno's Body Shop when he rounded the corner of Ninth. A quick look inside the vestibule led to an awkward exchange with her boss, and when Ben shrugged through the open door of her supply room, he didn't find Rey there.

That was fine.

Ben then sloped into the main shop, Hell's Kitchen's largest industrial carousel. As he scanned the floor, a funny feeling crept up his shoulders, placing him in a chokehold. Not funny-ha-ha. Funny-uh-oh. Something was going to happen—but Ben usually had the sense that an anvil was about to drop on him any second, so, slouching, he took his leave, figuring he’d text Rey later. Or possibly tomorrow. Or in a year, when he renewed his license.

At the very moment Ben shuffled toward the front gate, he spotted a mechanic he'd never seen before, and stopped dead in his tracks. She had big red hair, wore an oversized logo t-shirt knotted at the bottom, and the air of a person ready to go home hours ago. The woman was also instantly and eerily familiar, which Ben hated. He preferred the possible reality (now lost and gone) in which the woman was a stranger. Usually, Ben would hang under the flag brackets and wait out her exit so he could lope off undetected, but he couldn't ignore the impulse that told him she was a ghost, like him. A ghost he knew.

Ben smoothed the hair on the back of his neck, his body locked in reverie. A matte orange Mustang rose on the lift behind him like a silly set piece, and Ben was a doubly silly prop hanging from limp strings. Then those strings snapped, and the shop spilled back in full color, its bite of machine music and chemical fumes eating at his senses. Though it couldn't have been happening, it was; the red-haired woman was real, and Ben recognized her. She was one of the twins.

Ben swelled with memories, memories of glowsticks in dark wardrobes, fortune-telling games with autumn leaves; a sprig of golden-yellow horse chestnut meant good luck. Did they ever remember? Those lonely nights? The games with Reagan and Shiloh, too, though she joined in less often.

Shiloh was a bit different. Reagan took to dancing and music; her sister took the china clocks apart and put them back together again. She’d been the more private sister, and Ben and Shiloh could be quiet together.

One day, he never saw them again. The twins became whispers, ghost stories told around solipsistic urban bonfires. Twins were haunted, they said. It was that simple.

How much time had passed? Ben stared at the twin, open-mouthed. She stared back at him.

In the rise, the rush of feeling in his chest, the quickening pace of that blood-pumping organ under his ribs, Ben couldn't tell whether he was looking at Shiloh or Reagan. For a moment, Ben was convinced she was Reagan, utterly enthralled until reality backhanded him. Reagan was...

"Shiloh?"

Ben froze as she did—the name, it'd just sort of slipped out.

Shiloh’s face moved. She recognized him. And that wasn't good, apparently. Maybe she heard about his 'little accident' in Singapore. Maybe she didn't remember him at all. She dove into the Ninth Avenue rabble like merfolk. And Shiloh let herself be swallowed and hustled along, surely in hope of losing him in the stream of people, but Ben, who knew the rhythm of all crowds like the hammering of his heart, who, with a modicum’s assertiveness, could push his way through, and didn't, just couldn't let her slip away, couldn't let it go.

Occasionally, one of his shoulders would slam into someone going against the flow of traffic, and so as he hurried to catch Shiloh, he waffled between calling her name (which drew far too much attention but seemed fundamental to their situation) and apologizing to hapless pedestrians.

"Sorry—

Shiloh, hold—

Excuse me

Uh, okay…

Sorry, please move, sorry—

Shiloh, wait

P—Ow

oh my GODfffmnmOVE

Shiloh!

Wait—"

Finally, Ben caught Shiloh's wrist in his big, hot mitt. Held fast, though his grip felt clammy and weak, though she glared at him, alarmed, maybe angry? She still hadn't grown into her eyes. Ben hadn't grown into one or two attributes he wasn't going to name.

"Just wait."

He'd had enough of ghost stories.

#itmeanspeace #m. au | modern!ben: the senator's son #closed starter #thread tbd #edited: for quality assurance #{i can't find the meme source beep boop}

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lovelypearsonline · 8 days

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Printed T-shirts make great birthday gifts because they are cheap, can be worn in many ways, are good for the earth, and add a personal touch. With t-shirt printing Singapore services, you can turn a plain t-shirt into a special gift that will make someone smile.

#personalized t shirt Singapore #corporate t shirt printing singapore #customized t shirt Singapore #tee printing Singapore #Singapore shirt printing

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rolling-restart · 9 months

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I'm a princess (I'm divisive) - pt. 1

Relationship(s): Kimi Räikkönen/Nico Rosberg, Implied Nico Rosberg/Jenson Button, Past Micheal Schumacher/Nico Rosberg

Rating: E

Tags: Girl!Nico, Girl!Kimi, Flashbacks, Eventual Smut, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, 2008 season, but vague timing, canon flexible

PRETENTIOUS NONCHALANCE

It wasn’t Nico’s fault, after all. She tried everything before ending up at this point. She described what he wanted in detail to Jenson and credit to him, he tried. When his technique felt a bit off, she gave him homework that included several videos Nico personally loved to watch. At some point, Nico started to feel bad about perhaps setting unreasonable expectations for Jenson and setting him up for failure. Nevertheless, that little selfish voice in Nico’s head telling her that she deserved mind-blowing sex and after all providing her with that might be a skill issue.

It wasn’t a big deal, Nico thought. They weren’t in a relationship even though they fell into the comfort of convenience that bordered some sort of nonchalant monogamy. Whatever the little pang of guilt he was feeling for looking for a fix for her situation, the rush of selfishness weighed heavier. She deserved to chase what she thought would be good for her and she wasn’t going to be apologetic about it. If Jenson couldn’t be the facilitator, Nico thought she knew someone who could.

Her well-rehearsed assertiveness faltered once she raised her hand to knock on the nondescript hotel door. She looked left and right in the corridor for the millionth time to make sure that there was no one to witness her little enterprise. Not that she would be particularly embarrassed if anyone found out but the last thing she wanted to deal with was someone’s nose in her business.

Her knock was unanswered for a few moments. She looked around once more and knocked again. When she finally heard shuffling behind the door, she was already biting her nails. Appearing behind the door, Kimi looked the same way she always looked but Nico felt like she was taller. Her white-blonde hair was in a bun and she was wearing a washed-out oversized t-shirt and sports shorts. At 11 p.m., it was an expected attire, in contrast to Nico’s carefully curated ‘comfortable’ fit. She didn’t want to appear as making too much effort but she also felt like she had to put some work into looking effortlessly ethereal. She was also in sports shorts to put up with the sticky weather of Singapore but she decided to throw a linen shirt over his sports bra to look like she was fresh out of a gym session. She indeed had a gym session but then she scrubbed herself raw in the shower to make her skin glow in a natural way and threw a fresh set on. She didn’t think Kimi would care, though. To be fair, Kimi didn’t seem to care about anything.

That was, reasonably, her biggest concern about her decision. Nico was used to get what she wanted, or at least what she thought she wanted. She never experienced anything that suggested otherwise with any of the grid boys. This wasn’t something she took for granted, but something she learned to weaponise. However, the decision to appear at Kimi’s door in the middle of the night was choosing a gift for someone who seemed to have everything. All answers were wrong until she tried.

“What are you doing here?”

Nico realised she needed to change her expression which was most likely just wide-eyed terror. Their interactions were easy on track: fight fairly, subtly look out for each other and not more. Their circles only coincided when it was a grid-wide event. Her unannounced visit probably couldn’t be justified by wanting to hang out with her suddenly.

“I… uhm… I was wondering if we could hang out?”

Nico, as always, would be caught dead asking for something explicitly.

“At this hour? Not a good time, no?”

Nico was sure if Jenson saw her face now, he would call her a petulant child. That face took her so far to get what she needed so another try wouldn’t hurt.

“Do you have someone over?”

She got on her tiptoes to pretend to look inside the hotel room and Kimi sighed.

“No.”

She wasn’t a woman of too many words, after all.

“C’mon. I don’t wanna be on my own. Can I come in?”

Kimi looked at her intently for a moment and went back into her room, holding the door open for Nico. The room was relatively small and Kimi’s stuff was crowding everywhere. Standing where he stood a moment ago, Nico smelt her deodorant, spicy and clean.

Kimi went back to her previous position, Nico assumed, propped up to the bedframe while skipping channels. She didn’t do anything to make Nico feel at ease. There was no invitation to come sit on her bed, no drink offer. Nico took her linen shirt off and rolled her shoulders with a sigh, always checking whether Kimi was watching. She wasn’t going to pick up on any subtle invitation so Nico decided to be a bit more precise with her intentions.

Nico threw her shirt at Kimi’s face which was probably a not very calculated move. Kimi jolted and moved it to the side, looking at Nico with wide eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Nico couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She knew it was arrogant of her to think that she didn’t have to voice any need or request to get railed but it nevertheless bummed her to realise that this was going to be a more difficult job than just throwing herself into Mark’s arms. She ignored Kimi’s protest and dropped herself on the bed next to her.

“I thought we could have some fun?”

Nico tried to pair her suggestive words with her best doe-eyed stare. Kimi was still looking at her like a cat threw up on her bed.

“What fun? Aren’t you tired already?”

Nico huffed at her for not getting her intention immediately but she had to give it to her. Kimi had no context of what Nico was trying to achieve.

“No, I’m not. I’m quite tense, though.”

Honestly, she had no idea whether her generic repertoire of suggestiveness would work. She propped an elbow to get to eye level with Kimi. She almost missed the amused gleam in her eyes and the slightest twitch of her mouth. Nico was in.

“And you thought I could help?”

Nico smirked. Kimi’s face might have been neutral but she seemed to be on the same page, at least on a similar page with Nico.

“Yes. I heard about the things you did with that media pen girl.”

Kimi raised her eyebrows. She lazily turned her gaze towards the TV to Nico’s frustration.

“And what makes you think that I’d be willing to do that with you?”

That was enough to make Nico’s smirk freeze on her face. She honestly didn’t expect Kimi to throw herself at her but this reaction indicated sloppy calculation on Nico’s side. She was so absorbed by the daydreams of how Kimi could make her feel good. Her very self-conscious self-centric brain was to blame, perhaps. She was used to getting what she wanted and learned to pretend not to be interested in the things that she reasonably couldn’t. She ran her hand through her now short hair, reminiscing of the times when it was long. If she really tried, she could feel how Micheal wrapped it around his hand to pull her head backwards in a crampy storage room.

“You know…”

His German always got that raspy, unidentifiable accent when his breathing was laboured by the effort he was putting into fucking her.

“You have… have to drop this attitude if you want to survive.”

She could only let out a choked moan, swiftly muffled by his hand. Micheal's cologne would start to give her a headache while her sweat-soaked undershirt clung to her torso.

“Not… Not everyone will be at your feet to grant your wishes all the time.”

His thrusts would get out of sync when his orgasm neared while Nico tried to manage the brutal intrusion.

“Your name… Your name can only… only get you so far.”

Her mind would blank until she felt the sudden wet emptiness and heard the zipper of Micheal’s fireproofs.

“Whenever you find it hard to believe, remember these times.”

Nico used to hate those encounters and the flash of red on her white kit, like an irresponsible, almost unreasonable bloodthirst by Micheal. She would wipe herself with the sleeve of her undershirt, fighting the tears of frustration. When Micheal fucked off to retirement, she did everything in her power to never feel so passive and humiliated as she did under Micheal’s gaze.

Most of the time, it translated into being apathetic and stoic against everything thrown at her: rumours, accusations, insults but also praises and celebrations. The rest manifested itself in an excessive tendency to be dismissive of others. Micheal’s ‘advice’ was going to be shredded into pieces in Nico’s mind by living by the exact attitude that he warned her against. Being loud in her demands and sticky in her punishments were enough to keep the rest of the paddock in line and she never had to try to receive anything except professional success.

She got up to hide her reddened face. Not being able to take rejection was a thing for weaker people. Her arrogant expectations didn’t do harm if they weren’t discovered by others. She could just walk away, her tail between her legs but her head up.

Nico reached for her shirt without looking at Kimi’s face, only to meet resistance. She threw a frustrated look at Kimi who was holding the other end.

“What are you doing?”

Nico huffed in frustration. She was completely out of the mood she came in the room with and couldn’t wait to leave.

“I think I’m tired now. See you next week.”

She pulled the fabric too hard and heard it rip between their hands. She looked at Kimi furiously and watched her slowly letting go of the ruined fabric. Kimi’s confusion and concern superficially satisfied Nico but it wasn’t sufficient to stop her.

“Wait-”

She was in the hallway, door slammed behind her back before Kimi finished her protest. She first walked fast to reach a corner then started running to her room after being convinced that no one was around to see. Hot tears of humiliation fogged her vision but she didn’t stop until she was safely behind her own door. She threw the torn shirt away and balled herself under the cover.

“Remember these times, when you reach for too much but end up with too little,”

Nico screamed into her pillow.

“Remember, maybe it’s in your nature to be the victim of your arrogance.”

#f1 fanfic #nico rosberg/kimi raikkonen #nico rosberg/jenson button #nsfw.#my fic #girl!nico AU

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arcticdementor · 29 days

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…

“A huge win would be a Gray Pride parade with 50,000 Grays,” said Srinivasan. “That would start to say: ‘Whose streets? Our streets!’ You have the A.I. Flying Spaghetti Monster. You have the Bitcoin parade. You have the drones flying overhead in formation.... You have bubbling genetic experiments on beakers.… You have the police at the Gray Pride parade. They’re flying the Anduril drones …”

…

Those who try to downplay Balaji’s importance in Silicon Valley often portray him as a “clown.” But Donald Trump taught us that clowns can be dangerous, especially those with proximity to influence and power. In the nearly 11 years since his secession speech at Y Combinator, Balaji’s politics have become even more stridently authoritarian and extremist, yet he remains a celebrated figure in key circles.

…

Increasingly, Tan has also pursued another key Network State goal: attacking journalists. Balaji portrays the press, especially The New York Times, as the chief enemy of the Network State ideology. He accuses the venerable paper of upholding something called “Woke Capital.”

…

“So long as you aren’t running a corporation based on hereditary nepotism where the current guy running the show inherits the company from his father’s father’s father’s father, you’re more diverse and democratic than the owners of The New York Times Company. You don’t need to take lectures from them, from anyone in their employ, or really from anyone in their social circle—which includes all establishment journalists.”

…

“Do not hire PR,” tweeted Balaji on April 4, days after Tan’s P.R.-wrangled Times profile. “They want to ‘train’ you to talk to journos. But journos hate you! So this is an obsolete model. Instead, just hire influencers. Build your own channel. And go direct.”

#gil duran #new republic #balaji srinivasan #garry tan #san francisco

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valpoupdates · 4 months

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FEBRUARY CALENDAR POSTING...

So much to see, so much to do, so little time ! Lucky for you, here in the Valparaíso Region, we keep track of it just for you ! Unless stated otherwise, these activities are optional. Residents do not have to take part in these if they don't wish to ! These can be used for threads throughout the month but new threads can't be started for these activities once the month is up. Please track the valpocalendar tag to stay updated month to month ( ©️ )

Casablanca Activities:

February 3rd-4th: Aire Libre will be hosting two romance-a-thon nights, one in Spanish and one in English (with Spanish closed captioning). There will be a Valentine’s Day themed snack box consisting of a metal heart popcorn bowl, pink popcorn, a variety of candy, and heart-shaped alfajores provided by Dulce Sueño’s Sweets and Treats.

February 3rd 5 PM: La vida de los peces: Andrés se reencuentra con su antiguo amor. 7 PM: Play: Dos personas buscan amor, pero nunca se encuentran. 10:00 PM: Los Fuertes: Lucas y Antonio empiezan un gran amor. February 4th 5 PM: Shrek: Un ogro y un burro tienen una aventura. 7 PM: Crazy Rich Asians: El novio de Rachel Chu, una profesora de economía, tiene un gran secreto. 10 PM: The Notebook: Duke lee una historia romántica a una paciente.

February 8th: Casablanca Blooms and Coffee will be hosting two Valentine’s Day-themed events: from 5 PM - 6 PM will be a bouquet-making class where you can create a beautiful bouquet for a loved one, and from 6 PM - 7 PM will be a coffee blending class where you can create your own sweet blend.

February 14th: Dulce Sueño’s Sweets and Treats is hosting a Valentine’s Day dessert decorating session from 12 PM - 2 PM. Come decorate cookies, brownies, and mini-cakes; then take home your goodies and share them with your loved ones.

Quilpué Activities:

February 9th: Caos Tattoos is hosting the Anti-Romance Tattoo Sale. There will be affordable flash sheets around themes of anti-love and heartbreak.

February 18th: The Annual Beastly Brunch is happening again at the Quilpué Zoo from 11 PM - 1 PM. Feast on delicious bites and sip brunch cocktails while learning and celebrating the feathered friends you have in your own backyard! Brunch will be served.

February 22nd: Plantas Altas is having their Customer Appreciation Day. Plants will be up to 40% off, and there will be complimentary food and a DJ. First 40 customers get a free t-shirt or tote bag with the store logo.

Valparaíso Activities:

February 1st: A Santa Moneda resident has some dozen leftover tickets for Carnival in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and has offered to fly people out to Carnival for a small fee. Carnival takes place February 9th-17th, and it is one of the largest yearly festivals in Brazil that celebrates their history, culture, and traditions. The itinerary is already made, hotel rooms have been booked, and VIP events have been reserved; all you need to do is reach out to Santa Moneda Front Desk and we can get you in touch with the resident. Serious inquiries only!

February 10th: Parque Cultural de Valparaíso is hosting a Lunar New Year Festival from 12 PM - 9 PM, celebrating the Year of the Wood Dragon. There will be foods from many different countries that celebrate the holiday, including China, Singapore, South Korea, Vietnam, and Malaysia, stalls that sell clothes, art, and knick-knacks, lion dancing, and presentations and reading corners for people of all ages to learn more about the history, culture, and traditions behind the holiday from each country. The festival will close out with fireworks.

February 23rd: The Universidad de Bellas Artes Poets play against the Pontifical Catholic University Pumas at 6 PM. Come show your school spirit or come support your local fútbol team.

February 24th: Biblioteca Santiago Severín is hosting a community shred day from 8 AM - 8 PM. With a small donation, you can bring any personal papers and documents to be shredded. Volunteers are still needed; if interested, please sign up on our website, <santiagoseverin.cl>.

Viña del Mar Activities:

February 11th-24th: The Ballet de Valparaíso will be performing Cinderella at The Teatro Municipal. Come laugh, be surprised, and fall in love with a new interpretation of an age-old fairytale.

February 14th: There will be speed dating in the Jardín Botánico Nacional from 2 PM - 4 PM, with complimentary coffee provided by Combi Coffee. Casual attire; no sign ups necessary.

February 17th: There is free admission for all tours, all day, at Castillo Wulff. If you and your kids or friends are looking for a fun way to pass the time, come learn about the beautiful, historic castle overlooking the sea.

February 25th - March 1st: The Quinta Vergara Amphitheater is hosting the LXII Festival Internacional de la Canción de Viña. It is the oldest and largest music festival in Latin America; the 6-day festival is broadcasted on the radio, television, and online streaming platforms. This year’s headlines include Maná, Peso Pluma, Allison Mandel, Andrea Bocelli with special guest Matteo Bocelli, Maria Becerra, and more!

February 29th: The restaurant inside the Casino de Viña del Mar is a popular place for people to get proposed to, and on Leap Year, that popularity dramatically increases as women will propose to their significant others. No one knows when this tradition started, but it’s been going on for years; the restaurant even has a special menu for this day. Come grab a table and watch some potential impromptu proposals! Who cares if the rumors say most of them are staged!

#valpocalendar

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