#race max pro | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

disneyprincemuke · 5 months

Text

bother figures * fem!driver

being the designated baby sister of the grid by default is never as easy as you think it would be

pairings: alex albon x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver

warnings: ugh annoying men

notes: this is hardly funny but like i've had to take inspiration from my bother-less life rn so i'm like rly going through it rn LMFAO and it's almost 5am here but as far as i'm concerned, it is night time somewhere so teCHNICALLY i'm not late to an update!

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

in the almost empty room, she sits in the corner seat as she taps away on her phone a message to reply to her siblings' group chat. she had arrived early for the driver's briefing and decided to take solace in the corner with a cup of hot chocolate.

she was enjoying the peace and serenity with the soft chatter in the background as she tried to lock herself in for the race weekend. that was until she felt a presence looming behind her with an aura she couldn't possibly ignore.

she slowly lifts her head up with a mean glare. she turns her head and meets max's blue eyes and sly grin. "what'cha doin'?"

she puts her phone on her lap as a scowl replaces her dead expression. "what do you want?"

"what are you doing?"

"does it hurt you when you see me and like... not do anything to annoy me?"

"yes, actually. i like talking to you."

"i just wanted to talk to ciara."

"now you can talk to me."

"but i don't really feel like doing that."

"why not? i'm here in front of you and not behind a phone screen. where's ciara?" he looks around, then at her with a beaming smile. "oh, would you look at that? not here."

"because she isn't an f1 driver."

"still not here to talk to you and provide you the joys of interacting with somebody face to face."

"max."

"(y/n)."

"times like these i remember you've got a younger sister."

"what's that got to do with anything?"

"you've mastered the practice of being annoying growing up, obviously. you're such a pro at it."

"how can you say that?" max cries, hand on his chest to feign hurt over her words. "i'm not annoying. please take that back!"

"you realise you made me stop my conversation with my lovely sisters because you saw me sitting alone."

max reaches out and pinches her cheek, grinning when blood rushes to her cheeks. "you were just looking a little lonely. just wanted to make you feel a little accommodated to, that's all."

she stares at him, lips pressed together. "okay, that's actually pretty sweet. i kinda feel bad now.”

“and you should!” max frowns, folding his arms over his chest. he leans back into his seat and rests one leg over the other. “you’re mean, you know?”

“i’m an oldest sister.”

“i’m an oldest brother.”

“i have three younger siblings that made me wanna shave my head bald.”

“that’s kinda crazy.”

“i know,” she sighs tiredly. but she smiles slightly. “but it’s kinda nice. with oscar and logan taking over those responsibilities growing up, we never had a moment of boredom at home.”

“cute!” max smiles. “if i lived with you growing up, you might’ve actually run away for good.”

“i could run away for good now if you’d like.”

“seb wouldn’t like that.”

“you’d have to deal with it. i’ll leave a note on my team’s fridge with your name on it.”

“you need to put the reason underneath. if not, your team will think you’re just naming the most handsomest driver on the grid,” max shakes his head in disappointment. “don’t wanna give off the wrong idea, you know?”

“if you say ‘handsomest’, it doesn’t need a ‘most’ before it,” she says, lips parted slightly at the atrocious grammar. if there’s one thing she can’t stand, it’s most definitely the reigning world champion making simply grammar mistakes. “you should get more sleep.”

“i do! i slept like 10 hours last night!”

“somehow i find that hard to believe with the bags under your eyes.”

“what are you two bickering about?” a hand lands itself on the back of her chair. carlos stands next to her with one hand on his hip. “i could hear you from the hallways.”

“damn, you should really keep it down, max,” she chuckles, sending him a shocked look before she clasps her hands together and rests it on her stomach. “you’re too loud.”

“i’m sure he meant you. you like… swallowed a mic as a kid,” max scoffs. he looks up at carlos. “tell me she was louder than me.”

carlos sighs. “you were loud on the same level, i believe.”

"see? i told you."

"you're moving in with logan?" alex's jaw drops, the tiktok video no his phone left to play on repeat as the younger girl dropped the news that logan's moving into her apartment. "mate, what?"

she looks up at him with a confused stare. "what?"

"i thought you said you didn't want people talking about you like that?" alex asks, raising an eyebrow. "people will definitely talk if you move in with a man."

she presses her lips together. "you've got a point, i suppose. but logan's my best friend. we've been talking about moving in together forever! since i was 15!"

"i'm just looking out for you, kid. you should really think this through," alex sighs as he slumps his shoulders. of course, he knows just how close she and logan are on a day-to-day basis. but people tend to be quite ruthless with women and he just can't see this going any other way. "you know how people are."

she sighs, shaking her head. "i don't know. i just don't think people would pay attention to that aspect of my life. i still deserve to make decisions that wouldn't be at risk of scrutiny, right?"

she takes a step forward towards alex. she hadn't exactly thought of the public implications that this would cause her. all she knew was that they'd talked about this for years and were ecstatic when logan shyly brought up their conversation from years ago.

"that's the basic that we all hope for," alex frowns. "but you know how people are. you've seen how they treat you just being here. imagine the chaos."

"maybe i'll just keep it under wraps and hope for the best," she suggests with a small smile on her face. "that could work, right? i don't wanna have to put down something i spent forever talking about."

"if you can keep it under wraps, i applaud you," alex smiles, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "and i thought you've had enough of men - why are you still moving in with one?"

"to save money, really," she smiles. "and with kidnapper and stubby at home... i think living with another person is best."

"but doesn't logan like dogs more?"

"yeah, but kidnapper's taken a very weird liking to him. he doesn't wanna admit, but i know logan really likes kidnapper a lot."

"typical logan, really."

"you'd be surprised how much feelings that loser's holding in."

"oh?" alex smiles mischievously. "tell me more?"

"nice try," she scoffs with an eye roll. "i'm not spilling the beans about logan's love life. that's lore you've got to unlock the longer you race with him. just hope he's feeling friendly enough to share, yes?"

"so true," alex frowns. "but what if he's not friendly enough? means you are my only source for material to piss him off with. so, 'fess up!"

"can't betray my best friend like that, i fear," she frowns. though, her smile grows slowly. "but i can be bribed."

a scowl carves her face as she stares at the roll-in whiteboard with pictures held up against it with sesame street magnets. she sinks into the plastic chair she's given and tilts her head at the men gathered around her.

"and that's why i think you should get the same car as me," lando says simply, recapping the marker in his hands. he turns to her with a proud smile after his presentation.

her lips part. "so that we can matchy and..."

"and fuel rumours," lando repeats. "i'm involved in too little drama this year. it's always 'no wins' this, and 'no podiums' that... i want more."

"that's not a very good argument," she answers slowly, confusion contorting her face that almost makes alex laugh. "i said that i want an easy car, not a supercar. i've made that clear to almost everyone on the grid, yes?"

"yeah, but like," lando whines, throwing his head back as he stomps a foot into the ground. "seriously? you can't do this one thing for me? i'm asking you a favour!"

"to spend big money on a supercar i have to drive like it's made of glass!" she laughs dryly, hands thrown in the air in disbelief. she looks around at the men that have forcefully pulled her out of her garage and put her in this private room, in this plastic chair when she could've been taking a power nap. "is this what i'm here for? you lot are trying to convince me to finally purchase a car?"

"as per logan's request," alex shrugs, sipping on his juice box. "he said you've been putting it off all year. the season's about to end."

"and you listened to that nonce?" she cries, pinching the bridge of her nose. "you guys are absolutely unbelievable. i can't believe i'm wasting my time here!"

george, sitting next to her with a picture in hand, points at the whiteboard timidly. "i really put in a lot of thought about a car you should get," he says softly, looking slightly disappointed that she's caught on a lot faster than they predicted. "can i at least show it to you? i don't have to present."

"aw, george," she sighs, shaking her head. "it's not another supercar, is it?"

"it's not, i promise!" he perks up with a small smile on his face. he turns to lando with a small scowl. "only lando did this presentation with his best interests in mind. alex and i took the task seriously - just hear us out!"

she looks between george and alex, contemplating if the brit is telling the truth. instead of getting up like she had initially planned, she leans back into her seat. "fine. if it's anything like lando's, i'm leaving immediately. i don't care who has yet to present."

"but this ferrari looks so pretty," charles frowns, turning the picture in his hand to show it to her. "it's matte black and all. i thought we could match."

"that is also a supercar."

"he's presenting last, so i really don't care what he says," george mutters, shoving lando away from the whiteboard. he picks up a big bird magnet and pastes his picture between lando and max's proposal. "so, i think you should get this super cute toyota car."

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts

#alex albon x reader #max verstappen x reader #george russell x reader #lando norris x reader #fem!driver #female driver #f1 fem!driver #f1 female driver #vettel reincarnate #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke vr #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader

1K notes · View notes

ethrlst · 1 month

Text

reciprocated sentiment

⌞ sypnosis ⌝ - being acquainted with one out of the two current scuderia ferrari drivers have it’s pros and cons. the adrenaline of being able to support your childhood friend through each and every one of his races in person is one of the perks, and his teammate being the biggest only con.

⌞ wordcount & tags ⌝ - 1.2k+ / enemies to lovers! sexual tension! slight!angst fluff! google translated spanish!

⌞ a/n ⌝ - as promised, i would upload this today, perhaps.. just a few hours later than i said. this might be one of my favorite tropes to write so far (tension). let me know what you think and who should i write for next? happy reading! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

the sweaty bodies of guests dancing to whatever song the speakers were playing from the norris’ manor distracted you from your thoughts. it was nearing midnight, a few more clicks of the watch’s hand and it’ll be the next day. both charles and lando had done a great job at occupying your attention for a while, not until oscar came and asked lando to dj with him, leaving you and charles alone with the rest of the group. the red cup filled with your drink has slowly started tasting less and less like liquor and more watery due to the ice melting.

‘do you want another drink?’ charles had offered, noticing your sour face after taking a sip. you smiled and shook your head, you’d rather sip some watered down liquor, than seek the risk of possibly bumping into his God-forsaken annoying cunt of a teammate, as you’d describe carlos. charles laughs at that, aware of your little rivalry with his teammate and finding it amusing.

‘you seem distracted, love. anything bothering you?’ he wraps his arm around your waist and kisses your shoulders, genuinely worried for his childhood friend. ‘i’m quite alright, cha.’ to which you respond, feeling a bit guilty lying to your friend. he hums, rubbing your hands on his thighs as a sign of reassurance. you both stay in that exact position for a while, cuddling each other whilst laughing at how silly it was when max had an argument with daniel regarding who would win in an arm wrestling battle between the two just a few hours prior.

your peace was interrupted when one of charles’ friend invites him to take a few rounds of shots with the rest of the group, you took this opportunity to make your way back to your room and call it a night. nearing your destination, a hand pulls at your arm and drags you to a secluded hallway. it was quiet and the lights were dim, if it wasn’t from the feeling of his coarse yet soft hands, as well as the strong smell of whiskey paired with his jasmine infused perfume, you wouldn’t recognize him. ‘where do you think you’re going, miss desperate?’, he whispers to your face, chuckling when he notices your irritated expression.

‘get off of me! desperate? god, you’re delusional, carlos.’ you laugh at his face, spitting out ‘you still bitter about cha’s p1 today?’, he slams you against the wall. slowly, his face lower to yours and you feel his eyes’ intense stare. chest heaving faster, you physically feel him bury his face to your neck just before whispering, ‘you are as breathtaking as charles described you to be, pero mi dios, you get on my nerves.’ you’re quick to return his stare with a glare. ‘you’re just as infuriating as me, sainz. you’re no different. if anything, desperation suits your name better than it does mine.’ lifting your hand to his bearded jaw and gently caressing his cheek, you give the spaniard a faux sympathetic smile. ‘you’re pathetic, and you’ll never amount to charles no matter how hard you work, carlos. he’ll always be better than you and you know this.’ your smile growing as the pressure of his hand against your throat gradually grows, you’re getting into his head. he grips your hips harder when he feels the tears finally brimming his eyes, he’s letting you get into his head.

‘joder, no me digas eso por favor, cariño. devuélvelo, por favor.’ fuck, don’t say that to me please, sweetheart. take it back, please. his overwhelming emotions way past the ability to being suppressed; he begs as his tears finally fall from his eyes and strain his skin, he then lays his forehead against yours—- pleading with his big, sad, teary, but oh so beautiful brown eyes. you’ve always loved everything about the spaniard’s eyes: how big it gets when he gets the opportunity to talk about his job, how it resembles a certain earth colored crystal, how they remind you of puppies, how beautiful it shines when met with light and how you catch them staring right back at yours with an emotion you’d never really been able to put a finger on.

‘No quisiste decir eso, ¿verdad, mi amor? look me in the eyes and say it again.’ he pleads, his walls completely down, waiting to be stepped on. he waits—- he waits and waits for your reassurance all while he cries to your hands cupping his face. from an outsider’s perspective, it might seem as the two of you had a lovers quarrel, but you’re no lovers, barely even acquainted. the fact leaves a heavy feeling to your chest whenever you think about how other people— how other women get to touch him, get to fawn over his figure and charming looks, praise how good of a driver he was knowing their true intention with the man. for the longest time you called this strange feeling hate, often bringing up your dislike to the spaniard that it was known by almost everyone in the grid. so why does seeing him in tears and begging for your comfort, brings an immense feeling of joy instead of pleasure?

an epiphany strikes your senses, it dawns upon you that you wanted the crying man all to yourself, and you’d been denying it for years. so the moment you hear him beg once again, you kiss him. your lips moving in sync with his, gripping the hair just before his neck and then his jaw, you kiss him deep. carlos kisses you back just as hungrily, he pulls your hips nearer and tries to deepen the connection just before you pull away. dragging him to your room, you sit the spaniard down at the couch before straddling him. with his wide eyes and plump lips slightly agape, he waits for you to make a move, fearing he would mess it all up and lose you if he makes even the slightest mistake. combing his messy hair, taking your time to admire the man, you utter him a compliment, so handsome. he gives you a shy smile, feeling timid under your gaze. you bring your lips back to his, gentler this time, more sensual— scared you’d break the man if you act upon your greed and possessiveness.

relishing the feeling of his tongue against yours, you pull away to breathe, carlos chasing to have your mouth back to his, but you deny him. ‘cariño, please. let me kiss you’, carlos pleads, caressing your waist and deliberately grinding up to you, he whimpers, feeling needier by the second. kissing his temple, you go down to kiss each of his cheek and his eyes, his nose, his jaw and gradually making your way down to his neck and collarbones. sucking marks to his nape, carlos grips your hip and cradles your head to his hand as he moans to your ear. ‘mierda, quiero volver a sentirte, por favor mi amor.’ shit, i want to feel you again, please my love. grinding your hips back, you pull his hair and grip his throat before mouthing mine to his lips and finally giving him what he’s been begging you for.

────────────────────────

the sunlight peeking behind the blinds, you feel the breeze of air from the window gap, waking your spirit. you open your eyes only to realize that your head was on top of carlos’ chest, you look up to him, taking in his sleeping form. tracing shapes on his skin, enjoying the warmth and stillness of the moment, you feel a kiss to your temple followed by his arms bringing you impossibly closer to him. ‘goodmorning, mi amor.’ ‘goodmorning, carlito’, laughing when he starts attacking you with kisses. ‘no! no! no, teasing this early, please bonita.’ you humm in defeat, cuddling into each others warmth, no longer denying the overdue of reciprocated yearning between the both of you.

fin.

395 notes · View notes

vampirepilot · 2 months

Text

Nissan 180SX Type X (1997)

Game: Race Max Pro

#nissan #nissan 180sx #race max pro #racing games #games #cars

3 notes · View notes

auggieblogs · 8 months

Text

Mario Kart ⋆｡°✩

Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Author's note: Hi, hi, everyone. This one-shot has been sitting in my drafts for a while now but I FINALLY edited it. So, yayahwgsgsjshs. Also whilst talking about the reader's gaming skills, I might have projected a little too much, yeah sorry about that.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, a determined look on your face as you tightly gripped your controller. The colourful world of Mario Kart played out on the TV screen in front of you, and you were absolutely certain that this time, victory would be yours. But, there was a tiny problem - you were absolutely, unequivocally, and hilariously terrible at video games. It was almost impressive how bad you were. You, however, were in complete denial about your lack of skills. Instead, you firmly believed that the reason you were losing was because your boyfriend was cheating.

"You're cheating," you accused, narrowing your eyes at him.

Max chuckled, his eyes fixed on the game. "I'm not, love. I've just had more practice."

(You crossed your arms, looking absolutely adorable in your pouty frustration. Max couldn't help but smile and resist the urge to pat your head like a mischievous kitten).

But you weren't having it. You knew the reason you were losing couldn't possibly be your own lack of gaming prowess. So, you hatched a plan. With determination in your eyes, you scooted closer to Max on the couch, your fingers itching to snatch the controller from his skilled hands. As you moved closer on the couch, leaning towards Max to snatch his controller, he decided to take matters into his own hands. In one swift move, he pulled you onto his lap, your surprised squeak filling the room. He placed his hand above yours, which was still firmly on the controller, and looked into your eyes.

"Schat," he said, his voice warm and tender, "I'll teach you how to play this. You'll be beating my ass in no time."

You were still pouty and looking absolutely adorable, but you nodded, realizing that maybe, just maybe, Max could help you improve your gaming skills. "I know what to do, Max," you protested weakly.

"Shh," Max hushed you with a gentle smile, and your heart melted. You were sitting in his lap, and he was going to teach you how to be a pro at Mario Kart – what more could you ask for?

Over the next few races, Max patiently guided you, explaining the mechanics, tricks, and shortcuts. You listened attentively, your determination to win gradually replacing your frustration. Finally, after a few races, the moment of truth arrived, and you BEAT MAX. Your victory was met with an impromptu dance and an exaggerated "L" sign.

"You did it, my little champion!" Max cheered, genuinely proud of your accomplishment.

With a joyous grin, you returned to Max's lap, burying your face in his neck. You showered him with hugs and kisses, peppering his cheek with affectionate smooches. Max's heart melted at the sight of your overflowing love and affection.

"Oh, and by the way," Max said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "you owe me ice cream for losing."

You pulled back, your eyes wide with mock surprise. "Ice cream? Well, I suppose I can't argue with that. My baby deserves a treat."

Max chuckled, leaning in to steal a sweet kiss from your lips. "That's my girl."

#formula 1 #max verstappen #red bull racing #f1 #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen x y/n #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #mario kart

651 notes · View notes

ef-1 · 6 months

Text

Transcribed Excerpts from Christian Horner's hour long Interview that are batshit insane and so narratively dense you'd think they're lifted wholesale from a book, featuring:

The most in depth, behind the scenes view of what transpired in 2018

Fords CEO getting in touch with Dax to gush about how much he likes Daniel

Christian feeling vindictive towards Daniel

Christian comparing Sebastian and Max

Christian comparing Daniel to Roger Federer

How Christian had to mitigate Helmut's shitshow and personally asking Dietrich to give Daniel everything he wanted

Hilarious rapid fire in the end and his perspective on the failure of Ferrari

●●● <- indicates a time skip

Dax: In tennis you see guys when they lose steam, they break apart.

Christian Horner : you see that with checo.

●●●

[Dax mentions that in Christian's position, a lot of people would not have invited Daniel back into the family. "Because Daniel turned his back on the family." ]

Christian: Daniel's a great guy. Very badly advised in his early career. Everybody fucks up at some point. I think he recognizes that he made a mistake. He didn't have good advice around him at the point he left us. Having spent time outside the family he realized what he had here was actually good. It was horrible to see that it got worse and worse after us. It was actually this time last year in Mexico where I sat down with him in my hotel room, I told him you need a complete reset- take a year out. Come back to us.

Dax: He's such a win for you guys.

Christian: Totally.

Dax: you sent Daniel to Jim Farley [ CEO of Ford] and I know Jim Farley and he got in touch with me and told me "That Daniel Ricciardo guy is the greatest!" I'm like to him: he's the dream, send him anywhere.

●●●

Christian: He's [Daniel] a confidence driver, when he's got his mojo, he one of the fastest guys on the grid.

Dax: he's lethal.

Christian: yep.

Dax: he's got that magic thing that people either have or don't have in my opinion which is: there are winners and there are not winners

[you're not ready for this lol]

Christian: He came to us, he's one of our juniors, I remember going to watch him in formula 3, he really stood out. Very smooth. Just great. Naturally. Like a Roger Federer kind of style behind the wheel, very very classic. Light touch. Great, great skill. And then he came through the system [RB program] when we had Sebastian Vettel, 4 time world champion- Mark Webber retired. We chose Daniel as the Junior, with no expectation on him and he started beating Vettels ass. he won 3 races in 2014 when we had FAR from the best engine, Sebastian never won a race that year.

Dax: Even his time at Mclaren, it sucked for him but he's the only one who won a race.

Christian: He IS the only one who won a race.

Dax: and for a long time now.

Christian: and Renault he had great performances. [...] he's got to feel the love. He's got to feel comfortable in the environment that he's in. Some of his races for us were- absolutely outstanding.

●●●

[Christian about the 2018 negotiations]

Christian: I asked Dietrich to show Daniel love. Helmut was obviously pro Max, I said if you could just balance things out, let him [Daniel] know you want him. Dietrich said "no problem, I'll talk to him" so he took Daniel upstairs after the race in Austria to talk to him, and they were there for well over an hour.

Dax: To the point you were nervous?

Christian: I thought SHIT! But they reappear, and they're both smiling, I tell him: "Dietrich, how did it go?" He says,"No problem, don't worry about it. It's not even a question [that daniel would leave]"

Christian: Then we went to Germany, and his engine blew up. His engine kept letting him down, letting him down, letting him down. But from there, we went to Hungary, and we got his paperwork [Daniel's contract] for a TWO year deal all sorted out. Daniel's manager came to me and said 'listen Daniel is nervous about the engine' because we were going to switch to Honda so his manager said: 'he'll do ONE year' I thought wow. That's not really what we talked about, because in 6 months we'll be having the same conversation. So I remember I went back to Dietrich, and I said, "it's about relationships. It's NOT about contracts. If he wants a one year contract, give him a one year contract," so at this point: he's got everything he wants. Also, at that point, Daniel was doing a test for us after the Hungarian race, I thought Daniel will sign the paperwork on Monday, suddenly Monday goes and he's in the car on Tuesday. I'm starting to smell something because this is an enormous deal, you'd have thought he'd be in a rush to sign this contract. And he didn't sign the contract before he got in the car in the morning and I thought he'd sign by lunchtime but it didn't happen. He had to get out of the car and go straight to the airport because he's flying from here to LA and I thought he'll call me. I'm feeling something at this point.

Dax: you know you're about to be broken up with.

Christian: yeah.

Dax: if your girlfriend didn't show up to lunch then dinner-

Christian: exactly. So- he [daniel] rings me, I was in the car with Geri, he tells me "I just got off the plane, I arrived in LA, and I've been thinking on the flight, all the way here- I'm not going to sign the contract. I'm going to take another contract. [...] he tells me Renault? The engine that let him down for 2 years? I was convinced, I was CONVINCED- because Daniel has got a sense of humour- I thought- he's taking the piss. I thought come on. I told him: come on. There is no way. You're not going to Renault, stop fucking about, just sign the contract. After 10 minutes he finally persuaded me that he was going to Renault. It was disappointing.

Dax: I wanna applaude you, because a lot of people who go through that experience think: fuck you.

Christian: there was an element of that. I thought: go and suck on a lemon for a bit. But actually during the pandemic, I remember he called me and said "Christian I hate to say this to you but you were right"

•••

Christian thinks Max > Vettel

Christian about Alex and Pierre being teammates with Max: he broke them

[Very confused in this part because Christian like? Says the best thing for Checo to perform is to forget about Max, stop trying to compete with him, stop looking at his data? Girl you are NOT selling it rn]

•••

When Christian is asked to analyse Red Bull's champions, he thinks Sebastian and Max are diametrically opposed . Sebastian is your stereotypical German, he would be at the track until 11 to analyse data. Max is not interested in all the detail [devasting news for all the bitches who spent years trying to dunk on Daniel by calling him not technical, Christian seems to think that Daniel and Max share a natural ability that doesn't rely on data.] He [Max] Gives you just what he needs to go faster. Max hates testing, has no interest in it.

●●●

Christian confirms he has a lucky toilet.

●●●

Christian says in 2014-18 Red Bull came this 🤏 close to selling to Audi.

●●●

Christian: Drive to Survive is the Kardashians on wheel

●●●

Christian: You get characters like Gunther Steiner. How scary is he. He used to work for us, I had to be the one to fire him.

●●●

Christian on why he believes Ferrari have failed over the last 15 years: Ferrari is a national institution instead of a Team. It needs to become a racing team again. Too many people have input at the top.

#it like. reads like fanfic #this team is so fucked up none of this can be healthy #what makes him tick #its all very insane. Machiavellian!Christian... be very afraid.#i wish Christian didnt speak about seb like that. just be more respectful. he clearly has his favourites #f1 #daniel ricciardo #Christian horner #brazilian gp 2023

477 notes · View notes

lovelytsunoda · 23 days

Text

warzone // zhou guanyu (instagram au)

summary: zhou's girlfriend is a badass. or, in which she's everything, and he's just ken.

pairing: zhou guanyu x pro boxer! reader

author's note: i've been boxing recreationally for a total of 2 months and lemme tell you guys im having so much fun with it-

(any songs used are from my coach’s very real workout rock playlist)

If you a bad bitch, show me what you're made of Show me what you're made of Making daddy proud now I think you're high risk, wanna entertain it Bitch I'm like a cyclone Entering the war zone

boxeryn

liked by zhouguanyu, michellerodriguez and 6,901 others

boxeryn if you a bad bitch show me what you're made of <3

see all comments

user MOTHER

user step on me

user i'd let her punch me, and then thank her tbh

pierregasly zhouguanyu what are you doing here??

-> user he could say the same about you baguette man. michelle rodriguez is also here. icons recognize other icons

yourbestie girl is your pr team going to approve of the caption?

-> boxeryn i'll change it when they tell me to and not before

boxeryn added to her story

boxeryn and zhouguanyu added to their stories!

boxeryn and zhouguanyu just posted! (i know none of these pictures look like him but im limited to what pinterest has)

liked by aussiegrit, yourbestie and 3,876 others

boxeryn cutest couple at the boxing gym (he's working on learning the six punches, but his handwrap skills are not good)

see all comments

user lmao she has mark webber too!

-> boxeryn mark is an awesome life coach!

yourboxingcoach we’ll make a boxer out of him yet!

-> zhouguanyu I’ll stick to my fast cars thanks

-> boxeryn yes we do not want to mess up his gorgeous face!

user yn can you punch max out so someone else can win a race (asking for a ferrari loving friend)

user god I can’t decide who in this relationship I want to be more

zhouguanyu love you baby ❤️

-> boxeryn love you too my sweet boy ❤️

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @httpiastri @clemswrld @cartierre @lorarri @sidcrosbyspuck @thatsdemko

#zhou guanyu x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 smau #ig aus #zhou guanyu x you #zhou guanyu smau #Spotify

260 notes · View notes

thearchercore · 1 month

Note

au: okay But imagine the f1 fandom trying to decode why max is going to the store all the time and why there's an ice cream store owner with no ties to the team in the rbr garage? i think people would go insane

oh absolutely, i think especially f1twt would go wild trying to investigate

like at first you have 1 or 2 pics of max at the store, nothing sus. rbr is having an event in milan, makes sense.

then there's a video of him doing a pr challenge with checo and he mentions how much he loves ice cream and checo goes "i thought you didnt like ice cream-" and max immediately shuts him down "no, i've always loved ice cream." but no one picks up anything outside of the fact that max acts like a loser as usual.

but THEN - then max is seen chatting with a guy in a ferrari cap in the rbr garage and obviously even the local fans pick up on it because why did they even allow a ferrari fan in the rbr garage???

then he gets that one moment of fame when they cut to him during the race and the commentator jokes "and that's uhh... ice cream shop owner, charles leclerc. not sure why he's there. i just have this in my notes."

and then max is seen at that ice cream shop, again - and some ferrari fan goes on twitter and is like "yeah, that's charles! i live close to his store, he's a really nice guy, he has a ferrari flag outside" and then max gets roasted online for hanging out at a pro-ferrari ice cream place and people are like why the fuck was that guy at the rbr garage???

until someone suggests after 3 more verstappenjet updates of him landing in milan that max may just be dating that said shop owner and then that gets spread out of proportion because people outside of the fandom start joining in bc what do you mean an f1 driver is dating an ice cream shop owner what au is this????

#lestappen #ice cream shop au

157 notes · View notes

leclsrc · 1 year

Text

blurred lines ✴︎ cl16

genre: pwp, like really just pwp, fem!reader who is also max’s best friend (I needed a forbidden element my apologies), canon compliant

word count: 2.5k

Things with Charles finally come to a head. In a cramped room. In the Red Bull garage. Of all places, really.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because… penetrative sex, public sex, dirty talk (degradation & praise), crying, oral (m receiving), cum eating, minor choking, rough sex, size kink and descriptions of size lol

SHE IS BACK... hope you like it everyone (again)

Charles is better than this.

He’s better than letting this happen, than leaning against the wall, skin hot and flustered from something other than the humid Singapore air. He should be stopping you, because the part of his brain that isn’t totally clouded over is aware of the amount of people who could open the door, jiggle the lock at any moment and what the hell is going to happen then? There’s an entire garage outside, a garage not even his, preparing for a race and it’s extremely likely that someone’s going to need to piss in the next several minutes.

He’s calculated the odds, like a mathematician, like the way he does when he races, reviewing all possible methods to somehow get the both of you scot-free. But this isn’t a circuit, it’s a bathroom; this isn’t a race, it’s your hands at the button of his jeans. He’s better than this, than being so compromised in public spaces with—with anybody. Especially you.

You: Max Verstappen’s best friend, a minx and total menace in your own right, but also Max’s. Your otherwise quiet and composed nature always goes on pause when it comes to Charles—your history’s always been complicated. From both your adolescents you’d always been on the edge of flirty with him, but Max has never failed to let Charles know the minimal amount of hesitation he’d have in the off chance he has to punch Charles in the face for sleeping with you.

So. Well. This isn’t sleeping with you, Charles tries to reason with himself. It’s waiting until the garage was empty of Max and Horner and every last strategist for a pre-race briefing. It’s dipping down to initiate a kiss first, to grab a handful of ass from where the hem of your embarrassingly short skirt sits. It’s temptation. But there’s no bed. There’s no undressing. This is not sleeping with you. This is not sleeping with Max’s best friend.

But it’s still wrong, he can still close his eyes and realize this, it’s still wrong. And still he’s letting you back him up against the wall, your voice light and giggly when it breaks the thick silence. Hearing it lets him hear the noise outside again, the entire Red Bull horde having walked back in a few minutes after your rendezvous started. His voice is throaty when he says, “What the hell are you doing,” and it tapers off when you unbutton his polo.

“Just having some fun,” you laugh lightly. You move so gracefully, but now you’re rushed, like you’re never going to have this chance again. Your dress strap is thin and slips off your shoulder. “Don’t you want t’have fun?”

It’s not fun. It’s a move that’s clinically insane and that could cost Charles his dignity at the hands of Max Verstappen. It’s insane because it’s taken this long for it to happen, for you two to finally go past stolen glances and drunk kisses that go unspoken the morning after. It’s also insane because it had to happen here? In a restroom? In a Red Bull garage? But still he heaves a shaky, shaky sigh, weighing the pros and cons on a scale so totally unfair—and then he bends down to kiss you again, growling in the process.

He shudders when you lick into his mouth, feels you smile like the menace you are, and his hand, which had been resting idly by his side, comes to cup your jaw. His thumb sneaks onto the other side of your face so he’s almost choking you, and the power trip gives him a thrill. This is oh, so fucking insane. It’s so insane. You murmur a have fun with me, Charles, rubbing a hand against the hard-on in his denim jeans, and yes.

“Ah,” he heaves out, his voice thin. “Ah, putain. They’re—do you even realize who could—”

You gasp in faux surprise, looking up at him, blinking slowly, lips formed into a pout. He wants his cock in between them. “Who could what, Charles?” He tries to muster composure, a semblance of composure he possessed when you pulled him in here and he was still trying to halt the both of you. But, by his own accord, he’s beginning to realize he doesn’t want you to stop. He watches, his eyes lidded and dark, as you sink to your knees, a dopey smile on your face.

You lean forward, press your half-open lips to his hard-on, mouthing at his cock through the thick material. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, trying not to buck up into your face. For leverage, a hand comes and tangles in your hair, pulls you back roughly and you giggle at the force of it, meeting Charles’ eyes again. “Hmm?”

“I should—we should really—you should—” He stutters his way through an incomplete sentence, his lack of composure getting the best of him and causing him to curse and mumble incoherently.

“I should,” you agree, cutting his already half-assed spiel off. You pull his zipper down, the sound almost damning. “I should get you off. You deserve it, Charles. It’s been a while.”

He will try to say something, because he knows none of this is safe for either of you, that Max will not beat you up if he sees you both like this, or the media outburst that might come of this, or the fact that even a random Red Bull engineer could knock and neither of you would have a place to hide. He’ll say something, Charles is composed that way; but right now, all he wants is to fuck your pretty little throat until it’s spent.

You tug his cock out, pretty and thick, heavy in your hand when you stroke over it. Already there’s precum smeared messily all over your fingers, and you can’t help but moan at the depravity of it. Your eyes flit upward again, just so you know he’s watching when you swirl your tongue around his tip, letting spit get everywhere.

His mind is gone—gone like the thoughts, the ideas of the people outside, of being caught. Your mouth feels too good around him, taking him all the way, choking a little, like you know it gets him off when you do. You go all the way, until he’s balls-deep in your throat, the tip of your nose against his pelvis. Your eyes look smug even when they’re tearing up from how much the stretch of your lips burn, how deep he is in your throat.

You lean upwards imperceptibly, but he gets the message, fists your hair again and rattles out a hesitant Are you sure? The way you swallow around his cock is enough of an answer for him to nod once, still lost in how good your mouth feels, and then he’s fucking into it.

He goes slowly first, because there’s still a layer of concern, and uses this as a brief window to catch his breath. But it foils immediately, because he’s building a steady pace now, and the sound of his dick hitting the back of your throat is incentive enough for him to keep going. Every time he bottoms out you gag, spit around his dick growing, until it’s slippery and debauched and messy. He bottoms out hard once, twice, and then pushes you off, his cock swelling with the need to release. You mouth against the slip of your spit and his precum, the scent of his dick heady, and move downwards to suck his balls into your mouth.

Jesus, you’re filthy. He pants, his grip knotted so tight in your hair it sends a dull ache all throughout, his hips lifting off the wall from the pleasure of it. His other hand comes up to palm his face; he finds it’s the only other thing he can grip to try and paw at the last bits of his sanity. You return to his cock, and then you swallow around him, moaning, the vibrations coming like hymns, like mantras to let go, for you, on you, all over you.

“You like this?” He grits out. His accent is so much heavier when he’s barely thinking.

You don’t need to nod. He knows you do. So he keeps going, like this is his leverage, his grip, his vice. “You do. You like when I fuck this pretty mouth. You like when I’m shutting you up. Do not look away from me. Shit.”

He pulls you back and your scalp stings, but this way he gets a full view of your flushed face, tear streaks half dry and mouth shiny with spit. He jerks himself off just twice before he’s spurting his release all over your lips and cheek. You lick it all off because of course you do, your middle finger collecting the splashes on your face so you can suck them off yourself.

“Putain,” he says. “What a fucking…” He trails off, language obsolete. You emerge, on your feet now, and dazedly pull the strap of your dress back up.

“Aren’t you gonna fuck me?” He hears you say, and even the idea gets his cock stirring again, even after he fucked it into your throat within an inch of its life. Your hand wraps around it again, pumping once, and he’s hard. You giggle.

“I—fuck. Maybe we can focus first on…” He tries to grasp at his objectives. “On escaping.”

“Escaping?” You pout, feigning disappointment. You let go of his cock and cross your arms, and suddenly your tits are visible, pressing against him through the thin material of your dress. “But Charles… I wanna get fucked.”

“Really?” He tests. He knows he’s only getting himself in hot water here, by asking you to elaborate. But you do it so well.

You nod sympathetically. Despite himself, he finds his lips latched onto your neck, inhaling you in, sucking a faint bruise. He can’t get enough of you. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”

“I do,” he says, it’s almost a whine with how desperate he sounds. “You’re gonna have to be good, be quiet, because if we get caught—”

“—it’s over, okay, I get it,” you drone. “You’re so boring.”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his hands hot and heavy as he feels his way up the bottom of your dress. He doesn’t do much work—it’s cut out for him already—but he walks you to the opposite wall, to the vacant spot just beside the door.

You whimper for more, already losing grip on the confidence you’d had just minutes ago. He’s growing impatient, antsy, spinning you around and shoving you up against the wall. Your cheek smushes against the cool concrete and you shiver when he tugs your panties down, rubs his cock over your pussy lips. He slides back and forth and you let out an ah ah ah.

He pauses. His breath is damp against your ear. You have no time for pausing. You don’t want him to pause. Your movement is quick and sly, your ass coming backwards to rub against him, as if you’re telling him to do it, now, quickly, fuck me.

“Patience,” he says, and then he’s budging himself in. Your years of flirting, of kissing, of teasing, could never have prepared you for how big he is; he felt big in your mouth, and even bigger now, stretching you out like it’s a chore. He’s barely in before you begin to feel an onslaught of pressure, like a freight train, and your eyes shut from the dull burn, the overwhelming pleasure.

You both moan at the same time, a long, quiet fuck leaving your mouths. He’s big, filling you up and knocking you dizzy. Okay, you hear in the fog. Okay, ange. Okay?

You nod so he knows you are, pushing back to feel the burn. He shudders and you heave out a moan, so overwhelmed with his size it’s driving you crazy. “Deeper,” you say with a tremor in your voice. Your mind is so cloudy his dialogue comes late. Yes, you hear. Yeah, I know.

“P—fuck, please,” you beg, “I want all of it, Charles. Want you t’fuck me full of your cum.”

“Can’t do that,” he says, but he wants to—he knows as well as you.

“Mmmmf,” you say. “But I want you to.” And then he’s sheathed fully in you, pulling out and then slamming back in so you can really feel him. And you feel him, everywhere, filling you up and drawing you out, stretching you so hard it burns. You feel his lips against your neck, his five o’clock shadow rubbing the skin raw. One hand is on your ass, guiding you, the other plays with your necklace, also guiding you.

He fucks hard and slow, deep dirty grinds that have you seeing stars. But you don’t have time for the slow—there’s a host of Red Bull engineers outside who probably wouldn’t want to see this, or have to investigate the locked restroom. “Faster, Charles,” you say, and then, “please.”

He does go faster, until the slapping of your skin is loud, until your moans are knocked out of you involuntarily, breathy and windy and eventually muffled by Charles’ palm. He finds himself dwindling into that—that state of limbo where he’s grappling for release, for control. He presses his lips right by your ear.

“Like this?” And you nod, yes. Yes, you want to say, but it’s stuck in your throat. “Love the way this pussy feels around my dick. So tight,” he continues. “So fucking tight.”

“For you,” you mumble, and your voice cracks from how intense he pounds into you. “All for you, Charles.”

“I know.” He goes faster, “This pretty cunt’s all mine. And it’s all wet, so easy for me to stretch this hole out. Yeah?”

You shut your eyes. The hand over your mouth comes to press against your neck and you squeeze around him. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” you muster. “Yes, fuck yes.”

“You like being railed like a whore in some garage”—he grunts, losing resolve—“public fucking restroom that’s not even mine?”

You nod. It’s true. You do. “Please, please I want to cum,” you plead. He’s staving you off an orgasm, slowing down and speeding up exactly when you don’t need him to. You cant your hips back but he’s fucking into you too fast it’s impossible. He’s set the pace, you’ve realized, you just need to submit.

“Feels so good, ange, fuck,” he says, teeth gritted. He fucks you harder, faster, grip tighter, because he’s getting closer. You can hear it and feel it, the sensation of his dick getting wetter, more of your slick getting on it from how he’s deprived you of release since he got you up against the wall.

You inhale and push back. “Gimme,” you try, and your words are lost on you. “Gimme more.”

“You want this cock?”

“Yea,” you say, “deeper, more of it, all of it, make it hurt.”

He buries his face fully into the side of your neck, inhaling as he goes, bottoming fully into you once, twice, thrice, and then your whines taper off into silence. You spasm around him, your release hot and wet and slippery inside, the feeling too much for Charles. He thrusts again and asks, stupidly—Where, ange, where?

The answer is as evident as he is clueless, and, in the throes of your orgasm, legs shaking in between Charles’, you pull him close and slur, “Inside, Charles, fill me up.”

Fuck, you hear him say, weighing his options for only a second, then. “Yeah, baby, okay. Ah, putain—fuck—” he snaps then, like an elastic band, and with a shiver that vibrates through him and you, he pumps you full of his release, warm around your walls.

You both pause, quiet when he pulls out. A shudder of arousal goes through you (and no doubt him) when you feel his cum dribble out of your cunt, trickling through the curve of your inner thigh. You laugh, sweaty, fixing your panties first then your dress. Charles is first to wipe you clean—thank fuck we’re in a bathroom, no? he asks, and then you tie your hair up to avoid the appearance of rough sex in a public restroom.

There’s a brief few moments of peace before you both crash back to reality, and the door that dooms you both. You stare at each other, a faint giggle escaping your lips.

“I could exit first, then give you the green light when nobody’s looking,” you offer.

“I don’t want to gamble on time,” he reasons. “I don’t know when they’re going to need me.”

You debate back and forth before you finally decide the only plausible solution is to face the music and hope nobody notices the two of you sneaking out. As a foolproof safety net, you come up with a fib about a broken zipper and Charles’ inexplicable handyman seamstress skills.

You place a hand on the knob and turn to him. “Fuck.” You pause. “Ready?”

“More than ready. And next time this happens,” he says, sending your face into warmth at the proposition of next time, “can we maybe do it somewhere else?”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. Come on, let’s hurry. All we have to do is make sure that the one person who doesn’t see us is—”

“—Maaaax here!” The door shakes with the force of three loud knocks. Your face pales and you turn to find that, naturally, Charles’ looks even more panicked. “I can hear you, man,” Max hollers, addressing you. “I gotta piss so bad, open the fuckin’ door.”

Well.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff #f1 x reader

2K notes · View notes