scheduledmakeouts

[scheduledmakeouts]

man i really miss seeing logan on the grid

[scheduledmakeouts]

Hi! I just wanted to update since I’ve seen a lot of discussion about AI ‘writers’. I’d like to say, they aren’t true writers. Writing comes from a place of inspiration, care, and love. AI can’t do any of that. And some might say that if you give it inspiration, or prompts or anything, then it is true writing. It is not. Writing it watching your shitty drarry fanfics evolve into amazing references and quotes. It’s working since fourth grade, it’s learning the differences in ‘there’, ‘their’ ‘they’re’ and having to learn where to put commas. AI is lifeless, it’s flat, it’s not even good. People who use things like chatGPT, are not writers.

[scheduledmakeouts]

Hi! I loved your recent fic about Logan being a mentor! I was just a bit confused about the ending; I get having it happen over the phone because pretty much the whole story that’s how they interacted but I figured Logan would have been there in person to see him win and am confused why he wasn’t. Sorry if this comes off rude I’m just curious😅

I didn’t want him there because I personally went in to this thinking of the ending. Logan never wanted his ‘failed’ career to overshadow Alex’s. It’s just the boundaries Logan himself has set. And I was going to include a scene of Logan trying to get a last minute plan ticket there to surprise him but it just didn’t make it in.

Also it wasn’t rude at all! I’m totally open to questions like this for example if people who ask aren’t rude. (Of course you weren’t though!)

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do you use ai to help with your fics ?

Lmao no I’m very against ai. If there’s mistakes in it it’s because I don’t read over it. But no I don’t use ai and I hope people don’t think that

[scheduledmakeouts]

'cause with this money comes problems

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66590221

December 16th

Logan almost doesn’t walk in.

He stands outside the entrance for nearly five minutes, shoes scuffing the stone, watching the waitstaff move behind gold-trimmed windows like actors in a quiet play. Everything here feels too expensive, too deliberate. Like it was never meant to be touched by someone like him.

But the app said 7PM sharp, and there was no second message. No cancellation. No joke reveal.

So he goes in.

The maître d’ greets him by name, says, “Your guests are already seated,” and that’s when the nerves hit.

Guests?

Plural?

But he follows anyway, chest tight, trying not to sweat through his one decent shirt.

Then he sees them.

They’re impossible to miss — not just because they’re beautiful in a way Logan has only ever seen in magazines, but because the space around them seems to warp. Like they bend the room inward.

Max Verstappen is sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, scanning the restaurant like he doesn’t trust it. Charles Leclerc is leaned slightly forward, scrolling on his phone, his watch catching the low light. They look up at the same time.

Oh. Oh.

It is them.

World champions. Public obsessions. Not just “C&M.” Not just a couple on some secretive sugar dating app.

They’re them.

Charles stands, offering a hand. “Logan?”

His voice is calm. Warm. Like he’s used to handling skittish things — kittens, maybe. Wild birds.

Logan hesitates before nodding. “Hi.”

Charles gestures to the empty seat across from them. “We’re glad you came.”

Logan sits stiffly. He’s not sure if he’s more embarrassed that he didn’t recognize them by their initials… or more overwhelmed that they didn’t seem to expect him to.

Max eyes him in silence. “You knew who we were?”

“I… now I do.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “But you didn’t when we messaged you?”

“No,” Logan says honestly. “I didn’t look. I didn’t think anyone like you would message me.”

Charles’s expression softens — just a fraction.

“We liked your profile,” he says. “You didn’t sound like someone trying to sell something.”

“That’s because I didn’t think anyone would buy.”

'cause with this money comes problems by scheduledmakeouts on ao3

[scheduledmakeouts]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66513172

Scheduledmakeouts on ao3

He was rounding the edge of the paddock when he heard footsteps approaching from the opposite direction—quick, unhurried. He didn’t look up at first, assuming it was another crew member or one of the logistics guys heading out for the night.

But the footsteps slowed. Then stopped.

“Hey,” said a voice he didn’t expect.

Logan glanced up.

Max Verstappen stood a few feet away, Red Bull polo slightly wrinkled, sunglasses pushed up onto his head, not a drop of sweat on him. He looked—calm. Unbothered. Like winning had been just another box to tick off.

Which, Logan supposed, it had.

Max glanced at him, then down at the helmet still under his arm. “Tough race?”

Logan’s mouth twitched. A tired smile, nothing sharp. “Not for you.”

Max actually laughed, a short, amused sound. “No, I guess not.”

The silence stretched out between them like a taut string. Logan’s grip tightened around the chin strap of his helmet.

He was sure Max would leave then. Say something polite and move on. That’s what most of them did—smile, nod, walk away. He was used to that by now.

But Max lingered.

He tilted his head, eyes flicking briefly toward the path behind Logan. “You doing anything tonight?”

Logan blinked. “What?”

[scheduledmakeouts]

hey! how are u able to write so much so quickly!!! you've posted so many fics lately I can barely keep up!!!

Hi!! I’ve had a ton written since last year, I’m just clearing out my drafts right now 🩷

[scheduledmakeouts]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66262498

false start by scheduledmakeouts on ao3

Lando doesn’t want to leave him alone with that.

His phone buzzes beside him. One sharp vibration against the floorboards. He grabs it without thinking, screen still dim.

[Oscar 🦘]

where r u?

you disappeared after the paddock

are u with logan?

Lando hesitates.

Another buzz comes before he can answer.

[Oscar 🦘]

his scent’s everywhere

lando

is it you?

Lando stares.

He should text back. He should say something—anything—but the words knot up in his chest. He looks over his shoulder toward Logan again, curled up against the couch cushions, finally looking like he might sleep without trembling.

[scheduledmakeouts]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66289390

And then, on Lap 22, the chance comes.

The car in front hesitates into the hairpin.

Logan doesn’t.

He dives up the inside, clean and tight. No lock-up, no drama. Textbook.

He doesn’t say anything on the radio. Just bites down a grin inside his helmet.

“Logan, great move. You’re P10.”

He freezes.

“What?”

“You’re P10. You’re in the points.”

His heart slams into his ribs. His whole body tenses.

Points. In his first Formula One race.

But it’s not over.

There’s a McLaren two seconds up the road. P9.

He could stay where he is. Bring it home safe. No one would blame him.

But he doesn’t even hesitate.

He starts closing the gap.

The tires are fading. Everyone’s managing pace. But Logan has fuel to burn and nothing to lose.

Lap 49. Two laps to go.

He’s within DRS.

The flap opens.

He doesn’t brake later. He brakes smarter, shifts the balance mid-corner, and sneaks up the inside in Turn 11—risky, borderline reckless.

But it sticks.

He’s through.

“Okay, Logan. P9. That’s P9.”

He can hear the grin in his engineer’s voice.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares at the road, heart thundering.

Then, breathless: “Holy shit.”

“Yep. Holy shit.”

[scheduledmakeouts]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66249406

They speak only a few more times after that.

Once, in the early fall, Logan is walking home from school alone, dragging his feet through the leaves. He hears the low rumble of a car behind him and steps aside out of habit. The car slows. The window rolls down.

“Hey,” Carlos says.

He looks older now. There’s stubble along his jaw and a tiredness in his eyes. His car is small and sporty, something Logan doesn’t recognize but instinctively thinks is cool. Carlos leans across the passenger seat.

“Want a ride? You live just around the corner, right?”

Logan blinks. “Uh—yeah. Sure.”

He climbs in, careful not to dirty the seats.

The car smells like leather and something slightly metallic. Carlos drives with one hand on the wheel, his elbow resting lazily on the window.

“Still in school?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Logan replies. “Second year of ESO.” He pauses. “You’re driving now.”

Carlos chuckles. “Legally, too.”

“Where were you?”

“France. Race weekend.”

“Did you win?”

“Podium.” He smiles, glancing over at Logan. “Still thinking about trying karting?”

Logan flushes. “I never said I was.”

“You looked like you were thinking about it. Back then.”

Carlos pulls up in front of Logan’s house and shifts into neutral. He doesn’t turn the engine off.

“I’m probably not gonna be around much,” Carlos says, scratching the back of his neck. “Stuff’s happening fast. I might be testing in Formula One soon.”

Logan’s eyes widen. “That’s… really cool.”

“Yeah,” Carlos says, almost to himself. Then he looks at Logan again, more closely. “You’ve grown.”

Logan feels the words settle over him like a blanket.

Carlos reaches over suddenly, unzips the glove box, and pulls out a pair of black sunglasses. “Here.”

Logan blinks. “What?”

“Just take them. They’re too small for my head.”

They’re definitely not. But Logan takes them anyway, fingers brushing Carlos’s briefly.

“Thanks,” he says.

Carlos winks. “Don’t lose them.”

He pulls away, tires humming softly on the road, and Logan stands there for a while, holding the sunglasses and trying to memorize the sound of the engine as it fades into the distance.

every mile - scheduledmakeouts on ao3

[scheduledmakeouts]

calling after me

He was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t notice someone walking beside him until he caught a flash of red.

Carlos.

He was in his full Ferrari gear, looking freshly showered, hair still slightly damp like he hadn’t even tried to dry it. Sunglasses on. He walked like he owned the concrete beneath his feet.

Logan blinked. “Hey.”

Carlos glanced over, then gave a soft nod. “Big weekend for you.”

Logan nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. First time racing here in F1. Kinda weird.”

Carlos gave a faint smile. “Feels different when the crowd’s screaming in your language, no?”

Logan laughed, surprised. “Exactly.”

They walked in step for a bit, the sounds of the paddock swelling around them—engines revving in the distance, someone shouting about logistics, a fan calling Carlos’ name over the barrier.

Logan didn’t say much. But he didn’t need to. He was hyper-aware of Carlos beside him. Of the ease in his stride, the way his fingers drummed lightly against his thigh as he walked. The Ferrari driver didn’t seem like he was headed anywhere in particular. Just walking.

Maybe that’s why Logan didn’t say goodbye when they reached the split where their motorhomes diverged.

Carlos paused, nodded at him once more. “Enjoy the weekend.”

Logan watched him go, sunglasses and all, cutting through the paddock crowd like it parted for him.

calling after me on Ao3- scheduledmakeouts