#The way Charles just pushed Max into a puddle

[pitstopreality-f1]

[nyoomfruits]

"if you win i'll kiss you" from the kiss prompts !!!!!!

big MWAH smooch to @jennarations for transcribing that one interview of charles describing the inchident for me when i couldnt listen to it you are the BEST

“if you win, i’ll kiss you”

“Charles!” Someone yells, as Charles makes his way to the karting track in search of his father. He knows who it is before turning around, recognizes the English pronunciation of his name, colored by the hard tsj and lispyness of the s. There’s only one person who says it like that. 

“Max,” Charles says, tone even. Max is... An enigma to him. On track he’s fast, ruthless, annoying, snatching wins that were supposed to be Charles’s, hoisting trophies that should’ve been in his hands. 

But outside he’s. Friendly. In a very skitish way, like he doesn’t really know how to talk to people, like he’s only ever been taught how to race and never how to make friends. 

It should make Charles feel bad for him, maybe. But Charles is fourteen and he already has friends, and he doesn’t care for Max Verstappen and his million trophies and his bright fucking future. 

Or well, he does care. But only in the sense that he wants to beat him. Take his trophies, his wins. That stupid future WDC everyone keeps whispering about, despite him never even having set foot in a single seater. 

“How are you?” Max smiles, genuine and kind, and Charles squints at him. 

“Good. Fine,” Charles says. Maybe if he keeps his tone clipped, doesn’t ask any return questions, Max will get the hint and go away. 

“Are you excited for the race?” Max asks instead, voice eager, completely oblivious to Charles’s annoyance. “I’m liking Val d’Argenton so far, good track.”

“Sure,” Charles says, shrugs a little halfheartedly, looks around if he can maybe see his dad milling about, pretend he’s calling him over. “Excited to win.”

Max laughs. “Ha,” he says, “me too.”

Charles squints again. “Not if I get there first.”

Max’s eyes are twinkling, and he’s enjoying this, the annoying bastard. “Wanna bet?”

“How about,” Charles says, “if you win, I’ll kiss you.” It’s a bit mean, maybe. Charles has seen the way Max looks at him sometimes. It’s the same way Charles looks at the girls in his class. He’s not stupid, he knows what it means. 

Max looks like that now, eyes wide and a little startled, but interested, too. “Oh,” he says. “Yeah! Yeah, okay. I’ll win.” 

“Sure,” Charles says again. There’s no way. Charles won’t let him. Plus, he has no intention of kissing Max, so. 

Good motivation all around. 

They get called away then, and before Charles knows it he’s strapped into his kart, ready to go. He forgets about Max all together then, completely focused on just winning, all the way up to the moment he actually passes Max on track. Only then does he remember the bet, and he smiles a little bit at his double victory. Only one kart left in front of him now. He’s so close he can almost feel the weight of the trophy in his hands. 

But then at the next corner Max is back with a vengeance, pushing Charles so wide he falls all the way back to seventh place. He’s absolutely fuming when he finally crosses the finish line, pulls up beside Max to make an ‘are you crazy?’ movement at him. 

He can’t see Max’s face, but he can almost picture it, mirroring his own annoyance, as he pushes Max wide in retaliation and he sends him rolling into a giant puddle of water, soaking Max all the way up to his middle. 

In the end, none of it even matters. Not the bet, not the pushing, not the podium. They both get disqualified for unsportsmanlike behavior and then that’s the end of that. 

It’ll take a couple of years, before Max smiles at him again, says his name in that same way, with that same excitement. 

It’ll take even more before Max finally gets that kiss. But when he does give it, it’s not because of any bet, or because of any stupid jealousy or need to prove himself. It’ll be because Charles wants to.

[foggieststars]

another girl charles snippet? 🥹🤲 i miss her

ok so in my mind this is the backstory to my girl charles x max wip. it's a very long snippet bcs i don't think this will actually be in the fic because it sort of doesn't fit but like. i feel it gives Insight so i wanted to post it.... <3

-

When Charles is twelve years old, she punches a boy at the karting track in the face for grabbing her chest. They both get disqualified from the race, but he’s the one with the bloody nose. When she licks his blood off her knuckles, it tastes better than her inevitable victory would have anyway.

Her parents tell her off, but she sees the way her mother smiles whilst cleaning off her hands properly, so it doesn’t truly sting. He’s not the last boy she punches; he’s just the last one she gets in trouble for hitting. She gets really good at identifying the spots that will cause the most pain, grinding her heel down into the bridge of their feet, jabbing them in the small of their backs with her elbow to watch them double over in pain. It earns her a bit of a reputation as a crazy fucking bitch, but it gets them to leave her alone. 

Charles is used to being the only girl, but it never stops sucking. Pierre gets in several fights to defend her honour, but he leaves for single seaters eventually. By that point she’s fourteen, and they might not grab her anymore, but sometimes they say things to her instead. And that’s worse. 

She holds her head high, ponytail swinging as she walks past them. She ignores it when they wolf-whistle, when they ask what she’s hiding underneath her race suit, whether she got on her knees for team leaders to get her spot. Not all of them do it, but the ones who don’t just sort of ignore her, which sucks even more. She sees the way they all get together outside of races, and wishes so badly she could be a part of it.

When she meets George, things are better. George is gangly and coltish, and says things that Charles doesn’t always understand - things like blimey and oh mate, I’m knackered, but Charles likes her. They’re better than most of the boys, which they hate, and the boys don’t seem to think George is pretty, so they say worse things to her than they do to Charles. 

Charles wonders if it’s bad that she’s sort of grateful to be the pretty one, and then wonders why she fucking cares what those idiots think about her looks. But still, when the boys laugh behind their hands at George’s pageboy haircut, call her flat-chested, Charles tugs George away from them and feels privately ashamed for being glad that at least they don’t call her ugly. 

With George comes Alex. And Alex is taller than anybody else on the track, so nobody wants to fuck with him, even though he’d fold like a tower of cards if anybody tried. Lando hangs around sometimes too, but he’s so young that he just sort of annoys Charles. Plus, Charles can tell that he has a crush on her, and so he goes nonverbal whenever she’s around, which annoys her more.

She wishes people would just treat her like a boy, the way they do George when they’re not busy calling her butters, which George told her means ugly. Charles doesn’t want to be called ugly, but maybe she does, if it meant that they’d be normal around her.

The same year Charles meets George, she meets Max. She’s known him for years, really, but they’ve never properly spoken before. But this year, they’re racing in a couple of the same championships, and he’s good. He’s good in the same way that Charles is, and something inside of her sings in recognition when they end up on podiums together. 

Max doesn’t treat her like a girl. He gets right up in her face in Val d’Argenton, snarling at her when she pushes him into that puddle. He shoves her, two hands planted firmly on her shoulders send her spinning to the floor. She lands funny on her tailbone, and it sends a numb shock running through her, makes her mind go blank. She hardly even registers it before she’s on her feet again, thumb tucked around the outside of her knuckles, delighting in the way his teeth rip open the delicate skin of her hand when she punches him right in the mouth. 

Max lunges for her again, but she’s taller than him. She squares her shoulders, ready to receive it, when someone grabs Max by the waist and pulls him away. They’ve already been disqualified for pushing each other wide, so there’s nothing much the stewards can really do, apart from insist Max apologise to Charles. 

Charles loves it, that they never make her apologise to the boys she hits. Max’s dad holds him by the shoulders and squeezes so hard his knuckles go white when he apologises to Charles’ parents. Max spits out something that sounds sort of like sorry. Spit mixed with blood flecks Charles’ face. She smiles back at him with all of her teeth.

Max gives a scathing interview afterwards, saying she pushed me, I pushed her back, and after she pushed me off the track. It’s not fair, huh? with blood still dripping from his mouth. It makes Charles’ stomach clench when she watches it back, but it’s not unpleasant. 

It’s not the last time they end up fighting. She knows it’s a bit silly; she’s fourteen, she’s probably too old to be getting in physical fights with stupid boys. But something about Max just irritates her so much, everything he does gets under her skin and makes her itch. And she likes the way that Max never lets the way people say you shouldn’t hit a girl stop him rubbing her face into the dirt.

Max doesn’t treat her like a girl - he treats her like what she is. A worthy competitor. His only worthy competitor. He doesn’t treat anybody else with the same level of contempt and jealousy that he does Charles. And Max is the only one who’s ever pushed her to train harder, drive faster, work for it. When it’s 6am on a Saturday morning and Charles is lazing around in bed, avoiding getting up to do her cardio, she pictures Max’s smug face on the top step of the podium, and it pushes her to do things like hit a personal best mile time. 

She’d been complacent before he joined, happy to collect her trophies and go home, safe in the knowledge that she was better than all of them. But Max proves that it’s no longer true. She has to get serious if she’s going to make it.

She finishes second, behind Max, in their final karting championship. The way Max smiles down at her when they’re on the podium makes her teeth hurt with the urge to do something insane, like bite him. 

They go their separate ways then, with Charles heading into Formula Renault and Max debuting in F3. It stings to be leapfrogged by him like that, but Charles has to be sensible, like her papa is always telling her. It’s going to be harder for her no matter what, so she has to keep her head down, keep paying her dues. Keep chipping away, keep proving that she’s better than all the boys she races against. She doesn’t win everything - but she wins enough.

When they’re seventeen, Max trades F3 for F1. Charles devours every article she can find about it, oscillating between rage and awe. Nobody gets a chance like this. It stings that Max is the one to get it. 

And then Max turns around and pushes for his team to give Charles his old F3 seat. She hates feeling indebted to him, so when she’s on holiday with Pierre’s family during the summer break, she tracks down his number and texts him a perfunctory thanks. And then, awkwardly, its charles btw. 

She doesn’t get a reply for three days, but when she does, it makes her flush with rage. 

try not to embarrass me

Fuck you, she sends back, and he replies instantly. 

😂 good luck

Pierre catches her smiling at her phone, and she nearly throws it into the ocean to stop him finding out who she’s texting. She stuffs it down her bikini top and crosses her arms firmly over her chest, so Pierre just keeps teasing her about the mystery boy for the rest of the day. 

Whatever. It’s better than Pierre knowing who she’s actually texting. 

Later that night, Pierre’s snoring drunkenly in her ear, and she can’t sleep. So she takes her phone out under the covers, and texts Max again. 

good luck to you too, btw. you deserve it, i guess.

Charles doesn’t know where Max is in the world right now, but his reply is instantaneous.

thanks. see you there soon. 

Charles drops her phone like it’s red-hot, and presses her face into her hands, cooling the embarrassed blush frantically. She curses herself for her reaction. What is she doing, getting flustered over Max Verstappen? He didn’t even say anything to provoke this sort of response. 

She should be used to it. She’s gotten older, moved through the racing categories, and there are still some boys who fall over themselves to tell her she must have conned her way into her seat. They ask her if she’ll send them pictures of her tits, tell her they’ll let her pass in the next race if she sucks them off. She screenshots the texts and reports them for harassment, and passes them during the next race anyway. See you there soon doesn’t even rank in the top one-hundred things her competitors have said to her that should have made her blush, so she’s not sure why it’s getting to her quite so much. 

Locking her phone, she tosses it aside with a quiet groan, ignoring the way the words are making something funny stir in her stomach.

[think-like-a-poet]

Continue the legacy

Masterlist

2032

The skies were gray as the rain fell from it. Everywhere you looked were puddles forming from the rain and people hurried to take cover. In the midst of this chaos, a small but determined figure stood out - Sofie, who was refusing to let the rain ruin her karting practice.

"Sofie, let go inside. We don't want you to get sick." Max tried to convince his daughter to follow him inside, but the girl was to suborn to listen

"No, papa. We still have to practice," she replied, her voice firm and resolute. She walked back to her kart, but before she managed to sit inside it, her father lifted her off the ground and into his arm. The girl tried to escape from her father's grasp, but she was just squirming like a fish on the dry.

"It is not fair," she pouted. "If I can't practice, I'll never be as good as you." Max's heart melted at his daughter's words. He knew that he had been pushing her too hard, but he wanted to help her as much as she could. Formula 1 wasn't easy to get into and for a woman the chances were almost zero, but Max wouldn't do anything to make her dream come true. Just like his own father had pushed him when he was younger. 

"Don't say that," Max replied, trying to reassure her. "We can practice when the sky is cleared. I promised, lieverd." He kissed her head and carried her inside to sit with the rest of the people who were taking cover from the rain.

As they reached an empty table, Max put Sofie back down on the ground and had to take her arm to stop her from running back out into the rain.

The rain reminded him of his own karting days - only his dad had always forced him to be outside, not caring what the weather was. If it was raining, Max was in his kart. If it was snowing and everyone was inside drinking hot beverages, Max was in his kart. Jos would stop him from going inside, instead of stopping him from going out to race in these weather conditions. Max knew that what his father had done was to train him, and it had worked - he had become a five-time world champion with his help. He wanted to help Sofie, like his father had helped him - only he wasn't planning on giving her any traumas in the process.

Max smiled as Sofie went to sit on the chair with a frown on her face. She tried to look angry, but it was a sweet sight. "Can I have some hot chocolate?" she asked, her voice a little more subdued now that she was no longer thinking about karting practice. 

"Of course, lieverd, I" Max replied, getting up from his seat to fetch a cup of hot chocolate for his daughter. "If you promise to not run away." Sofie put out her pinky to promise that she would stay put here and not try to run back outside into the rain. Max just hoped he didn't have to sprint after her back into the rain - that had already happened on multiple occasions today alone.

When Max reached the cafe he heard the ring on the bell, knowing someone walked inside. Just like every other curious person, he turned around to look and saw the Leclerc family walk in. Charles was walking hand in hand with his wife and Jules was attached to his hip. Alexandra carried the youngest member, Eloise, in her arm. Eloise had been born almost two years after Sofie, at the end of 2029. 

Max waved as Charles looked into his way and a smile formed on the Monegasque man. "Good afternoon, Max. Having the same idea as us?" he asked, his deep voice carrying across the room. Max greeted Charles with a nod and a smile before turning to greet the rest of the family.

The families had been growing closer. Both of them lived in Monaco and Charles and Max have known each other since they were children. It also happened that their children wanted to do karting, so sometimes they went together. Charles, Max, Jules and Sofie.

"yeah, Sofie wanted to go karting so who am I to say no. 

"Where is she?" Alexandra asked as she looked around where they stood. Max pointed his fingers to the table and the two Adults followed with their eyes. Sofie was still a bit sulking, but at least she was doing it on the dry. "She looks sad, what happend?"

"I am a bad father for not letting her kart in this weather." Max answered. He heard his name call, mentioning he could order. "Do you guys want anything?" he already ordered the hot chocolate for Sofie and him, as Charles asked Jules if he wanted anything.

"Can I have one too?" Jules asked excitedly, fidgeting with his clothes as he looked up at his father. Charles smiled and nodded his head. 

"Of course." max said as he orders one for the boy and two tea for his parents. "You can sit with Sofie if you want" Jules looked at his dad as if he asked for promission and Charles just smiled and nodded his head. Jules walked away, his mother and sister following, leaving the two men to themselves. Sofie wanted to walk away when she heard people sitting, but when she saw who it were she giggled and smiled.

"How is retirement treating you?" Max asked Charles. Monegasque had retired at the end of the 2031 season after some tough seasons with Ferrari, where he struggled to find his rhythm and pace. Oscar Piastri had won both the 2031 and 2030 season in the Red Bull team, being almost as dominant as Max had been in 2023.

Charles shrugged his shoulders, "It's nice, really. I love that I'm able to spend time with my family whenever I want. It's great to support Jules in his dream to become a racing driver and I love karting with him. I get to relive those childhood memories with my son, and it's amazing to see him grow into his own passion for racing. And, of course, I'm grateful for the quality time with my wife and daughter. We can plan vacations whenever we want, and not have to worry about scheduling around race weekends." He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It is great to have this sense of freedom and flexibility, but I do miss it."

"Understandable. I still miss it. Of course I still do sim racing, but it is different. I love when Sofie asked to go karting, because sometimes I can do it too." Max replied, nodding sympathetically. "She's getting older now, and it's special to share those moments with her. Before you know it they don't want to do it together anymore." 

Charles agreed with him, "We should grab our cars and go racing against each other on the Nürburgring, just like the old times."  His eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect.

Max grinned, "We should." He picked up the drinks they had been waiting for and together they walked towards the table.

Alexandra thanked him as Max gave her, her tea. "What are two grinning about?"

"Just making plans for racing."

Sofie looked excited, "Can I come?"

Max smiled at her beaming face, "I am sorry lieverd. You have to wait till you are older."

"You are letting me do nothing." She crossed her arms and let out a sigh.

read on A3O

Tag list: @hiireadstuff @nikfigueiredo @elliott-calls @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e

[just-an-inchident]

Formula 1 has a new duel. And it‘s a lot of fun. Thrilling battles, spectacular overtakes, dramatic finishes.

Max: Now that we‘re both in F1 and fight for victories, that‘s just great. I hope we can continue with what we did in Bahrain and Jeddah.

Charles: This year I have a race winning car, that changes quite a lot. I can finally fight for wins.

Hard racing. Fair treatment. Although it gets a little toxic on the radio sometimes (Max: “He crossed the line again!“). It is, at least up to this moment, a completely different duel as the one between Verstappen and Hamilton last year.

Charles: Obviously once we put the helmet it‘s all about winning, all about the competition. On track we do everything to be in front, which is completely normal, but [apart from that] the relation is good.

They are nearly the exact same age, so their roads crossed a lot when it came to proving who is faster. Sometimes not without consequences. 3 years ago Verstappen pushed Leclerc off track in Spielberg while fighting for the victory. But already in the past they had legendary battles.

Charles: I remember he sent me off track in karting once and then I came back at the end after the chequered flag. I went side by side with him and pushed him on the grass and he finished in a huge puddle. He was extremely angry.

Max: We weren‘t best friends back then. But now we can obviously laugh about it. Of course the karting days can be a bit tough sometimes.

Leclerc, fewer races, fewer vitories, less experience, but he is on the same level [as Verstappen] nevertheless. People who know him well say he has made a huge step and call him Charles Leclerc 2.0 now. He has matured, he thinks a lot more and always wants to improve.

Charles: I‘m definitely not Charles Leclerc 2.0, I don‘t like to call it like this. Yes, I‘ve made progress since 2019, but in a linear way I‘d say.

The Ferrari crisis in the last two years is also part of this progress. Has it made him grow? When you‘ve gone through such a tough time, that makes you a much stronger driver.

The world champion has a new rival. Mutual respect is certainly there.

Max: He is obviously always fast. He is very talented, whether he overtakes or defends, he does it quite well.

Charles: I think his aggressiveness is his strength and obviously his speed. He‘s a very good driver.

A thrilling duel for the championship is only about to start.

[thursdaythunder]

Ask me how I knew.

Okay this is from the infamous fanfiction Every Other Sunday (If you know the creators @ on tumblr PLEASE let me know I wanna credit them!!!) its @badboy-george for anyone intrested

and I NEED to talk about it

“Ask me how I knew,” (...) “How did you know?”

“I was fourteen,” (...) “And I met this blue-eyed boy at a go-kart track, and he was very serious all the time and he would scowl at anyone who crossed his path. But one day he looked at me before a race and smiled, and I panicked so hard that I ended up pushing his kart into this huge puddle. (...) “It took me almost ten years to realize that maybe that meant I fancied him a little.”

BECAUSE THIS HAPPENED. maybe not this exact conversation but I'm almost 100% sure that there was some kind of gay-panic involved in this. they always talk about how they grew up together and how proud they are to be together now in F1. Imagine young Charles in karting touring around the world all while figuring out himself and there is this dutch kid with a cute accent that never talks to anyone because of his scary dad. and then out of nowhere he smiles at Charles. and poor charlie is so confused and lost and also angry because that kid just pushed him so he pushes back way harder than he intended and max ends up in the puddle. he is asked about it later and he is so confused and just tries to explain and blushes and mixes all languages and the Inchident is born

[pizza-portal]

please a smut inspired by this..🥺🥺🥺🥺😢😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Ma Belle

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Warnings: brat kink, oral (m receiving), French dirty talk

Charles sat on the couch with his phone in his hand while he aimlessly scrolled through Instagram. He had been waiting for y/n to get changed for about ten minutes. He didn’t mind. Though they were just getting lunch with a few of his mates and their girlfriends, she still like to make herself look presentable and together.

Y/n walked out of the bedroom in a blue mini skirt and a white long sleeve crop top. Her skirt met just a few inches under where her bum ended. As she shifted on her shoes, Charles looked up at her.

“Cherie,” he warned. She just ignored him, grabbing all her stuff together. When she leaned down to grab her purse, Charles could see the white lace of her panties underneath. “No, no, no. Go change.” he told her.

“Charles, it’s not that big of a deal. You’re being dramatic,” she rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” Charles sighed annoyingly, clasping his hands together and leaning back. He brought his phone over his crotch to hide the blood that was draining to it. “If you won’t change, then we won’t go.” Y/n could see how much he tried to hide the affect her outfit had in him. She smiled to herself.

“Please Charles,” she whimpered. That only mad his position worse.

“Go change,” he says again. She walks towards him, resting her hands on his knees. Charles swallowed hard, not wanting to back down from her. His eyes drifted to her cleavage before looking back up into her eyes.

“No,” she responds. He sighs loudly, letting his head fall back. He had a bittersweet relationship with her stubbornness. Her being a brat always turned him on to the max, yet, as if right now, that was the last thing he needed.

She got onto her knees. “What’s wrong?” she questioned. “Am I being too bad?”

“Yes, now can you please go change?” he leaned forward. She shook her head. “Ma Belle-”

“You can call me beautiful when I am sucking you off,” she told him bluntly. Her hands roamed his thighs, while she bit your lip. He sighed, leaning back.

“Alors vas-y,” he told her, giving her the right of way to do her dirty work. Her hands slid up the denim over his thighs, only for him to widen his position a little bit. She reaches for his button and zipper, gently undoing the two.

There was a bulge beneath his underwear. Y/n knew he wasn’t that hard yet. She gently placed small kisses over the fabric, still rubbing his thighs. “Merde,” he hissed, adjusting himself to pull his pants farther down. Finally, they just sat at a puddle around his ankles.

Y/n’s hands started to palm him through the boxers. “Vous aimez ça non?” She whispered to him, turning him on even more. “Tu aimes me voir à genoux.” Charles bit his lip. She felt him getting harder and harder. “Aww, si dur baby.” She mumbled before pulling down the boxers. The tip was tinted red while the shaft easily stayed up on its own.

Y/n took her time, gently stroking him. She pressed small kisses to it, here eyes stayed on Charles’s expression, which was absolutely beautiful to her. “Baby, s’il te plaît,” Charles begged. Y/n ran her tongue up his cock, causing a groan to escape Charles lips as he through his head back. She stopped at the tip, kissing it gently. She opened her mouth, only putting the tip in and sucking. Her hands expertly caressed his shaft. “More, more.” He gasped, his hips bucking towards her face more. Slowly, she let herself go deeper down until his tip hit the back of her throat. As she slid back up, her tongue ran against the shaft again. Before her lips could leave him, Charles gripped her hair and pushed her back down again. She moaned against him. The vibrations from her through shot through Charles, causing him to moan. He took a few deep breaths, watching his dick disappear into her mouth. Meanwhile, her tongue explore every square-centimeters of him.

He stood up quickly, his hands forming a small ponytail out of her hair. He began to guide her movements, pushing himself deeper into her throat only to move back out. He began to move faster. “Ma belle,” he moaned, watching himself fuck her face. As he got deeper into her throat, y/n couldn’t help but choke with small tears forming around her eyes. Finally, he pulled out and y/n knew to open her mouth for the juices that would be flowing out in just a few seconds. Charles finally came, strings of it falling onto her tongue. He fell back down onto the couch, deep breaths escaping his lips.

“Can you go change now?”

“No,”

a/n: I have a Daniel Ricciardo story sitting in my notes app. I might publish it in here but I’m not sure yet :)

[kingofthering]

"Couldn't you wait to kiss me at home?" for Pierre/Charles please ✨♥️

7. "Couldn't you wait to kiss me at home?"

“Can you stop drooling? You’re gonna make a puddle and create a hazard with a slippery floor.”

Charles immediately groans, sending his elbow into Daniel’s ribs without taking a look at him. “Shut up.”

Daniel’s laugh is so close to him Charles can hear it perfectly over the sound of the music and the throbbing bass. “Just saying. You’re being a little obvious here, mate.”

Charles tears his eyes away from the dance floor and finds Daniel with his attention not far away. Of course Charles finds Max dancing at the other end of Daniel’s look.

He snorts and gets closer to Daniel, deposing his words close to his ear. “Like you’re any better.”

Daniel doesn’t jump but he does blush and Charles will take it as a victory. After one more minute of the two of them standing together, Daniel clinks his glass against Charles’. “To hot boyfriends.” And then he disappears too quickly for Charles to have the time to roll his eyes at him.

Except, well, it’s not like he’s wrong.

Charles takes a couple of sips from his cocktail and his eyes find their way back to Pierre. A hot wave goes through him and he’s fully aware that it's not the alcohol but the way Pierre is artfully undulating his body among the crowd.

Maybe Charles’ throat is going dry but what he needs right now is of a whole different nature than another drink.

For how much Pierre loves to tell Charles that he’s the model in their relationship and that Pierre scored out of his league, Charles is a firm believer that the opposite actually happened (or like, they can be in the exact same league, it’s whatever).

He’s wearing the simplest of outfits but the black jeans are doing wonders for his jeans and his ass and the white shirt is hugging him in all the right places. Charles is so very weak for him.

(And he’s not even wearing a backward cap (because yes, Charles is hot for the dumb Pierre effect, sue him)).

It takes five seconds to find a place to discard his glasses and about twenty more to join Pierre on the dance floor of the club, one hand immediately going to the small of his back, right under the hem of his shirt.

“Asshole, you’re way too hot for your own good.”

Pierre laughs at him before smirking and trailing one hand along Charles’ other arm. “Yeah?”

He’s not even trying to aim for false innocence. Charles hates him.

Charles loves him when Pierre doesn’t question him and follows him easily after Charles grabs his head and drags him first through the crowd, and then down a wall, turning left before they reach the bathroom. Then they’re in a quiet hallway and one door later, Charles pushes them into an empty room, Pierre’s back maybe not so gently hitting the wall next to the door. At least Charles avoids the handle.

Monaco is home. If Charles doesn’t get to know about the secret corners of the most famous clubs, what even is the point.

Charles’ hands fly to Pierre’s sides, once again under his shirt, seeking skin, and then Charles is pushing forward, taking Pierre’s mouth into a hard kiss.

Charles can do gentle. Charles is very good at gentle. Tonight, though, after a good hour of watching Pierre being the hottest person out there? Charles isn’t going to wait to coax Pierre’s mouth open with his tongue and Pierre is very happy to answer him, one hand coming up behind Charles’ head to grip his hair.

They’re both panting when they eventually take a break to breathe, still close to each other. Charles can feel the interest of his dick pressing against Pierre’s thigh and he couldn’t care less.

“Couldn’t you wait to kiss me at home?” Pierre teases and Charles just rolls his hips in answer, his grip on Pierre’s waist tightening.

“Not when you look like that.”

Pierre ducks his head at the words. There is not enough light to guess a blush on his cheeks but Charles would bet on it. It makes him want to kiss Pierre again so he does.

Charles’ hands move up to the collar of his shirt, deft fingers working through the buttons while Pierre leans his head back, making room for Charles to pepper kisses along the skin of his neck, the tendon there, the curve of his collarbone.

“Don’t leave a mark,” Pierre warns at the first hint of Charles’ teeth against his skin. He’s a little breathless and Charles intends on keeping him that way.

“Just don’t do a Carlos by going shirtless in the winners room and you’ll be fine.”

If Pierre gives him an answer of any sort, Charles doesn’t get it as he continues his way down Pierre’s body, eventually getting on his knees to kiss the beauty that his abs are.

Charles does hear Pierre’s groan after he starts mouthing at his dick over his pants. “Charles.”

“Hm? Would you rather have me waiting for us to be home to take care of this?”

Contrary to Pierre, Charles is very good at feigning innocence. Getting called out on it is half of the fun.

“You’re a fucking menace,” Pierre hisses, one hand going to Charles’ hair and his hips pushing forward to seek more contact.

“Yes, your favourite one.”

Pierre rolls his eyes at him but once Charles takes down his pants and underwear and starts getting to work after two very important teasing kisses against the crease of Pierre’s hips, Pierre doesn’t have any more complaints to make.

(send me prompts)

[il-predestinato]

Hi! I was just wondering, have you ever thought of writing a Lestappen Hogwarts AU? I ask just because I noticed you wrote for Dumbledore and Grindelwald, so I was just curious if the thought ever crossed your mind :)

(I love the fact that you're a Harry Potter fan as well!)

Btw, mine is just curiosity, I love everything you write and I think I'll love whatever you'll offer us next time as well :)

Have a good day!!

What a brilliant idea!

(Haha, I feel like my fandoms are crossing over. Yay, someone on my F1 blog commenting on the fact I wrote Dumbledore/Grindelwald, which I now think of as reverse Lestappen, the good old Lovers to Enemies trope.)

I love the concept of Hogwarts AU for Lestappen!

But hear me out - Charles is a Slytherin, okay? Half-blood, Prefect, and Quidditch captain. Charming but ambitious. Polite but with a few sharp claws. He might seem a little standoffish, but he's fiercely protective of his family and friends. He's a natural at Charms and Potions, and his goal is to beat Max at everything.

Max is a Gryffindor. I refuse to consider anything else. He's brave, a lion, a Pure-blood from a respected line (the Verstappens have a long history of being sorted into Slytherin), but he doesn't give a hoot about that. He's clever and brilliant at DADA. More likely to butt heads with his Prefect than become one, but he does make Quidditch captain.

They met on the Hogwarts Express when they were 11. They get off on the wrong foot immediately. Some inchident with the food trolley, and pumpkin juice spills all over Max's brand new robes. Charles thinks it's funny (Max all red-faced standing in a paddle-uh-puddle of pumpkin juice), and besides Max pushed him first. Max thinks he's just an unfair brat. Of course, they get sorted into rival houses.

They maintain this fruity little rivalry for a few years. At one point, McGonagall isn't sure whether the full blown fist fight will come first, or will they just give in and tear each other's clothes off in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. Either way, she decides she's taking 100 points from both Slytherin and Gryffindor when it happens. The longing, and the lingering looks... ugh, why don't they just ask each other to the Yule Ball?

(I just love this concept. So much potential!)

[nobodys-pearls]

Hit on Me Ch 9

Summary: There is a “mild kidnapping” *not clickbait* 

Kim didn’t jog today. Today he decided to walk.

He’d woken up that morning, changed into his usual jogging clothes, put his earbuds in, and as he was about to begin his usual routine – he stopped.

He just didn’t feel like running today.

It felt weird taking it slow, actually looking at his surroundings, not feeling the familiar burn in his feet and lungs.

But it gave him time to think – and he really needed to think.

“Okay let’s go over this again.” Kim mumbled to himself, running a hand through his hair and putting his earbuds in his pocket. “First, you and Max…bonded.” He began, thinking about how he carried Max through the city streets in an attempt to escape the “robots”, and how he was the reason that Max took his shirt off, and how he was the one who pulled Max in for a hug, and how he –

Okay. He was flirting with Max. Better to tell it how it is.

“So you were flirting with Max because you are a romantic fool with little impulse control.” Kim corrected, turning the corner.

“And then you kissed him because – because –” Kim wanted to blame it on the really good pizza, or his victory in Mecha Strike, or the adrenaline rush from surviving a bunch of zombies, but he could imagine Max’s disapproving look.

He had to be honest, he had to think logically. That’s what Max would do. Max wouldn’t run away.

“You’ve got it bad, Kim.” He breathed, shaking his head.

He suddenly had the urge to call Max, but what would he say? After Alix came busting through Max’s door and then practically ran away screaming, Kim had taken it as his cue to leave. He had thanked Max for the pizza, given him an extremely awkward fist bump, and tried not to hurry too much out the door.

That was a few days ago. A few days without talking to each other. And with each passing hour it felt more awkward to bring it up.

Maybe for Max what happened was just because of the amazing pizza, the competition, the adrenaline.

Maybe Max wasn’t thinking about him at all.

Kim took a deep breath. This is why he liked to run. He wanted to be faster than his thoughts, his insecurities, his worries. He wanted to outrun the part of himself he’d rather not face.

He considered himself to be a very confident person when it came to most things. He knew he was good looking, athletic, hard working, driven. He knew he was worth something.

But sometimes, sometimes he wondered if people thought the same way.

Because did it really matter if he thought he was great, that he was important, if no one else did?

Kim shook his head. He knew that he shouldn’t let himself think these things, it was just that some days these kinds of thoughts were harder to ignore.

“Hey Kim! I didn’t know you walked!” A voice said from behind.

Kim turned around and saw Marinette, a small smirk on her lips.

“I thought you had two settings: Stop and Run.” She added, clasping her hands behind her back.

Kim rolled his eyes and turned back around to keep walking. “I go for walks…sometimes.”

Marinette snorted and moved to walk beside him. “Wow, there really must be something on your mind.”

Kim glanced at her, and then crossed his arms. “You don’t know me. You don’t know my story.”

Marinette laughed and gave Kim a gentle shove. “Oh my god you’re pouting.” Then she leaned closer and gave him a sneaky smile. “Is this about a girl? A boy?”

Kim turned his nose in the air. “I never told you that something was wrong.”

“Come on, Kim, I’ve known you long enough to be able to tell when you’re thinking too much about something. And you being the hopeless romantic you are, it’s usually about a new flame.” Marinette said, waggling her eyebrows.

“God, am I that two-dimensional?” Kim asked. He felt that familiar worry creep up his skin. Was that all there was to him? Maybe Marinette was right before about him always having a crush on someone. Did he need to be into someone at all times? Was that all that Max was?

No, Max was more than that. He was positive of that by now. But the quiet panic didn’t go away.

“Hey,” Marinette said softly, and he felt her hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean it like – I didn’t mean to say it like it was a bad thing.” She explained. “You obviously have other stressors in your life, but you always know how to handle them. You’re a natural at your job, you obviously take really good care of yourself, and you’re a people person, even though you can be a little too – sure of yourself – sometimes.”

“You noticed that I take good care of myself? Like what you see, Mari?” Kim asked, raising a brow and flexing the arm that she was resting her hand on.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull her hand away. That’s something that Kim always admired about Marinette – she didn’t back down easily. “Love is a leap, Kim, and you know that. Being accepted by people – I know you worry about that a lot, even if you try not to show it. Sure you flirt and romance and even propose,” She said, giving him a small smile, “but real relationships, it’s the one gamble you’re always afraid to take.”

Kim looked at her in shock for a moment. “How the hell –?”

“You were right about me being a vigilante.” Marinette confessed, a serious look on her face. “I slipped in a radioactive puddle and now I can read minds.” She said, wiggling her fingers.

Kim couldn’t help but laugh. “Aw man, I almost slipped in that same puddle last week, does that mean I could’ve been a superhero too?”

“Maybe you can be my civilian sidekick who can run kind of fast.”

“As long as I get a cool costume I’m in. But let the record show that I can run very fast.” Kim said. Then he remembered something. “Hey, guess who I saw yesterday?”

Marinette tapped a finger to her chin. “My archnemesis Dr. Butterfly?”

“Butterfly?” Kim asked.

Marinette shrugged. “Hey, I bet butterflies could be scary if you used them for malicious purposes.”

“Well no, I didn’t see Dr. Butterfly.” Kim said dryly.

“Drats, I’ll catch him one of these days.” Marinette said, putting her fist in her palm.

“Marineeeette.” Kim groaned, pulling lightly on her ponytail.

“Sorry, please continue.”

“I saw my ex-fiancé.” Kim said with a grin. He watched Marinette’s face immediately light up.

“You saw Nathanael?” Marinette asked, a smile on her face.

“Yeah, he works at that pizza place with the –”

“– amazing tomato sauce?” Marinette finished.

“That’s the one. He even has a girlfriend now apparently.”

“Our little Nath is growing up.” Marinette said, wiping away a fake tear.

“His work is being showcased at this art exhibit in a few days, you should come. It can be like a little reunion.”

“Oh I am so there.” Marinette said.

“So is today a day off for you? Do you want to grab some coffee?” Kim asked. He could see the Charles Arena a block away. He always seemed to gravitate towards that building.

Kim watched as Marinette looked around for a moment, and then she realized that he’d asked her a question. “Oh, um, not exactly. I mean, I have to pick up something for an upcoming photo shoot in a half-hour –”

“So you’ve got plenty of time Mari. You should sit down and relax, you look tense.”

“I’m sorry but I have…a thing.”

“A thing? A puddle related thing?”

“No, just some thing that someone is making me do.” Marinette said vaguely, giving him a half-smile. There was something in her eyes, was it…guilt?

“Mari –” Kim began, but then his vision went dark as he felt something being thrown over his head. “What the heck?! Mari?!”

“It’s not me!”

Kim felt someone tie a rope around his hands, and then he was being led down the street. “What’s going on? Mari?” He struggled against his bonds, but when that didn’t work he began to wonder if he should make a break for it. He could probably get far enough away before accidently running into the street.

“I know all of your pressure points.” A voice said. It sounded vaguely familiar.

“Where is the girl I was with?” Kim asked, concern in his voice as he was being almost dragged down the street. He thought about all of the Parisian citizens who were just watching this happen, or more likely ignoring it. It might have been early in the morning, but couldn’t anyone call the cops before they got their coffee? Then he heard the sound of a door opening and soon he was inside of a building.

“I told her she’d run if she knew what was good for her – and you.” The voice said, pushing Kim along. He could’ve sworn he heard a smothered laugh from across the room.

Wait a second. He did know that voice.

“Alix?!” Suddenly the hood was pulled from his head and he saw the short pink-haired girl before him. “Whattheheckyoualmostgavemeaheartattack!” He yelled, his voice an octave higher than usual. He would’ve waved his arms but they were still tied behind his back.

Alix rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Come on it was only a mild kidnapping.”

“Mild kidnapping?!” Then Kim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was suddenly very tired. “Why is this happening to me?”

“Get in the ring.” Alix commanded, already pulling herself up onto the platform.

Kim shook his head in disbelief and followed her lead. Soon they were both in the middle of the ring. The lights above them were on, but the seats in the audience were eerily dark.

“You ready, LB?” Alix called. Soon Ladybug came in through one of the fighter’s entrances.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She asked, lifting herself up into the ring. She had on her usual red joggers and polka dot sports bra – and of course, her signature mask and pigtails.

“It’s necessary.” Alix said, looking back at Kim.

“Hey Sparky.” Ladybug said, giving Kim a friendly wave.

“So you’re in on this too, huh?” Kim asked.

Ladybug shrugged and put her hands on her hips. “Eh, I had some free time.”

“This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.” Kim said, shaking his head and moving towards the edge of the ring. But Ladybug moved to stand in his way.

“One round, you and me.” Alix said. He turned back around to face her. “You made out with my best friend. I saw my innocent sunshine flower of a best friend with your tongue in his mouth on my favorite couch. Did you really think I wouldn’t do something about it?”

“I thought you just kind of, forgot about it.” Kim said, rubbing the back of his neck. He remembered going home that day and making sure to lock his doors. He was sure that Alix would find where he lived and hunt him down the moment he was alone – but she hadn’t. Kim never thought she’d have something bigger planned.

Note to self: Never underestimate Alix.

“I wish I could forget, Kimmy, I wish I could.” Alix said, shuddering. “You said before that you could take me in a fight, so here’s your chance. Fight one round against me and I’ll call it even.”

“I don’t think I can hit a girl.” Kim said, looking down at her.

“I’m not a girl.” Alix said, lifting her arms. “I’m a nightmare.”

Kim heard Ladybug giggle. “That was kinda cheesy, Alix. Also, I’m going to be late if you don’t start soon.”

Kim groaned and held up his fists as well. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

An evil smile spread across Alix’s face. “Count us in, LB.”

“Start on three.” Ladybug said, moving to the edge of the ring. “One, two –”

Kim bent his knees a little and took a deep breath.

“Three.”

One moment Kim was looking at Alix, and the next he was looking at the ceiling. He felt a dull pain in his abdomen and right heel.

“Get up, Eiffel Tower.”

“Eiffel Tower?” Kim asked, groaning as he moved to stand up.

“Because you’re too tall and your hair is pointy.” Alix declared.

Ladybug smothered her laugh behind her hand.

“Very funny.” Kim said, about to throw a right hook. Then he remembered what Max had said when they were watching Chat Noir and Chloe fight.

“He’ll probably start with a right hook. That is what 73% of fighters tend to do first.”

What was it that Chat Noir did instead? Then Kim remembered.

He let his momentum continue with the hook, but then he used his speed to drop down and sweep his leg. He saw the shocked look on Alix’s face as she had to move to avoid it.

“Not bad, Kim.” Alix conceded, impressed. He turned and saw Ladybug’s nod of approval. He was about to reply with a witty remark when Alix grabbed his arm, ducked under him, and threw him over her shoulder.

“How are you this strong?” Kim wheezed, the air knocked out of his lungs.

“I’m a compact ball of rage.” Alix said, standing over him.

“True that.” Ladybug agreed, leaning against the ropes and crossing her arms.

“How much longer do I have to do this?” Kim asked, looking up at Alix from where he was lying down.

“Until I get the image of Max shirtless and straddling you out of my head.” Alix answered.

“It wasn’t like I forced him to do that!” Kim protested, waving his arms.

“Well you did hurry out of his apartment pretty damn fast.” Alix said, moving to sit on his stomach, pinning him down. “Right after bragging about how much practice you’ve had kissing people.” She added, pushing her elbow into a fleshy area near his collar bone – apparently she did know his pressure points.

“He told you all that?” Kim asked. He could feel himself sweating as he felt panic rise up in his throat. “Is he – is he okay?”

Alix looked at him for a second, her eyes searching and – afraid. Then she sighed and moved to sit next to him. “I don’t know. He hasn’t really talked to me about it besides what I just told you.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “Max isn’t – he isn’t like you, okay? He thinks way too much, he gets really attached to things, and he doesn’t take chances.”

Kim lifted himself up so that he could sit down. “Alix –”

“I don’t know what you thought it was, but Max doesn’t just kiss people and get over it like it was nothing. Maybe it didn’t mean anything to you but I thought that –”

“It did mean something.” Kim interrupted. “I – I care about Max a lot. So much that it scares me. I mean, we’ve only know each other for what? A week? It’s never gotten this serious before, and I’m afraid that we went too fast and I ruined it and he’s mad at me and I just,” Kim looked at Alix. “I really don’t want to mess this up.”

Alix looked at him for a moment, then she smiled and reached out to him. He flinched away out of instinct.

“We’re not fighting anymore, we’re square now.” Alix said, laughing as she put her hand on his shoulder. “And you haven’t messed it up, I can tell you that much. Just talk to him. He’s just as scared as you are.”

Kim nodded his head.

“Communication is key.” Ladybug agreed, still leaning against the ropes.

“We’ll now that that’s settled,” Alix said, standing up and brushing off her sweats. “LB, you have time for some training? I want to work on a new –”

Suddenly one of the side doors opened. Kim watched Alix’s expression harden when she saw who it was.

“We have the ring booked. If you could please leave so we could get some work done.” Chloe said, putting a hand on her hip as she stood outside of the ring. Kim saw Chat Noir standing behind her, looking at Ladybug with interest.

“I always have the ring from 8-10.” Alix said, glaring down at the blonde.

“You didn’t book it today. I can go get the list if you need proof.” Chloe replied coolly, not backing down.

“Can’t we just share the ring?” Chat asked, still looking at Ladybug. “I’m Chat Noir, by the way.” He told her, giving her a wink. Ladybug simply smiled and rolled her eyes.

“You’re not allowed to talk to my trainee!” Alix declared, pointing at Chat.

“And you can’t tell my trainee what he can and cannot do!” Chloe said, narrowing her eyes.

Alix groaned and ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “Why are you like this?”

“I would ask you the same thing.”

“Hey guys, let’s calm down, okay? We can figure this out.” Kim said, raising his hands as he looked at the two trainers.

“Stay out of this!” They both yelled. Kim snapped his mouth shut.

“Kim’s right. I need to leave soon anyway –” Ladybug began.

“Need an escort, my lady?”

Ladybug looked Chat up and down. “It’s Ladybug to you, kitty.”

He gave her a wide grin. “Pet names already? I didn’t expect you to be so forward.” He teased, moving to rest his arms on the edge of the platform.

Ladybug leaned down until they were face-to-face, giving him a sweet smile. “I won’t hesitate to suplex you in our first match.” She said, flicking the bell on his costume.

Kim watched as Chat Noir’s face heated up. “N-noted.” He stammered.

Then Kim noticed that Alix and Chloe were still fighting.

“I’m not leaving this ring!” Alix declared, sitting down and crossing her arms.

Chloe huffed and climbed onto the ring, dragging Chat Noir with her. “Well we’re not leaving either!”

Alix stuck out her tongue.

“You’re such a child!” Chloe yelled, stomping her foot.

“Says the girl who cried when the snack machine ran out of her precious energy bars!” Alix shot back.

“That was a bad day for me and you know it!” Chloe said, whipping her ponytail angrily behind her. Kim could see the hurt in her eyes.

He saw the hurt in Alix’s eyes as well.

“It was a bad day for me too.” Alix said quietly. She looked at Chloe for a moment, and then bit her lip and angrily looked away. “Fine, we’ll leave. But this is a one-time thing.” She declared, standing back up and looking at Ladybug.

“Whatever.” Chloe said, looking away as well.

“Until we meet again, Bugaboo.” Chat said, smiling at Ladybug. But Kim also saw a tightness in his eyes. He kept glancing at Chloe.

Ladybug dropped down to the floor and looked back at Chat. “Train hard.” She said with a wink.

“I’ll make sure to talk to him, Alix.” Kim said, watching as she walked away.

She stopped and glanced back at him. “Thanks, Kim.” She looked at Chloe one more time, then she hunched her shoulders and walked away. Ladybug moved to catch up with her, putting a comforting hand on her back. It was silent until they were gone.

“Chloe –”

“I’m fine Ad – Chat Noir.” Chloe interrupted, glancing at Kim. “Let’s just start training, okay?”

Then something beeped. Chat sighed and rummaged around in his bag until he pulled out his phone. “Shoot! Chloe I’ve got to go I have a –” He looked at Kim. “I have that really important thing that I’ll be late to if I don’t leave now.”

Chloe sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Right. Okay, then I want to see you back here later today okay? I booked the regular afternoon session just in case this happened.”

“You’re the best, Chlo.” Chat Noir said, giving her a quick hug before grabbing his bag and jumping over the ropes and onto the ground. He looked at Kim and gave him a wide smile. “Ladybug, do you know who she is?”

“No clue.”

The smile on Chat’s face only got wider. “Whoever she is under that mask, I might love that girl.” With that he hurried towards the exit and slipped through the door.

Kim looked back at the darkened audience – he’d forgotten how empty it was.

“So…” Kim began, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Nice to see you again.”

He heard Chloe’s bitter laugh and watched as she moved to lean on the ropes. Her knuckles were white as she held on to them. “Yeah.”

“It’s none of my business,” Kim began, speaking softly. “But, are you okay? I mean, why are you and Alix, how did you two –”

“You’re right, it is none of your business.” Chloe said, ducking under the ropes and landing gently on the ground. He saw how tense her shoulders were. She began to walk towards the door, but then she paused. “But if you must know,” She said, not turning around. “She was my best friend. And one day – one day she just shut me out. And I still don’t know why.” She continued walking until she reached the door. When she opened it she turned to look at Kim.

“It was the first time I got my heart broken.”

Kim watched as the door closed behind her.

For the next few moments he could only stare at that door in silence, an empty audience watching him.

He needed to talk to Max.

[nyoomfruits]

still into you

pairing: max verstappen/charles leclrec word count: 500 a/n: set somewhere after the abu dahbi gp at that party they all seem to have gone to. 

prompt was “You used to have feelings for me. Admit it.” taken from this list. feel free to send me one of them and i’ll write a little drabble!

Charles, desperate for some fresh air, opens the back door of the club they’ve all been partying in, only to find Max already there.

He’s leaning against one of the walls, next to some trash cans, holding a beer bottle and seemingly staring off into the distance. Max barely acknowledges his presence, but he does scoot over a little, making room for Charles to lean against the wall next to him.

“Needed some fresh air, too?” Charles asks, sighing as the cold bricks hit his overheated back.

Max hums. “Still can’t quite believe it. Like, I know I technically won the championship weeks ago but it all feels so official, now. Bit overwhelming, almost.”

Charles bumps their shoulder together. “Well, it’s well deserved. Shame it is the last one you will ever win,” he says, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“We’ll see about that,” Max says, but he seems a bit more relaxed now, grinning widely at Charles.

“If all else fails, I can always push you into a puddle again,” Charles says, startling a laugh out of Max.

“God, you were such a little shit back then,” Max says, but he says it so incredibly fondly, it makes Charles’s heart stutter in his chest. “Pulling my pigtails all the time.”

Charles snorts. “I wasn’t that obsessed with you.”

“Oh, admit it,” Max says, and he’s pushed off the wall now, body fully turned towards Charles. “You absolutely used to have feelings for me.” He’s joking, he’s clearly joking, but something in Charles loosens, thinks fuck it. It’s probably the three shots of vodka he downed earlier.

“Who says I ever stopped?” He looks Max straight in his eyes as he says it, almost defiantly, so he sees the way Max’s breath hitches before he lurches forward, grabbing Charles’s face in his hands and kissing him with an urgency that can only come from two people who’ve been waiting for over a decade to do this.

Charles hands reach up to grab Max’s waist, and Max pushes him backwards until his back is flush with the wall, one hand still on Charles face while the other comes to rest on his shoulder.

It’s desperate and frenzied and a little clumsy, but it’s still everything Charles has ever wanted. When Max eventually pulls away, clearly a bit reluctantly, his pupils are blown wide and his lips are kiss swollen and he’s never ever looked more beautiful. Charles wishes he could savor this moment, put it in his pocket, so he can revisit it over and over and over again.

“For the record,” Max says, “I absolutely used to have feelings for you too.”

“Yeah,” Charles says, a laughing a little breathlessly, “I figured as much.”

And then he pulls Max in for another kiss, just because.

[jadedbirch]

Look, bubbles! - silverflint

For Mistress Elle, I hereby fill this prompt!  :*  This takes place in the fanfiction gap between seasons 2 and 3.

“Captain, a word?”

Flint turned to find a woman standing behind him, wearing far too elegant a dress for such a hellhole, or so the tavern had begun to appear to him post the events of Charles Town.

“You’re Eleanor’s… uh… replacement,” he said, recognizing the Madame and the new proprietor of Eleanor’s business.  Rackham and Bonny’s wily little partner.  Who helped fuck him.

“Max,” she smiled a benevolent smile at him.“I remember you,” he said, unable to hold back a scowl.

“It’s about your quartermaster,” Max said, familiarly winding her arm into his and drawing him away from the bar.

“What’s he done?” Flint growled.  He wouldn’t underestimate Silver’s ability to still somehow fuck shit up for him, even short one leg.  The pirate alliance in Nassau was far too new and too fragile to toss away.  He batted down the sudden pang of worry that crept into his belly as he allowed Max to lead him across the walkway and… towards the brothel.  “Jesus, don’t tell me he’s killed one of your workers.”

“It is nothing like that,” Max spoke quietly.  “It is simply a matter that I thought best dealt with by you directly, lest word got out.”

Well, that wasn’t terribly reassuring.  Flint sighed.  “Is he all right?” 

“He is unharmed,” Max said, and that, too, wasn’t terribly reassuring.

“Christ,” he muttered, following her down the corridor, past the sounds of overzealous fuckery that emanated through the thin walls.

She stopped before one of the rooms, gesturing for him to halt while she knocked on the door:  three short taps and one loud one.  The door opened, and through the crack Flint beheld Anne Bonny’s threatening scowl, which melted into a soft smile as she nodded and stepped aside to allow them free passage inside.

“After you, Captain,” Max nodded, gesturing for Flint to enter.  

In the bedroom, he beheld a curious sight.  By the large bed stood a brass washing basin, surrounded by a large puddle where a peg leg lay sprawled in a state of half-drowned melancholy.  A mop of wild curls spilled over the lip of the tub.  The mop of curls appeared to be - Lord aid him - singing some kind of a sea shanty that Flint would scarcely want to contemplate where Silver may have picked up.

Flint looked over at Max, who stood quietly by Bonny’s side, both their faces unreadable and entirely unhelpful.  He took a few more steps closer, circling to the foot of the tub, where Silver lay in all his disrobed glory, hands slapping like the fins of a struggling fish against the surface of the bath water.

“Silver,” Flint said, not certain what exactly he was expected to do with the “situation” unfolding before him.

A pair of limpid blue eyes slowly rose to fix upon his nose.  “Look, bubbles!” Silver offered, with an idiotic grin spreading over his face.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Flint finally asked.

“He showed up in my room,” Max began to explain a bit helplessly, “drunk out of his mind and raving.  We haven’t been able to get him to leave since.”

“And whose idea was it to give him a bath?” Flint asked, eyes still taking in the sight before him.  This sight, although not particularly uplifting, was nevertheless not entirely unpleasant.

“His own,” Bonny ground through her teeth.

“I did not think it was wise to allow your men to see him like this,” Max continued.  

“So, let him prune in there, what do I care?” Flint snapped.  “Surely you two can find another place to shack up for the night,” he smiled at Max and her little partner with all his teeth.

“Get ‘im out, or I’ll fetch Jack and Vane next,” Bonny snarled.  “He’s yer quartermaster.  That makes ’im yer bloody problem, don’t it?”

Flint’s hand twitched towards the hilt of his sword, mirrored immediately by the quick movement of Anne Bonny’s hands.  Their alliance, he reminded himself, was still far too fragile to throw away over one drunk, naked quartermaster, playing with bath bubbles in the middle of some Sapphic inferno.

“Fine,” Flint muttered, relaxing his hands.  “Just… give me some time to get him decent again, and I’ll get him out of your… hair.”

“I would appreciate it, Captain,” Max smiled again, taking Bonny by the hand.  “We’ll be downstairs if anything…”“Go,” he interrupted her. 

“Come, Anne.”  

Flint watched Bonny follow the Madame out the door, her scowl once again melting under that soft, expert touch.  With the women both gone, and the door closed tightly behind them, he let out another defeated sigh and sank down upon the unmade, ruffled bed, letting his head sink into the hold of his own hands.

“God damn it, Silver,” he muttered, addressing neither particularly the man in the tub nor whatever deity kept dangling this man before him, like some exotic and most certainly forbidden fruit.

“God damn it, Silver,” the pruning nuisance echoed him from the tub.

“What are you, a fucking parrot?” Flint snorted, raising his head and looking the man before him over from head to his one remaining set of toes, that dangled over the edge of the tub. 

“Caw-caw!” Silver replied.  “Wish that I were, Captain, wish that I were.  For were I a parrot, I could spread my wings and fly the fuck far, far away from here.  Do you think parrots need two legs to perch?  I suppose it might be an inconvenience.”  Silver once again clapped his hands against the surface of the water, sending soap suds either which way. 

“You’re making a mess,” Flint pointed out a bit despondently.

“Aye, that is my specialty,” Silver nodded and graced Flint with a wide eyed grin.  “Can we stay here?” he suddenly asked.  “I like it.  ‘S quiet.”

“Quiet,” Flint repeated, just as his ears picked up reinvigorated sounds of a squeaking bed and amorous grunts from beyond the wall.  “Jesus, how much did you have to drink, Silver?”

“Not nearly enough, if you ask me,” Silver replied with that same grin.  “I can still feel my legs.  Both of them.  Which, in itself, is disconcerting.”  One of his arms reached from the tub towards Flint.  “Can you check, Captain?  It hasn’t grown back, has it?”

“Only if you’re secretly part lizard,” Flint replied, his furrowed eyebrows softening.  He slinked down from the bed and sank to the wet floor by the side of the tub.  “Silver, I need you to help me get you out of there.”

“No,” Silver pouted.  “Not out.  In.  Stay here with me, Captain.”

“The water’s surely grown cold.  You might catch your death.”

“In the infernal heat of Nassau?” Silver asked with an air of a highly offended individual.  His arm moved again, trailing across Flint’s shoulder.  “Huh,” he muttered with a dazed look.

“Come on, Silver.” Flint gathered himself and leaned over the tub, allowing his arms to dip under the water and lock behind Silver’s back.  “Let’s go.  Put your arms around my neck.”  Why exactly was God testing him like this?  Oh yes, probably because God, too, as well as the King,  was incredibly offended by his existence. 

Blessedly, his quartermaster did as he was told, for once, lifting up his arms and circling them around Flint’s neck, like a very amiable python.  Silver reached up and rested his forehead against Flint’s own and closed his eyes, apparently in no rush to actually be lifted out of the tub. 

“Put your leg back in and push,” Flint suggested.

“Nah. This is nice, too.”  Silver’s hand brushed against the freshly shaven skin of Flint’s skull, shocking him.  He had not grown entirely used to the feel of it yet since he had updated his look, and having another man’s hand on the exposed, vulnerable skin left Flint unbalanced.  “Prickly,” Silver muttered.

Flint could at this point let the man go and step away from the tub.  He could very easily walk out of that room and leave Max and her lover to follow through on their threat of fetching his new partners (who have all fucked him repeatedly). These all seemed like very logical and achievable choices.  Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed Silver to continue touching the back of his head with those long fingers while his body lay exposed and wet in Flint’s unexpected embrace.

“Do you ever think about kissing me?” Silver asked, his arms tightening around Flint’s neck.  “Because I do.  I mean, you.  I mean, I think about kissing you.  All the time.”  Silver’s breath tickled the hollow of Flint’s neck.  “Which is kind of suicidal of me, really.  I usually have much better self-preservation skills than that.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Flint practically moaned.  He pulled upwards, attempting to drag Silver bodily out of the tub, with or without his assistance.

“James Flint,” Silver muttered, his head rolling back, his body limp and clinging at the same time.  “You’re so strong, Captain.  God, how are you this strong?”

“I’m mostly powered by rage and a festering sense of my own superiority,” Flint explained with a grunt as he fell backwards into Max’s bed, pulling Silver’s unhelpful body along with him.

“That sounds right,” Silver purred against his ear, wetly - God help him - cuddling up against Flint’s side.  “But I’d still really like to kiss you.”

“Perhaps when you’re sober,” Flint protested, weakly, attempting to brush the other man off.

“Again, when I’m sober,” Silver mewled amicably, pressing his open mouth against the thin material of Flint’s shirt where it barely covered his shoulder after all the effort of reeling that unwieldy fish out of the water.

Silver’s body was already beginning to warm to the touch, the sheets absorbing the moisture from his skin, and Flint smirked at the thought of Max and Bonny finding their sheets somewhat worse for wear upon their return. 

“You’re really good at this, you know,” Silver spoke again.  It was strangely good to see him like this, pliant and with that smile of contentment on his handsome features which had been so oft marred by agony in the past months. 

“At what?” Flint asked, breathlessly.

“Taking care of me.”

Perhaps it wasn’t such a big deal, in the grand scheme of his moral transgressions, especially of late.  Flint wrapped one arm around Silver’s naked, narrow waist and pressed him closer, letting their lips touch with gentle uncertainty.  After everything that Silver had stolen from him, perhaps the least he could do in return is steal a kiss back. Even if only one of them remembered it in the morning.

[alisonfloresus]

Technology in Early Years

I, an only child, was brought to life October 28, 1925, by my mom, Ceil Kay. No one in my family had ever even thought about a career in technology or, for that matter, math or science. What headed me that way? I was exposed to the technology of the day with little understanding of how it had evolved or where it was heading. Only in hindsight can I evaluate the evolution of technology and realize how it affected society and me, a little boy in that era.

When I was four years old, Dad and Mom and I had to squeeze in with Mom’s parents, Max and Annie, and Mom’s only sibling, my uncle Eddie. My father, Harry, born in 1900, was very protective of me and a fine person. He was a lawyer and studied New Jersey statutes like a Talmudic scholar. He became a lawyer’s lawyer, widely recognized as knowing more New Jersey statutes than anyone. I was closer to my mom and to Uncle Eddie than to my often inaccessible father.

Grandpa Max owned a wholesale candy business, a customer pickup bus he drove daily, and several rental properties including the first floor of the house we moved into. Eddie, who was nineteen years older than me, with my father’s support in a few years became a lawyer. For three years, until I was seven, when Eddie married and brought his new bride, Carolyn, into the house, I got the benefit of lots of time with him and less afterward. Eddie taught me checkers, chess, Battleship, and other games that fascinated me; let me look at his magazine, Popular Science (intriguing but to me hardly intelligible); and once took me down to a room in the cellar to see his new “chemistry lab.” He performed an experiment. He put a clear liquid in an eyedropper and dripped it into a test tube holding another clear liquid. Both looked like pure water. Each drop turned red as it fell into the test-tube liquid, which then turned pink. This was the most marvelous thing I had every seen, and ranked in my boyish mind as advanced chemistry.

When a bit older, I liked to go down to the cellar and do secret things. In one small room for a while my father had a steamer trunk that on several occasions I opened and soon understood that they were about a Scotsman whose life and times I found puzzling and interesting. I was very careful to put everything I opened back as it was. My secret was never uncovered. I learned later that these papers were the remnants of a man who died intestate. My father was handling his estate for the probate court. I never told him that I had opened the steamer trunk.

I was fascinated by the technology I saw. A bin in the cellar was fed coal by an adjustable metal slide into the bin. The other end of the slide was attached to the delivery truck. The truck driver set up the rig. The coal rolled down the slide through a ground-level window accessible to the truck parked in the street. Grandpa Max got up early every cold weather morning, emptied the hot ash bin, shoveled coal from the coal bin into the furnace, and relit the tinder. In the winter the house was freezing until the coal fire heated water in a tank, producing steam or hot water that circulated the heat to radiators in the rooms on the floors above.

In the summer, my grandma Annie placed on the windowsill (just above the coal window) a sign with three numbers: “10, 25, 50.” She rotated the sign till the desired size ice block (in pounds) was at the top. When the iceman came later in the day, he grabbed, with an ingenious one-arm ice pick, the requested size block from his truck, and Annie held the icebox door open while the iceman pushed it in. The ice had been cut during the previous winter from a frozen pond with large two-man ice saws and kept in an insulated icehouse where the blocks lasted until late in the year. It was only when home-refrigeration technology became widely available in the late Thirties that the iceman’s job was no longer required. We got one refrigerator for the whole house around 1935.

Grandpa Max chose his bus routes for some passengers who waited for him. Others he picked up ad hoc, taxi style. He would go off the route to accommodate customers. Before we moved into Max’s house, Max would pick me up at our house in Newark, New Jersey, and later return me to Mom so Grandma could relieve Mom for a few hours or maybe a day. Into the 1930s some trucks were motorized, but many still were horse-drawn. Max’s bus was motorized.

Before coal was available, logs were used to heat homes. Home central heating was not common prior to the twentieth century.

How much was new technology affecting consumers when I was a boy? Residential air-conditioning was unknown. Trains, trolleys, and horses had a capacity and usage exceeding that of automobiles and trucks. In the ensuing seventy-five years, the internal combustion engine increasingly dominated ground transportation. Trains, trolleys, and horses have, relatively speaking, almost disappeared, replaced by trucks and autos. Airplanes, accessible to very few travelers at the earlier time, only relatively recently became mass transport.

The technological changes in agriculture and food distribution over the years have also been enormous. Unlike the vast variety of food provided today by big-box supermarkets available in all but the most rural areas, buying food seventy-five years ago even in dense city populations was much closer to farm harvesting. Houses were mostly three stories with twenty-five-foot frontage where we lived in East Orange, a few blocks from even more crowded Newark. On foot Grandma daily shopped for a chicken, sometimes with me. In a kosher butcher shop she picked out her chicken from a cowering flock. The butcher wrung its neck. Sometimes, perhaps to amuse me, he let it down to run around like a chicken with its head cut off. Usually he just plunged it into a hot-water barrel, plucked its feathers, and handed it over to Grandma. Milk and other perishables came by your door down the street on horse-drawn carriages. It was not today’s farmers market. Mom told me that her grandfather, Charles Leitener, had owned a farm in downtown Newark. He had a horse, named Baby, that, hitched to a buggy, occasionally took Mom and other relatives up to the South Mountain reservation for a picnic in South Orange. Unused to cars and not looking, Mom’s grandfather stepped off the curb and was killed in 1920.

Telephones were uncommon in homes. In 1934 we had the first on the block, phone number Orange 5-8798 (amazing, what trivia I sometimes remember). Children were not allowed to use phones in my neighborhood. Operators making hand connections, plugging and unplugging switchboards, had just been replaced by automated connection within a few exchanges.

Radio was big. In some homes, then as now, radios were on all day listening to music. My mother loved Bing Crosby. I listened to that and to shows after school, like Buck Rogers in the 25th Century. (Talk about technology of the future: Buck Rogers could fly around in his “space suit” decades before Star Trek.) “Victrolas” providing recorded music were available but rare. No television until after WWII.

At one point I was frustrated because Uncle Eddie was not continuing chemical experiments with me in the cellar. At age seven or so, I decided to take the matter into my own hands. I took the tin lid off a used paint can and poured a little kerosene, turpentine, or whatever into it and set it on the concrete cellar floor. Just a few teaspoons. Of course nothing happened. A little heat was required. I struck a safety match and let the fluid on the can lid start to burn. It was burning away for what I felt was an enormous amount of time. The whole thing was silly. Nothing interesting was going to happen. Time to end it.

I stamped on it with my shoe. The burning fluid splattered and some landed off to the side on a few rolled-up carpets protected by brown wrapping paper. I looked up and saw the paper beginning to burn. I panicked. I ran upstairs to my mother and told her. She peeked at it and called the fire department. It seemed to me the fire had become enormous by the time the firemen came. They put it out quite quickly, just as my father was coming home. As requested by him, the fire chief gave me a stern lecture. When he towered over me, wearing fireman’s gear and carrying an axe, I wanted to disappear or at least shrink to a puddle on the floor. Then Grandpa Max showed up and reacted quite differently. To the grownups he said, perhaps jokingly, “Should have let the whole house burn. The insurance would pay for it.”

(This is an excerpt from MILITARIST MILLIONAIRE PEACENIK: Memoir of a Serial Entrepreneur by Alan F. Kay and is reprinted with the permission of the author)

from JournalsLINE http://journalsline.com/2017/07/09/technology-in-early-years/ from Journals LINE https://journalsline.tumblr.com/post/162781096450

[nyoomfruits]

hi!!! this is a lil snippet from the fake dating au i’m working on :) which hopefully will be done sometime next week??? but it keeps just getting longer and longer so at this point WHO KNOWS

Max is making his way to the Red Bull motor home, waving at a few familiar faces along the way. Someone shouts something at him and he turns around, missing the person coming around the corner and bumping into them with a loud ‘oomph’.

“I’m so sorry,” the other guy says, in a heavy French accent. “I was not paying attention to where I was going.”

“No problem,” Max says, steadying himself, “I wasn’t really either.” When he looks up he makes eye contact with the guy, and oh.

He’s pretty, with soft green eyes and artfully windswept hair that’s tied back with a bandana. He clearly works out, if the way his biceps flex under his thin white t-shirt are anything to go by, and there’s a playful grin playing on his lips that makes Max’s stomach flutter a little. “Hi, I, uh. I’m Max,” he says, a little awestruck, sticking out his hand.

The other guy takes it with a laugh. “Yeah, I know.” For a second Max feels a little disappointed, because that must mean he’s a fan, and well. That never ends well. But then he adds. “We’ve met before. I’m Charles? Leclerc? I’m uh, Arthur’s older brother. Also, we used to race karts together.”

Max squints at him for a second but then it hits him. “Oh yeah! You pushed me into a puddle that one time!”

Charles laughs, “It was just an inchident,” he says, in almost a perfect imitation of the interview he gave all those years ago, making Max laugh as well. Back then it was a tense affair, both parties way too worked up and angry about the whole thing. Max is glad it’s something they can laugh about, now.

“Ah yes, the good old days,” Max says, chuckling, “But seriously, it’s good to see you again, mate. Was sad to see you go from the sport. You always put up a good fight.”

Charles shrugs a little bashfully, his expression becoming a bit pinched at the edges. “Yeah, well.”

Realizing he must’ve hit a sore spot, Max changes the subject. “Hey, but congrats on your brother! He must be really happy with his seat at Williams.”

Charles’s smile turns bright again. “Yeah, thanks. We’re all very proud of him. It’s why I’m here in the first place. The whole family’s flown out to see his first race.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you any longer,” Max says, stepping aside to let him pass. “I have to go get ready for FP1 anyway. Maybe I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Charles says, smiling softly.

Max pats him on the shoulder, “It really is good to see you again, Charles. You look well.”

“Thanks,” Charles says, and there’s a second, and insane second, where it looks like Charles is checking him out, eyes moving down and slowly dragging back up. “You, too.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Max behind a little bewildered and slightly intrigued.