#redredred reference

[effervescentdragon]

pov youre charles' teammate in ferrari

[effervescentdragon]

web-weaving for redredred, my sebchal wip :)

credits: 

pics - pinterest & my screenshots (hence some of the awful quality ones)

texts - arcade, duncan laurence // following the sun, super-hi & neeka // red, taylor swift // red, pale waves // out of the woods, taylor swift // my obsession, pale waves // delicate, taylor swift // red, taylor swift 

[effervescentdragon]

no but "has anyone won more?" is sending me

[effervescentdragon]

in honour of Sebchal day, have the Monaco 2018 excerpt from the longfic I’m writing as a companion to @gruaigruaa bestie’s longfic :D it’s long enough, so it’s going to be under the cut :) have Sauber!Charles crushing hard on Seb, all inspired by that press conference I have watched more times than is probably sane.

Monaco 2018

English is still hard for Charles, and sitting in the conference with Lewis Hamilton and Sebastian Vettel isn't helping his nervousness at all. There are eight world championships in that press conference between the two of them, and Charles can admit to himself that he's a bit starstruck. 

Lewis is a legend in the sports, everyone knows that, and he has this aura of untouchability around him. Charles is definitely intimidated by him, but he tries to play it cool. The problem is, Hamilton isn't his biggest issue here, because right next to Charles in the chair is Sebastian Vettel.

Pierre had laughed so hard when he saw who Charles was going to be in the conference with, he almost peed himself. Charles didn't know why he thought it was so funny, when Pierre was the biggest Vettel fanboy amongst the two of them, and has been even since before RBR signed him for GP2. 

"Ah, Charles," Pierre had said with way too much amusement when Charles asked him this. "It is because I may be a Vettel fanboy, and admire his racing and his career, but I do not have a crush on him like you do." 

Charles had blushed so hard, his press officer came to ask him if he was developing a fever. Pierre did not stop laughing even when Charles kicked him in the shin.

"I don't have a crush on Vettel," he'd mumbled back, and Pierre just kept laughing.

"Sure you don't, calamar, sure you don't. Have you ever seen that video of his podium in Monaco last year? Because you should watch it, maybe you'll see what I mean," his asshole of a best friend said, choking on laughter. "Try not to embarrass yourself by throwing yourself at him, and keep the heart-eyes at a minimum, if you can."

Apparently, saying "I have media training" did nothing to discourage Pierre from the notion that Charles has a crush on the four-time WDC and Ferrari driver Sebastian Vettel. The same one sitting on Charles' right in his bright red Ferrari gear, laughing about all four of them wearing sunglasses inside.

Sebastian Vettel leans towards him, and Charles shuffles closer, trying to keep his hands still.

"We look like the blind mice from Shrek," Sebastian says quietly, and Charles smiles automatically, until he registers what Sebastian said. Then he covers his mouth with his palm, trying not to genuinely laugh out loud as Sebastian grins widely at his own joke. Charles never saw anyone smile so wide and so sincere while doing media duties.

"Ah, so you do know that film! Good, I thought my references were outdated," Sebastian Vettel grins at him. He has such a nice smile, Charles thinks, and then blinks. Merde. 

Questions came, suggestive and boring at the same time. 'You come into F1 with high expectations of you', the journalists say. Charles has media training, so he doesn't let himself think about what they really mean. 

You come into the seat which was promised to another. You come to fill the shoes of another life. You come into what isn't yours, into the position of a better driver, and a better man.

Charles hopes nobody notices how his hands shake under the table as Grosjean talks about who knows what.

"Don't listen to them. They just want to make a circus out of everything."

Sebastian whispers to him under the guise of reaching for more water. Charles only blinks, having taken his sunglasses off. He wishes he hadn't. He wishes the words don't make him feel warm all over. 

"Grazie," he he says softly, and gets a "Prego" in response.

Then they ask Sebastian and Lewis about him, and Charles thinks he may die right there.

"If there is no hype about him, then I don't know who should be hyped," Sebastian says, and Charles doesn't get it at first, because the grammar is confusing, but when he does understand, he can't stop the inevitable blushing. His eyes fall on Sebastian's hands, and he tries to control himself and the thoughts in his head. Inappropriate, Charles. Not now.

"Why not," he says at the notion of them being teammates. Charles knows there are negotiations underway. By the way Lorenzo is smiling sadly to himself sometimes when he thinks Charles isn't looking, he will be getting the Ferrari seat. Jules' seat. Charles swallows around the lump in his throat. 

"My advice to him is not to listen to the circus," Sebastian says and meets his eyes for the briefest of moments, the smile ever present on his face.

His eyes are really blue, and really pretty, Charles thinks to himself, and then almost groans because, fuck. Pierre may be right after all. He'll never let Charles live it down, because even though Charles could maybe not tell him, he’s going to know somehow. He has a sixth sense for embarrassing Charles.

When Lewis joins in the praise, Charles is very glad there are no cameras on him, because he thinks he may spontaneously combust. It's Lewis Hamilton, for fucks' sake. Lewis Hamilton and Sebastian Vettel are both praising him, Charles Leclerc, in the press conference. Charles has never been more glad when he saw no cameras were focusing directly on him, breathing out in relief as the questions turn to Lewis' contract.

"You did good," Sebastian tells him when they're done. Charles doesnt even try to control his blush. 

"Thank you." He stammers out. "For your words, also. They were kind."

Something passes over Sebastian's face, something Charles doesn't understand, and it's gone too quick for Charles to try to guess at what it is. Lewis catches up to them then, and starts talking about stupid questions and navalent journalists. Sebastian laughs at him, and with a final look at Charles, follows Lewis as they all walk together out of the conference to get to their press officers. Charles' phone vibrates in his pocket and he falls back, pulling it out of his pocket.

From: Pierre 🦑💙

You don't need to advertise your praise kink on national tv, you know 😂

Charles' face is Ferrari red as he hurries to catch up with his team, heading for another media obligation, but not before sending a "🖕🏻" emoji to Pierre. 

[effervescentdragon]

[effervescentdragon]

this is kind of a no brainer but I am predictable :D

this is kind of a no brainer but I am predictable :D

SPEED?

you are my favorite thats what you are <3 excerpts under the cut because otherwise it's too long :D i mean, it is me so thats a given xD

okay so i have 45k written in redredred fic for fucking f1 and this is the ONLY instance of "speed" xD i have to step up my game and write more racing less angst and porn xD

"Can we go for the fastest lap?"

"Negative, we have the fastest lap."

"Okay. But - okay."

He does another fastest lap anyways, just to challenge himself. Max retires the car. Nobody can touch him, nobody even comes close, not even Max. He is flying, reaching the speed that he’d always dreamed of, and he can’t help but smile underneath his helmet. 

He wins the race. 

When he exits the car, the roar of the fans seems to be for him and him only.

however. the princess of monaco au has TWO "speeds" and im including paragraphs bcs im just like that, even though you've read it already :D <3

Watching the race makes Charles feel more alive than he ever felt before. The adrenaline, the speed, the skill of the drivers leaves him breathless. He clings onto Lorenzo and Jules alternately, and all three of them are absolutely beaming when, completely unexpectedly to most people, Sebastian Vettel crosses the line to win the Monza Grand Prix of 2008.

and then we have this :D

“Chopin?” He asks, and she laughs.

“Of course. Études or nocturnes?”

There is sun shining through the windows, painting shadows on the piano and on Charles’ fingers.

“Études.”

The music fills the air in seconds, his fingers flying on the piano keys with the speed and agility he only remembers from clutching the steering wheel, and Charles finds it easier to breathe with every scale that escapes beneath his fingers. 

[effervescentdragon]

Last Line Game Tag

Bcs my darling ❤❤ @stormxpadme tagged me and i actually did write something luke 2 days ago when i was barely conscious so lemme see what it is :D

Im gonna put the last 2 paragraphs bcs theyre actually okay, and its from my f1 fic where i project onto everyone

Charles is as white as the void within him, devoid of feelings, devoid of anything relevant. He is the white noise on the car radio, broken by the words Red flag, keep the Delta positive, red flag, red flag, redredred. 

They don't speak again until the food is done, and by then Charles doesn't want to say anything anymore. 

Im not gonna tag anyone but please whoever wqnts to do it, tag me so i can see and take it as if ive tagged you ❤