S2 Has Ruined Me. I Will Never Ever Be The Same Fucking Person Again

the reblog notif is me

i loveeeee f1 tumblr i love reblogging cunty photos of drivers and tagging it something like "so hot so sexy so slay!" and then immediately getting a reblog notif of someone else going "ugh he deserves to be bent in half and tongue fucked in his driver's room 5 minutes before a press conference and sent out all flushed and rosy-cheeked with dry spit between his thighs" like i just think that's such a beautiful experience. the duality of it all. honestly what a place to be x

my favorite person

James Vowles' marketing strategy is top peak bc wdym you only heard about him after Logan's departure. HE'S A FREAK. (is somebody gonna match my freak? kicking out potential drivers)

maybe it's the kilometers who were the friends we made along the way 💔💔💔💔

there's always that one thing in your head that you've ALWAYS and I mean always wanted to say but you're just a scared little girl bc what if NO ONE MATCHES YOUR FREAK but then like angels draped in white cloth, someone else says it. This post is that one thing. For me at least smh. 💔💔💔💔💔

carlos sainz in that suit keeps making me wanna be his clumsy secretary that cant get shit right so he has to fuck me dumb in order for me to get my job right for once 😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏 so down bad for him omg

The parallels are crazy

ethan hunt is actually a perfect protagonist because he’s a huge bitch, distractingly pretty, and divorced—which are all essential—but also he kind of wants to end it all but god won’t let him die, is in a situationship with his best friend who definitely would, is a rebecca ferguson simp, can never decide if he likes his hair to be long or short so he’s always growing it out and cutting it again, has more trauma packed into his tight little frame than should be possible, and is obsessed with always wearing a cute little jacket

wrong.

he was always a slut

two flipping wins and this man turns into a SLUT

James, WHEN I CATCH YOU JAMES YOU SON OF YOUR MOTHER EIWOIEJDHSJDHSJD Let's talk about how the only people who care about Logan in this world are logan fans and alex albon. 🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️

I NEED THIS BIBLICALLY PLEASE

I DID SOMETHING ACCIDENTALLY 😭😭

screaming, crying, throwing up (IT SHOULD BE ME)

silver sparks and red flags - charles leclerc. ♡

--- The champagne had barely dried on his race suit when you found him.

He was still buzzing, electricity running through his skin like the roar of the engines hadn’t quite left him. Charles had taken P3 — not a win, but it meant something. The race had been chaos, and he’d fought for every corner like his life depended on it. When you saw him slip away from the crowd behind the garages, you followed without thinking.

“Charles,” you said, breathless, your smile aching in your cheeks. He turned to you, the fire in his eyes softening. “Mon amour.”

You barely had time to say anything else. He reached for you like gravity pulled him, cupping your face with hands still smelling like oil and speed, and kissed you — hard. Desperate. Like he needed the feel of your lips to make the podium real.

The kiss lasted seconds. Maybe less. But it was everything. A victory, a promise, a secret.

Or so you thought.

You didn’t see the photographer until the next day. The picture was already everywhere before you even got out of bed — Charles in his race suit, lips pressed to yours, hands tangled in your hair, your eyes closed and full of trust.

The internet exploded. And your stomach sank.

You were pacing his hotel room floor when he walked in, phone in hand. “So,” he said, calm like the eye of a storm. “We’re famous now.”

You looked up, heart in your throat. “Charles, this could ruin everything.”

He raised an eyebrow, tossing the phone onto the bed. “Ruin what? The relationship we’ve been pretending isn’t real?”

“Don’t,” you said, voice tight.

But he was already crossing the room, closing the space between you. “I’m not ashamed of you. I never was. If the world knows, let it. Let them know I love you.”

Your breath caught.

You didn’t say it often — neither of you did. The words were too heavy, too vulnerable, especially under the weight of the spotlight. But now, with the light burning brighter than ever, he offered them freely.

“I’m scared,” you whispered. “Not of being with you. Just… of the hate. The comments. What they’ll say.”

Charles nodded, forehead pressing to yours. “Then let them talk. I’ll be too busy kissing you to care.”

You smiled despite the storm in your chest, tears pricking your eyes. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Oui,” he murmured, his smile crooked, his hands already sliding to your waist. “But I’m yours.”

---