kunikame

[kunikame]

I feel like this was needed

[kunikame]

just wanted to say read the entirety of purple lilacs and omg I laughed so hard, it was great and can’t wait for next chapters! (Also 🥺👉👈 if you do request i would love for a kinich x childhood friend reader (im a sucker for those tropes) i will hopefully get around to reading more of your works soon since it late! Thanks for the laugh!

thank you, im really glad you enjoyed it!

my requests are currently closed, please refer to my masterlist and annoucements for when they'll be open again! though i have a kinich fic with that trope in the works already so you might not even need to come back to request ^_^

[kunikame]

# PURPLE LILACS !

[15] - enough to make a grown man cry | prev. | m. list | next

ace trappola x fem!reader smau

! warning(s) :  cussing, 1st years find out about readers lore, fluff

## ❝ after the events of the phantom bride wedding, ace started wondering whether he still had the ability to charm girls. he hasn’t thought about anyone romantically in years, hasn’t really flirted with anyone either, what if he’s gone out of it? perhaps it’s time to put his talents to the test; with the person who hates him most, no less. if he can charm her, he can charm anyone. ❞

#TAGLIST !  : @solxima @gabirii @lunavixia @fishboneeeee @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @bbgbonald @tjjjrsj @verity-moon @myunghology @doughnuts-eater @lifeless-bug @babygurlenthusiast @shirishere @xopeach @stormyovent0aster @bontensbabygirl @ars-tral @epelossa @sinofthesloth @skeet-2 @everettelz @01-salvatore @ambigrueity @junebunny06 @norylight @dyedracoonhair @persm1net @meowbuscompany @sugarrush-blush @oopsie-daisy-doo @shinameii @jaiistg @erigaur @hananan2 @lucky-whispers @capr1c0rnstar @krisvslove @pomegranateboba @meigalaxy @ddurandals @academiq // ask/comment or fill form to be added/removed! (if you’re in bold i can’t tag you)

[kunikame]

being anti ai is making me feel like in going insane. "you asked for thoughts about your characters backstory and i put it into chat gpt for ideas". studies have proven its making people dumber. "i asked ai to generate this meal plan". its causing water shortages where its data centers are built. "ill generate some pictures for the dnd campaign". its spreading misinformation. "meta, generate an image of this guy doing something stupid". its trained off stolen images, writing, video, audio. "i was talking with my snapchat ai-" theres no way to verify what its doing with the information it collects. "youtube is impletmenting ai based age verification". my work has an entire graphics media department and has still put ai generated motivational posters up everywhere. ai playlists. ai facial verification. google ai microsoft ai meta ai snapchat ai. everyone treats it as a novelty. every treats it as a mandatory part of life. am i the only one who sees it? am i paranoid? am i going insane? jesus fucking christ. if i have to hear one more "well at least-" "but it does-" "but you can-" im about to lose it. i shouldnt have to jump through hoops to avoid the evil machine. have you no principles? no goddamn spine? am i the weird one here?

[kunikame]

hey guys. can someone PLEASE remind me to post tomorrow. its been a week since i first wanted to update purple lilacs but i keep forgetting to make the post. someone. please.

[kunikame]

Don't Kiss And Tell | LL30

Pairings: Liam Lawson x interviewer!Reader | platonic Isack Hadjar x childhood friend!Reader

Summary: After rekindling your friendship with Isack, you can only hope to befriend his teammate in the process. And despite him blowing hot and cold, Liam actually wants that too - plus more if you two hit it off.

Author's Note: if y'all saw the poll from last week, no you didn't❤️ ngl i had already started writing this fic w liam in mind even if he hadn't been leading the poll bc i mostly wanted to see if there was any interest in liam fics (he did finish 4th out of 6 so i consider that a win lol) but dw i will write a kimi fic soon (i got a request for him that I'm excited to start!!) Until then, please enjoy my longest fic ever🫶🏻

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

It didn’t start when you attended your first race to shadow your superiors, nor did it start when you did your first real interview in the paddock with Charles Leclerc – according to you, it had been a disaster but the driver had been very kind to you and had eventually wished you luck for the future after noticing how nervous you looked.

No, it started when you were actually assigned to the media pen for the first time ever. Because that’s when you met Liam Lawson.

He had just scored some points, and was your first post-race interview of the day. It made you slightly less nervous to not have to interview one of the more experienced drivers straightaway, and you hoped that everything would go well.

“Hi Liam, congrats on a fantastic race today.”

“Thanks”, he replied.

The first thing he noticed when seeing you was that you were new, and that he had actually never met you before. The second thing he noticed was that you were young – you were probably his age so it wasn’t that relevant, but it was more so that you seemed young for this job. The third thing he noticed was that you were exactly his type. Liam didn’t mention any of those things out loud, but you could feel in his eyes that he was somehow analysing you.

“Can you talk me through the race, please?” You asked. “Was the car and strategy what you were expecting today?”

“Yeah, yeah. Strategy was good,” he confirmed. “We managed to do what we wanted to do, and the car really helped fulfil the goals we had. Yesterday’s quali was helpful as well because I was starting from a good position, so very positive things today.”

“Great to hear. You’ve been slowly improving since the beginning of the season, is it due to the car also improving? Or can we also give credit to you feeling more confident as time goes by?”

“Oh, hmm…” Liam thought for a second. He quickly glanced at his PR manager a few feet away, who nodded in order to give him some liberty to reply without criticising the car’s issues too much. “Well, I wanna say it’s mostly due to confidence. Sometimes the car isn’t what it should be, and that’s something we work on together with the team. Everyone’s doing what they can to make it perform but we have unlucky days, it’s hard to always be perfect. But yeah, I know the work I did on myself has proven very useful. I’ve really been feeling better compared to how the season started. So, it can help turn things around when the car…” – sucks, he almost said – “doesn’t perform like I’d like, because I know that I’m still able to take the most out of it and somehow make it work.”

When he was done talking, Liam realised that this was probably the most he had ever said in a post-race interview without being asked another question. He wished he could claim that it was due to his good result, and that it had made him more prone to share his feelings. But part of him knew that your welcoming smile and your sweet voice were the ones to blame.

“This is more than I expected”, you said with a chuckle. “Thank you very much for this insight; it does seem like the efforts everyone in the team make have all come together. Well done again, and good luck to keep it up for the next races.”

“Thank you.” Liam simply nodded, before choosing that as his cue to leave and follow his PR manager to the next interview.

And just like that, you had successfully done your first post-race interview. You were glad that it had gone so well, and you mentally thanked Liam for being a wonderful person to talk to. Now, you were ready to interview anyone who would come your way – even if it was Lewis Hamilton or Max Verstappen.

…..

You hadn’t expected the interviews to be so fast-paced like that. It had been less than fifteen minutes since your first one with Liam, and you had done at least six more since then. Some had been quicker than others – like Lance Stroll or Oscar Piastri – while some had taken a similar time as Liam’s interview – such as Lando Norris or Alex Albon.

But there was one driver that you had really been wanting to interview, because he would definitely be surprised by your presence here today. And as if the Gods above could hear you, they chose to indeed send Isack Hadjar to stand in front of your mic.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, as he was finishing a conversation with Ollie Bearman. But when he did, the expression on his face turned into the perfect mix of shock and happiness.

“Bonjour Isack.” The smile on your face was as professional as possible, but the tone of your voice was teasing.

To say that Isack was surprised would be an understatement. You were the last person he had expected to see today, but he was definitely not mad about it.

“Parti en dehors des points, vous avez réussi à remonter pour finir neuvième. Comment s’est passée la course pour vous par rapport à la stratégie prévue?” (Starting outside the points, you managed to climb up to ninth. How was the race compared to the planned strategy?) Acting as if everything was normal, you asked your usual question without caring that Isack was about to have a meltdown.

“Attends–” Isack had a hard time forming thoughts, his brain currently being all over the place. “Alors déjà, tu vas pas me vouvoyer comme si on était des inconnus. Qu’est-ce– qu’est-ce que tu fais là, même?” (First of all, you’re not gonna use “vous” like we’re strangers. What– what are you even doing here?)

“Je travaille,” (I’m working) you replied like it was obvious.

“Nan, mais–” Isack sighed at the teasing smile that was now on your face. “Ici”, he clarified. “À faire des interviews.” (Doing interviews)

“C’est ma nouvelle mission,” (It’s my new task) you explained. “Apparemment je fais assez bien mon travail pour enfin être sur le terrain, donc tada!” (It seems like I do my job well enough to finally be on the field, so ta-da!)

Not thinking about the fact that everything was still being broadcast live, Isack leaned over the barrier to give you a quick hug. You hadn’t expected it at all, but welcomed it nonetheless.

“Bravo, hein. Je peux que te féliciter pour en être arrivée là.” (Well done. I can only congratulate you for reaching this stage) Isack was being genuine, truly happy for what you had achieved.

“Merci”, you answered. “On peut réellement faire l’interview maintenant? Tu vas me faire virer alors que j’ai même pas encore fini ma première journée solo.” (Can we actually do the interview now? You’re gonna get me fired when I haven’t even finished my first solo day)

“Ouais, désolé. Tu peux reposer ta question? Sans vouvoiement, par contre.” (Yeah, sorry. Can you ask the question again? Without using “vous”, though)

Obliging due to Isack having completely forgotten what you had asked at the beginning – also due to him not having actually listened to any word you had said after bonjour because his brain had short-circuited, you started the interview over and repeated your question.

It was probably the happiest Isack had ever been while giving an interview, and he was now hoping that you would be there every weekend from now on.

There was also one other person who was kind of hoping for the same, and who had witnessed the exchange between you and Isack. So when Isack eventually left the media pen, he was somewhat cornered by none other than his teammate.

“Heyyyy,” Liam started as he put his arm around Isack’s shoulders. “Isack, my man, my favourite teammate.”

“Really?” Only caring about the title Liam was giving him, Isack’s eyes lit up at the sudden affection. But then, he quickly realised how out of character this was for Liam. “Wait, you sound suspicious.”

“What? No way, mate. I’m just happy right now,” Liam claimed. “We both scored points, it was a good weekend. Team effort was great, interviews went well.”

“That I can agree with.” Actually trusting Liam and not overthinking it anymore, Isack was quickly forgetting his teammate’s unusual behaviour. “I can’t believe she was there to interview me, it feels insane that we’re in the same paddock.”

“She?” Liam repeated. Bingo, he thought. He had successfully brought the conversation to you, without Isack noticing.

“Oh, yeah. You probably didn’t even notice but Canal has a new interviewer,” Isack explained.

“I did think she didn’t look familiar indeed,” Liam pretended. But he knew. He had obviously noticed Canal’s sweet and gorgeous new reporter. He had also very much noticed how close you and Isack seemed to be, and it was now his goal to discover why.

“Well, anyway. I’ve known her since we were kids, but we lost touch a bit as we grew up so…” Isack tried to remember your time together, which brought a nostalgic smile on his face. “I think I last saw her before I started competing in international karting. But we did local and national karting together, you know?”

“Well, I obviously didn’t know that.” But now Liam knew, and that was more information that he had hoped to have about you. He hadn’t expected you to have done karting, and wondered why you hadn’t pursued a professional career. “You never mentioned her, ever.”

“No, yeah, I know. But we barely kept in touch, honestly. I knew she was going for journalism at one point, but it’s still a surprise to see her here.” Isack was now reminiscing about the time you had spent together as kids, mostly on track. “She was good, you know? She was with Doriane and I in the French junior championship.”

“How good?” Liam wondered.

“She beat us both”, Isack said with a laugh.

“So do you know why she didn’t keep racing, then?”

“I told you, mate. We haven’t seen each other since then, and we barely talked apart from saying congrats to each other. She texted me when I went to F3 and F2; I texted her when she graduated. And our last conversation was about me getting into F1 so I had no idea she would eventually be there, especially with Canal. She told me at that time that she had a job in sports journalism, yeah, but I just never knew it was with them.”

“Okay, yeah.” Liam nodded, memorising everything Isack was telling him.

“Damn, now I really want to have her back in my life. Didn’t realise how much I had missed her until I was talking about all this. Also I should properly introduce you to her next race”, Isack offered.

“Sure, why not.” Liam was acting casual on the outside, but he was definitely cheering on the inside. “I briefly talked with her, but one interview is definitely a short time to gauge someone.”

“I’m sure you’ll like her”, Isack claimed.

Maybe Liam already did, but Isack didn’t need to know that for now.

…..

Unfortunately, Liam had to wait a couple weeks before seeing you again. But there was a triple header starting this weekend, and he hoped that you’d be there for every race so that he could see you more often. Upon arriving at the track on Thursday for media day, Liam was trying to figure out a way to bring you up to Isack without being too suspicious. But it seemed like the Gods were in his favour, because he didn’t even have to do that.

“Liam”, Isack called out when he saw his teammate enter the Racing Bulls motorhome. “Remember my journalist friend? Who works for Canal,” he added.

Of course Liam remembered you, but he had to pretend to be chill about it. So he simply nodded, waiting for Isack to give whatever new information he had on you.

“I texted her after the previous race to catch up, you know, and she said she’d be there until the end of the season! Isn’t that super cool?” Isack was definitely excited to see you again, and he was glad to be able to rekindle your friendship.

“Yeah, mate. That’s great to hear.”

“I’ll introduce you to her later on. She told me she’ll do the interviews on Saturdays and Sundays so we’ll be able to see her after qualifying,” Isack said. “I might ask her out for some dinner, what do you think?”

Hearing those words, Liam’s brain short-circuited. Ask her out? He thought. Did that mean that Isack was romantically interested in you? Liam had genuinely thought that Isack wanted to just be friends with you again, but maybe he had been too busy playing mastermind alone that he hadn’t taken the possible competition into consideration.

“Ask her out?” Liam eventually voiced his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Isack confirmed with a nod. “Do you think she won’t say yes? Is it too early for that? Maybe I should wait until we’re closer again in case it’s too much for now,” he assumed.

“I didn’t think this is what you wanted when you said that you wanted her back into your life last time.” Liam wasn’t necessarily mad about it, but he was now feeling insecure. Because between a random driver you had talked to once and your former karting bestie, the choice felt obvious. “But dinner is a good idea, don’t worry. She’ll definitely appreciate the offer.”

Liam shouldn’t be giving up so easily, but maybe he never had a chance to begin with. If he was lucky, maybe you’d gently reject Isack and he would then shoot his shot later on. But right now, Liam felt like he had to support his teammate.

It hadn’t even been that serious to him yet anyway. It was just a silly and innocent crush that might not even evolve into something else. Hell, maybe it was just misunderstood curiosity and Liam would realise when seeing you again that what he had felt was just a friendly crush and nothing more.

He was just trying to convince himself, not caring whether it was working or not.

…..

Two days later, you were finally entering the paddock. It still felt unreal to you that you would be coming here every race weekend from now on, and you couldn’t believe it. You had expressed your excitement to Isack, whom you had been texting non-stop since you landed. You were really eager to see him again, and even more so to recreate a bond outside of a professional relationship.

When qualifying ended, you were already waiting in the media pen. Isack had reached Q3, which meant that you would probably wait a bit more to see him as the drivers currently present were all ones who had been out either in Q1 or Q2. Amongst them, you interviewed Pierre Gasly as well as Esteban Ocon. They were both really kind to you, and expressed once again their support to you like they had done after the previous race. You were glad at the prospect of the French drivers appreciating your work, and it made you feel more confident.

Therefore, by the time Isack was finally in front of your mic, you were more than ready for him.

“Bonjour Isack”, you said with a warm smile.

“Coucou, ça va?” (Hey, you good?) He asked, a matching grin on his face.

“Je suis censée poser les questions”, (I’m supposed to be the one asking the questions) you reminded him. “Mais oui, très bien. Et toi? Heureux de partir sixième demain?” (But yeah, I’m great. What about you? Happy to start sixth tomorrow?)

“Carrément!” He replied. “La voiture est top ce week-end, donc je sens qu’on peut marquer des bons points.” (The car is great this weekend, so I feel like we can score some good points)

“Ok, j’ai même pas besoin de poser plus de questions en fait.” (Ok, so I don’t even have to ask more questions then) You laughed, Isack immediately joining in. “Est-ce que tu sens que le podium peut arriver bientôt ou c’est encore trop tôt dans la saison?” (Do you feel like a podium could happen soon or is it too early in the season?)

“Je pense c’est encore trop tôt,” (I think it’s still too early) Isack admitted. “C’est sûr que j’aimerais bien, mais je suis pas encore à ce niveau-là; et c’est encore compliqué de pouvoir se battre avec ceux de devant donc on se concentre sur des points par-ci par-là.” (I would really like that, but I’m still not on that level yet; and it’s still complicated to fight with the guys in front so we’ll just focus on scoring here and there)

“Super, ça fait plaisir de te voir confiant sur ce point-là en tout cas.” (Great, well it’s good to see you confident about that) You were genuinely happy for Isack, and you would definitely be rooting for him. “Bonne chance pour demain.” (Good luck for tomorrow)

“Merci! À plus tard”, (Thanks! See you later) Isack said before waving at you and walking away.

You were glad to be able to have those casual interactions with him, even if it still had to remain professional. After the previous race, you had expressed your worries to your superiors as you weren’t sure if they would appreciate you already knowing a driver personally. But they reassured you that they didn’t mind, and that it had actually done numbers with the fans. It seemed like people had found you refreshing, due to you being closer in age to the drivers – especially the rookies – compared to the usual interviewers.

After Isack, you talked to the two McLaren drivers before you had the second Racing Bulls driver in front of you.

“Hi Liam.”

“Hey, good to see you again.”

“Oh, thanks.” You hadn’t expected Liam to remember you as it was only your second time meeting him, and it took you a couple seconds to recover from that. “So you’re starting P7 tomorrow, right behind your teammate. Isack said the car felt good this weekend, do you agree with him?”

“Well, yeah, of course. The team has been making massive efforts in the past few weeks and it’s paying off. I really think we’re on the right path, especially if we do as great as the previous race.”

“How’s the strategy for tomorrow? Are you allowed to say if any team orders have been decided yet?”

“Ah, the dreaded question.” Liam let out a dry chuckle, knowing that he was definitely going to keep it vague and give an answer that his PR manager wouldn’t complain about. “We haven’t had a debrief yet, so I can’t say anything for now. But I know Isack and I will work together to maximise our chances, no matter who’s in front.”

“That’s a very nice answer from someone who is well PR-trained”, you teased. “But in all seriousness, good luck for tomorrow. I might become your biggest fan if you score again for my second time seeing you race.”

“Like my biggest fan?” Liam asked.

“Yours and Isack’s,” you clarified.

“Oh, yeah… we’ll be glad to have you rooting for the team, then.” Despite the bittersweet feeling due to you mentioning Isack, Liam was truly glad to have your support for the race to come. And deep down, it was extra motivation to eventually overtake Isack tomorrow if it meant that Liam could finish ahead of his teammate with you watching him.

Liam then bid you goodbye before his PR manager led him to his next interview, while you were already moving on to talk to Max Verstappen. Even if the world champion would be starting on pole, he was still a man of a few words. The following interviews went by quickly as well, and you were soon enough released from your duties.

Ready to have a small debrief with your colleagues, you texted them to notify them about having finished all your interviews. Surprisingly, they told you that you were free to go and that it could wait until tomorrow morning. One of them sent you some recommendations of things to do near the track, and made it sound like they wouldn’t accept it if you didn’t try to have fun after your workday. You thanked them for their kindness, and therefore turned your work brain off as you got ready to enjoy your evening.

…..

The next day felt like a blur. One minute you were watching the race, supporting the Racing Bulls drivers as promised; the next one, you were getting engulfed in a hug by Isack as soon as he entered the media pen.

“P5 baby!” He exclaimed as he swayed you from side to side. “J’espère que t’as bien célébré quand j’ai passé la ligne.” (I hope you cheered when I crossed the finish line)

“Évidemment”, you said as you rolled your eyes at him before pulling back from the hug. Isack’s joy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him being so happy. “Super course de ta part, vraiment. Bravo Isack.” (Great race from you, truly. Well done Isack)

“Merci, je suis vraiment super content.” (Thanks, I’m for real super happy)

“Ça se voit”, you told him. “J’en conclus que la stratégie prévue a bien marché? J’ai vu que vous prévoyiez à un moment de faire un seul arrêt, mais y en a eu deux au final. Dis-m’en plus par rapport à ça.” (I guess the strategy worked well, then? I saw that you had planned a one-stop at one point, but there were two in the end. Tell me more about that)

“Ouais, on y a pensé. Les hards marchaient plutôt bien aujourd'hui donc ça aurait pu être possible de faire un seul arrêt,” (Yeah, we thought about it. The hards didn’t work so bad today so we could’ve done a one-stop) Isack explained. “Mais dès que la safety car est sortie, on s’est dit qu’on allait pas s’en priver donc on en a profité pour mettre les softs et c’était franchement bénéfique donc merci à l’équipe pour ça.” (But as soon as the safety car came out, we decided that we wouldn’t miss the opportunity so we took advantage of it to put the softs on and that was truly beneficial so thank to the team for that)

“Est-ce que c’était surtout dû au fait que tu t’es arrêté vraiment au début de la safety car? D’autres pilotes ont malheureusement attendu son dernier tour et ils sont ressortis juste après qu’elle soit rentrée.” (Was it especially due to the fact that you boxed right after the safety car came out? Other drivers unfortunately waited until its last lap and they came back out right after she went in)

“Justement, c’est le timing qui a été parfait. Même un tour après, je pense pas que j'aurais été trop pénalisé parce que c’est ce qui a été décidé pour Liam – le double pit stop était compliqué vu qu’on avait pas beaucoup d’écart – et il a pu ressortir sans perdre de positions une fois que ceux qui sont rentrés plus tard ont décidé de passer aux stands aussi.” (Exactly, the timing was perfect. Even boxing one lap later wouldn’t have penalised us too much because that’s what happened to Liam – the double stack was complicated because our gap wasn’t really big – and he managed to leave the pits without losing any position once others boxed later on)

“Que du positif alors?” (Only good things to report, then?)

“C’est ça”, Isack confirmed with a grin. “Ça vaut bien un dîner pour célébrer, nan?” (It deserves to be celebrated with dinner, right?)

“Ça dépend, tu m’invites?” (Depends, are you paying?) You were teasing, but Isack actually agreed to that. “Je vais pas me plaindre de manger gratuitement ce soir alors. Tu me laisses finir mon travail et on en reparle?” (I won’t complain about eating for free tonight, then. Let me finish my job and we’ll talk about it later?)

“Oui, oui, je te laisse tranquille. À ce soir,” (Yes, yes, I’ll leave you alone. See you tonight) Isack said before leaving the space for another driver to eventually come up to you.

You took advantage of the couple seconds you had alone to face the cameraman, silently asking if it had been alright to publicly accept Isack’s invitation. He nodded at you, and reassured you that the fans would definitely once again enjoy witnessing the friendship between a reporter and a driver.

Even if most interviews felt similar to one another, you could never get tired of asking the same questions because you were never getting the same answers to them. And so it was with a smile that you were once again concluding your last interview of the day, congratulating Charles who had won today’s race.

True to his words, Isack was ready to bring up his dinner offer again as soon as he saw you on the way to exit the paddock. He had been waiting for you to pass by the Racing Bulls motorhome, forcing Liam to stay with him as he wanted to formally introduce the two of you.

Isack called out your name when he noticed you approaching.

“Obviously you two have met each other, but now it can actually happen with me there.” Isack then acted as if it was truly your first time meeting Liam, as he officially introduced you to each other.

“Glad to meet the girl who apparently terrorised Isack in karting”, Liam said as he reached out for a handshake.

“Glad to meet the guy who can equal Isack in a Cars fan competition.” You took Liam’s hand in yours, firmly shaking it.

“Okay, introductions done. Where are we going to dinner now? I’m starving after the race,” Isack announced.

“There’s this restaurant that a coworker recommended, it seemed nice from the pictures and reviews. Not so far from the track”, you added.

“Works for me, let’s go.”

This was the moment when Liam wondered if he was supposed to come with you and Isack or go his own way. Technically, Isack had only told Liam to wait with him just so he could introduce him to you before he would go have dinner with you. Was Isack planning to confess to you tonight? Or was this dinner, one to gauge the situation? Either way, Liam was unsure. So he played it safe, and decided alone to remove himself from possibly third-wheeling you and Isack.

“That’s my cue to go, guys. Have fun together”, Liam said before going the opposite way.

“What? Liam?” Isack hadn’t expected it, finding it sudden. “See you next weekend, I guess…” Isack muttered, more to himself than anything as Liam had already left.

“I thought he was coming with us, wasn’t he?” You asked Isack, not knowing if you had misunderstood the plans.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. This was to celebrate our points, and I also wanted you two to get to know each other.”

“That's a shame, I definitely would’ve enjoyed that.”

Not wanting to dwell on it – Isack thought that he would later talk to Liam about what the hell was this, you and Isack therefore left the track together to have dinner just the two of you. The restaurant you had chosen was the perfect place to catch up with the driver, and you spent most of the evening reminiscing about your karting years.

As Isack’s career had been pretty public, it had been easy for you to keep up with where he was racing as the years went by. Therefore, Isack tried to keep the conversation focused on you as he genuinely wanted to know how you had ended up working for Canal – it had been a pretty straightforward and lucky journey: a master’s degree following your bachelor’s with several internships here and there.

You didn’t think you’d had such a fun time since… well, since so long ago that you forgot when it was. Slowly but surely, it was as if you and Isack had never stopped being friends. It would definitely boost his morale for the next races to come, while you would be more comfortable entering the paddock each weekend and knowing that there would always be a familiar face for you to see.

This was exactly what you both had needed in your life: a steady factor that would mix nostalgia and prospect. This renewed friendship would benefit the two of you, as you and Isack were agreeing to never lose sight of each other again.

…..

During the rest of the triple header, it was hard to find Isack without you close by and vice-versa. Not that you two were constantly glued next to each other, but people now knew that you were the first person Isack would go to when entering the media pen and that Isack was the one driver who could interrupt your interviews with other people without getting reprimanded for it. Safe to say, everyone was appreciating the breath of fresh air that your friendship was bringing to the paddock.

Well, everyone but Liam.

The weekend following your dinner with Isack, Liam had been slightly grumpier than usual. So when Isack had tried to talk to him about having missed the fun evening, Liam pretended that he hadn’t heard his teammate and immediately brought up a different topic. Not wanting to upset Liam, Isack quickly decided to dismiss it and to not mention it again. It was then as if nothing had ever happened – which was kind of what the situation was – and the two Racing Bulls drivers were soon back to their usual antics.

A comfortable, although never dull, routine then settled in for the next few weeks: Isack landing on Wednesday in whichever country he would race, him texting you all about it so that you could eventually arrive in the paddock on Saturday without feeling lost, the two of you creating fan-favourite interviews, and hanging out after the race was over. It had become your ritual, and neither of you would trade it for anything else.

Still, there was always this little detail that kept bugging you as weeks went by. Remembering your first two races of the season, you had truly thought that you would have become friends with Liam due to you being close to his teammate. But it had now been two months since your first interview with the Kiwi driver, and it had somehow worsened between the two of you.

Isack had even told you that Liam had been excited – okay, maybe Isack was selling it a bit too much – to meet you back then, and it made you wonder if you had done something to offend Liam at some point. During interviews, you were still being your usual warm and lively self but it was obvious that Liam wasn’t matching your energy like he had done at the beginning. So you could only hope that it would eventually get better in the future, preferably before the end of the season.

And it did, but at what cost.

Today’s race was marking three months since your arrival to the paddock. Three months of shenanigans with Isack. Three months of befriending the rookies one by one. Three months of still not exchanging more than the mandatory interviews with Liam.

Even when the Racing Bulls driver would score, he was still withdrawn when it was time to stand in front of your mic. And today, more so than ever, you truly didn’t think that you would be able to get more than a couple words from him due to his race result.

Liam had been forced to retire the car after only a few laps. His first DNF in seven races.

He had been doing well for the past several races, scoring almost every time – except for two unluckier races where he had been on the doorstep of points.

So when you saw Liam return to the paddock, you knew that he would soon be in the media pen and you were therefore waiting for him by the time he arrived. You had been the first one there – the other reporters had not rushed as quickly as you, which meant that Liam had no choice but to walk up to you.

The expression on his face was enough to make your heart clench, but it then broke when you noticed Liam’s red eyes.

“Hello Liam”, you softly said. He didn’t reply anything, simply nodding at you to show that he was listening. “Can you tell me what happened out there?

“Just some bad luck,” he answered with a shrug. “There was an issue with the engine, which we’ll look at more in detail when I come back again to the garage after this.”

This. Like this interview was the worst experience of his life and Liam was only wishing to cut it short.

It wasn’t like it was Liam’s first DNF. But it had been such a while since his last one, that he had thought he was free from them until the end of the season. And it hadn’t even been his fault, but he still felt like he was partly to blame for this.

“This is ending your streak of three races in the points, and five amongst the last seven races. Did you think you could have kept it going if not for that engine issue?” You didn’t like asking hypotheticals like that, especially after an early race ending, but it was your job and you had to ask those if the occasion was there.

“Well… we were starting P11 so there definitely would’ve been opportunities to score.”

You thought that would be it, that the interview would finish here and now after barely three full sentences from Liam. And you wished that you could have ended it, especially when looking at Liam’s face that was only expressing how badly he wanted to wrap his interviews up. However, it seemed like you couldn’t manage enough of a good poker face because Liam quickly understood that you were trying to find a way to get more from him. It was a requirement from your job after all.

“But that’s racing”, Liam eventually added. With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair and watched from the corner of his eyes the way your expression shifted to a surprised one. Liam was even surprising himself, and he didn’t know why he had suddenly decided to help you out by talking again. But he knew why. He wouldn’t have done it with any other interviewer, except you. “We’ll analyse what went wrong today, and we’ll come back stronger next race.”

“This is just a temporary low,” you reassured him. And forgetting where you even were, you didn’t even notice when your own hand mindlessly went to rest over Liam’s on the barrier. “You proved everyone, including yourself, that you’re capable of great things. So the fans and I will be waiting for your points in the next race.”

Liam had expected everything but that. He froze at your gesture, slowly looking down to where your hand was on his. It shouldn’t feel like that, so reassuring and familiar. And yet, the warmth of your skin was making Liam feel less tense.

Following Liam’s gaze, your eyes eventually noticed what you had done without thinking. Swiftly removing your hand from his and putting it behind your back, you couldn’t help blushing at your own action.

“Yeah, hmm… I’ll let you go now. Thank you for your time,” you quickly said before looking away and waiting for Liam to go.

“No problem, see you next time.” Liam then looked around, before he walked up to a reporter standing a few metres away from you.

The embarrassment you were now feeling was off the charts, and you were truly glad that what you had done hadn’t been in frame. The cameraman next to you patted your back in comfort, as if he knew how you were feeling. Thankfully, there wasn’t any other DNF happening anytime soon and you were therefore able to leave the media pen before finding a place to watch the rest of the race.

…..

When the race ended, you were still overthinking your interview with Liam. You couldn’t get it out of your head, especially as you watched a replay of it after you had settled down somewhere in the paddock. It wasn't like anyone watching the interview could guess what had happened, but you knew. And Liam knew. Which was enough for you to keep spiraling until it was time to go back to the media pen.

Even if Isack didn’t have a race as unlucky as Liam’s, it was still far from his best one as well. He had finished P10 – only reaching the position because Fernando Alonso collided with Carlos Sainz, and because Ollie had received a penalty for track limits. Safe to say, Isack didn’t really feel like he had been deserving of that one pity point.

“Salut…” Isack said once he was standing in front of you.

“Bonjour Isack.” You sent him a comforting smile, which seemed to work a bit as he relaxed a bit. “Un point gagné après que quelques pilotes aient écopé de positions perdues, comment tu te sens de finir dixième?” (One point scored after some drivers lost positions, how do you feel after finishing tenth?)

“Bah, c’était pas trop le but d’y arriver comme ça. C’est sûr que je vais pas me plaindre de l’avoir, mais j’aurais préféré le gagner moi-même.” (Well, it wasn’t really how I wanted to get there. I’m not gonna complain about it, but I wished I could’ve scored that point myself)

“Je comprends. La performance de la voiture y était-elle pour quelque chose?” (I get it. Was it due to the car’s performance?) You asked. “Tu as dit à un moment qu’il y a avait un problème avec les freins durant les derniers tours.” (You said at one point that there was an issue with the brakes during the last laps)

“Ouais, c’était un peu compliqué aujourd’hui. Faudra revoir tout ça avec l’équipe, parce qu’avec ce qui est arrivé à Liam aussi… bah c’était pas trop notre week-end, quoi. Mais on apprécie le petit point gagné, c’est déjà ça.” (Yeah, it was a bit complicated today. We’ll have to look back at everything with the team, because with what happened to Liam too… It wasn't our weekend. But we’ll enjoy that one point, that’s something) Isack shrugged, as a way to emphasise his mixed feelings regarding the race.

“Le prochain grand prix arrive rapidement, dès vendredi. Est-ce que le résultat d’aujourd'hui va te motiver encore plus pour la prochaine course?” (The next grand prix is quickly coming, starting next Friday. Will today’s result motivate you even more for the next race?)

“Oui, oui. Y a pas de doute,” (Yes, yes. For sure) Isack confirmed. “Tu sais la phrase: être aussi bon que sa dernière course? Bah, je veux pas rester sur une dixième place du coup. Surtout quand je sais que j’étais septième la dernière fois et que j’ai gagné ces points en faisant le travail moi-même. Donc oui, ça motive pour faire mieux.” (You know the saying: you’re as good as your last race? Well, I don’t want it to be a tenth position. Especially when I remember that I was seventh last time and that I won those points by putting in the work myself. So yeah, it motivates me to do better)

“Je serai là pour te soutenir en tout cas. Merci d’avoir pris le temps de venir, et je te souhaite déjà bon courage pour le grand prix qui arrive.” (I’ll be there to support you, then. Thanks for taking the time to come, and I’ll wish you good luck already for the next grand prix)

“Merci, ça fait plaisir.” As usual, Isack gave you a quick hug before walking away to his next interview.

You were a constant in his life, and he was always glad to see you after his race. No matter the result, Isack knew he had your support and reassuring words waiting for him.

This would definitely be a race weekend to forget – whether it be for you, or the Racing Bulls. But maybe, just maybe, it would still be a blessing in disguise. Because later on, when you were back in your hotel room and already preparing your notes for the next grand prix, your phone buzzed from the most unexpected messages:

Thanks for earlier

You were the least worst interview today

To say you were confused when noticing the sender would be an understatement. You didn’t even know how Liam had found your Instagram – well, probably amongst Isack’s following – and you didn’t think you were deserving of his gratitude after your unprofessional action.

Not wanting to overthink your reply too much, you didn’t waste any time writing something back:

That’s a title I didn't expect to get

But thank you for having made my job easier

I imagine it’s not always easy to talk about a bad race right after it ends

As if today wasn’t done being full of surprises, you and Liam kept messaging each other for the following hour until he notified you of his early flight tomorrow. You wished him a good night, before you also decided to go to sleep.

Progress, you thought as you reread Liam’s last messages:

Good night to you too :)

I promise to be more talkative next weekend

Even if you would have preferred to be back on Liam’s good side after a positive race, this was more than you could have asked for. Maybe the next grand prix would finally be your occasion to get closer to him. And maybe you would finally get an opportunity to show Liam that you could be more than just an interviewer to him.

…..

Thankfully, history didn’t repeat itself when you entered the paddock the following weekend. Because Liam had noticed that nothing had happened between you and Isack, he deemed it safe to finally shoot his shot with you. He assumed that either Isack’s crush on you had disappeared by itself, or that you had rejected him before you two decided to stay friends.

Either way, Liam chose to stop giving you the cold shoulder when he saw you in the paddock before qualifying on Saturday. You had simply expected a smile from the driver, maybe a nod alongside it. But you were over the moon when Liam actually stopped walking and waited for you to approach him, before starting a conversation:

“Hi, you doing good?” He asked. Thinking that it was his chance to have you alone, maybe it was time for Liam to stop being a coward and take advantage of the fact that Isack was for once not glued to your side.

“Liam, hey!” You couldn’t help the bright smile making its way on your face, truly happy that whatever had not happened between you and Liam was water under the bridge. “I’m doing fine, excited for the race tomorrow. How are you feeling ahead of qualifying? I saw that you were doing well in FP3 earlier.”

“Why do you sound like you’re interviewing me?” Liam teased, a chuckle escaping his lips as your idea of small talk was weirdly similar to how you worded your questions in the media pen.

“It’s not on purpose,” you argued. “Professional habit, I guess…”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, sorry. But to answer you, I am indeed feeling confident that I can at least reach Q3.”

“That’s good. Does that mean I shouldn’t expect to see you very soon?”

“That’ll be the goal, yeah. Later means I qualified higher.”

“Okay,” you said a nod. “I’ll wait for you, then.”

“Not like you have much of a choice”, Liam reminded you. “Aren’t you required to interview everyone?”

“If you have an attitude like that after qualifying, I’ll give myself permission to skip yours.”

“I’ll be good as gold, don’t worry.”

“You better be.” Although you weren’t really successful, you tried to look as menacing as you could. But the ghost of a smile that appeared on your face betrayed you, and showed Liam that you didn’t really mean what you were saying. “I’ll see you later, yeah? Good luck for quali.”

“Thanks, I’ll count down the minutes ‘till I’m speaking to you again.”

While Liam was now walking to his garage, you were already making your way to the media pen. Or at least, to somewhere you could watch the start of qualifying within range so that you wouldn’t have to cross the entire paddock to get there following Q1.

After you found a nice seat to peacefully watch qualifying, you were suddenly hit with a realisation regarding your conversation with Liam. Was it…? You replayed in your head what he had told you, what you had replied, and most of all how everything had been said. You hadn't really thought about it at the time because you were just happy to finally be on good terms with Liam, but right now you were definitely overthinking it. Right now, you were ninety-nine percent sure that Liam Lawson had tried to flirt with you.

I’ll count down the minutes ‘till I’m speaking to you again, which had been said while his eyes were sparkling with mischief. Fuck, you thought. Liam had definitely been flirting with you, and you had completely missed it! What were you even supposed to do now? Flirt back? Not in front of the millions of F1 fans who would be watching the post-qualifying interviews on Canal+, that’s for sure.

Should you message him? Should you do this in person? You didn’t know. You were completely lost about what to do now that you had understood the situation. And you were overthinking so much that you weren’t even paying attention to qualifying. Getting a hold of yourself, you then decided that you would do your best to put this whole Liam thing in the back of your mind in order to focus on what you were here for: working. You weren’t about to get distracted by a hypothetical love interest – whom you had definitely not been interested with from the beginning – at the cost of doing your job well.

…..

The rest of the afternoon went fine. You successfully managed to temporarily forget about the Liam situation, even when you eventually interviewed him after qualifying – he had reached Q3 as promised and would start P8 on the grid tomorrow. During your interview, both you and he stayed professional. No flirting from him, although his smile had brightened when his eyes met yours as he had entered the media pen; and no physical contact from you like the previous week.

On the outside, everything had gone well. But on the inside, you were once again panicking when you got back to your hotel room in the evening. Being alone with your thoughts felt dangerous right now, and you feared your own overthinking. You couldn’t stay like this. So you did the only thing that felt right at the moment: you texted the only person who could somehow help with the situation.

On peut se voir? (Can we meet up?)

Genre là maintenant (Like right now)

It didn’t take long for Isack to text back. He expressed his worry about what was going on, and immediately imagined the worst. You reassured him that it wasn’t a life or death situation, but more so an internal dilemma. Isack therefore reminded you of his room number, telling you that you could come whenever.

Barely ten minutes later, you were knocking on Isack’s door – the perk of booking the same hotel as your best friend was that you two were never far away from each other in case of emergency. Not bothering to put a t-shirt on, Isack opened the door shirtless.

“Je pensais pas que t’étais pauvre au point de pas avoir de pyjama” (Didn’t think you were that poor to not have a pyjama), you teased him. “Ça paye pas assez la F1?” (F1 isn’t paying well enough?)

“Super drôle,” Isack replied with sarcasm obvious in his voice. “À quand le one-man show?” He rhetorically asked. Motioning for you to sit on his bed, Isack went to grab a couple drinks from the mini-fridge in his room. He then sat beside you, offering you some water as well as the unopened bag of crisps that he had reserved for later. “Ok, c’est quoi le problème du coup?” (Ok, so what’s the issue then?)

“Alors… y a ce mec–” (So… there’s this guy–)

“Pardon?!” Isack didn’t even give you time to elaborate that he was already interrupting you. “Il sort d’où?”

“Laisse-moi finir, nan?” You waited for Isack to close his mouth and nod before you could finally start your story. “Donc, je disais: j’ai rencontré un gars, avec qui c’était un peu compliqué au début. Je pensais ça avait bien commencé, juste en amitié déjà, mais en fait d’un coup il m’a ignorée. Hyper bizarre parce que je me disais, bah y a moyen de devenir bons potes vu qu’on a un ami en commun.” (So, as I was saying: I met a guy, with whom it was kinda complicated at first. I thought it had started out well, just friendship-wise, but then he ghosted me out of nowhere. Super weird because I was thinking we could be good friends given that we had a mutual) Taking a crisp, you thought about how to keep going without revealing too much about who you were talking about. “Et après y a eu un truc chelou entre nous; je me suis retrouvée à lui remonter le moral mais c’était toujours un peu gênant quand même. Puis là on s’est revus, et je m’attendais pas à ce qu’on se tape la discut’. Sauf que si au final, et il s’est passé un truc encore plus bizarre que tout ce qu’est arrivé avant.” (And then something weird happened between us; I ended up comforting him but it was still a bit awkward. Then we saw each other again, and I hadn’t expected us to casually talk. But we did, and something even weirder than before happened)

“Attends, mais tu veux pas me dire son nom déjà? Et où tu l’as rencontré?” (Wait, can’t you just give me his name first? And where did you even meet him?) Isack needed more details. You were being way too vague, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to help when he had no idea about what the real situation was.

“Ouais, ouais. Après”, you promised. “Donc, oui, il a commencé à flirter avec moi! C’était pas évident sur le moment, mais j’ai capté une fois qu’on s’était dit au revoir et du coup je sais plus quoi faire maintenant. Est-ce que je flirte aussi avec lui quand je le revois?” (So yeah, he started flirting with me! It wasn’t obvious at all, but I realised after he had said goodbye and now I don't know what to do anymore. Do I flirt back the next time I see him?)

“Bah, il te plaît le gars?” (Do you like the guy?)

That was the million-dollar question. Did you like Liam? Sure, he was extremely cute. He also had that nice accent. He was very-hardworking. His smile was warm. And his hair was always messy just the right way. And–

“Bon, ok. Si t’hésites c’est que tu kiffes le gars,” (Ok, well. If you hesitate then you like the guy) Isack concluded. And when you didn’t even manage to deny it, he knew that he was right. “Est-ce que maintenant, je peux enfin savoir son nom pour pouvoir t’aider un peu? Je te demande pas son numéro de sécu, tranquille.” (Can I just finally know his name to be able to help you? I’m not asking for his social security number, no worries)

“Nan, mais… est-ce que c’est vraiment important de savoir son nom? Je t’ai décrit la situation, ça suffit pas?” (Is it really important to know his name? I described the situation, is that not enough?)

“Dis-moi au moins où tu l’as rencontré,” (At least tell me where you met him) Isack requested. “C’était un mec de ta fac? Un gars random qui va au même supermarché que toi?” (Is it a guy from uni? A random guy who goes to the same supermarket as you?) At this point, Isack was ready to list every possible scenario. “Il travaille chez Canal? Il– attends, t’as réagi là!” (Does he work at Canal? Does he– wait, you reacted!)

“Quoi?” You didn’t think you had shown any sign to confirm that one of Isack’s theories was true, until you remembered that you had the worst poker face known to mankind and that your body had betrayed you without you noticing.

“Quand j’ai parlé du travail, ton visage il a fait un truc.” (When I mentioned work, your face did something)

“Un truc?” You repeated.

“Oui, bref. C’est un gars avec qui tu travailles, j’ai raison?” (Yeah, anyway. It’s a guy you work with, right?)

“Pas vraiment…” (Not really…)

“Par contre si c’est un des autres journalistes Canal, ils sont pas tous trop vieux pour toi?” (If it’s one of the other Canal journalists, though, aren’t they all too old for you?) Isack thought about everyone he had ever met from there, and couldn’t remember a single person who had looked your age.

“Il a mon âge, je te rassure. C’est pas quelqu’un de là, mais c’est un peu le travail quand même.” (He’s my age, no worries. He’s not from there, but it’s still kinda work) Thinking that Isack was already getting way too close to finding the answer by himself, you figured that you couldn’t keep it for yourself for much longer.

“Alors oui, je veux bien. Mais ton travail, c’est…” As Isack realised what you meant by a guy from work, his voice automatically died down. He looked straight into your eyes, now knowing the implications of your words. “Oh putain, c’est un pilote.” (Oh fuck, it’s a driver) And when you quickly avoided Isack’s gaze on you to focus on the water bottle in your hands, Isack knew that he was right. “Putain, mais fallait le dire plus tôt! On a perdu dix minutes à tourner autour du pot!” (Fuck, you should’ve said it sooner! We just wasted ten minutes beating around the bush!)

“Oh! Ça va, oui?! Déjà je suis venue t’en parler, estime-toi heureux.” (Calm down, yeah?! Count yourself lucky that I came to talk to you about it) You sighed, before rolling your eyes at Isack. “La prochaine fois j’irai voir Ollie…” (Next time I’ll go see Ollie…) you mumbled.

“Donc c’est pas Ollie,” (So it’s not Ollie) Isack easily guessed. “Ça fait déjà un en moins, on a encore quatre options.” (Already one down, four options left)

You groaned at the way you had helped narrow things down for Isack, without even meaning to.

“Ce serait plus simple si tu me disais d’office. On gagnerait du temps”, (It would be easier if you would directly tell me. It would save some time) Isack argued.

“Ça suffit pas de savoir que c’est un pilote? Déjà t’as capté direct c’était un rookie, y a même pas de suspense.” (Isn’t it enough to know that it’s a driver? You already guessed that it was a rookie, there’s no suspense left)

“Je peux pas t’aider si je sais pas c’est qui!” (I can’t help you if I don’t know who it is!) Isack claimed. “Ils ont tous des personnalités différentes, donc ils agiraient tous différemment pour flirter avec quelqu’un – surtout en sachant que t’es journaliste. Donc tu le vois à chaque grand prix; tu lui parles au moins deux fois dans le week-end; et t’as dit que tu lui avait remonté le moral. Ça veut dire qu’il a sûrement DNF récemment…” (They all have different personalities, so they would all flirt differently with someone – especially due to you being a journalist. So you see him at every grand prix; you talk to him at least twice during the weekend; and you told me that you had comforted him. That means it’s someone who recently DNFed...)

Isack was too close to figuring it out. You could see the gears turning in his head, and you knew it was only a matter of minutes before he would narrow it down to one driver.

Not even paying attention to your silence, Isack kept listing what he knew to try and guess who it was:

“Je sais que je peux écarter Franco: il serait direct venu me voir pour me demander des choses sur toi. C’est pas Ollie du coup. Bah Gabriel, il est déjà en couple en fait.” (I can already disregard Franco: he would’ve immediately come to ask me stuff about you. It’s not Ollie either. Gabriel, well, he’s already dating someone) Isack was now down to two people, and it suddenly felt obvious to him. “Kimi a littéralement pas abandonné depuis deux mois. Donc…” (Kimi literally hasn't DNFed in the past two months. So…) Isack looked at you, silently asking if it was who he thought it was.

The only reply you could muster to confirm Isack’s thoughts was a nod. At that, Isack almost cheered to celebrate his success in figuring it out. But then, there was the realisation.

“Mais– c’est mon coéquipier!” (It’s my teammate!) Isack exclaimed. “T’es tombé amoureuse de mon coéquipier et je l’apprends que maintenant?!” (You’re in love with my teammate and I only hear about it now?!)

“Alors, on va se calmer déjà. Je suis pas amoureuse de lui,” (Calm down. I’m not in love with him) you denied. “C’est vraiment juste un crush. Et puis c’est un peu lui qu’a commencé,” (It’s really just a crush. And he’s the one who started it) you reminded him. “À ce que je vois, Liam t’a clairement pas dit qu’il était intéressé par ta pote d’enfance.” (From what I see, Liam didn’t tell you that he was interested by your childhood friend)

“C’est vrai, bien vu. Mais j’avoue, j’aurais jamais pensé ça de lui. Je vous ai jamais vu parler en dehors des interviews, et il avait pas l’air d’être le rookie avec qui t’avais le plus sympathisé.” (You’re right, yeah. But I gotta admit, I never would’ve imagined that from him. I never saw you two talk outside of interviews, and he didn’t seem like one of the rookies you had befriended the most)

“On est d’accord? C’est quand même bizarre qu’il ait jamais fait d’efforts pour me connaître, et bam: il DNF une course, je le réconforte vite fait, et la semaine d’après il agit comme ça.” (Right? It’s for real weird that he never made any effort to get to know me, then suddenly: he DNFs, I kinda comfort him, and he acts like that the following week)

“Il est peut-être timide dans ce domaine”, (Maybe he’s just shy) Isack supposed.

“C’est plus de la timidité à ce niveau-là,” (It’s not even being shy at this point) you argued. “Tu te rappelles le resto au début? Il a littéralement fui.” (Remember the restaurant? He literally ran away)

“Ouais, j’avoue que là je sais pas. C’était grave chelou,” (Yeah, I don’t know. That was really weird) Isack agreed. “Est-ce que tu veux que je lui en parle? Discretos, bien sûr. Genre je lui dit qu’on va au resto tous les deux après la course demain soir, et je vois si cette fois il vient avec nous.” (Do you want me to talk to him about it? Low-key, of course. Like I tell him you and I are having dinner together after the race tomorrow night, and I see if he’ll come with us this time)

“Et s’il refuse, tu demandes si c’est moi le problème.” (And if he refuses, you ask if I’m the issue)

“Ça marche.” Isack high-fived you at the prospect of his plan working. “Je peux faire autre chose pour t’aider? Maintenant que je sais, je suis trop investi là.” (Can I do anything else to help? Now that I know, I feel invested)

“En mode c’est toi qui vit l’histoire, carrément.” (As if you were the one experiencing the situation) You laughed at Isack’s enthusiasm, glad to have his support. “Mais sinon… je sais pas. Ça sera plutôt entre lui et moi après; je veux vraiment apprendre à le connaître maintenant qu’il paraît prêt à me donner une chance.” (But… I don’t know. It’ll mostly be between him and I then; I really want to get to know him now that he seems ready to give me a chance)

“En tout cas, tu sais où me trouver si t’as besoin.” (Well, you know where to find me if you ever need)

“Merci, ça fait du bien d’avoir quelqu’un pour en parler.” (Thanks, I’m glad to have someone I can talk to) With a sigh of relief, you lay down on Isack’s bed. “En espérant que je me suis pas trompée sur la situation.” (I hope that I didn’t misunderstood the situation)

“Mais nan, t’inquiètes. Tout va bien se passer”, (No, don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be fine) Isack reassured you.

As if on cue, it seemed like the universe had a knack for comic timing; someone was knocking on Isack’s door.

“T’attendais une autre fille avec des problèmes de coeur ce soir?” (Were you waiting for another girl with boy problems tonight?) You teased.

“Absolument pas”, Isack replied. He stood up from the bed and walked towards the door before opening it. “Ah, Liam.”

Hearing Isack say the name of the guy you had both been talking about for the entire evening made you immediately sit up. You had no idea what he was doing here, and it seemed like Isack was as confused as you.

“Do you need anything bro?”

“Yeah”, Liam confirmed with a nod. “I think I forgot my charger at the track, you have one I could borrow for the night?”

“Yeah, no problem. I should have one lying around somewhere.”

As Isack left the doorway to go find his charger, he left the door ajar. And it was open enough for you to see Liam. But if you were able to see Liam, then he was also able to see you. Then followed the most awkward eye contact you had ever experienced as Liam’s expression turned into one of surprise at the sight of you.

“Here you go.” Isack handed his charger to Liam, bursting the bubble that had been surrounding you and him.

“Thanks, mate.” Liam took the charger, but he didn’t leave immediately. He lingered for a few seconds, his gaze still on you. Then, he looked at Isack. And that’s when Liam started overthinking as he was noticing the little details that shouldn’t have mattered so much: Isack shirtless, you on his bed. “I didn’t know you two were…” Together. Liam didn’t even want to finish his sentence, scared that his assumption was true.

“She just came here to talk about some stuff, yeah.” Isack didn’t pick up on the tone in Liam’s voice, nor did he notice the way his teammate’s expression fell. He was just focused on not letting it show that Liam had been their topic for the whole evening.

“Cool, cool, cool. I– I’ll get going then, have fun.” Strangely similar to that one time three months ago, Liam just left without waiting for Isack’s answer.

Isack closed the door, before returning to his spot next to you on the bed. While he seemed completely chill, you were slightly nervous.

“C’était pas chelou?” (Wasn’t that weird?) You wondered. “Genre la vibe.”

“Je sais pas, j’ai pas eu l’impression. Juste aucun de nous s’attendait à se voir ce soir, c’est tout.” (I don’t know, didn’t think so. None of us were expecting to see each other tonight, that’s all)

“C’est sûr que je pensais pas le voir après qu’on ait passé trente ans à parler de lui. Et il devait pas s’attendre à ce que je sois là, en venant te voir…” (I was certainly not expecting to see him after we talked about him for ages. And he was definitely not expecting to see me here when coming to see you…) The realisation dawned on you. “Isack! Putain…”

“Quoi?” He asked, not noticing the panic rising in you.

“Imagine”, you started. “Imagine tu crush sur une fille; et le soir même après avoir tenté de flirter avec elle, tu la vois dans le lit de ton coéquipier.” (Imagine you like this girl; and the evening following you trying to flirt with her, you see her in your teammate’s bed)

“T’es pas vraiment dans mon lit là. C’est plutôt sur le lit”, (You’re not really in my bed right now. More like on the bed) Isack corrected.

“C’est pareil!” (It’s the same thing!) You exclaimed. “En plus t’es torse nu, et je suis vraiment en pyjama. C’est horrible, il doit croire que je m’intéresse pas à lui maintenant…” (On top of that you’re shirtless, and I’m in pyjamas. That’s terrible, he’s gonna think I’m not interested in him now…) Putting your head in your hands, your only wish was now to wallow in misery until the end of time.

“Peut-être pas, t’inquiètes…” (Maybe not, don’t worry…) Isack had to admit that you made a good point, but he still wanted to reassure you. However, the stern look you were giving him showed that he wasn’t very successful. “Nan mais, on est amis. Il le sait. C’est normal entre amis de faire des soirées pyjama, tranquille. Mais je lui en parlerai demain et je lui dirai qu’on a juste passé un moment entre potes, t’inquiètes.” (We’re friends. He knows that. It’s normal to have sleepovers with friends, no worries. But I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow and I’ll tell him we just spent some friendly time together, don’t worry)

“Arrête avec les t’inquiètes s’il te plaît parce que je vais finir par faire que ça en fait.” (Please stop saying don’t worry because I’m gonna end up doing just that)

“Ok, ok.” Isack raised his hands in defence, not wanting to upset you further.

“Je pense je vais aller me coucher,” (I think I’m gonna go to sleep) you then announced. “Tu devrais faire de même; t’as la course demain et que tu sois en forme.” (You should do the same; you have a race tomorrow and you need to be in good shape)

“Ouais, t’as raison. Ça va aller?” (Yeah, you’re right. You’ll be fine?)

“On va faire au mieux, écoute. En tout cas, merci.” (Gonna try my best, thanks) You smiled at Isack, before making your way to the door. “Bonne nuit, on se voit demain.” (Good night, see you tomorrow)

“Toi aussi, dors bien.” (You too, sleep well)

You then left Isack’s room and went back to yours. You were certain that you would overthink the Liam situation for a bit before eventually being able to sleep. However, you were determined to do everything but focus on it tomorrow. It would have to wait until after the race.

…..

The next day, you were still as resolute to keep Liam at the very back of your mind. Thankfully, you wouldn’t see him until the post-race interviews and that enabled you to spend the day in peace.

Meanwhile, Isack was having the complete opposite goal from yours: he needed to settle the issue with Liam before the race. Isack would try to sort it out without divulging your feelings, but he was also ready to confront Liam the second he would notice his energy getting weird. Therefore, before the drivers’ parade, Isack was waiting for his teammate in the Racing Bulls motorhome.

He had chosen his timing well: every briefing had been done in the morning, and no one cared about what the drivers did during their free time. And even though he knew that no one would come bother them until it would be time to leave for the parade, Isack still decided on a somewhat secluded place upstairs.

While waiting for Liam, Isack had been pacing around the room. He had already done a dozen laps around the couch by the time he heard footsteps approaching. As Liam entered the room, Isack tried to act natural – as if his face wasn’t already betraying him with how nervous he looked.

“Hey Isack, you need anything?” Liam had thought it weird that Isack had asked him to meet here when they usually spent their time with some engineers before the race.

“Yeah, thanks for coming. I won’t be long, but I just needed to talk to you about something.”

“Sounds extremely vague and suspicious, but go on.”

“About yesterday evening, when I was with–”

“No need to explain it to me,” Liam interrupted. “I know.”

“Really?” Although surprised about it, Isack had to admit that it was making his job easier if Liam hadn’t misunderstood the situation. “Okay, cool. So we’re fine, then?”

“Yeah, of course. Good for you, mate.” Liam patted Isack on the arm. “Didn’t know that you still liked her, but I’m happy for you two.” That wasn’t completely true, but Liam didn’t have much choice but to pretend.

“Wait, what do you mean?” To say that Isack was lost would be an understatement. He thought that Liam and him were on the same wavelength, but they were apparently not.

“Well, you told me that you’d ask her out back then – after her second race weekend. Then, I thought you had either backed out or she had rejected you. But after yesterday, it’s obvious you actually succeeded.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Liam?”

“I’m talking about you two dating?” It felt more like a question than anything, as Liam didn’t understand why Isack was so confused. “I would’ve liked you to tell me, by the way. Because now I feel like a fool after trying to flirt with her.”

“I’m not dating anyone!” Isack said. “Let alone her,” he added.

“But– yesterday? She was in your room, all cozy. And– just– you two are always hanging out, all close.”

“Bro, yesterday was not a date at all. She came to my room because she needed a friend to talk to about some stuff, I told you that!”

“Sorry that it looked ambiguous, then!” Liam argued.

“I can’t believe she was right, though.”

“About what?”

“She was scared that you would think that – that we were together – and I told her she was overreacting. She thought you wouldn’t like her anymore if you believed we were dating,” Isack explained.

“Who said I liked her…” Liam muttered, now avoiding eye contact.

“You literally said two minutes ago that you flirted with her.”

“Yeah, true.”

A moment of silence passed, as the atmosphere felt less heavy now.

“Does she like me back?” Liam eventually asked.

“She was pretty bummed at the thought of you not liking her anymore. That should tell you something.”

“I feel stupid now.”

“You are”, Isack said. “So now if I offer you to come eat with us tonight, will you accept or will you escape last minute again?”

“What do you mean again?”

“You make no effort, bro.” Isack sighed, not believing the amount of misunderstandings he and Liam were currently going through. “The restaurant? Like two months ago? I introduced you to each other, but then you bailed on us not even five minutes later.”

“Because I thought this was a date between the two of you!” Liam had to sit down. After doing so, he deeply inhaled. Closing his eyes, he then exhaled as he could already feel himself being less tense. “The day before, you said that you would ask her out to dinner. Why would I tag along to what was literally a date.”

“It wasn’t,” Isack denied. “Why would I tell you about it if I didn’t want you to come with us? I’m sure it was right after I told you I would introduce you to her, which I did. And then we were supposed to go to dinner, to which I asked her to come with us.”

“Oh God… Isack, do you actually know the difference between asking and asking out?”

“It’s the same thing.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Liam leaned back on the couch, now realising that this has all been due to Isack not knowing proper English grammar. “The first one literally means to ask someone a question. Now, asking someone out means you’re asking them to go on a date.”

“Ah… my bad, then.”

Okay, maybe Liam hadn’t been the only one at fault; because Isack was definitely to blame as well. Now just looking at each other, the duo didn’t really know what their next step would be. Isack decided to join Liam on the couch, hoping that it would help.

“Do you really like her?” Isack wondered, turning his head to look at Liam.

“Yeah”, Liam admitted. “I’ve been a dick, and yet she always managed to remain professional with me. She’s way better at her job than I am. And she’s kind. Did she tell you about last week? When I DNFed.”

“Just said that she comforted you a bit.”

“She did, yeah. She’s a good person.”

“She is”, Isack agreed. “You’re gonna ask her out, now? Like properly”, he specified. “Not my version.”

“If that’s alright with you.”

“Of course it is. As long as you never act like that with her again, and that you communicate instead of ending up with like ten misunderstandings at the same time.”

“I think I can manage that, don’t worry.”

“Okay, then go.” Isack motioned to the door, signaling Liam to go talk to you before he would change his mind.

“What? Like now?”

“Why not?”

“Isack, we have the parade in like…” Looking down at his watch, Liam noticed how long they had actually spent together. “Fuck, we have like– less than five minutes before we gotta be there.”

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?!”

“Because we were arguing!”

Now frantically leaving the room, Liam and Isack were running as they made their way outside the motorhome. While one almost tripped down the stairs, the other had barely missed falling into a plant. They were as quick as they could, and arrived breathless to the meeting point.

“Why are you guys looking like you just ran a marathon?” Kimi wondered, before peacefully sipping his water.

“Because we did run”, Liam replied.

“You didn’t need to. The parade is delayed for a bit,” Ollie told them. “George sent a text to the groupchat so that we didn’t have to rush to get there. That’s why it was fine for you two to take your time.”

Both fishing out their phone from their pocket, Isack and Liam noticed that they had indeed received the information. Exchanging a glance, they just began to laugh at their shared braincell. Kimi and Ollie looked at them before looking at each other – the former Prema teammates were definitely confused.

“Are you two alright?” Kimi asked, genuinely worrying about his friends who looked like they had gone insane.

“Yeah, we are. We’ll be”, Liam said.

“If you say so.” Kimi then went back to the conversation he had been having with Ollie before Isack and Liam had arrived, therefore leaving the two Racing Bulls drivers to catch their breath.

…..

When the race was over, you were truly happy for your favourite drivers. Liam had managed to keep his starting position – P8 – while Isack had fought his way from P15 to eventually finish P10. You knew that this time, the French driver would definitely feel worthy of that single point.

Having arrived at the media pen slightly early, you took the calm surroundings as your opportunity to check your phone. You saw a text from Isack that you hadn’t noticed before, and wondered how you had missed it as it had been sent right before the race. When reading its content, your expression quickly turned into one of confusion:

Tu me remercieras + tard<3

Why would you thank Isack? There was no context whatsoever, and you hated that you wouldn’t be able to bring it up during your interview with him. Speaking Thinking of the devil, Isack was now entering the media pen as he sipped his water.

“Isack, bonjour.”

“Attends, faut je bois là. Je suis grave déshydraté”, (Wait, I gotta drink. I’m so dehydrated) he told you. Isack then spent the next minute just drinking, not saying a word as the camera was still recording. “Okay, c’est bon.”

“Cool. T’es arrivé dixième aujourd’hui,” you started. “Même position que la semaine dernière, mais une course complètement différente avec un bon nombre d’overtakes de ta part. Comment tu te sens par rapport à la course d’avant?” (Same position as last week, but a completely different race with a good amount of overtakes from you. How do you feel compared to the previous race?)

“C’est pas du tout pareil, ouais. Entre finir dixième parce que les gars devant ont été pénalisés et finir dixième parce que j’ai doublé, bah c’est sûr la deuxième situation est bien meilleure. Cette fois, j’accepte vraiment le point avec fierté.” (It’s not the same at all, yeah. Between finishing tenth because the guys in front of me got penalised and finishing tenth because I overtook, for sure the second situation is way better. This time, I proudly accept the point)

“Ça fait plaisir de te voir de si bonne humeur en tout cas. On continue sur cette lancée pour le prochain grand prix?” (It’s great to see you so cheerful. Let’s keep it that way for the next grand prix?)

“Absolument”, Isack confirmed with a nod. “En espérant finir au moins une ou deux places plus haut.” (Hoping to finish one or two positions higher)

“Bon bah c’est ce que je te souhaite alors.” (I’ll wish that for you, then) Thinking of a way to subtly bring up the message he had sent, you tried to stay natural. “Autre chose à ajouter après cette superbe course?” (Anything else to add after this wonderful race?) Raising an eyebrow at Isack, you hoped that he would manage to read between the lines.

“Je veux juste remercier l’équipe parce qu’ils font un taf de fou chaque week-end et c’est vraiment top de voir la voiture performer comme elle l’a fait aujourd’hui, donc merci à eux du fond du cœur.” (I just wanna thank the team because they do an incredible job every weekend and it’s truly amazing to see the car perform like it did today, so thanks to them from the bottom of my heart) Isack had not picked up on your words, and you internally sighed. However, it seemed like your intentions had somehow still reached him because he then brought up the topic himself. “J’espère que tu me diras merci aussi, d’ailleurs; même si c’est pour d’autres raisons.” (I hope you’ll thank me too, by the way; even if it’s for other reasons)

You thought that you would have an opportunity to reply, but Isack simply grinned before leaving as if everything was normal. You were flabbergasted at his audacity to not acknowledge your confusion, and you turned to the cameraman in annoyance to silently ask him if he had understood anything about Isack’s attitude. He shook his head, being as lost as you.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t dwell on it and had to quickly get back into your interviewer mode when Lando walked up to you. The Brit had won today’s race, and you were glad to notice that he was particularly chirpy as he happily detailed everything good that had happened to him. Then followed another driver, and another, before you were soon enough reaching your last interview of the day.

You hated to admit it, but it truly bothered you that Liam hadn’t come to you sooner. He had walked past you four times, not glancing your way even once. However, he now had no choice but to come talk to you as you were also his last interview for today. The media pen was rapidly emptying and soon enough, everyone was leaving – except for Nico Hulkenberg who was still talking to a German channel.

“Liam, so nice of you to finally join us.”

“Saved the best for last, yeah.”

“How was your race?” Ignoring his comment, you did your best to not let it show that his words were affecting you. You hadn’t expected Liam to be smooth like that, and maybe it meant that what had happened yesterday evening wasn’t an issue. “You managed to defend your position really well, especially when you had Esteban Ocon right behind you on fresher tyres. Tell me more about that.”

“Yeah, that was tough. It was hard to not get caught up, especially when he had DRS. But thankfully, I also managed to get it as well towards the end when I got closer to Lewis so that really helped me.”

“Speaking of, you boxed two laps before Hamilton. I understood that you tried to undercut him with your second stop?”

“We did try, yeah. It wasn’t the backbone of our strategy so we didn’t dwell too much on it when it didn’t work, but it would have been nice to get P7 because of that.”

“How do you feel being able to compete with such a legend like Lewis Hamilton? Do you think of that when you’re right behind him on the track? Or is he just a regular guy you want to beat?”

“I don’t think it’s something I focus on”, Liam admitted. “Obviously, I see the Ferrari in front of me and I know there’s an amazing driver inside no matter which car it is. But it always seems to like, dawn on me after the races when I realise that I’m fighting with literal champions out there.”

“Maybe someone will think that about you in several years”, you suggested. “And there probably are some young kids watching F1 who already think that.”

“I wish.” Liam chuckled, appreciating the possibility. “Do you think of me as a champion, even just a potential one?”

“Oh, hmm…” Not expecting the question, it caught you off-guard as you pondered on the meaning behind it. “Well, I definitely can’t deny that you’re part of the twenty best drivers in the whole world. Would it stroke your ego if I said yes?” You hadn’t meant for it to sound as teasing as it did, but the words left your mouth before you could overthink them.

“Coming from you? Yeah, definitely.” Liam’s tone was now more playful than ever, matching yours. However, he quickly went back to a more serious one as he remembered that your conversation was still broadcast live. “But I’m not there yet, I know that.”

“One day”, you told him with hope in your voice. “P8 is still a great result from you today, though. So congrats for that, Liam.”

“Thanks,” he said with a grateful smile.

After those last words from him, it was time to cut the camera as you had officially finished your last interview of the day. Your cameraman congratulated you for another good day of work, and you did the same before finally switching your journalist persona off.

Looking around, you quickly noticed that the media pen was literally empty as you stretched your arms. Had you really been so engrossed in your conversation with Liam that you hadn’t realised you were the only ones left? As if the driver could read your thoughts, he commented out loud on it:

“Guess we did talk for a while.”

Turning around to where he was standing, your eyes met his teasing ones. Liam was leaning on the barrier separating you, which had brought him slightly closer to you.

“Yeah”, you replied. “We should start our own podcast at this point.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind that if it meant that we’d spend more time together.” Liam took advantage of the fact you and him were currently alone to test the waters. He didn’t want to come off too strong, but he also needed you to understand his intentions before he would explicitly express them.

Meanwhile, you were becoming more flustered after each word coming from Liam. Yesterday hadn’t affected you that much when you two were talking – although it eventually did trouble you when you had realised what Liam had been doing – but today was different. Because you knew Liam was flirting with you, and there was no other explanation as to why he was looking at you like you were a P1 trophy. Still, you were unsure how to react and Liam sensed your hesitation.

“You remember when we met?” Liam asked.

“Our first interview?”

“No, later – like officially met with Isack being there.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I’m sorry for blowing you and Isack off,” Liam apologised. He figured now was a good time to make amends with you, and to explain his point of view from back then. He thought that it would be better for the two of you to start over, before Liam would try anything with you – whether it be to start a platonic or romantic relationship.

“It’s fine, no worries.”

“It’s not,” Liam argued. “Let’s be honest, I was a total dick to you. So I’m sorry about how I acted after that, too.”

“It’s all forgotten”, you reassured him. You had to admit that you were now more curious than ever about what had led to him acting so cold to you, and you hoped that him currently opening up would help you get that information. “You don’t have to answer, but why were you like that? I really wished you would have told me if I had done something to upset you.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t you at all!” Liam didn’t want you to think that you were the one at fault, as it was the complete opposite – you had truly done nothing wrong. “You’re gonna think it’s stupid.”

“Come on, it can’t be that bad?”

“I thought you and Isack were together, or that he at least liked you. And I didn’t wanna get in the way”, he explained.

“Okay, that’s stupid.” You really tried not to, but you couldn’t help laughing at Liam’s words. “Me and Isack, really?”

“Well, yeah? But it’s kinda his fault too, because he told me that he wanted to ask you out to dinner when he actually meant literally asking you to get dinner. So that’s why I didn’t come back then.”

“Not gonna lie, English grammar was never his forte.”

“Yeah, I realised that when we talked things over earlier.”

“You did?” You repeated.

“Before the race, yeah, Isack and I smoothed things out – he confronted me about my shitty attitude, after we had a misunderstanding about yesterday because I had once again thought that you guys were together.”

“You mean… yesterday evening?” When Liam nodded, you nervously chuckled. “I was scared that it would happen, yeah. But I can assure you, nothing has ever happened and will ever happen between us. Hell, I came to his room to talk about you.”

“Really? Isack didn’t mention that.” Liam straightened up as he acknowledged the information, and he couldn’t help the teasing smile making its way on his face.

“Don’t get all smug about it, now. I had to mention your shitty attitude to someone, didn’t I?”

“Touché. But we’re good, now?” Liam wondered, hope obvious in his voice.

“We’re good,” you confirmed. Once again realising how much you and Liam were talking, you looked down at your watch and noticed the time. “Shit, aren’t you supposed to be debriefing with your team?”

“They can wait”, Liam shrugged off. “Though I can start making my way back to the motorhome, if you’ll walk with me?”

“Sure”, you accepted. You checked your phone to see if there had been any message from your colleagues, and you sighed in relief when the only one was a text from your superior congratulating everyone for another successful weekend.

If you had told the you from only last month that she would be having flirty conversations with Liam Lawson and would then spend time with him outside of the required interviews, she wouldn’t have believed you. But here you were, walking in the paddock next to him as if everything was normal. The silence between you was peaceful, but there was still an underlying tension that was only waiting to see the light of day.

When you and Liam reached the Racing Bulls motorhome, you were almost disappointed that the way there had been so short. And it seemed like Liam thought the same, because he wasn’t making any move to leave you.

“Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me back.” For someone who had been strangely confident earlier, Liam now wanted to disappear from the face of the earth with how awkward he currently sounded. Get a grip, he told himself. And get the girl. However, you weren’t really reacting to his words and Liam thought that maybe everything that had happened today had been enough for you. So he figured that he wouldn’t try anything else for now, and that it could wait until next time – he would be seeing you soon again during the next weekend, after all. “I’ll go, then. See you–”

“Are you flying out tonight?” You then blurted out, not realising you had interrupted Liam.

“What?”

“Sorry, that was like– way too random. But, are you?”

“No, I'm not. My flight is tomorrow around noon I think”, he told you.

“So you’re free tonight?”

“As soon as the team debrief is done, and after we end up being forced to film some stuff for the socials, then yeah. Why? Wanna ask me out?” Liam was joking – although he was actually hoping that it could happen, not expecting you to positively answer.

“Yeah, actually.” It made you nervous that Liam had apparently seen through you so easily, and you hoped that it wouldn’t be a detriment to you. “If you want, of course!” You then added when Liam didn’t react. “I was under the impression that you were also trying to get to that, so…”

“Yes!” He exclaimed, which startled you from how loud he had eventually replied. “Yes, yeah. Of course I want that, yes. Sorry, you beat me to it.”

“It’s fine, no worries.” You were now a blushing mess, but also definitely a happy one. “So, dinner tonight? You and me?”

“Yeah, that sounds perfect. No Isack”, Liam stated. “Just us two.”

“No Isack”, you repeated with a smile.

“Isack is there right now, though.”

At the sound of another voice, you and Liam immediately looked around to find where it had come from until you realised that it had come from above. Neither of you had noticed him before, but Isack had actually been standing on the balcony of the motorhome from the beginning. When he had seen you and Liam walk back together, curiosity overtook him and he couldn’t help spying on his two friends.

“How long have you been there?” You asked, horrified at the thought of Isack having witnessed the entire conversation.

“Long enough to know that this” – he said while motioning between you and Liam – “could’ve happened a long time ago.”

“Well, this is currently none of your business.”

“It is”, Isack claimed. “Especially when it concerns two idiots I care about.”

“You were also an idiot in this”, Liam accused. “Now, can you let us finish this conversation alone?”

“Yeah, don’t take too long. Briefing’s in five,” Isack told his teammate.

“Okay, now where were we?” Liam asked, focusing his full attention back on you.

“She was asking you out to dinner,” Isack said from above. “Which wasn’t what I did with her.”

“Isack! Fuck off!” You yelled at him.

Looking at what you had in your hands before quickly shuffling through your bag, you made a choice in record time as you thought about what you could sacrifice and threw one of your notepads at Isack. You proudly grinned when the object did hit him, and your smile expanded with satisfaction when Isack then ran back inside the motorhome to avoid you throwing something else.

“Nice aim”, Liam complimented.

“Thanks. Now where were we actually?”

“I recall that I was saying yes to dinner with you.”

“Sounds about right,” you agreed with a nod. “Text me when you’re done with your driver duties, and then we’ll meet up. We’re staying in the same hotel anyway, so, we can go from there?”

“Works for me. I’ll bring your notepad back,” Liam offered.

“That’ll be much appreciated, thanks. See you later?”

“Yeah,” Liam confirmed. “See you later”, he said before reluctantly leaving you and entering the motorhome.

While you would be making your way back to the hotel to eventually get ready for your date, Liam would be impatiently waiting for his debrief to end. But before that, he had to face Isack’s smug expression when he arrived in front of the briefing room.

“Do not even start”, Liam warned as he walked past Isack who then followed behind him into the room.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking so loudly that you don’t need to.”

“You are also thinking very loudly, mate.”

“Okay, then care to enlighten me about what’s currently on my mind?” Liam crossed his arms, looking at Isack with a deadpan expression.

“You’re thinking about your little date, obviously. I bet she’s all you can think of,” Isack claimed.

“Absolutely not”, Liam tried to deny. However, the way his lips slightly turned into a smile at your mention was betraying him. “Right now, I’m thinking about how I really want to shut you up.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re only mad because I’m right.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night”, Liam grumbled before taking a seat next to his engineer.

Of course Liam had been thinking about you, and he had kept doing so for the entire debrief, then as well while he and Isack had recorded a video for the team’s socials to talk about their race results.

You were still the only thing on Liam’s mind when he left the paddock and made his way back to the hotel; still when he changed out of his team kit and shuffled in his suitcase to search for some nice clothes; still when he eventually left his room to walk to yours; still when he knocked on your door and he could only think about how unreal this whole situation felt.

When you opened your door, you didn’t even have time to say a word that Liam was shoving two things in front of your face. In his left hand, your precious notepad that you had thrown earlier at Isack. In his right hand, a small bouquet of your favourite flowers – Liam wouldn't admit it, but he had asked Isack for that information when he noticed the flower shop right across the street before entering the hotel.

“That”, you said as you took the notepad first. “I was expecting. But that?” You carefully grabbed the bouquet, trying not to focus on your fingers brushing Liam’s.

“Didn’t want to come here empty-handed”, Liam explained.

“They’re beautiful, thank you so much.” There wasn’t a vase in your room, but you figured that the bouquet was small enough to fit in the water bottle on your nightstand. After you made sure that both items had been safely put away, you walked to Liam who was still standing in the doorway. “But you know, there is now one advantage to you not carrying anything in your hands.”

“Which is?” Liam stepped back in the corridor as he watched you lock your door before holding out your hand to him. He looked down at your palm facing towards him, and it took him a few seconds to realise what you wanted him to do. Not hesitating as soon as he got the memo, Liam grabbed your hand in his. “That was smooth,” he told you. “Did you rehearse it while waiting for me?”

“No need. I’m a natural charmer when it comes to you now,” you teased.

“Can’t deny that”, Liam agreed. “I’ve been charmed since the day I first saw you”, he admitted.

“And you still chose to back away when you thought Isack liked me?”

“What can I say? I’m the best teammate he’ll ever have. He should thank me for that.”

You chuckled at Liam’s words, still finding it crazy that things would’ve never improved between the two of you without Isack clarifying the situation to Liam.

“That reminds me, Isack texted me earlier that I should be thanking him later. Now it makes sense.”

Even if Isack’s lack of fluency in English had unfortunately been the trigger to months of misunderstandings, you had to admit it was still thanks to him that the issue had eventually been solved and that you could now finally get that long-awaited dinner with Liam. Speaking of, you were now realising that you had no idea where Liam was taking you as the two of you were currently walking under the streetlights. You didn’t mind it, though, and settled for looking at the scenery around you while wandering hand in hand with Liam.

“Don’t do it, though. Or else it’ll get to his head. We can’t have him know that he succeeded.”

“True”, you agreed. “But it’ll be hard to ignore him if he expects it, because I’m certain he’ll text me as soon as he sees my location being back at the hotel. Hell, he’d even be capable of waiting in front of my door.”

“I’m already regretting getting involved with you if it means that Isack will be even more present than before”, Liam complained with a groan. “That guy has no boundaries.”

“We’re a package, sorry. You wouldn’t be able to avoid him even if I wasn’t in the picture, though – unless you changed teams.”

“Sounds like a hassle. Guess I have no choice but to go through with this date, now.”

“Seems like a nightmare, doesn’t it?”

“Right? I hope I at least get to kiss the girl before the night ends,” Liam joked. “Or it’ll have all been for nothing.”

“I don’t think she’ll be opposed to that.” Despite the blush settling on your cheeks, you didn’t necessarily feel embarrassed. This little back-and-forth teasing with Liam was surprisingly fun, and you knew that it was because being with him made you feel at ease. “I just hope the guy is a good kisser, then.”

“He’d like to think he is, indeed.”

You stopped walking – hand still in Liam’s – and decided to lean on a low wall beside you before you sent a challenging look to Liam.

“Any chance I can be sure of it before being with him in the long-term?”

“The only solution is a free trial, and then you can decide if the product is good enough for you.”

“I guess that works for me.”

You hadn’t realised how much Liam had gotten closer to you, but the gap between the two of you was now smaller than ever. He glanced down at your lips, before his eyes went back to look into yours.

“Can I kiss you, then?” His voice was barely a murmur, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Sure”, you replied with a voice as low as his.

Liam leaned in, and you could feel his breath on your lips. He looked into your eyes one last time, and you nodded at his last wish of confirmation from you. And then, he kissed you. However, Liam soon realised that he wasn’t actually kissing your lips. He slowly pulled back, and saw that your cheek was now facing him. His expression turned into one of confusion, before he noticed the smirk on your lips – the lips he wished he could have been kissing.

“Really?” Liam scoffed, not having expected you to pull this move.

“Yeah, buy me dinner first. Do you not have any manners to try and kiss a woman before taking her out?”

“You said– I asked if I could kiss you and you said yes!” Liam reminded you of the conversation from barely two minutes ago.

“Never specified where, though.”

And while Liam’s face was now harbouring a dumbfounded expression, you winked at him before starting to walk again. Because you were still holding hands with him, he had no choice but to trail behind you as you giggled. He couldn’t even be mad at you, not when you turned around to face him with a bright smile while looking absolutely breathtaking under the moonlight.

Liam eventually caught up to your pace and went back to walking beside you before he announced that the two of you were arriving at the restaurant he had booked for your date. Even though you had been the one to ask him out, Liam had eventually texted you to tell you he already had the perfect place in mind for tonight.

And perfect it was. Not only the restaurant, but the date as a whole. Liam had been nothing if not a gentleman – holding the door for you, pulling your chair back, refilling your glass as soon as it was getting empty. The food had been amazing, and it was probably the best date you’d ever had – mostly due to the company.

After sharing a dessert, Liam didn’t hesitate paying the bill before you could even notice that a waiter had brought it. He pulled your chair again when you stood from the table, and held the door for you before leaving the restaurant.

The air outside wasn’t cold, but you could still feel an underlying chill in the breeze. You didn’t even shiver, nor did goosebumps have time to appear on your arms. And yet, Liam was immediately putting his jacket on your shoulders as if it was second nature.

“Seemed like you were ready for this from the beginning,”, you teased before adjusting the jacket to cover your arms. You were quickly feeling warmer, and you could only be grateful for Liam’s awareness.

“I was born to be at your service, that’s all.”

“Careful, or I’ll be exploiting you before we’re even back to the hotel.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Liam replied before taking your hand in yours as if he couldn’t survive without having some sort of physical contact with you.

The walk back to the hotel was quiet. There weren’t many people outside by that time, which made for a peaceful atmosphere surrounding you and Liam. The silence between you was comfortable, only interrupted from time to time by chuckles from either of you as you kept stealing glances at each other.

When you arrived at the hotel, Liam insisted on walking you to your door. Without thinking twice, you invited Liam into your room once you were in front of it. Not because you were expecting anything more than a kiss or two – you actually still owed it to Liam from the stunt you had pulled earlier, but simply because you didn’t want tonight to end yet.

The warmth you felt as soon as you entered your room was welcoming, and you were almost disappointed when it forced you to remove Liam’s jacket. You put it on the back of the chair, before joining Liam who had made his way to the balcony.

“Your view’s way better than mine”, Liam said once you were by his side. “Isack was the one to get the good room while I’m stuck with the back yard.”

“I could always offer you to stay here.”

“Nah, it’ll have to wait ‘till the fifth date at least.”

“Good to know, I’ll remember it. What am I allowed to offer after the first date, then?”

“Well, I’m still waiting on that kiss from earlier. Any chance I could have it now?”

“Seems like your lucky day. There’s currently a promotion: two kisses for the price of one.”

“That’s a really good deal, indeed.”

This time, when Liam leaned in, you didn’t turn away from him. You just slightly tilted your head when his lips touched yours, therefore allowing the kiss to slowly deepen. It was soft, and gentle. It was everything you could have expected from a guy like Liam.

When you both pulled back, you still stayed close. During the kiss, Liam’s hands had come to hold your waist while yours were currently resting on his chest.

“I guess that I can now confirm the guy is indeed a good kisser,” you said in reference to your conversation from earlier.

“Satisfied enough to consider long-term with him, then?”

“Yep,” you confirmed with a nod.

Things felt easy with Liam. It really looked like your relationship would be one based on banter, and you were truly excited to keep this dynamic going between the two of you.

You noticed that Liam was about to add something, when a knock interrupted him before he could get a word out. Glancing at the door, then at Liam, your eyes widened when you realised who it probably – definitely – was.

“Don’t tell me…?” Liam asked, really hoping that it wasn’t true.

“Stay there, give me two minutes.”

Walking to the door like a woman on a mission, you sharply inhaled before opening it. And as you had expected, Isack Hadjar was now standing in front of you with an innocent smile.

“Isack, what the fuck you’re doing here?”

“We’re doing this in English?” He raised an eyebrow at you, ignoring your question. “Does that mean that Liam is here?” Isack tried to peek inside your room, but he was prevented from doing so as you were now blocking his view.

“Just answer.”

“I saw your location,” he explained as if it was obvious. “And I saw you coming back from my window.”

“Not creepy at all.”

“I’m just invested,” he said with a shrug. “So, how was it?”

“I’m not telling you anything”, you argued.

“Why not?” Isack whined. “At least tell me if he was nice to you, if he paid the bill, if I don’t have to threaten him, if you kissed…?

“I hate you”. You sighed, before accepting your fate and figuring that you needed to give him a few details if you wanted him to leave you alone. “Yes, he was the nicest ever; he did pay the bill; and no, please don’t threaten to drive him off track or some shit like that.”

“And did y–” Isack tried to ask again, as you had avoided the only question that had mattered to him.

“I don’t kiss and tell”, you said with a sarcastic smile before closing the door in Isack’s face. You then turned to Liam – who had come back inside during your conversation with Isack, before bursting out laughing. “Oh my God, can you believe it?”

“I wish I could be surprised that he stalked your location all night, but I’m actually not.”

“He’s insane. I love him, but he’s insane.”

“Guess we’ll have to get used to this added chaos, now.”

“He was always chaotic, this isn’t new. He was already a menace back in karting”, you told Liam.

“I’m not even surprised. Though I’m scared to go outside, now. Do you think he’s still there?”

“Should be fine,” you assumed. “He might have stayed like thirty seconds then left thinking that I was telling the truth when I denied your presence.”

After waiting five more minutes, you and Liam deemed it safe for him to leave your room. He opened the door, stepping out in the corridor without his eyes looking away from yours.

“Same time next week?” You asked with an expectant smile. If post-race date nights with Liam could become a new part of your routine, then who were you to complain about it?

“Same time next week,” Liam confirmed before he gently kissed you again – he still had that one free kiss you had promised him and he wasn’t going to leave without getting it.

When you pulled back, you could only feel giddy from all the emotions you had felt today until now. Liam wasn’t any better, and he knew he would be missing you and your lips like crazy until the next race weekend.

While you two were too busy gazing into each other’s years, someone hadn’t missed a thing.

“I knew it!” was what Isack exclaimed as he now had the answer to the question you had avoided earlier.

“Fuck”, you and Liam both said with a sigh.

Isack was definitely not leaving either of you alone, now.

..........

This fic still feels unreal to me😭 wdym i had this silly idea and suddenly it turned into 18k words

Probably gonna be my fav thing ever written like I'm just so proud of it<3 i truly never expected to have sm inspo for liam but I'm so so happy w this one

Also I'd like y'all to let me know if the french parts were annoying or if it was fine, bc i don't want it to have negatively affected the reading experience :/ (there are 2k words of french so i would totally understand if it was bothersome)

Anyways, i hope y'all still enjoyed it and I'm excited to know your thoughts!!

See you soon, take care of yourselves, love y'all xx

[kunikame]

hey guys hi kunikame nation ♡

i might be many things (to name some examples: stupid, a little annoying, absolutely fucking hilarious), but if there is ONE thing i will NEVER be its a user of any ai tools.

ive seen a lot of writers on here be accused (sometimes rightfully) of being ai generative writers so i just wanted to put out there that im not one of those. i am STRONGLY anti ai and have been ever since chatgpt became a thing. anyone who uses ai for anything immediately loses my respect.

to reassure anyone who cares, i have never, do not, and will never use ai for my writing. or anything else, for that matter. i am genuinely just this fucking funny and weird in real life 🙏🏻

thank you for reading, i love yall! purple lilacs update soon ☆

[kunikame]

boomshakalaka yes gawd

[kunikame]

SO HAPPY TOGETHER…

LANDO NORRIS X READER

SUMMARY: Lando’s ex, Luisa, is getting married and he’s been invited to her wedding. After the fact, he’s supposed to break up with his fake girlfriend, but after her heartbreaking words he finally realizes that he’s deep in love with her.

WARNINGS: Fake dating, Luisinha and Jose cameos, Lando is a bit of a disaster, Suggestive themes

FEATURING: Lando Norris x Model!Reader

NOTE: I had too much fun writing this whole series, it was super short but thank you all for the support!!

<<< LAST CHAPTER | 4 |

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“Lando, come on. Get up,” Max announced quite loudly as both he and his girlfriend barged into the aforementioned’s apartment. It was the day after his race win in Silverstone, and he hadn’t gone out to celebrate once, despite the fact he hadn’t accomplished his dreams. All he could think about was you, and how much he regretted not telling you how he felt the night he left. “I’m sick of seeing you lazing around and doing nothing. Everyone’s worried about you.”

“You know, Y/N’s doing great,” Pietra added in a somewhat sassy tone, her hands on her hips. Lando groaned, his arm covering his eyes from where he laid on the couch. He had one leg bent, and the other hanging off the couch with a small blanket thrown over his figure lazily.

“Thanks for rubbing it in.”

“Just saying, if you don’t get your act together she’s gonna move on.” Pietra crossed her arms.

“Just tell her how you feel before it’s too late!” Max grabbed the blanket and tossed it aside, shaking his shoulders.

Lando just rolled over onto his stomach, holding the pillow as he spoke into it, “She’s the perfect girl— Everything I’ve ever wanted!”

“Exactly, so go get her some flowers, whatever her favorite ones are—”

“Lilies.”

“-and tell her how you feel!” Max was impressed by how quickly he knew that.

“That’s just it!” His voice was heavily muffled by the fabric of his pillow. “She’s too perfect. It can’t be some lame confession, it has to be big! I need her to feel the same way she makes me feel. Important.”

“Can you lift your head, mate, I didn’t hear a word you just-”

“Oh, for the love of God!” Pietra walked over and pulled the pillow out from under him. Lando groaned with confusion, lifting his head and blinking with bleary eyes. “You’re pathetic, you know that? She’s out there trying to distract herself with brand deals and photoshoots because of the heartbreak you caused, and you’re sitting here just thinking about maybe telling her how you feel?!”

“What the hell?!” He stood up quickly, his fists clenched at his side. Max pulled his girlfriend back, but she shook his hold off and stepped forward with a daring expression.

“Man up already!”

“Do you have any ideas, Pietra?” He grumbled. “Any bright new concepts in that head of yours.”

“Yes, actually. So sit down while I tell you exactly what’s gonna happen here…”

dior

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dior Maria Grazia Chiuri’s Autumn-Winter collection as showcased by the natural beauty of Y/N L/N.

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username1 - AHH OUR ANGEL

username2 - ALL OF HER COMMENTS ARE OFF :((

username3 - GANG did her and Lando break up :(

username4 - I think so… No posts of them in 2 weeks and neither of them have been liking the other’s posts…

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“What the hell?” You sigh as you set your phone back down, leaning against your vanity. You’re on phone with your closest friend as you get ready for bed, starting by applying all your skin care. In the background, your curtains billow in the breeze, the moonlight peaking in through your balcony window.

“What?” She asks, confused by your sudden annoyance.

“Remember that guy I was dating, Lando.”

“Yeah. Oh, did you two break up? You guys did really look cute together,” She hums with disappointment, propping her cheek up against her palm.

“Well,” you rub lotion into your skin, sighing. “We weren’t actually dating. It was just for a public image, but if I’m being honest…”

“Wait, let me guess,” She perked up. “This happens all the time in romance novels. You actually love the guy!”

You blink. “Well… Yeah, actually.” Your cheeks flush. It did sound like something straight from a romcom. “Anyway, he just texted me but now he won’t reply.”

“What did he say?”

You open the messages again, reading it in a monotone voice, “Where are you right now?”

“Boys. So dumb.” She shakes her head, and you laugh for the first time in awhile.

Yes, he left you heartbroken. Cold and alone in the dark of the night. A night that was supposed to be full of love, but ended in tragedy for your soul. This is the first time he’s contacted you since. You could only assume it was about your fake breakup, since he promised you that in the beginning.

“Maybe he meant to text someone else,” you reason mostly for your own sanity. “I mean, we’re not actually together so it’s not like it would be cheating to talk to other people.”

“Yeah, but it would be morally wrong! Plus, what if he gets spotted?”

“I don’t know, I…”

“What’s that sound?”

“What?” You fall silent, listening carefully. You figured she meant something on her end, and you panicked for just a moment. Did someone break in? You immediately assumed the worst. But no. Something was coming from outside.

Music.

“Hey, one sec let me call you back.”

“Okay, stay safe, love you-” She blew a kiss right as you hung up.

Orchestral music was coming from outside, there was no denying it. You slowly stood up, tiptoeing towards your balcony where you pushed the door open, listening to it squeak silently. You peered over the edge of the railing, your eyes wide at the sight before you.

A small orchestra sat at the base of your apartment building, playing one of your favorite songs on their instruments. You pressed yourself to the rail, leaning over. In front of it all was the man you had been waiting to see, dressed to the nines as always. Messy curly hair, a suit with the top unbuttoned and no tie, and a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Lando, what the fuck?!” You yelled, trying to suppress your grin, but it failed. You broke out into a huge smile, eyes sparkling as the moon shone on your face. He tilted his head back, staring up at you from where you stood three stories up, just out of reach.

“Y/N, I fucked up,” he said loudly, taking a step back so you could see him better. “I left you on our final night together, when I should have—” He suddenly stopped, turning to the orchestra and clearing his throat. “Sorry, could you guys pause the music for a second…” He whispered so you wouldn’t hear. It came to an awkward stop as they all sat there, waiting for further conduction. “I should have just told you how I feel!”

“What are you talking about?” You knew. How could you not? But you needed to hear him say it.

“Y/N, I love you!” He said it with that grin of his that you loved.

You held up your index finger before dashing back in to your apartment. You scrambled through the house, still in your pajamas as you stumbled into the elevator, desperately hitting the button to take you to the ground floor. The doors shut painfully slow, and you had to hold back a scream when it dinged at the second floor and they pried back open.

You dashed out the elevator and rushed to the apartment stairs, running down them as fast as you could. However, halfway there you ran right into someone while turning the corner. Before you could fall, he grabbed your waist and pulled you close.

You looked right into Lando’s eyes, biting your cheek to stifle your smile. “Y/N,” he began to repeat, “I love you.”

You cupped his face with both hands and pulled him in for a kiss, whispering when you parted ways, “I love you too, idiot.”

He swung you around, dipping you for a kiss just like he did weeks ago, the two of you sharing light giggles.

“How’s that for unrealistic?”

“I’m learning to expect everything from you,” you reply, hands searching through his curls.

“Good.”

You’ve been to very few weddings in your life, despite your big name across the globe. But this one? This was the best of them all.

You bit back tears as you stepped down the aisle, the train of your dress dragging along the carpet as the people you’ve grown to love stand upon your arrival. At the end of it all, the man of your dreams. The man who’s stuck beside you for years. He’s been kind, patient, and caring throughout it all, even when you were at your lowest points.

He turned his head away, lifting a hand to wipe his inevitable tears, because damnit… You never failed to stun him with your glory. Max Fewtrell, his best man, reached out to hand him his handkerchief, which he graciously accepted to carefully dry his eyes.

When you met him at the end of the aisle, you both simultaneously reached out to take each other’s hands. You didn’t need big parties or fancy rings, you just needed each other here and now.

‘I love you,’ you mouthed.

‘I love you more.’

Finally, there you were.

Happy together.

[kunikame]

Oliver Aiku knows what your favorite color is, and the realization has him at the liquor store on a sunny Thursday afternoon.

It was only ever supposed to be a casual thing between you two, he swears it. Only supposed to be last-minute dates to whatever restaurant wasn’t too expensive in hopes of having dessert at your place in between games and during his off-season. Phone sex and video chatting and exchanging dirty pictures while he was away. And maybe, if he were feeling generous, a seat in the MVP box to see up close and personal why he’s paraded as one of the best captains in the world of soccer. It was only ever supposed to be casual.

Casual is easy. There’s no expectations. He isn’t placed on a pedestal so high there’s sure to be broken bones and bruises gained during his inevitable fall from grace. Casual means he’s free to dedicate his life to soccer and not worry about someone crying about being in second place. Casual means no one gets to see just how much of his self-worth is weighed on how well he can kick a ball and guard a goal. Casual means his heart gets to stay in its cage, safe from greedy hands that only know how to break and never learned how to soothe.

But now he’s passing by restaurants and wondering if you’d like to go on a date there that upcoming weekend. He’s finding evidence of you scattered around his apartment–a shampoo bottle, a comb, an earring lying abandoned on his bathroom counter–and he doesn’t get annoyed. He’s digging around for his phone first thing after a game and your name is at the top of his messages. He’s ignoring phone calls from his friends in favor of hearing your voice.

But Oliver still swears things are casual between you two. After all, he’s never met your mother (but he knows that she taps her fingers when she’s annoyed, and how much you’ve grown to hate the sound of acrylic hitting tile as a result). He’s never met your father (but he knows how much the man loves the business he runs, and how often a dinner table set for three had only two occupants). He’s never been to your childhood home (but he knows about the tire swing out front, and how much you cried when you thought you had broken your wrist falling out of it as a child). He’s never even been to your home town (but he knows all about how suffocatingly small it is, and how you found home in between the pages of books rather than under the roof over your head.)

Casual, right?

The final nail in the casual coffin is when he passes by a shop and sees a sweater in your favorite color, and he wonders if you’d wear it if he bought it for you. You’re planning on seeing your parents this weekend for your obligatory monthly visits anyway, and maybe the gift will help soothe the nerves he knows are grating in the base of your skull right now. But then again, your mother has always hated the color, and that probably won’t help the precarious relationship between you two. Maybe that’s why it’s your favorite color–a small act of rebellion you were afforded in a household that demanded utmost compliancy.

As he’s looking at the sweater in your favorite color, Oliver gets a glance of his reflection, and he bares a smile that he’s never seen himself wear before. It’s soft, sweet even, his lips curled at the edges in a way that suggests whatever he’s thinking about is making him undeniably happy. He’s never seen himself look…content. Not genuinely, anyway. Not wholly. There’s always a bit of self-hatred nipping at his ankles to be sure that he’s never satisfied with himself. But right now, staring at the very same color he has seen on pairs of your panties and your phone case and sometimes even incorporated in your makeup, he’s content. Because he’s thinking of you.

He walks away from the shop before he has a chance to drive his knuckles through the glass. Because while you may rebel against mothers with impossible standards, Oliver rebels against a heart that’s too soft to handle another crack in its armor.

The trip to the liquor store is uneventful, save for the war thundering in his throat. Had he been in the right mind, he would’ve been worried about coming off rude as he nearly throws his choice of alcohol and mixers on to the counter. But, as it is, drowning in denial makes one a bit too preoccupied with their own turmoil to care about fickle things like manners and niceties. Oliver leaves the liquor store and steps out into the sunny Thursday afternoon with an armful of whiskey, lemon juice, and simple syrup. 

The yellowish color of his drink helps him to forget the color of that godforsaken sweater. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he takes another sip. After all, who can think about sweaters and panties and phone cases when they’re nursing a delicious whiskey sour accompanied by a wonderful view of the city below them, Chase Atlantic playing through their entertainment system?

Oliver Aiku can, evidentially, no matter how much he tries to deny it. His thumb hovers over your name on his phone screen, temptation causing the digit to feel almost heavy enough to press down, if only to hear your soothing voice. He’s earned it, hasn’t he? The right to spontaneously call you? You often call him during his off-season, babble on about work and gossip you’ve heard and rant about your inconsiderate neighbors and their heavy footsteps.

“I swear they’ve picked up river dancing or something,” you’d curse, and Oliver would laugh at how cute you are when you’re frustrated, because you’re cute when you do most things anyway and—

Oliver unceremoniously tosses his phone onto his couch before his hands can make a choice without his approval. He’s an idiot, he knows it. And to make matters worse, he’s now a drunk idiot, and very liable to make dumb decisions. Decisions that could lead to his rib cage being cracked open and your hands covered in blood. Decisions that could leave him curled up on the bathroom floor, bandages wrapped around the new hole in his chest, and you left with the knowledge that you’re another face for him to drink away. Bad, awful, horrible decisions. And yet…

And yet, his eyes remain glued to the spot where his cell phone landed, black screen shining against the black leather of his couch. Tempting. His fingers twitch at his side, itching to betray his heart and mind and grab at the cursed device and press your name, already on the tip of his tongue and tasting nearly as sweet as your lips. Oh so fucking tempting.

He turns abruptly and marches to his outside balcony to get some fresh air. A pack of cigarettes he only allows himself to indulge in during crises such as this one lays on the small table, and he pulls out a stick with trembling fingers. It’s summer–he shouldn’t be shaking so much. The sun is harsh with the way he indiscriminately throws his beams down across the city, and yet there’s a coldness that’s settled in the joints of Oliver’s bones. He lights a cigarette and allows the sharp nicotine to chase off the hollowness of your absence.

It works for a little bit, this charade of nonchalantly smoking on his balcony and sipping on his drink, as if he really is nothing more than a professional soccer player enjoying his offseason in the city. With the combination of the warmth of the sun and the dizzying effect of carcinogens and tar, he almost forgets about the state of fight or flight that only ever seemed to be triggered by scary things like intimacy and vulnerability. He almost feels like himself again: calm, cool, collected, center back with a penchant for betting too much on racehorses and indulging in whiskey sours. Everything is fine. Oliver Aiku is fine. He’s going to make himself another drink, maybe smoke one more cigarette, and enjoy the freedom of his offseason the best way he knows how: with pretty people in dive bars and the taste of whiskey on his tongue.

After stubbing out the last of his cigarette in the ashtray, he slinks back into his apartment and makes his way to his bar, only to be stopped by this cell phone buzzing away on his couch. Your name flashes across the screen in bold letters, and he knows everything is not fine. Oliver Aiku is not fine. He doesn’t want to make himself another drink, and the thought of smoking another cigarette has his lungs angrily protesting. His offseason has never felt like freedom but, instead, just a cage to lock himself in when he no longer has the distraction of soccer to keep his mind from wandering to places he’d rather leave unexplored. He grew tired of wasting his time with shallow people who only wanted him for his money and fame around the same time he had realized you learned to play mahjong so you had more to bond over than sex and soccer.

Oliver Aiku knows what your favorite color is. He knows you prefer to have black coffee in the morning because too much sugar so early makes your stomach hurt, and you hate to start your day off on the wrong foot. He knows you grew up in a house full of repression and conformity, which has led to your love of casual acts of rebellion like purposely letting your nail polish chip even though your mother always barks at you over the importance of meticulous maintenance. He knows the story about the time your father finally looked at you long enough to realize how much of a stranger his own child was to him, and how there’s a hole in your childhood bedroom covered by some band poster to serve as a reminder of it. He knows, and he cares so much that it feels as though his ribcage may never be able to contain just how much you fill the valves of his weak heart.

He watches his phone continue to ring, lets your call go to voicemail, because as much as he knows and cares, he still isn’t sure how much of himself he can afford to give away. He isn’t sure if there’s anything left of himself to give away, truth be told. Soccer occupies so much of him, lights up the grey matter in his brain that gambling and food and sex can’t. You’ve already had to deal with a shallow childhood. He doesn’t know if he can stomach making you deal with a shallow adulthood all because he allowed himself to know and care.

Right as he’s about to decide to let bygones be bygones and nip whatever this blossoming relationship between you two in the bud, your name lights up on his phone screen again, because fate has never been kind to men like Oliver Aiku. Or maybe he’s just never been kind to himself and it’s easier to blame fate than it is to admit he hates who he is off of the field.

With bated breath and a shaky hand, he reaches for the phone.

[kunikame]

✦ dragonsteps

cw. found family, soft angst, fluff, emotional vulnerability, past trauma, body adjustment issues (durin), established relationship (reader x wanderer)

an. aaaaa i really tried my best to make this lore accurate so sorry in advance if there are any mistakes TT i only read up on durin’s lore online since i wasn’t playing when simulanka came out :(( but i did my best !! also credits to @stoopycake for the idea — i love xia sm

you live in mondstadt — not in the city walls, but just far enough out that the breeze feels gentler and the birds aren’t afraid to nest near your windowsill.

the mornings smell like pine and the sky is always soft. sometimes you think the wind sings to you. sometimes you think it’s lonely.

it’s quiet here. still. normal. you like it that way.

wanderer doesn’t. not really. he complains every time he visits — about the wind, about the noise, about how your bed is too soft and your pillows are too fluffy and your kettle takes too long to boil. he scowls at the birds. calls the squirrels in your garden nosy little pests. grumbles about the dirt road, the lack of streetlamps, the way mondstadt’s air always smells like freedom.

but he still shows up. always unannounced. always frowning. always staying longer than he says he will.

he doesn’t knock. he doesn’t warn you. he doesn’t say goodbye when he leaves. you never ask him to stay. you never ask him to leave, either.

you’re not loud about being together. you don’t hold hands in public. you don’t say things like i love you or i missed you.

but he’ll let you fix his scarf when it slips. he lets you sit close when he’s pretending not to fall asleep. he lets you call him kuni, even though no one else is allowed to. and sometimes he looks at you like the whole world is loud except when you’re around.

it’s a quiet thing. gentle. real. you thought you were done with surprises.

and then albedo showed up.

you’re half-awake, halfway through tea, and not expecting a knock at your door — much less one from the chief alchemist of the knights of favonius, with a boy standing beside him who looks like he’s been stitched together from stardust and forgotten lore.

he’s got hot pink eyes, tousled purple hair, two huge black horns, and a pair of even larger wings trailing behind him like a shadow. barefoot. blinking. a little confused.

“this is durin,” albedo says, like this is normal. “i’ve granted him a human form. he’s still adjusting.” “…okay?” you say slowly, eyes flicking between the alchemist and the boy with wings too big for your hallway. “he remembers the wanderer. i thought he’d be most comfortable here for now.”

you glance over your shoulder, where kuni is sitting at your kitchen table, nursing tea he insists he doesn’t like. he stares back at you with a silent, horrified expression. his cup is halfway to his mouth. it never makes it there. “no,” he says immediately. “don’t even think about it.”

“he called you hat guy,” albedo adds helpfully. “he likes you.” durin beams. “hat guy!!”

wanderer looks like he’s just been sentenced to death.

you’re in the grass behind your cottage. it’s warm. the sun’s high and mondstadt’s breeze rolls gently through the trees, rustling the tall grass, brushing against your skin like a sigh.

durin is trying to walk. emphasis on trying.

he’s all limbs and feathers and flailing wings, wobbling with every step like a newborn deer. “nope—wrong foot—careful!” you lunge forward just in time to stop him from faceplanting into a patch of dandelions. his wings flap once, awkwardly, and throw him off balance again.

“this body’s weird,” he grumbles, flopping into your arms like a very large, very annoyed toddler. “i used to fly.” “you also used to be made of blocks,” kuni says flatly from a few feet away, leaning against the fence with his arms crossed and a distinct i told you this was a terrible idea look on his face. “get over it.”

durin pouts. “you’re mean.” “you’re uncoordinated.” “you’re rude.” “you’re loud.” “you’re wearing too many layers.”

wanderer’s eye twitches. “i swear to—” “okay, okay,” you cut in, holding up your hands before the dragon child and your semi-boyfriend start trading elemental attacks. “let’s focus, yeah? deep breath, durin.”

he mimics you — badly. but his chest rises and falls, and that’s enough.

“left foot,” you say gently. “good. now the other one. you’ve got this.” he stumbles, wobbles, wings twitching nervously behind him — but stays upright.

his eyes light up, glowing like a sky full of comets. “look!! hat guy!! i did it!!”

wanderer grimaces like the name physically hurts him. “stop calling me that.” “but you have a hat,” durin says, very seriously. “so does half the population of mondstadt.” “but you are the hat guy. it’s different.”

wanderer mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like i’m going back to sumeru.

you smile. “no you’re not.” he doesn’t argue.

and the breeze is still gentle. and the birds still sing. and for now — just for now — the world is quiet.

the storm rolls in around midnight. soft at first. like a lullaby.

the kind of lullaby that hums through the hills, brushing gently against the trees, coaxing flowers into sleep.

then louder.

wind thrashes the branches against your cottage walls like angry fingers. thunder cracks the sky open from end to end, sudden and sharp, a divine warning. rain batters your windows in relentless, uneven patterns — too erratic to be music. too alive to be background noise.

you stir beneath your blankets. the warmth of sleep still clings to your skin like steam. for a moment you think you’re dreaming — until a weight thuds against the floorboards and the softest yelp breaks through the thunder.

you sit up with a jolt.

“...durin?” your voice is rough, half-dream. there’s a shape on the floor. soggy. awkward. unmoving.

“the sky’s mad at me,” comes the muffled reply.

your eyes adjust slowly. the moon is buried behind clouds, but the occasional flicker of lightning through the window gives you pieces — wings soaked and dragging, the tips curled in like wilted petals. horns bumped askew from colliding with your doorframe. a trembling form hunched over like it’s trying to disappear into itself.

he’s wet. and cold. and afraid.

“i… i didn’t mean to make it rain,” durin says quickly, his voice rising in panic. “i didn’t do anything. i swear i didn’t! i didn’t break anything or yell or fly or—”

“durin,” you say, gentle but firm. “storms are normal.”

his eyes glow faintly in the dark. confused. uncertain. “really?” he breathes. you nod. “really. mondstadt gets a lot of them. especially in spring. it’s just… how things are.”

he glances at the window like it might suddenly turn and glare at him. “…it’s loud,” he says. “i know.” “it wasn’t like this in simulanka. the storms there were quiet. but not in a good way.” you don’t ask.

“do you want to sleep here tonight?” you offer. he doesn't even pause. “yes please.”

you leave your room together. he follows you like a shadow made of feathers and guilt. the floor creaks beneath both your steps. you set up the couch. give him every blanket you can find. even the ugly one from albedo’s failed attempt at knitting.

durin doesn’t complain. he just piles them around himself until he’s almost entirely hidden. only his horns and a few strands of messy hair peek out.

you settle onto the couch nearby, your arm draped lazily over the edge, fingers brushing the fringe of his blanket.

there’s silence for a long while, save for the occasional rumble of thunder and the soft, erratic beat of the rain.

then: “…does the sky hate me too?”

you open your eyes slowly. look down. he’s curled tighter now, one wing tucked beneath his chin like a pillow, the other twitching with every crack of thunder.

your heart clenches.

you reach down. ruffle his hair gently. “no, durin. the sky doesn’t hate you.”

he nods once. small. unsure. but he doesn’t argue. he doesn’t cry either. he just lies there. wide-eyed. listening.

he doesn’t sleep until long after you do.

kuni finds you both like that the next morning.

you, slumped half-off the couch with your hand still hanging down — fingers barely brushing durin’s hair. durin, curled into himself in a pit of warmth and safety, his wing twitching slightly every now and then. not from fear. just dreaming.

kuni doesn’t speak. doesn’t frown.

he just sighs quietly. walks past you. comes back a minute later with an extra pillow. he slides it beneath your back without a word, tucks the blanket closer around your shoulders, and walks away again.

later, he sits beside you on the porch. the sky is still pale and grey, like it’s not quite sure whether it’s done grieving. the rain has stopped, but the wind is soft and damp, leaving the air full of silence and the smell of wet pine.

“he was scared of a thunderstorm,” kuni mutters, staring out at the field. you sip your tea. “he’s still adjusting. albedo said his emotions might be unstable until his body fully settles.” “he’s not even a week old,” kuni scoffs. “technically he’s centuries old,” you remind him.

kuni huffs. durin is in the garden again. crouched in the tall grass. having what appears to be a one-sided conversation with a squirrel who is either very brave or very stupid.

“do you remember what he was like in simulanka?” you ask.

kuni shifts beside you. “…yeah. a lot bigger. a lot louder.” “he just wanted friends.” “he nearly crushed five people trying to hug them.” “he’s better now.” “he’s different.” kuni pauses. then softer, “but he’s still loud.”

you look out at durin. now waving goodbye to the squirrel. “…he’s trying.”

kuni doesn’t say anything. but when you pass him a cup of warm tea, he doesn’t roll his eyes or call it too sweet. he just drinks.

you hear the crash from the kitchen.

“i was reading!” durin insists. “it’s not my fault your shelves are too narrow and my wings are too graceful!”

“graceful?” kuni repeats flatly, standing over the wreckage. durin puffs up. “yes. like a majestic storm-bird.” “you knocked over an entire shelf.” “a majestic shelf.”

you kneel beside him. pages scattered everywhere. diagrams torn open like secrets spilling out. albedo’s personal collection of handwritten notes on the internal structure of abyssal anomalies is now confetti on your rug.

“sorry,” durin says again, softer this time. “i didn’t mean—i just thought… if i knew more about my body, maybe i’d understand why i feel so weird in it.”

you look at him. at his oversized limbs. his unsure hands. the feathers he keeps pulling from his sleeves like they don’t belong there.

he’s trying to hold himself smaller. like if he curls in enough, he won’t knock anything else over.

“…i know i scared people in simulanka,” he mumbles. “and mondstadt too.” you don’t interrupt. he fiddles with a loose feather.

“albedo says i’m not dangerous anymore. but i still feel big. even when i’m small. like… something might break if i move wrong. or laugh too hard. or exist too loudly.”

he hugs his knees. “what if they were right? what if i am a monster?”

you don’t get a chance to respond.

a shadow falls over you both.

kuni.

he’s standing in the doorway. scarf half-on, expression unreadable, eyes dark and narrowed in that way that always means he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to be.

“…you’re not,” kuni says quietly. durin jerks his head up, startled.

“you’re annoying,” kuni says, stepping closer. “and clumsy. and loud. and kind of stupid.” durin frowns. “is that a compliment?” “take it or leave it.” “…i’ll take it.”

you smile.

kuni sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “…you scared me too, you know. in simulanka.”

durin blinks.

“but you stopped,” kuni mutters. “you changed. you chose to change. even though no one asked you to. even though everyone was scared of you. that counts for something.” he kneels beside him, eye-level.

“you’re not a monster, durin. just a dumb dragon with bad aim and a weird sense of humor.” durin stares.

then he throws himself into a hug.

“WHAT ARE YOU—GET OFF—” “YOU DON’T HATE ME!!” “I NEVER SAID THAT!!” “HAT GUY LOVES ME!!!” “SHUT UP!!”

you laugh. despite everything — the mess, the broken shelves, the tea that now has feathers in it again — you laugh.

the sky is still grey, but softer now.

and maybe this isn’t just a house full of misfits. maybe this is something healing. maybe this is something like home.

credits to @cafekitsune for the animated border lines!

[kunikame]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ YOUR FAVOURITE INTERVIEW SHOW *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

hello and welcome to the internet's favourite interview show, SWING SET DATE, hosted by... you! play games, ask risky questions and get the chance to get close to the hottest players in the field!

tags/warnings: humour/comedy, a lot of sex jokes, bisexual oliver is a flirty mf but what's new, crack but in character at the same time, this will be a series!

EPISODE #01: OLIVER AIKU

You sat on one of the red swing sets, Oliver on the other, barely fitting on it because of his trained body. He looks at you with a playful smirk, ready for anything you've prepared for him.

"Oliver Aiku, heartthrob of Japan's National Football team and, less importantly, their captain, has made the terrible decision to be my very first guest in Swing Set Date." At this, Oliver chuckles, giving the camera a playful wink. "He plays defence and is known for his high jumps and strong presence in the court."

"Nice to be here," he greets. You turn to him and he raises his eyebrows playfully.

"So."

"So."

"You date a lot, right?"

Oliver cackled earnestly, the chains of the swing rattling just a bit. "That's your first question?!"

"Oliver, I need you to know there's this bet going on at Polymarket about how many girls TMZ will catch you with by the end of the year. I bet $50 on 7, and you're short by two, so throw me a bone, man."

The man continues chuckling and then nods, a grin still on his face. "Promise I'll think of you during my next two dates."

"Damn, best flattery I've heard all month," you comment, switching the cards in your hand.

"You look like you receive a lot of compliments."

It's your turn to smile. Arching an eyebrow, you look back at him. "Is that a compliment?"

He leans closer. "You want it to be?"

You sigh. "I would be close to winning my bet, so..."

Oliver cackles again.

—

"Okay, so this section is quite easy. I'm sure you've done it before."

"You need to stop acting as if you haven't seen all my interviews before," he teases. You grin, furrowing your nose and decide to ignore him.

"Okay, pop question, are you ready? I'll tell you one word and you have to reply with only one word as well."

"Sure, darling."

"That's two words," you corrected him. He lifted his hands in surrender.

"Sorry."

"Nice. Okay, easy start," you say, looking down at your card. "Football?"

"Life."

"Parties."

"Victory."

"Girls."

"Pretty."

"Boys."

He chuckled, licking his upper teeth slowly. The camera zooms in on his expression.

"...Fun."

"Nice," you compliment him, pleasantly surprised.

"Thanks," he grins, winking at you.

You resume with the questions. "Snuffy."

"Leader."

"Team."

"Family."

"Goals."

"Greatness."

"Okay, that was good," you say. "You had trouble coming up with any reply? Was it a bit difficult at time?"

"Easy."

"Dude, we're not playing anymore." 

"Sorry. Ah— fuck."

—

"Now, I know we sent you an email saying we would share some memes of you online and I would have you react to them, right?"

"I do remember, yeah," he nods. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

"See, I thought you'd say that," you say, pointing at him. "So I changed it to "Oliver Aiku reacts to blinc items from deux-moi". Fun, right? I read it, you tell me if it's true or not."

Oliver snorts. "Darling, you're gonna kill me with these. You know most of them are fake, right?"

"You'll have the chance to explain yourself then," you say with a smug grin. Oliver nods, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Okay, shoot."

"Okay," you clear your throat, shuffling in your seat as you read from your cards. "A certain two-coloured football player from Japan NT is rumoured to be doing all the paperwork needed to obtain Swiss citizenship so he can go and play for their NT."

"False," he quickly says. "I already have dual citizenship. I chose to play here and will continue to do so in the future. All the love to my Swiss fans, but my home is in Japan."

You hum in acknowledgement. "Okay, next one. Japan's NT known playboy—"

"Okay, how do you even know that's me?" he interrupts you. You arch an eyebrow and continue reading.

"Japan's NT known playboy and captain of the team—"

"My bad."

"—was caught being overly friendly with a teammate at a nightclub last February. His hands were everywhere and a couple of kisses were stolen."

At this Oliver sighs, a knowing grin on his face. He makes a pause for dramatic effect as he licks his upper teeth again.

"True."

"Which teammate?" you immediately ask.

"That's not part of the item."

"C'mon, I want to know," you ask, with a pout. "The people want to know."

"Okay, tell you what. I'll whisper it to you."

After this, Oliver gets painfully close to you, his lips almost touching your ear as he whispers his confession. The camera catches how you fluster, just a tiny bit. When he sits back, Oliver notices it too, and draws an eat-shitting grin on his face.

"You know... I can see it. I do," you say, trying your best to appear composed.

"Yeah?" he smirks.

"Somehow it makes sense and at the same time it's incomprehensible," you admit. "Like, I think if he were to do it with anyone, it would be you."

Oliver laughs. "You're so cute with me, are you sure you don't want that date?"

"I don't like to interfere with the betting system. I take it seriously, you know?" you say, arching an eyebrow playfully.

"Have you made any other bets?"

"That Isagi is gonna say a slur before Christmas."

"Can you send me the link for that one?"

—

"Okay, to finish our interview, rank the best three asses from Japan's NT."

By this time, Oliver has lost count on how many times he's laughed at your antics. He's obsessed with it. "You're not serious."

"If you wish, you can choose an alternate question," you offer.

"Sure. Yeah," he nods.

"Rank the three players in Japan's NT that get laid the most."

"God. Okay. Uh..." Oliver shuffles in the swing, looking up as he tries to remember his teammates conquests the best. "Okay. 'd have to say, Otoya... then Chigiri, then me."

Your cards almost fall out from your hands.

"Chigir— you're fucking with me."

"Hopefully after this interview, yeah—" He laughs when you hit his arm with your cards.

"There's no way Chigiri is a slut."

"He's pretty as fuck, though," Oliver reasons.

"Yeah! But he's so curt, I didn't picture him going after—"

"I never said he goes after people though," he says, pointing at you. "They look for him and well, then he takes his pick."

You raise your eyebrows, impressed. "Huh." you Pause, lost in your thoughts for a couple of seconds. "Is there like, an audition process, do you maybe have his numb—?"

—

"And this marks the end of our interview, I hope you had fun," you smile.

"I certainly did."

"'was talking to the fans, not you, but okay." Oliver laughs. "So, now you can nominate three other players to come here with me."

"Not one to share, but sure," he agrees, pursing his lips just a tiny bit. "Hmm, okay, let's go with Isagi and the Itoshi siblings, either Rin or Sae."

"Great! Well, you know what to do now," you say, making a peace sign at the camera. "Vote for your favourite, and I'll see you next time!"

"What about me seeing you some other time?"

"Oliver, the bet—"

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ next on SWING SET DATE...

"Oh, but you're okay with calling Kaiser a clown, then?"

"He STARTED it—"

EPISODE #02: ISAGI YOICHI (tba)

[kunikame]

my inbox is so empty do u guys hate me be honest 💔💔

[kunikame]

“ AND I HATE THAT YOU'RE SO FAR AWAY ”

kyryll chudomirovich flins x reader | inspired by this song

wc: 1.3k

riea's comments: me and this MANNNN. the devil works hard but writers work harder. i saw this absolute BADDIE and suddenly i wanted to write again! isn't life wonderful? will be pulling for him and varka and im honestly so hyped for nod krai like omg we are so back. the 2021-2022 genshin peak really looks like a molehill compared to the 2025 nod krai mountain!!!!!!! i love you snezhnaya!!!!! also sorry if its bad :(( i wanted to put something out for my newest husband

the lightkeepers didn't get mail often. those who were grateful for their service preferred to leave flowers and other items outside of the headquarters as gifts of gratitude. so when there was a sudden influx of incoming mail, flins was quite suspicious. that was—of course—until he realized that all the letters were sent from the same mondstadt address and kyryll was written on every single one of them. he sighed with a soft smile, tearing the oldest one open.

dear kyryll,

by the time you read this letter, it'll be about a week since you left mond are (hopefully!!!) back home. tell me, has nod krai managed to look any different in a month? i know mondstadt has. first off, now that windblume is over, all the decorations no longer beautify the city!!! its so unfair! i think windblume should be year round! oh, and speaking of windblume. that bouquet you gave me is still holding up! even though experts say that there isn't a stark difference between naturally occurring water and the water hydro vision holders and conjure, i still like to think that watering my windwheel asters with my water magic makes them last longer.

kyryll, how are those wolfhooks doing? i gave them to you right before you left so they shouldn't be wilting just yet… but truth be told, wolfhooks were the only windblume candidate that reminded me the most of you! if you want to see a real flower that i get your vibes from, head to vanarana, sumeru. there'll be a super pretty flower that only grows there!! there aren't many monsters in the area but of course if you ever need any help, call my name and i'll be there to protect you just like old times. oh—got off topic a bit, guess you're used to that now though, huh? 

the second thing that has changed about the city is… the lack of you. it was only a month and… maybe i was hoping that it turned into something more than just a vacation, maybe i wanted you to stay here, just for a little while longer whether it be for business or for leisure. i still remember when you said you'd like to go to starsnatch cliff and you whispered a name under the night sky's veil, i've never seen you talk that much at once. sara from good hunter keeps asking about you. it seems that the twice a week produce shipments have gotten significantly heavier once you left. and diona's been more grumpy than usual when she's in the tavern. guess it's because she has no one to talk to while the adults around her all get wasted.

the absence of you is torture, how difficult is the journey from mond to snezhnaya? surely it can't be that hard? but knowing you, you wouldn't dare let me attempt it alone. i won't, okay? i'll just keep writing you these letters and hope that i didn't mishear your address.

come back soon, kyryll. mondstadt misses you.

i miss you.

he could practically hear you saying the inked words to him, voice bright as ever. it's been a few months since he went to mondstadt, the windwheel asters must've been dead by now and he knew for a fact that the wolfhooks were long digested in the children's stomach as they swarmed the man upon his return. he kept a seed though, a black flower pot on the windowsill, a single sprout peaking out of the soil, but the snezhnayan climate might not prove the best for growing mondstadt native plants. kyryll's mind began to drift as he read the letter over and over again, reminiscing the first time he met you.

the journey was long and winding with one too many interactions with people. why was he here again? right. a little relaxing—quote unquote—trip to mondstadt organized by his family to de-stress from lightkeeper duties. the map crinkled under the pressure of his fingers, flins finally saw the city in sight. he wasn't even sure if his family had been so courteous to arrange a hotel accommodation for this impromptu trip—that he didn't ask for by the way. who was going to hold the fort down while he was gone? yes, his younger sisters are very capable but the lightkeepers have gotten weaker over thousands of years of history and their numbers have only dwindled. the chudomirovich family was one of the only clans to stand the test of time, to stay strong throughout the cataclysm and continuous and relenting battles against the abyss. but, when time is involved, everything erodes eventually. the lightkeepers are nod krai's defenders and without one of their strongest, if an attack were to happen in the month he was gone, what would flins even—

"sir, watch out!"

a heavy force pushed him to the ground, disorienting him for just a moment. relaxing vacation, my ass. a blast of hydro energy surrounded the nearby area and he sat up to see you, weapon clad and swinging at the mob of hilichurls, hydro vision glowing. shrieks of death rang out as you defeated the last bit of monsters, their bodies turning into muses of black and dark red ash. claymore cast aside, you ran over to the man from before, hands squeezed on his shoulders and eyes scanning his body for any injuries. "are you okay?! did they get to you? are you hurt? i can heal minor injuries but if it's really bad, i can take you to the church—"

his hands were warm and gentle as he removed yours from his body. you watched as he moved to pick something up from the ground and muttered a quick thank you when you felt the familiar weight back in your hand. "i'm fine. thank you for protecting me." dismissing your weapon, you smiled and said that it was simply your duty as a citizen of mondstadt before asking him if he was visiting. "yes. i'm here on… vacation." that last word felt bitter in his mouth. he was still thinking about the things that could go wrong for the lightkeepers in his absence but when you vowed that he'd reach the city of mondstadt safely, those thoughts ever-so-slightly subsided.

"y'know. i never caught your name." a pebble rolled far out of sight as a result of your shoe knocking against it. the city was much closer now, perhaps a three minute walk away but unfortunately that time couldn't be filled with conversation as this guy next to you was not one for idle chatter. but you should at least know who you're escorting to the city, right?

a couple moments of silence before he said something, "flins. call me flins."

"flins, huh? well," the sky was painted in a beautiful mix of oranges, blues, and purples, as the sun began to set. the main city entrance itched closer and closer and you greeted the two guards with a wave,

"welcome to mondstadt, flins."

the harsh sound of his name brought flins out of his daze, "chudomirovich," a guard bellowed from his office doorway, "someone's here to see you." kyryll nodded as he made quick work of the rest of the letters you'd sent him, putting them in a drawer to read later. however, he felt his heart stop when he smelled the scent of sweet flowers and love. 

kyryll rummaged through the letter-filled drawer, not daring to look up at his guest, not wanting to have his heart break a bit if it wasn't who he thought it was. finally—he thought—hands gripping the most recent letter, the date on it just five days ago. he ripped it open, noticed that you skipped the classic letter format opting for two words scribbled in the center of the page instead: i'm coming.

"long time no see, flins."

[kunikame]

do we get to set papa lilia on ace wacey to protect our honor after da confrontation 🗣🗣⁉️⁉️ yes or nooo ⁉️⁉️⁉️ YES OR NO⁉️⁉️⁉️

maybe if u ask him very nicely! and if his old bones dont start creaking

[kunikame]

✶ FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL

summary: the italian sun shines on you and oliver's summer idyll, but the month of august trickles away rapidly─ what will happen when it reaches an end? ✷ IVY'S POETRY DEPARTMENT EVENT: « will you love me in december as you do in may? »

F1 MASTERLIST | OB87 MASTERLIST

pairing: oliver bearman x f!reader

wc: 5.2k

cw: summer romance, bittersweet, fluff, hopeful ending, reader has an anxiety disorder, use of y/n, oliver has an injury for plot purposes

note: requested here! first time writing for ollie so i'm kinda nervous, hope i did him justice! also there's not near enough fics of the '25 rookies it's scandalous

♫ like real people do - hozier, august - taylor swift, let it happen - gracie abram

THE LASTING WEIGHT on your shoulders was something you became accustomed to. It settled there long ago. The quickened breaths, the sharp sting behind your eyes almost comforting in its regularity. The clatter of your pen dropping to the floor during another restless study session and the ache in your ribcage as you fought for hopeless takes of serrated air no longer startled you. Your newly-appointed therapist told you, scribbling away on her notepad— “Maybe you need fresh air, time away from university.” As if sunlight could smooth out the tension etched into your bones.

That was what the seaside house was meant to be.

It wasn’t a cottage per se. Just a weather-worn brick-walled home tucked near the Italian coast, kissed by salt and sun and blue shutters faded to memory, ivy hugging the balcony tenderly. You rented it with the help of your parents, who insisted that you go on this trip, but the silence you were standing in was yours alone. You, twenty years old, burnt out, along with a diary you promised your therapist you’ll write in every day, from the soft, sunlit beginnings of May to the cold end of August.

The house in itself was as isolated as it could get, perched above the sea along eroded rocks and concealed from the nearest town and its tourists. It stood alone, in all likeness to you, waiting for inhabitation. The only hint of human life you noticed, as you mindlessly sipped your iced tea from the back doorway, sun warming your knees, was the distant outline of another house, a few kilometers down the coast. Far enough that it’d take a good ten-minute walk to reach it, but close enough so that you could discern the silhouette of a tall man standing in its overgrown backyard.

You didn’t linger much on it. He was but the ghost of civilization— a shadow at the edge of your retreat you weren’t ready to let back in. This was the time to center on your thoughts, peel back the numbness eating at your heart, and relearn yourself. You stepped back inside, glass empty, and didn’t think about him again.

At least, not then.

The month of May passed slowly, honey dripping down the rim of a jar. You mostly stayed in your little alcove of the world, letting the days stretch out in silence. Mornings were slow— toast with jam, milk coffee, the dog-eared pages of half-read books sitting on the sunlounger outside. You wrote in your diary about it, about how you’d paint your nails one day and chip them off the next, or how on other days you’d lie out on the balcony, the crash of the waves lulling you in and out of sleep. You watched the ivy grow and the sky change. For a while, it was nice, soft, and still.

But solitude, even chosen, eventually turns sharp at the edges. By the third week, the silence wasn’t so romantic: you started counting the hours between meals, pacing the kitchen tiles barefoot, and you reread your own diary entries even if you hadn’t spoken aloud in days. The stillness you once craved had started to feel like a trap— yet the worst of it was yourself: thoughts of precious hours you were wasting away instead of sitting at the desk of your dorm room haunted your boredom, similar to a ghost.

Which is why, now and then, when the breeze shifted just right, you found your gaze drifting down a few centimeters down the coast, toward the other house, and the man you suspected might still be there.

To the unknowing eye, you’re sure it could have looked unsettling, but truthfully, you didn’t have anything else to do but to observe. He was a welcoming presence, something that didn’t make you feel so secluded. Some days, the man would tinker with a bike for hours until the sun bled orange. Other times, he’d vanish with a towel slung over his shoulders and goggles in his hand, not returning until dusk. Occasionally, he’d mirror you, barefoot in the garden, basking in the sun. And sometimes—only sometimes—you swore he tilted his head upwards and caught your eyes. On those days, you always turned away first, slipped back inside, and retreated for the night.

Your personal game of people-watching stretched for a week or two before you spoke for the first time.

You spent the afternoon on a small, sheltered beach just a few minutes away from your house. The dry air had nipped at your skin just enough for it to become uncomfortable after a few hours, and the sun-turned—from warm to punishing—had your cheeks tight with the start of a sunburn. You packed up as the sky began to blush with the first hints of sunset, already fantasizing about the cool shade of your living room and the steady hum of the fan. It would have been glorious.

Would have, if you hadn’t locked yourself out.

You jiggled the handle once, twice, but nothing. Your towel slipped from your arms, and you cursed under your breath, pressing your forehead to the wooden door. Saltwater still clung to your skin, your hair stuck to the back of your neck, and the stupid key was sitting smugly on the kitchen counter inside.

A posh, British accent spoke from behind you. “Do you need some help?”

You turned, confused about the origin of the sudden voice, and there he was. The man from the neighboring house.

It was unmistakably him— there was just something about the tousled mess of brown, semi-curls falling in front of his face, the soft eyes crinkled at the corners with barely contained amusement. His skin, darkened by the sweep of summer, looked like it had soaked up every hour of its beginnings. There was familiarity in the delicate shape of him and the easy way he stood, towering over you. The towel in his hand was the same deep navy you’d seen slung over his shoulder days before. His gaze—sharp, steady, curious—felt exactly like it had when you’d caught him looking up at you.

“I, uh… I might?” You stumbled on your words as you answered.

He chuckled, leaning slightly against the fence in front of your house. “Locked yourself out?”

“I wish I could say no,” you nodded, making a noise somewhere between a whine and a laugh.

The man, who looked increasingly more boyish the more steps he took toward you, gripped the door handle. He twisted it a few times before kicking the bottom of the wooden plank and, before your stunned expression, it snapped open. He looked at you with a proud smile. “Don’t worry, people who rent this house usually don’t know about this trick.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Does that mean you come here often?”

Mortification crashed over you along with realization— you threw an accidental pick-up line at a complete stranger. A stranger who, objectively speaking, was very cute, yes, but still a stranger. You opened your mouth, already halfway through a flustered attempt to walk it back. “Wait— I didn’t mean that like— I wasn’t trying to—”

He let out a surprised, wheezy laugh. “No, no- you’re fine,” he said, grinning now. “I come here every summer, actually. I’m in the house further down the coast.” He seemed to catch the flicker of recognition in your eyes and gave you a knowing smile. “My name’s Oliver, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N,” you replied. “I… I think I’ve seen you around. Sometimes.”

Oliver’s traits softened, and you could see the playful interest behind the darkness of his irises. “Yeah.” His voice dipped slightly. “I think I saw you, too.”

Both of you stood there with the hesitant awkwardness usually reserved for teenagers— which, to be fair, you weren’t far from. He couldn’t have been older than you, early twenties at most. The silence stretched until he announced he had to go, something about needing to work on his bike. You had to abstain to say I know. 

Yet, before he could disappear completely around the corner, Oliver paused. He looked back over his shoulder. “If you ever want company, it’s just me down there. Come by whenever.” You didn’t have to add that you were alone as well. In a strangely comforting sort of way, it looked like he knew.

And it didn’t take you long to take him up on his offer.

It started when your trips to the beach began to align— first by coincidence, but then by something more deliberate. You came to realize that you and Oliver had claimed the same forgotten stretch of land where the sea kissed the rocks, and you drifted toward each other like its tide. At first, it was just run-ins: you, stretched out on your towels, half-asleep due to the sizzling heat; Oliver, standing over you, droplets of salt water falling from his hair onto your flushed cheeks. “What are you doing here?” you’d ask, squinting up at him.

“I like running,” he’d say with a shrug, before his characteristic, mischievous smile reached his lips once again. “And a dip after a run keeps me motivated.”

Oliver started sticking around. He’d keep the last of his water bottle to rinse the sand off your feet, sharing watermelon he’d always accidentally cut a little extra from. He would walk you home, and you’d lead him with slow, lazy steps, to drag the moment longer. Your laughter would echo against the rock and sea walls paving the way to your house, and he’d talk about little things—the birds and the heat—then about bigger things, how the ocean seems to always stay the same but feels different every year, for example. You’d match him, word for word, stories unfurling like waves, and miss him when he’d continue his way without you.

It wasn’t long before the space between your houses stopped mattering. One afternoon turned into an invitation to see the inside of his cluttered living room, and that was it. The next week, Oliver was sitting on your ivy-covered balcony, sipping homemade iced tea with your legs draped over his. Eventually, your days began to blur— his shirt left on the back of your chair, your books forgotten on his windowsill. You stopped counting whose house you were in until it became the house you were in together.

The month of May slipped into June in tentative brushes of the hand and peals of laughter lost to the warm air of summer nights. Oliver had become Ollie by the fifteenth—the nickname fell off your lips naturally—and you spent most, if not all, of your days in each other’s presence. The rhythm between you was almost domestic: you’d wake up and see his bare back at work in the kitchen along with the scent of coffee and discarded pans, or how you now knew his schedule by heart. He’d spend most of his Wednesdays and Fridays fixing up the old bike he’d found rusting in the garage, and he was partial to running on Saturdays. Swimming, however, was reserved for when you were with him. Any day. Every day, if he could have it.

By the time Ollie finished repairing the bike, the first month of summer was waning. One golden morning, with grease all over his fingers, he turned to you and asked if you wanted to visit the nearby town— a trip made easier now that the bike worked. To your own surprise, you said yes.

The town had become another stepping stone in whatever you and Ollie were building. The days spent weaving through the local market were your favorites, brushing past stalls of sun-ripened fruits and handmade trinkets, among which you both stumbled through clumsy Italian that vendors gently poke fun at you for. You’d mangle a greeting, and Ollie would butcher a question about apricots, and still, they’d smile like they knew what you were saying. You chuckled and asked him what the point of living in Modena was if he didn’t speak Italian. “My family’s still British, you know,” he answered. It only made you laugh harder, a sound he seemed to chase.

You never discussed the reason that brought you both to this isolated part of the Italian coast. It never came up, the questions drifted in the periphery— hinted at in the pauses between conversation, but never spoke out loud. It was a silent agreement: you didn’t ask, and neither did he.

But there was one evening, on the crumbling stone wall nearing the edge of town. Your legs were swinging gently over the drop— the cicadas had begun to quiet, the last smear of strawberry gelato clung to your fingertips, and the world was exhaling into night. Somewhere below, a dog barked once and fell quiet. That was when Ollie asked. “So… what brought you here?”

You didn’t answer right away. You wiped your fingers on a napkin that smelled faintly of lemon, tossing and turning the way you could shape your response in your head. “Uni,” you said finally. “Or… me, I guess. Everything just got really loud, and I could barely think about anything else. I stopped sleeping, I stopped eating… setting myself up for failure before I even started, basically.”

Ollie nodded, yet no pity or needless apologies fell off his tongue. “My therapist sent me there to remember how to be a person again,” you added to his silence.

“What about you?” You quickly asked, hasty to get the attention off.

He looked at you, mouth agape in a desire to say something, but ultimately deciding against it. Long seconds passed before the British spoke again. “I race professionally, right now I’m in Formula One.” One look at your face was enough for him to understand you didn’t know anything about motorsports. He continued with a crooked smile. “I, uh… I crashed back in March. Nothing huge, but enough to knock me out for the season, apparently. The doctors told me to rest and take it easy.”

You glanced over, catching the way his profile softened in the lamplight. You had noticed his grimace after long days spent walking around, the painful stretches in his living room when he thought you were still deep in slumber. You never brought it up.

“No one tells you how hard that part is—” Ollie continued. “The not-doing-anything part. I figured I’d go somewhere familiar to make it better, you know?”

Taking your mind off an obsession, when you made it a part of yourself so integral you’re unable to define yourself outside of it, can feel similar to the tearing of a limb— it’s something you carry around, an itch you can’t scratch because your fingernails will start digging for blood. It’s something you knew all too well, it was the reason for your presence on this stone wall.

“Well,” you murmured. “I think you’re going to get into your car next season and show them all the talent they’d missed.”

Ollie huffed a laugh. “Thanks for believing in me, but the car isn’t even—”

“You worked on your bike. You can work on a car.”

“It’s not even remotely the same thing.”

“Tomato, tomato.”

He laughed, curls catching the breeze, nudging his knees with yours. “Then you’re going to make every teacher regret putting you in this state when you go back.”

“That’d be assuming they care.” You rolled your eyes with nothing but fondness. “You’re too nice for the ruthless world of university, Ollie.”

The realization came as gently as the brush of his fingers above yours: you hadn’t thought about it at all. The tint of your skin had darkened, moles and sun-born freckles dusted your shoulders, your voice had picked up hoarser inflections from laughing, salt stuck to you like a robe, and you hadn’t noticed the oppressing heaviness of your shoulder ever since you ran into Ollie. You noticed, though, with a pleasant warmness swirling in your chest, that it seemed to have vanished. You couldn’t recall the last time you felt like the air around you wasn’t enough for your lungs.

In that moment, as the sky bruised deep violet and you could still taste the faint hint of strawberry on your tongue, it didn’t really matter what had broken you both to get there. You were here now, and that was what mattered.

The bike ride back to your house was spent in a sleep-induced haze. Your arms were loosely wrapped around Ollie’s middle, and he was pedaling slowly, not in a rush to get anywhere else but to you. When you reached the front door, you didn’t ask. He just followed you inside, barefoot and spent, and slept in the spare twin bed across from yours. The window stayed open all night. You could hear the sea mixing with his breathing. For the first time in a while, sleep came easy.

June made way for July, arriving in harsh, blinding sunlight, and days that stretched lazily into midnight. With it came a quiet shift, the startling and fluttering understanding that you might want to kiss Oliver Bearman.

It wasn’t in theory, in some hypothetical sunset-glazed movie scene. You wanted to kiss the real him, your Ollie, the one on the stone wall: the boy who stole your sandals to water your neglected garden, the one who wrangled in catastrophic Italian with a vendor for a pack of cherries you craved, the same one who read aloud from whatever your liking had set upon to make fun of it, only to keep reading when you weren’t paying attention.

In the delicate dance of almosts that blossomed over the month of July, you allowed yourself to think he might want to kiss you, too.

The first time it happened, you were both locked out of his house— for a change. A tragic incident involving a missing key and a dinner reservation you were already late for had left you standing outside, your arms crossed, and his sheepish grin doing nothing to help the situation. Ollie suggested the bedroom window. You, naturally, thought he was joking. He wasn’t.

You’d both ended up clambering through the fragile wooden frame like teenagers sneaking in past curfew, laughing so hard your ribs hurt. It was stupid, and maybe a little childish, but it was part of why it always felt so easy with Ollie. When it was your turn to hop off the ledge, he helped you, hands steady around your waist. His hands lingered there a moment too long and as laughter died down, leaving you breathless and dazed, something pulled you closer ever so slightly. Never close enough to break, however.

There was a second time, when Ollie brushed a stray strand of hair after you’d both ran from a summer shower and the touch warmed your forehead for hours. A third, when you fell asleep over each other in the garden during a heat-drenched day and you woke up with his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. There was a fourth, a fifth, an amalgamation of disarming instances during which your breath hitched in anticipation of what never seemed to come. When he caught you watching him, and never looked away.

The day you kissed him, you found yourself in a predicament you never thought would happen to you. Ollie had just leapt off the cliff.

There was no hesitation or second thoughts in the clean arc his body sliced through the air. The splash below was clean, and right when you thought he’d never find the surface again, his voice echoed upward, bright and breathless as he laughed. “Come on!” he shouted, waving at you. “It’s not even that high!”

You stood at the edge, toes curled against the rock, and you could only disagree with the brown-haired boy the way the water spiraled beneath you. “You’re insane. This is suicide.”

“Oh, you’re the one who climbed up there!”

“I climbed up to watch, not die!” you yelled back, heart hammering. “Also, aren’t you injured? Should you even be jumping off cliffs?!”

He shrugged. “The water’s deep enough.”

You glared, which only seemed to egg him on. “Come onnnn,” he complained. “You said you wanted to feel like a real person again, right? Nothing realer than that!”

Even in the lighthearted argument, you had to see the truth in what Ollie said. You had come to this quiet corner of the world to shake something loose inside of you, to try and find the pieces of yourself you misplaced among the tangy taste of tangerines and the soft mornings. This was the summer you were supposed to stop clenching your fists around fear, and to get rid of the anxious feeling lodged in your throat. Your heart had beaten loudly and unapologetically until now, what was slowing it down except for yourself?

So you took a breath. Two. Then a few steps back.

And jumped.

The fall was sharp, dizzying, and the scream that escaped your lungs was nothing short of horrified. Yet, laughter was wedged between the hiccups of it, and you broke the cold surface with a disbelieving gasp. Ollie was already swimming toward you— his eyes wide in wonder, and his hands reaching for your figure. “You did it!”

“I actually did it,” you sputtered.

Ollie’s hands found the dip of your waist under the water, steadying you against him. There were seconds of silence, filled with the splash of waves and your all too loud breathing. That was when his eyes dipped to your lips.

You hadn’t come there to find something as unreachable as love, and you especially hadn’t expected to fall for someone like Ollie, but somehow he had folded himself into your days and the smallest gaps of you— a placeholder until you could fill them yourself, you imagined. Still, you couldn’t envisage a version of your months without him, his voice, or the steadiness of the soul that comes with the brush of his fingers.

I jumped off a cliff, you thought. I can kiss Oliver Bearman.

So you did.

You surged forward before you could talk yourself out of it, arms slipping around his shoulders as your mouth crashed onto his in impatience. He stilled for only a second— more than enough to make you doubt your actions. But he kissed you back. Just as eager, the smile he put into it charmingly familiar. You could taste sea salt on his tongue, his sun-warmed lips moving hungrily against you, breathing your air and taking it away in the slow rocking of the waves.

You didn’t want it to end, but the lack of oxygen pulled you apart. Ollie’s forehead bumped against yours. “I was waiting for you to do that,” he murmured, dropping another quick kiss to your lips.

“Then you could’ve done it sooner!” You punched his shoulder with a laugh.

“I don’t know, I like it when you take the lead.”

You rolled your eyes, heat climbing up your neck, and dunked him into the water. You didn’t resist when he pulled you under.

The transition from July to August slipped from your attention, seawater between your fingers— impossible to hold onto but clung to your skin all the same. You barely noticed the days shifting; they blurred into one another with a sleepy sentimentality, each marked by rituals you and Oliver had grown to create. Mornings bled into slow breakfast where he’d sneak a bite of your toast before making his own, and you’d pretend to be mad about it even though you always saved the corner piece for him anyways.

There were afternoons spent with your ankles tangled together in the back gardens. He kept a bottle of your fragranced sunscreen in his bag. You knew what music to play when you both cooked dinner with the door open to let the cooler air of the evening sift through the kitchen. It wasn’t dramatic, nor was it sickeningly romantic. It simply came as a natural progression, an obvious evolution in the most beautiful sense— like something that could last, if you let it.

You kissed more often, now, much to both of your delight. At first, it was shy, quick, smiling kisses stolen between absentminded conversations. The further you got used to it, the slower they became: curious, confident, eager to know more about each other in a way you couldn’t quite grasp before. Your hands knew each other’s mapped faces and bodies, your mouth recognized the other’s rhythm. Once, you kissed Ollie with your knees still scraped from a hike he’d convinced you to go to. Once, he kissed you beneath the pouring rain, soaked and giggling like children.

There were times you stayed over, and times he did the same, and it would just happen with no clear decision. Ollie would just end up asleep beside you, together beneath the light covers— somehow, even in deep slumber, his hands would always find yours, his breathing even and warm against your neck and lulling you to sleep.

You thought that maybe you had gotten too brave during your stay, enough to turn your cautiousness foolish, because you caught yourself believing this wouldn’t end. That it didn’t have to. August had felt achingly saccharine, it made you wonder where all that sweetness would go when it ended.

The last weeks trickled like sand in an hourglass in front of your eyes. The weight of each moment slipped past you, yet you tried nothing to catch them. It’s what hurt the most: you had all taken it for granted, you let yourself believe time could stretch forever for the sole reason it felt right. It wasn’t the truth, because the truth was in the dates printed in your calendar and the unread emails from your university. The suitcase under your bed, you carefully avoided.

Another year will start again soon. The patterns you persisted in peeling off—stress, anxiety, the pressure to perform until exhaustion and still look perfect—would be ready to claw their way back beneath your skin, circling you. Ollie knew it as well.

Neither of you said it out loud, yet the end was coming whether or not the words spilled out. It hovered just out of reach, a promise of winter in the chill of the end of summer. You’d catch him staring at the sea a little longer than usual, or watching you tie your hair up before journaling, memorizing the motion. You stopped taking pictures, and he stopped making plans for tomorrow. You still laughed, still kissed, and gripped the hours as if they weren’t running out. There was a grace to the silence— a fragile kind of pretending which somewhat felt like mercy.

But try as you might, pretending can never last long.

The sky was painted deep shades of violet and rust, cicadas humming low in the nature around the steps of the back porch you and Ollie were curled upon. His hand was brushing absent circles on your ankle, head resting between your thighs as your fingers curled in his locks. A pot of pasta was cooling in the kitchen. It should have been a perfect night.

You stared at the horizon, then at your chipped nail polish tangled in his hair. You don’t know what pushed you to ask, what made tonight different. The only thing you knew is that it would have happened nonetheless. “What happens when this ends?” It came out as something similar to a whisper.

Ollie’s fingers paused. He looked up at you, turning around completely, and there was nothing but expectancy in his dark irises.

“I was wondering when one of us would ask,” he answered, voice low.

You breathed out through your nose. No matter the number of times it happened to you, you never succeeded in hiding the tremor in your hands correctly. “I don’t want to keep pretending it’s not happening. I’m leaving because of uni. You’re leaving because of racing. We’ve both known that since the beginning.”

Ollie nodded. “Yeah.”

“I just—” You paused, trying to find the thin breath you were holding onto. “I don’t know what happens next.” You looked at the crescent moons your nails had drawn on the inside of your palms. “I’m going back to school. There’s going to be deadlines and all-nighters and the pressure, and– it’s going to be hard to breathe. I don’t know how long it’s going to take before I… I slip again.”

Your voice cracked. “You never saw me like that, Ollie. You were lucky enough to get the version of me that wasn’t drowning, and I– I don’t know if you’d still want me if you did.” The confession came quiet and vulnerable, but you couldn’t linger on it when you had so many things to say and so little time. “And you’ll be racing again. You’ll have a whole world that doesn’t include this place, or me. I don’t expect you to hold space for me when everything changes.”

You were offering him a bright exit sign, the sole opportunity to be honest and to bring the sunset-colored haze you’d been navigating this relationship with down as softly as he could. There was no promise your heart would be spared the shock, but there was also no need to put it on display if it was the case.

Ollie stared at you for agonizing seconds. The traits of his face, the same you could trace with closed eyes, shifted into something different. It wasn’t fear, nor was it sadness, but a gentler thing that looked like something close to a quiet resolve. He took your hands into his, detaching each fingernail digging into your palm.

“I don’t know what happens either,” he admits, slowly, “and I’m not going to pretend I know what it’s going to look like. I just know I thought about it—about you—a lot. And…” His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Listen, I don’t need you to be okay all the time. I care about your stupid overthinking, the spirals, the bad habits that drive you crazy. All of it. That stuff’s not going to scare me off. I want you, not just the half of it I met this summer.”

“I’ll be racing, yeah,” he added with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I’ve got time. I can make it.”

Ollie leaned in, just a little closer but enough so you could feel the warmth of his breath along the shape of your lips. “I don’t know what you’ll be like in December, but I want to find out.”

It broke the pressure behind your ribs, only for the burn to rise behind your eyes instead. There was a need in his voice that you hadn’t expected, or maybe was it its intensity. Ollie wasn’t asking you to be better, he was just asking you to stay.

“I want to find out,” he repeated, quieter, in the shape of a promise.

You tried to blink back the tears forming on your lashes, failing miserably. “Okay,” you whispered. Your voice gave up in the middle. “Okay.”

Ollie kissed you tenderly and unhurried, a gentle, wordless reassurance in the movement of his mouth against yours in which you sank, a ship in a storm. Summer was ending, yes, but the world wouldn’t be. This could still be something, and maybe it would.

You couldn’t guess what December would bring, and you didn’t know who you’d be when the skies turned grey and the noise returned. Yet, you hoped.

And for now, hoping was enough.

©LVRCLERC 2025 ━ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[kunikame]

chabge theme now.... or wait until purple lilacs over...... decisions decisions.....