#Alpine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dedeinthewild · 2 days ago

Note

I should be studying but I'm so thrilled! I've tried coloring some parts of the text and putting a little summary following @jungwnies 's tutorial and I have to say that it looks so good!

(I know, I get excited for the little things... it's just a matter of time before I fix everything to be more consistent but I want to wait for the results of the votes about the font :)

-dede💫

hey! i was wondering if you could write a paul aron x reader fic with prompt 43 (“as much as i appreciate this random back hug, would you mind telling me who you are?”), where paul hasnt seen the reader (his former not so former crush) in a year or so, use to be good friends in the prema days. and at some point he finally tells her how he feels??🩵📆

I'm so sorry it took this long but your request was among the ones that had deleted themselves, so I had to so some weird trick to retrieve it... however, I hope you'll like it as much as I do! x

paul aron x reader, friends to lovers

"Deal. But fair warning—I’m taking you down with me."

summary : Stranded in London after a flight cancellation, the last thing she expected was to run into him—Paul, the boy she hadn’t seen in years but never quite forgot. A freezing night, an ice rink, and a city wrapped in snow bring back everything they left unsaid. Maybe fate has a sense of humor after all.

London turned magical when winter arrived, brazen and unapologetic, wrapping itself around the city. The streets lit up with festive displays, drawing the wide-eyed wonder of children enchanted by the season—or of those who never tired of its charm. Crowds swarmed airports, and navigating the bustling sidewalks became a challenge, with cameras and impassive Londoners clutching their coffees as obstacles.

But not everyone was there by choice. For some, like her, it was just a layover gone wrong. A flight cancellation, caused by a faulty landing gear, had left her stranded and forced to reach out to an old friend for a favor.

As if fate were in on the joke, an air hostess in her polished uniform, with long legs and neatly tied hair, had informed her with the sweetest smile that she wouldn’t make it home before Christmas Eve. Glancing down at the woman’s name tag, she’d noticed the irony: Noel.

It was almost laughable.

Surrounded by businessmen clutching their sleek black cases and children glued to the terminal windows, mimicking the roar of jet engines, she stood out like a black sheep in her oversized hoodie and headphones. The headphones, at least, spared her from the din of festive well-wishes and the fiery Spanish woman loudly arguing with her sister over the phone.

“Haven’t got on the flight. Is my bed still free?” she quickly texted a friend she hadn’t seen in years, hoping to avoid the expense of a hotel room during one of the busiest times in London.

“Depends,” her friend replied, “are you cooking me dinner?”

She smiled.

Over a simple pasta dish and some catching up, the two had changed into warmer clothes and taken the Tube to a small, lesser-known spot her local friend insisted was perfect for a unique night out.

“I can’t ice skate,” she protested, eyeing the long line of eager skaters queuing up for the rink. She leaned against the wooden railing, skeptical.

Her friend adjusted the scarf around her neck with a grin, nudging her glasses into place. “Shut up for once. I’ll teach you.”

And yet, somehow, she wasn’t surprised when, minutes later, her friend left her on the ice to greet some acquaintances nearby. That left her clinging to the wooden edge of the rink, muttering curses under her breath as a speedy skater whizzed past, nearly sending her sprawling.

“Damn it,” she muttered, steadying herself.

It was cold, but that was expected for late December. The light dusting of snowflakes gently kissing the faces of joyful skaters made her feel a little less homesick.

“I’m back!” her friend announced, suddenly reappearing, her red hair falling into her green eyes. She grabbed her hands and led her across the rink, coaching her through the basics: small steps first, then gentle pushes to build momentum.

“Never again, never again,” she laughed, wobbling with every motion. “I should’ve been sleeping on a flight!”

Paul had been dragged to the rink by Iris and Patrick after a fancy dinner downtown. While they experimented with tricks on the ice, he skated back and forth, chatting with Oscar, Patrick’s brother. Relaxed and graceful on the ice, he carried himself with the same effortless elegance he brought to everything he did.

Mid-conversation, he heard a voice—a familiar accent that tugged at his memory. Turning instinctively, he leaned his hands on Oscar’s shoulders for balance and looked toward the sound.

And he saw her.

There, in the middle of the rink, she stood stiff but amused, clinging to another girl as though her life depended on it.

She was different from how he remembered her, but that was only natural. It had been over a year since he’d seen her anywhere other than the rare travel photo she posted online. Her hair was slightly longer, tied at the nape of her neck to keep it out of the way, and her oversized scarf nearly swallowed her face. Yet when she laughed, tilting her head back, the shape of her smile was unmistakable.

And her hands—still bare. She’d always hated wearing gloves.

“What are you looking at?” Oscar asked, folding his arms as he followed Paul’s gaze. The rink wasn’t overly crowded, just a few couples and clusters of friends enjoying the evening.

“I thought I saw someone I knew,” Paul replied, running a hand through his blond curls and pushing off to resume his circuit, feigning disinterest. But the sight of her had set his heart racing, stirring up memories he’d thought he’d buried.

They’d met back in his Formula Regional days when he was still in red. She had been a student, chasing the thrill of motorsport whenever her schedule allowed. Their first conversation had been awkward, her shyly trying to make small talk while he handed out signed cards, unaware of how many more conversations they’d share in the future.

He’d loved seeing her happy—laughing in the pit lane with her paddock pass, which he’d secured for her despite her protests. They would walk the garage-lined paths together during breaks, stealing moments to marvel at the cars.

But when he moved on from the junior series, their friendship dimmed, fading into the background of his increasingly demanding schedule. The calls stopped, then the texts. Life moved forward.

Still, her absence lingered in quiet moments—on a stool in the garage, or on a flight to another race, when he’d wonder how she might have reacted to his latest adventures.

It all came rushing back when, propelled by an overly enthusiastic push, he lost his balance. Grabbing onto the nearest person for support, he found himself wrapping his arms around someone in a jacket far too big for her petite frame.

“Uh, as much as I appreciate this random back hug,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “would you mind telling me who you are?”

He quickly let go, straightening up. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, the words caught in his throat as his breath clouded in the frosty air.

“Hi,” he managed, offering a tentative smile as she turned to face him, her hands clasped tightly for warmth.

“Paul?” She squinted, confused, her nose pink from the cold.

“It’s nice to see you,” he said softly, his gaze flicking to her familiar scarf and those ungloved hands.

“It’s been a while,” she replied, burying herself deeper into the scarf. He moved to stand beside her, leaning on the wooden barrier to avoid meeting her eyes. He knew she hated being stared at, especially by people she hadn’t seen in ages.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, peeking out from her cocoon.

“Skating—or trying to. You know me, can’t resist a little speed, even on ice. What about you? Shouldn’t you be halfway across the world or something?”

She laughed faintly. “About that... My flight got canceled, so here I am. Killing time.” Shoving her hands into her pockets, she added with a teasing smile, “Still racing around tracks and making everyone else look lazy?”

Paul chuckled, glancing at the softly falling snow. “And you? Still amazing everyone with whatever you’re up to these days?”

They fell into an easy rhythm, the awkwardness melting away as they caught up—half-joking, half-serious, the years falling away with every shared laugh.

After a while, she adjusted her scarf and pulled her hair loose before tying it back again. “So, we’re doing this, huh?”

“Doing what?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“Small talk. Like we haven’t known each other forever. Like I don’t already know you’re secretly terrible at ice skating.”

Her bluntness made him laugh, the sound warm and familiar.

Some things, he realized, never changed.

"Hey, I’m not terrible! Just... aggressively mediocre." The driver nodded, offering both his hands to her, his smile making his already pink lips even more vibrant. "Why are we pretending we don’t know each other? Feels... unnatural."

She hesitated for a moment before placing her hands in his. "I guess... it’s been so long. I wasn’t sure where to start."

He began guiding her across the ice, keeping her hands secure in his, steadying her when she faltered and trying not to laugh when her precarious balance threatened to take them both down.

"We don’t have to do this, you know," she said with a slightly embarrassed smile, her gaze fixed on his water-colored eyes that had always been so captivating. "The whole... catching-up-like-strangers thing."

"Then let’s skip the ‘what have you been up to’ stuff and go straight to embarrassing ice-skating falls," he replied with a grin, raising his eyebrows mischievously. Letting go of one of her hands, he reduced her support, raising the stakes.

"Deal. But fair warning—I’m taking you down with me," she quipped, amused, gripping the remaining hand tightly as she tried to stay steady on the ice.

"Oh, you wish. I’ve always been better on my feet than you."

The two of them had always claimed to be just friends, spending time together as friends would—wandering through Italy, sharing weeks of vacation together. But anyone at Prema could see there was something more. They didn’t quite function the same without each other, and it was no secret that Paul seemed to shine a little brighter when she was around.

Yet they denied it. Always. To Angelina, who was practically a second mother to them, to the mechanics who shared their days, to the other drivers and the rest of the team who often said it was only a matter of time before they acknowledged the feelings they so clearly had for one another.

Finding themselves here, in a cold and free London, skating on ice by sheer coincidence, seemed like a blessing from fate.

"Sometimes I wonder if I’ve been running so fast I’ve missed what’s right in front of me," Paul had said one day, seated in one of the chairs under Prema’s gazebo during the Formula 4 and Formula Regional weekend at Monza. It was a rare period when Paul wasn’t racing himself, simply enjoying the races as a fan despite his close ties to the team.

"What do you mean?" she asked, flipping through the papers she’d collected from other drivers, watching the lineup at the pitlane entrance just below their vantage point.

"It’s just... being here makes me think about the past. About what I’ve been chasing all these years. And... about the things I’ve let slip away," he said, his tone serious.

She looked at him, her grip tightening on the papers, memories flooding back to the moment they’d first met and how he’d turned one of her impossible dreams into reality.

"Like what?" she asked softly.

"Like us. Like you."

She smiled.

With her Christmas gift.

The gift—blond, funny, and unforgettably Paul—that fate had wrapped up and given her. And in that moment, her heart was so light that all her anxieties and fears vanished, leaving only her dreams behind.

I liked writing this a lot, but i don't love the way you can see I'm trying to change my way of describing and the clarity of syntax and construction...🍀

#f2 #f1 #motorsports #prema racing #formula racing #f3 #writing #paul aron #alpine #flavio briatore #alpine f1 #paul aron x reader #patrick prints #oscar prints #iris murumets #grey #coloring #f2 fics #f2 masterlist

37 notes · View notes