#and the mother of the year award goes too…!

[abblegum]

mother

[pucksandpower]

La Regina

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Charles Leclerc x Schumacher!Reader

Summary: a girl raised at her father’s knee goes from rising star to princess to queen (or in which becoming a legend runs in the Schumacher family)

You bounce excitedly in the passenger seat of your papa’s car as he pulls into the parking lot of the karting track. At 5-years-old, you’re too young to race officially, but he promised to let you drive some practice laps after the scheduled competition today.

“Remember, Maus, listen closely to the instructors and stay safe out there,” Michael says, ruffling your hair affectionately before getting out.

You scramble out after him, having to jog to keep up with his long strides across the parking lot. You reach to take his hand, but freeze when a small crowd starts converging around your papa. Men in bright vests are rushing over, cameras flashing rapidly.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” You ask, startled by the commotion.

Before Michael can respond, a curly-haired woman thrusts a baby into his arms. “Oh my god, can you just hold her for one second? I need a picture!”

Your papa looks bewildered but graciously cradles the infant, giving an awkward smile as more and more people start shoving pieces of paper and pens in front of him.

“Excuse me, please, I have my daughter with me today,” he tries saying over the chaos, but no one is listening.

You shrink back, overwhelmed by the pushing crowd and flurry of voices pleading for autographs and photos. Where did all these people come from? This has never happened before when you’ve gone karting with your papa.

Sensing your unease, Michael gently passes the baby back to its mother and kneels down in front of you. “Hey, it’s okay, Maus. Why don’t you wait for me over there?” He gestures to a bench off to the side.

Part of you wants to cling to him, scared of all the strangers crowding around so aggressively. But you also don’t want him to have to worry about you on top of everything else. You nod bravely and make your way through the throng to the little bench, watching apprehensively as your papa tries politely handling the requests.

After what feels like forever, the crowd finally starts dispersing, though a few linger behind like stubborn cats begging for scraps. Michael shakes the last few hands and accepts some papers to sign before gratefully escaping over to you.

“I’m so sorry about that, Maus,” he says, looking apologetic as he plops down on the bench. “I didn’t expect such a scene on what’s supposed to be our fun day.”

“It’s okay, Papa.” You lean against his side, still a bit rattled but comforted by his familiar warmth. “Who were all those people? Why did they want your … uhh …“ You can’t quite remember the word for the scribbles people ask famous people for.

“Autographs,” Michael supplies with an amused chuckle, wrapping an arm around you. “And they wanted photos too, I suppose. I’m … well, I’m quite a famous racecar driver.”

You cock your head, trying to process this concept of your papa being some kind of celebrity. As far as you’re concerned, he’s just your goofy, loving dad who takes you karting and makes the silliest voices for all your stuffed animals at home.

“Really? Like the famous famous people on TV?” You’ve seen the paparazzi swarming the actors and musicians during awards shows, but you’d never imagined that could happen to your own papa.

Michael nods, drawing you closer with a squeeze. “Yes, somewhat like that, though it’s a bit excessive at a small karting event.” He laughs again and brushes some of your wayward hair from your face. “But you’re right, to you I’m just Papa. I don’t expect anything more from my favorite Maus.”

You beam at the affectionate nickname, all the earlier stress melting away. Who cares if strangers want your papa’s autograph or photos? All that matters is you two spending the day together like always.

“Can we go get our karts now?” You ask eagerly, bouncing a little on the bench. “I want to show you how fast I can go!”

“Of course!” Michael jumps up and scoops you into his arms with a playful growl, making you shriek giddily. “My little speed demon is going to leave me in the dust.”

He swings you up onto his shoulders and you cling on tightly as he strides toward the pit area. A few more people spot him and make a move closer with cameras and sharpies extended, but seem to think better of it when they see you perched up high.

The two of you spend the next couple hours karting together, trading places taking warm up laps and cheering each other on. At one point, a young attendant working the pit area approaches Michael somewhat nervously.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Schumacher?” He’s clutching a crumpled baseball cap in one hand, ducking his head shyly. “I’m just such a huge fan, would you mind taking a photo and signing this for me after your session?”

Your papa smiles kindly at the young man and takes the cap. “Not at all, no problem.” As the attendant walks away, looking elated, Michael turns to you with a wink. “See? That’s how you politely ask for an autograph.”

You giggle and mime zipping your lips. “Don’t worry, Papa, I won’t let the fame go to my head when I’m a famous racecar driver too someday.”

Scooping you up once more, Michael presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “That’s my girl. Now, last few laps — let’s see who can go the fastest without ending up in the grass!”

As evening starts falling, the two of you make your way back through the now nearly deserted lot after returning the rental karts. Most of the other karters have cleared out, leaving just you two strolling unhurriedly back to the car.

“Well Maus, despite the, uh, overexcited fans, I’d call this day a success,” Michael says, swinging your joined hands idly. “We both had our fun on the track, and I think you handled that crowd back there like a champ.”

You smile up at him, still so proud just to be his daughter. “I don’t care about all those other people, papa. As long as I have you, that’s all I need.”

Stopping beside the car, Michael crouches down and cups your face in his calloused racing palms, looking at you with such fierce adoration.

“Maus, you have me, always. No matter what happens out there,” he gestures vaguely at the empty track, “When I’m with you, I’m just Papa. My greatest accomplishment, my biggest award, is being your father. Verstanden?”

You launch yourself into his arms, hugging as tightly as you can. “Verstanden, Papa. I love you.”

“Ich liebe dich mehr, Maus,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek to your hair. “Now, what do you say we go get some victory ice cream?”

As the two of you climb into the car, you can’t keep the smile off your face, practically glowing with contentment. Sure, maybe your papa is some big famous racecar driver that everybody wants a piece of. But really, he’s just your papa — and you’re his whole world.

***

The ringing of the house phone cuts through the tense silence like a knife. You shrink further into the couch cushions as your mother rushes to answer it, shoulders visibly taut.

“Hello? No, I cannot make any comment at this time. Yes, I understand there is interest but-” Corinna breaks off, rubbing her temples wearily. “Please respect our privacy as a family right now. Thank you.”

She hangs up and leans against the wall, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment. Before she can even draw a full breath, the phone rings again, shrill and insistent. With a muffled curse, your mother snatches it up.

“What? I told you, I cannot give any statements! This is a private matter. How did you even get this number?”

You watch apprehensively as she responds again, her voice rising in distress. In the days since your papa’s skiing accident, it seems like the entire world has been hounding your family, desperate for any scrap of information.

On the TV across the room, the endless cycle of news reports drones on lowly. Images of your papa’s broken, still body being rushed from the slopes into a helicopter. Flashing advancer texts speculating on his chances of recovery from the traumatic head injury.

It makes you feel ill.

Beside you on the couch, Mick sits blank-faced, looking nearly as pale and worn as your mother. At 14, he understands the gravity of the situation all too well. Your big brother has always idolized your papa, hoping to follow in his racing footsteps one day as well. The thought of him not being there to see the realization of that dream is devastating.

Gina is curled up in the armchair, her shoulders shaking every so often with muffled sobs. At 16, she’s arguably been taking this the hardest of all you kids. She keeps her face stoically dry in front of your mother, but you can see how red and puffy her eyes are from constant crying.

As for you, at 11-years-old, you’re somehow both numb and feeling everything all at once. Part of you still can’t fully process that this nightmare is real. That your hero, your papa, could be lying comatose in a hospital, hovering between life and death. The other part of you is overwhelmed in a tsunami of terror, panic, anger, sadness — any and every emotion crashing through you at all hours.

“Kids, I’m so sorry about this,” your mother says, defeated, as she rejoins you in the living room after ending her latest call. The bags under her eyes seem to have deepened further overnight. “I know this is incredibly difficult and intrusive. But your papa is … he’s a public figure. People are concerned.”

“Incredibly insensitive is what they’re being,” Gina spits, uncurling herself from the chair enough to shoot your mother a resentful look. “We’re going through actual hell and all these people care about is getting a sound bite for the evening news!”

Corinna looks pained but doesn’t rebuke her. “I know, liebling, I know. But your papa has millions of fans all over the world who have followed his career for decades. Whether we like it or not, they care about him … and about us by extension.”

You think back to that day at the karting track all those years ago when you first realized your papa was what people called “famous”. How all those strangers clamored around him so aggressively just for a photo or an autograph. That level of fandom seemed exciting and novel at the time, when you were just a naïve 5-year-old. Now you see it for how intrusive and violating it is, this sense of entitlement people have to the private life of a public figure.

The phone starts ringing again, shattering the fragile quiet. Your mother squeezes her eyes shut and makes no move to get it this time. After four rings, the call goes to voicemail. A moment later, the tinny sound of an Italian voicemail being left blares through the speaker.

“Scusi, scusi, please, if there is any update on the condition of the great Michael Schumacher, any information at all! We are all holding vigils and saying prayers, but we must know how he fares! The world is watching and waiting!”

The words, pleading and demanding all at once, are like a slap across your face. The man’s voice is laced with such desperation, as if your papa’s life is mere entertainment to be consumedby the masses. You feel abruptly furious, incensed that a stranger’s morbid curiosity is given the same weight as your family’s anguish.

“Turn it off,” Mick mutters through clenched teeth, hunching over on the couch. “Just turn it off, Mama.”

Corinna nods numbly and reaches to end the voicemail, her mouth set in a grim line. Buzzing fills the room again as the TV drones on, the reporters’ voices a dull roar that you can no longer discern actual words from as your ears ring with white noise.

The shrill ringing of the phone cuts through once more, like a record scratching in your brain. Your mother flinches violently, hands coming up to clamp over her ears as she squeezes her eyes shut, finally at her breaking point.

Unable to watch this torture anymore, you surge to your feet and storm across the living room. You rip the phone from its cradle and hurl it against the far wall, the plastic casing shattering loudly. The ringing blessedly ends, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake.

Mick and Gina stare at you with wide, stunned eyes. Your mother simply deflates, sliding down the wall to the floor as the adrenaline drains from her body. For several beats, no one dares breathe too loudly. Then, Gina starts to shake her head slowly, tears slipping free.

“Brava,” she murmurs, the barest hint of approval in her voice.

Your mother doesn’t scold you for the outburst. She merely reaches out a hand, silently beckoning you closer until you slowly cross the room again and sink to your knees in front of her. She cups your face in her palms, her own cheeks glistening with fresh tears.

“You’re right, liebling, you’re right,” she whispers brokenly. “This is about our family, not … not the world thinking they’re owed something.”

She pulls your head against her shoulder and you cling to her tightly as she begins to weep in earnest, great shuddering sobs wracking her whole frame. Gina scrambles over and tucks herself against your mother’s other side, and soon all three of you are tangled in each other’s arms, letting the tidal wave of grief crest over you.

Mick stays frozen on the couch, watching over your huddle with dark, haunted eyes. For the first time since this ordeal began, the four of you are united in simply feeling, truly letting yourselves shatter. No more putting on brave faces or pretending to be okay — from this moment, you can finally grieve as a family behind closed doors, blockading out the rest of the cruel, prying world.

Later that evening, after crying yourselves into an exhausted stupor, you drift up the stairs and sequester yourself in your bedroom. You bypass the framed photos of your papa on your nightstand, the sight of his bright smile and twinkling eyes too searing at the moment. Instead, you sink to your knees in the middle of the floor and clasp your hands tightly, bowing your head to murmur desperate pleas.

“Please, please let my papa be okay. I don’t care about all his fame or the stupid reporters. I just want him to get better and come home to us. He’s not just the famous Michael Schumacher to me. He’s Papa. He’s my whole world.”

The words spill out in a torrent, all the fear and longing you’ve been bottling up for the better part of a week erupting forth. You plead to any higher power that may be listening, bargaining away your future, your dreams, anything — as long as your papa pulls through this nightmare.

How many times had you taken for granted those moments of him just being your dad — making you pancakes on Saturday mornings, dozing on the couch during family movie nights, playfully tossing you into the pool when you grew too whiny in the summer heat? You’d give anything to have those simple, precious daddy-daughter moments back.

“The world can have his trophies and titles,” you whisper fiercely, tears slipping free to patter on the carpet. “I don’t care about any of that. I just want my papa. Please, please bring him back to us.”

You curl in on yourself, forehead pressing into the floor as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. All the adoring fans, the fawning media, the hangers-on clamoring for a piece of his glory — they only know the manufactured public persona of Michael Schumacher, legendary racer and famous celebrity. But to you, he’s always just been the quiet hero tucking you into bed at night, the gentle presence reading stories in funny voices, the mighty protector pulling you in for all-encompassing bear hugs.

You miss that wonderful, silly, tender father more than anything in the world. You don’t give a damn about his racing accolades or his fame. You just desperately need your papa back home where he belongs — with his family, the people who loved and treasured him most as simply Michael.

Just Michael. Your one and only papa.

The raw ache of that longing consumes you utterly. You lay there amid the fading light from your bedroom windows, dreams and memories of your papa flickering behind your eyelids as you plead to any benevolent force that may be listening. All you want is the chance to make more joyful memories with him, to hear his rich laugh, to keep basking in his unconditional love for years and years to come.

Please, you beg the universe silently, one last time. Please let this nightmare end. Don’t let the brightest light in my world be extinguished before its time.

Let me have my papa back.

***

A tense hush has fallen over the dining room table, the clinking of utensils against plates the only sound cutting through the thick silence. Gina avoids everyone’s eyes, pushing food around her plate listlessly. Mick stares down at his half-eaten dinner, jaw working like he’s chewing over something weighty. You pick at a bread roll, too knotted with anxiety to muster much appetite.

Your mother is the one to finally break the stifling quiet, clearing her throat. “Kids, I know these last few weeks have been … incredibly difficult for us all.”

You risk a glance up at Corinna. Her eyes are tight at the corners, her mouth a taut line. Just like all of you, the constant vigil at your papa’s bedside, combined with the relentless badgering from the media, has clearly taken its toll.

“But we have to keep trying to be a family, yes?” She reaches across the table to grip your hand. “We’re all Michael has right now. We have to … to stick together for him.”

You nod numbly, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat at the reminder of your papa’s unchanged condition. The waiting, the not knowing if or when he’ll wake up, is a special kind of torment you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Mick abruptly shoves his plate away, the porcelain scraping loudly across the wood. You all flinch a little at the harsh sound.

“I’ve been thinking ...” he starts, then seems to reconsider his words, shoulders tightening fractionally. “Well, Y/N, you know how I … how I race under Mama’s last name?”

You frown slightly, uncertain where he’s going with this. “Betsch, yes. Because you wanted to make your own name without the expectation and pressure of being Michael Schumacher’s son.”

He dips his chin once, looking almost pained. “Exactly. And I think … I think maybe you should consider doing the same.”

The words sit heavy and convolulenting between you all like a sack of wet cement. You blink dumbly, hardly comprehending what he’s suggesting at first. When the implication hits you, you actually recoil as if he’d slapped you across the face.

“What? No. No, absolutely not, Mick. How can you even say that?”

“Y/N, just hear me out,” he pleads, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. “With Papa … with what happened, the paparazzi and the fans, they’re going to be watching our every move even more than before. Especially you since you’re planning to continue competing-”

“Don’t you dare make this about his condition,” you spit, fury thrumming through your veins like struck lightning. “And of course I plan to keep racing — it’s what Papa would want! I’m not going to hide from his name like it’s some shameful thing!”

Gina is watching the exchange with wide, startled eyes, her food forgotten. Mick runs an agitated hand through his hair, shaking his head firmly.

“It’s not about hiding or shame, it’s about protecting yourself! Don’t you see how crazy things have gotten? All the reporters harassing us, the fans leaving awful messages online hoping for updates ...”

He leans forward, expression almost desperate. “If you race as Betsch, you can compete without having that extra spotlight. You can just be a normal kid on the track without people peering in.”

Heat rushes up the back of your neck in waves of humiliation and rage. How dare he insinuate that inheriting your papa’s legacy is some kind of burden to be shrugged off? That the name Schumacher is a burden to bear rather than a badge of honor?

“I’m not you, Mick,” you bite out, fists clenching beneath the table. “Maybe racing under Mama’s name helped you deal with the pressure better and that’s fine. But I’m proud to be Michael Schumacher’s daughter! And if people can’t respect that, if they think it means they own a piece of me, then they can go to hell!”

“Language!” Your mother gasps, both appalled and slightly impressed. But you ignore her admonishment, too fired up to rein it in now.

“What, you think pretending to be someone else is going to spare me from living in Papa’s shadow anyway?” You shake your head adamantly, leaning across the table towards Mick. “It’s not, and you know it. Even if I raced under a fake name, everyone is still going to know exactly who I am and make comparisons.”

Slamming your palms on the table, you surge to your feet, chair screeching harshly against the floor. All the pain and uncertainty of these past few weeks is bubbling over into bitter, biting words.

“So why should I hide it? Why can’t I take pride in my name and my heritage? Maybe it’ll mean more scrutiny, but it’s a million times better than feeling like I have to be ashamed! Like I can’t fully honor Papa and make him proud!”

Chest heaving, you stare down a wide-eyed Mick, almost daring him to challenge you further. He seems to read the conviction blazing in your eyes, features softening into chagrin.

“You’re right ...” he murmurs with a wince. “You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

You hold his repentant gaze for a long moment before deflating back into your chair with a muted thud. In the ringing silence, you can hear your mother’s soft sniffles from the far end of the table. When you look over, she has her head bowed, hands pressed to her eyes as she cries quietly.

“M-Mama?” Gina ventures in a small voice, reaching across to grasp her mother’s wrist. “What’s wrong?”

Corinna lowers her hands, swiping at the tears streaking her cheeks. When she meets your bewildered gaze, her expression is a complicated brew of pride and heart-wrenching sadness.

“Nothing is wrong, liebling,” she assures Gina with a watery smile, before turning back to you. “Y/N, you’re so much like your papa, do you know that? So brave and determined … so full of that same fighting spirit.”

She dips her chin, lips trembling faintly. “He would be so proud to hear you defend his name like that. To see you ready to take on the weight of wearing it, regardless of what the world throws at you.”

More tears spill forth, but she brushes them away impatiently with the backs of her hands.

“But liebchen, you have to understand … Michael spent decades bearing that scrutiny and expectation. People analyzing his every move, always under a spotlight so harsh it burned. I never wanted that for any of you.”

Sliding her chair back, your mother crosses to kneel before you, cradling your face gently between her palms. Her eyes are shining but intensely serious, almost pleading with you.

“The Schumacher name casts such a long shadow, one so great that your own light can be eclipsed before you ever have a chance to properly shine. I don’t want you smothered by that burden, mein schatz. I want you free to make your own amazing mark on this world, completely unchained.”

You feel your throat grow tight at her words, the weight of them ringing so true and terribly sad. You reach up to circle your fingers around her wrists, holding her hands to your cheeks like vices.

“I know, Mama, I know,” you whisper roughly. “But that light you want me to shine? Papa is the one who sparked it inside me in the first place.”

You meet her watery gaze steadily, willing her to understand the conviction taking root inside you.

“The joy and passion I have for racing doesn’t come from some anonymous dream. It comes from him — from the nights he spent giving me a play-by-play of his biggest victories, from the days we spent at the karting tracks making memories, from everything I want so desperately to honor.”

Leaning forward until your brows nearly touch, you let the pleasing words spill out directly from your heart.

“So please, please don’t ask me to race as anyone other than your daughter, yes, but also proudly as Michael Schumacher’s daughter. That name isn’t a burden or a shadow to me. It’s something I want to carry forward and make blaze even brighter.”

Your mother’s eyes slip shut as she draws in a shuddering breath. For a long moment, she simply holds your face cradled in her palms, seeming to bask in your impassioned words. When her eyes finally open again, they are overflowing with a fierce tenderness.

“Oh liebchen,” she murmurs, voice thick with an odd mix of grief and wonder. “You are your father’s daughter through and through. So determined, so unafraid to face the world head on ...”

She strokes her thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, swiping away the dampness there. “I only hope he knows just how brightly his fire still burns in you. How it is living on in the most brilliant way.”

Surging up onto her knees, your mother pulls you into a fierce embrace, tucking your head beneath her chin. You cling to her tightly, drawing strength from her warmth, her tireless support and love. Over her shoulder, you can see Mick and Gina watching silently, their own eyes overly bright.

When your mother finally leans back, cupping your face once more, her expression has regained some of its usual firmness and resolution.

“Very well, then,” she nods, offering you a watery but determined smile. “If you truly feel ready to take on the world, to claim that name and legacy as yours, then we will face it together. As a family.”

She rises lithely to her feet, drawing you up along with her. Gathering Mick and Gina in with the sweep of her arms, she folds you all in her protective embrace, holding your foreheads together in the center.

“You may be Schumachers, but that name does not define or limit you,” she declares, quiet but firm. “It is simply one part of your identity, one piece of the incredible legacy you inherited. What you choose to make of it, how brightly you make that legacy burn, is up to you alone.”

She pulls back just enough to meet each of your eyes in turn, her own gleaming with resolute pride.

“So let them watch, let them scrutinize and sneer and make their judgments. You will simply keep chasing your passions and living your truths. Yes, the world may know you as Schumachers, but you alone will define what that name represents, now and for generations to come.”

***

The roar of the engines fades as you cross the finish line, taking the chequered flag. The broadcast team erupts in excitement.

“Unbelievable! Y/N Schumacher has done it — the daughter of the legendary Michael Schumacher wins the Formula 2 championship in her rookie year!”

You can hardly believe it yourself as you start your cooldown lap, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The pit crew is cheering wildly, holding up the #1 sign. Your race engineer is on the radio, his voice cracking with joy. “You’re a champion, Y/N! A first-year champion!”

“What an incredible drive from the young German. Shades of her father with that relentless determination and racecraft. She’s carried on the Schumacher name proudly.”

As you return to the pit lane, you spot Mick getting out of his own car. He has a huge smile on his face, eyes shining with pride. You take a moment to drink it all in as you bring your car to a stop and he’s the first one there, ripping off your helmet so he can hug you tightly.

“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” He’s beaming as he pulls back to look at you.

“Aww, Mick ...” You blink back happy tears, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what you’ve accomplished. “I couldn’t have done it without you pushing me every single race.”

Mick shakes his head dismissively. “This was all you. You were the faster driver this season, plain and simple.” His face falls a little. “I really thought I had you there at the end, but you just wouldn’t give up.”

You grin cheekily. “Of course not! I’m a Schumacher — we never give up.”

“What a beautiful moment between the siblings. You can see the immense pride Mick has for his sister, despite coming up just short of winning the championship himself.”

The rest of the team surrounds the two of you, lifting you both up onto their shoulders as the celebrations kick into full gear. You lock eyes with Mick over the sea of smiling faces and he winks at you contentedly.

Later, after you’ve returned to the garage, you find a quiet moment alone with Mick. He pulls you into another hug, this one more lingering.

“I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You’ve worked so incredibly hard for this.” Mick’s voice is thick with emotion.

You squeeze him tightly. “Thank you, Mick. That means everything coming from you.”

He pulls back, cupping your face fondly. “I remember when we were kids, dreaming of following in Papa’s footsteps. And now look at us!”

You laugh, a few happy tears spilling over. “I know, it’s crazy! I couldn’t have done this without your help, you know. You’ve been by my side every step of the way.”

“A storybook ending for the Schumacher siblings. Y/N cementing herself as a future star, with her older brother not far behind.”

Mick shakes his head adamantly. “No, Y/N, this was all your talent and determination. I just got a front row seat to watching greatness in the making.” His eyes are shining with sincerity.

You throw your arms around his neck, struck by how lucky you are to have such an amazing brother. “I love you, Mick. Thank you for always believing in me.”

He hugs you fiercely. “I’ll always believe in you. You’re a champion now, but I know this is just the beginning for you.”

The team arrives then, champagne bottles in hand and ready to continue the celebration. You pull back and grin at Mick mischievously, cracking open the first bottle with a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you … for now.”

The bubbly liquid sprays everywhere as you both dissolve into laughter, reveling in this perfect moment of sibling bonding and love. Mick pulls you into a wet hug, so proud and grateful to share this with you.

“And an iconic image — the Schumacher children celebrating a Formula 2 title just like their father did in the upper series so many times before. A changing of the guard, with the name Schumacher set to dazzle racing fans once more for years to come.”

Later that night, after you’ve showered off the champagne and slipped into comfy clothes, there’s a soft knock at your hotel room door. You open it to find Mick standing there, shifting awkwardly.

“Hey, you’ve got a second?” His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, like he’s been crying.

“Of course, what’s up?” You gesture him inside, concerned by his demeanor.

Mick enters slowly, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. He seems to be struggling to find the words.

You rest a hand on his arm. “Mick, you can tell me anything, you know that.”

He nods jerkily, finally meeting your eyes. “I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You have no idea how much it means to me to see you accomplishing your dreams.” His voice catches with emotion.

“But?” You prod gently.

Mick’s eyes water again. “But … it’s also really hard for me. This was my dream first, you know? To become a champion like Papa.” He swipes at the tears angrily. “And now you’ve beaten me to it. I’m just … I’m struggling with that a bit.”

Your heart clenches at his quiet admission. You pull Mick into a tight hug, rubbing his back soothingly. “Oh, Mick … I’m so sorry. I never wanted to take that away from you.”

He shakes his head against your shoulder. “No, no, it’s not your fault at all. You earned this, fair and square. I’m just … dealing with some complicated emotions, I guess.”

You push him back by the shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes intently. “Mick, listen to me. You are one of the most naturally gifted drivers I’ve ever seen. This is not the end for you, not even close. You’re going to be a champion too, I know it.”

Mick seems to deflate slightly at your words, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you state firmly. “We’re going to take this to the top level together. And we’re going to make Papa even more proud than he already is.”

A slow smile spreads across Mick’s face. “Together,” he repeats, reaching out to take your hand and give it a squeeze.

You squeeze back reassuringly. “Always together. You and me, just like when we were kids. We’re a team, remember?”

Mick nods, the brightness returning to his eyes. He seems lighter now, the melancholy cloud lifted by your words of encouragement.

On impulse, you throw your arms around him again, nearly knocking him over with the force of your hug. Mick laughs delightedly, squeezing you just as tightly.

“Thank you, Y/N. I needed to hear that from you,” he murmurs shakily into your hair.

You pull back just enough to grin at him cheekily. “What are little sisters for?”

Mick lets out a surprised bark of laughter, warmth and affection shining from every part of his expression as he gazes at you fondly. “You’ll always be my little sis, champion or not.”

It’s your turn to laugh, swatting at his chest playfully. “Well this little sis just kicked your ass this season, so show some respect!”

Mick’s eyes crinkle with mirth. “I’ll remember that for next year, believe me.”

***

It’s a crisp autumn evening at the Schumacher family home in the Swiss Alps. You’re curled up on the plush couch in the living room, flipping through a magazine while your brother paces back and forth anxiously.

“Will you please sit down?” You ask, eyeing him over the top of the pages. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Mick runs a hand through his tousled blond hair. “Sorry, I’m just … worked up, I guess.”

You set the magazine aside. “About what? We haven’t had a race in weeks.”

He stops his pacing to face you. “You know the season’s almost over, right? And Haas still hasn’t said anything about re-signing me for next year.”

“Oh, Mick.” You offer him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. You’ve had a solid season.”

Mick flops down next to you, deflating a little. “I don’t know. There are so many other options on the table. What if Haas decides to go a different direction?”

“Then you’ll find another seat,” you say firmly. “Any team would be lucky to have you behind the wheel.”

He manages a half-smile. “Thanks. I just wish I had your confidence sometimes.”

“What can I say?” You flash him a cheeky grin. “It’s a gift.”

The peaceful moment is shattered as both of your phones start ringing in unison. You exchange a puzzled look before digging them out.

“My manager,” Mick says, furrowing his brow as he answers. “Hello?”

You do the same, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hey, Nicolas, what’s up?”

For the next few minutes, you and Mick are silent, listening intently with rapidly changing expressions — yours elated, his crestfallen. When you finally hang up, Mick is staring at the floor, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Well?” He asks, voice tight. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

You take a deep breath, trying to tamp down your surging excitement. “Ferrari wants me for next season.”

Mick’s face falls even further, if possible. “You’re kidding.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this!” You can’t keep the grin from overtaking your features. “Can you believe it? Driving for the Scuderia! It’s a dream come true!”

“Yeah, for you maybe,” Mick mutters darkly.

You blink at his tone, smile fading slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He drags a hand down his face wearily. “Haas declined to re-sign me for next year.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What? No, that can’t be right!”

“Afraid so.” Mick’s voice is flat, resigned. “They said something about … needing to bring in fresh blood or some bullshit excuse.”

You scoot closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Mick, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

“Don’t be.” He tries for a nonchalant shrug, but it comes off as dejected. “At least one of us is moving up in the world.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?” You protest. “We’re teammates! We were supposed to take on Formula 1 together!”

Mick snorts humorlessly. “Looks like that’s not going to happen after all.”

An uncomfortable silence stretches between you. You open your mouth, searching for the right words of reassurance, but come up empty. How can you comfort him when your own dream has come true at his expense?

“Hey.” Mick’s somber tone breaks the quiet. “I’m happy for you, you know. Really, I am.”

You meet his sincere gaze, feeling your eyes start to well up. “I know. But that doesn’t make this any less shitty for you.”

He manages a rueful smile. “What can I say? I’m a realist.”

“So what are you going to do now?” You ask quietly.

Mick lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Keep grinding, I guess. Look for another seat, any seat, even if it’s not in F1 next season.”

“You can’t give up on F1!” You protest instantly. “You’re too good for that, Mick.”

“Am I, though?” He lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Face it, Y/N, you’ve always been the better driver. This just proves it.”

You shake your head adamantly. “That’s not true at all! You’re every bit as talented as me.”

“Then why did Ferrari pick you instead of me?” There’s no accusation in his words, just weariness.

You falter, mind churning as you search for an answer that won’t come. “I … don’t know.”

“Exactly.” Mick closes his eyes briefly. “Maybe it’s for the best. At least this way, one of us still gets to live out the Schumacher legacy and race for Ferrari. Carry on the family name, you know?”

“But you’re a Schumacher too,” you say, feeling your throat start to tighten with unshed tears. “It should be both of us out there, not just me.”

Mick reaches over to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Hey, don’t cry about it. I’ll be okay, really.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” You swipe angrily at the moisture gathering in your eyes. “It’s not fair, Mick. It’s just not fair at all.”

He levels you with a look that’s decades older than his years. “Life rarely is. You know that as well as I do.”

You fall silent, unable to formulate a response. He’s right, you realize with a pang. The two of you, of all people, should understand that success and failure often go hand-in-hand, even for the most talented competitors.

Pursing your lips, you lean forward and pull Mick into a fierce hug. He tenses for a split second before wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m still so proud of you,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be my incredible big brother.”

Mick lets out a shaky exhale against your hair. “And you’re the most badass little sister a guy could ask for. Ferrari has no idea what they’re in for.”

You pull back just far enough to meet his eyes, emboldened by the warm affection shining in them.

“Just promise me one thing?” You ask.

He arches an eyebrow quizzically. “What’s that?”

A mischievous grin tugs at your lips. “That you’re not going to take it easy on me whenever you’re back on the grid.”

***

You take a deep breath as you pull your sleek new Ferrari up to the iconic factory in Maranello. This place holds so many memories — some joyful, others bittersweet. Your father cemented himself as a legend here, and you can’t help but feel the weight of that legacy on your shoulders now more than ever.

The door swings open and there stands Fred Vasseur offering you a warm smile. “Y/N, welcome home.”

You return the smile, unable to mask the flood of emotions. “It’s good to be back, Fred.”

He gestures for you to follow him inside. “I’m sure this place brings back quite a few memories.”

“You have no idea,” you murmur, taking in the familiar sights and smells. The rosso corsa that coats every surface, the scent of machinery and high-octane fuel … it’s intoxicating.

A tiny you runs through the hallways, giggling madly as your frantic mother tries to catch up. “Mick! Y/N! Get back here this instant!”

Mick peeks out from behind a workbench, sticking his tongue out at Gina, who playfully swats at him. You spot the perfect hiding spot — a massive green recycling bin tucked in the corner ...

“Y/N? Are you still with me?” Fred’s voice breaks you from your reverie.

You shake your head. “Sorry, got a bit lost in thought there. This place just … feels like stepping into the past.”

Fred nods knowingly. “I can only imagine. But today is about your future with the team.” He leads you through the winding corridors, pointing out various departments. “Over here is aerodynamics, that hallway takes you to the design labs ...���

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Your father’s voice echoes down the corridor, his tone playful but tinged with desperation. You stifle a giggle from your hiding spot as his footsteps draw closer.

“Michael, any luck?” That’s Paolo, one of the mechanics. You chance a peek and see half the team has been enlisted to search for you.

Your dad scrubs a hand over his face. “She’s too good at this game. Should’ve known better than to play hide-and-seek in a place this size.”

You chuckle softly at the memory, prompting a curious look from Fred. “Sorry, just … reminiscing again.”

He gives you an easy grin. “By all means, feel free to share. I’d love to hear some of those old stories.”

You take a breath, composing yourself before launching into the tale. “Well, there was this one time when I was maybe … four or five? Mick and I were causing an unholy ruckus as usual, and Papa suggested a game of hide-and-seek to wear us out. Big mistake on his part.”

Fred’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Let me guess, you proved to be a master hider?”

“You could say that.” You grin mischievously. “I found this big recycling bin, crawled inside, and stayed completely silent while the whole team tore the place apart looking for me. Papa was just about to call in the overalls for backup when Paolo finally peeked in the bin.”

Fred throws his head back with a hearty laugh. “I can just picture your poor father’s face when they found you! He must’ve been both relieved and completely exasperated.”

You nod. “Oh, he wore that particular blend of emotions often when we were young terrors around here.”

The two of you continue chatting amicably as Fred shows you around the various facilities — the simulator room, the engine workshop, even the gym and physiotherapy center. With each new area unveiled, another flood of nostalgia washes over you.

You and Mick sprint into the wide-open workshop, engines and miscellaneous car pieces scattered all around. Gina is closing in, her longer legs giving her an advantage.

“Got you now, you little gremlins!” She scoops Mick up with one arm, then turns her sights on you.

You let out a shriek of laughter, dodging around a massive piece of equipment as your mother joins the chase. “Come here, Maus! It’s time for your nap!”

You shake your head furiously. “No nap! No nap!”

Corinna’s hand finally snags the back of your shirt, and you erupt into a fit of giggles as she pulls you into a hug ...

“That’s some smile you’ve got going there,” Fred notes with a wry grin. “I take it another happy memory?”

You give an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. Just … remembering how this place used to be our personal jungle gym. Mick, Gina, and I would run absolute loops around Mama while she tried to wrangle us for nap time.”

Fred chuckles fondly. “I can picture three tiny terrors leaving chaos in their wake.” His expression softens. “It must be incredibly special to be back here after all these years. To follow in your father’s footsteps like this.”

You swallow hard against the swell of emotions. “It’s … overwhelming, if I’m being honest. But in the best possible way.” You glance around at the familiar setting with new eyes. “These halls practically raised me. And now … now I get to write my own chapter here.”

Fred gives your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “You’ve got a long road ahead, but I have complete faith you’ll make us all proud, Y/N.”

You straighten your shoulders, giving him a determined nod. “I’m ready.”

As you follow him further into the factory, you can’t help but revel in the rush of coming full circle. Yes, this team, this place, is indelibly woven into your childhood. But now … now it’s time to create new memories.

To race.

To win.

To become a legend.

***

The crowd outside the Ferrari headquarters swells as you emerge from the famous red doors for the first time as an official Scuderia Ferrari driver. Shouts and cheers erupt from every direction, fans pressing forward eagerly with pens and photos clutched in their hands.

“Over here, Y/N!”

“Un selfie, per favore!”

“Can you sign this for my daughter?”

You plaster on a polite smile, trying to graciously oblige as many autograph and photo requests as possible. But the throngs only grow more insistent, hands grabbing at you from all angles as the crowd closes in. Your heart races and you feel yourself starting to panic at the lack of personal space.

“Per favore, let her breathe!” An insistent voice cuts through the commotion in lightly accented Italian.

The crowd parts slightly as a familiar, lean figure pushes through — your new teammate. His green eyes meet yours with a reassuring look as he plants himself firmly by your side.

“Give her some space!” Charles barks out in English this time. “She can’t breathe!”

You shoot him a grateful glance as the fans reluctantly take a step back. Charles gently takes your arm and pulls you out of the scrum.

“Sorry about that,” he says with an apologetic smile, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. “I know how intense they can be around here.”

“No, thank you,” you reply earnestly. “I was about two seconds away from an anxiety attack.”

Charles chuckles. “Well, we can’t have the new driver cracking under pressure on day one.”

You make a face at his teasing remark. “Watch it, pretty boy.”

Laughing, Charles puts his arm around your shoulders in a friendly gesture. “Come on, I know just the place to escape the madness for a bit. Dinner’s on me.”

He guides you across the plaza and down a side street to a cozy trattoria — Ristorante Montana, known as the unofficial “Ferrari restaurant” frequented by team members. As you enter, a stout woman with a warm, welcoming smile emerges from the back.

“Ah, Charles! Welcome back. And this must be ...” Her eyes widen as they land on you. “Oh, la piccola principessa is all grown up!”

Flustered, you open your mouth to respond, but the woman has already swept you up in a tight embrace.

“Rossella, you’re smothering the poor girl!” A elderly man’s voice calls out in amused rebuke.

“Hush, Maurizio, and pour us some wine!” Rossella releases you and holds you at arm’s length, beaming. “Michael’s little girl, all woman now. I’ll never forget the first time your father brought you in here as a bambina.”

She gestures to a framed photo hanging on the wall of a much younger Rossella standing next to Michael, who is holding a grinning toddler — unmistakably you.

“He was so proud,” Rossella continues misty-eyed. “Just like I know he would be of you today, following in your father’s footsteps.”

You swallow hard, touched by the warm welcome and memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Charles watching you with a soft smile.

Rossella shifts gears abruptly, all business. “Now, what will you two have? The usual for you, Charles? And for you, la principessa, I insist you try the gnocchi al ragú. Just like my nonna used to make it.”

As Rossella whisks off to the kitchen, Maurizio appears with a bottle of deep red wine and two glasses.

“To new beginnings,” he toasts with a wink, pouring for you and Charles.

You raise your glass to clink against Charles’ with a smile. “New beginnings.”

Over pasta and wine, you and Charles fall into an easy rapport, bantering back and forth as the weight of the evening’s earlier stress dissipates. You find yourself repeatedly distracted by the dimpled grin that lights up his face whenever he laughs at one of your quips.

“So is this a regular hazing ritual you put all the rookies through?” You ask innocently. “Get them away from the crowds and ply them with wine so they’re too drunk to be nervous on day one?”

Charles barks out a laugh. “You’ve found me out! Although I do seem to recall my own initiation being a lot harder. Maybe I’m going soft in my old age.”

“Old age? You’re what …12?” You retort, eyes dancing with mirth.

The waiter arrives with the dessert menu, but Rossella shoos him away.

“No, no menu. I’m bringing you the tiramisu to share. My secret recipe.”

Charles groans in delight. “You’re a legend, Rossella.”

She pats his cheek affectionately before disappearing again. A comfortable silence falls between you and Charles as you each take a bite of the rich, velvety tiramisu.

“Mmmm, this is literally heaven,” you murmur happily.

Charles hums in agreement around another forkful.

Your eyes catch movement out of the corner and you turn to see Rossella returning, carrying a large framed photo under her arm. She sets it down on the empty chair next to you with a proud grin.

It’s a glamor shot of you from a recent photoshoot for Vogue Italia — hair and makeup impeccable, lips parted in a secret smile as you gaze directly at the camera.

Rossella rests a hand on your shoulder. “For me, bellissima? So we can hang la principessa right next to il padre.”

Touched, you take the proffered sharpie and scribble out a quick inscription before signing your name with a flourish at the bottom.

“Grazie mille,” Rossella breathes, throwing an arm around you to squeeze you against her ample frame. “You’ve made this old heart very happy tonight.”

When she finally releases you, you see Charles watching you both with a soft, almost wistful expression. You raise your eyebrows at him in question, but he just shakes his head with a smile.

As you and Charles prepare to depart, Rossella calls out once more. “You come back soon, eh principessa? I have more pictures to collect.”

You throw her a wink over your shoulder. “D’accordo, d’accordo. We’ll be back soon!”

Out on the street, you pause, conscious of the evening rapidly drawing to a close. You turn to Charles, studying him properly for the first time. His deep green eyes crinkle at the corners as he meets your gaze.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Really. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t swooped in to rescue me back there.”

Charles shrugs nonchalantly, but his expression is kind. “We look out for our own in Ferrari. That’s what teammates are for, no?”

A beat passes, the momentary tension thickening between you. Then Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat.

“Anyway, I should let you get going before your handlers send out a search party. Need me to call you a car?”

“No, no I’m good,” you reply quickly, trying to mask your disappointment at the night ending. “My performance coach has the car around front.”

You start to turn away, then impulsively pivot back. Rising up on your toes, you throw your arms around Charles’ neck and pull him in for a brief, platonic hug.

“Seriously, thank you,” you murmur in his ear. “For everything.”

As you pull back, your faces are just inches apart. Charles’ eyes are warm, his gaze intense. For a dizzying moment, you’re certain he’s going to kiss you. Then just as suddenly, the moment passes and he steps back with a friendly smile.

“Anytime, princesse. I’ll see you bright and early next week for our first time running the SF-23 on the simulator.”

With a wink, he turns and saunters off down the street, hands shoved in his pockets in that effortlessly cool way of his. You let out a long breath, flustered and exhilarated all at once.

Your performance coach has indeed been waiting with the car, looking mildly concerned. “Everything alright?”

You flash her a bright smile, practically skipping to the car. “It is now, Mara. It absolutely is.”

Your first day as a Ferrari driver was certainly more than you bargained for. But as you settle into the plush leather seats, you can’t wipe the silly grin off your face. Something tells you this new chapter with the Scuderia is going to be an adventure — in more ways than one.

As Mara pulls away from the curb, you catch a final glimpse of Charles striding confidently down the street. Even from a distance, you can make out the dimpled smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Leaning back against the headrest, you think back to the memory of his arm slung casually around your shoulders and sigh contentedly. Yes, you have a feeling this is just the beginning of what’s shaping up to be a very interesting partnership with Charles Leclerc.

***

Sebastian looks over the wine list, pretending to be engrossed in selecting the perfect vintage as he peers over the top of the menu. His eyes are fixated on the entrance to the upscale Italian restaurant, waiting for Charles and you to arrive.

This had better work, he thinks to himself. The two of you have been making googly eyes at each other for months now, but are both too stubborn to make a move.

Finally, the hostess leads Charles and you into the dining room. Sebastian ducks down, pulling the brim of his fedora lower over his face and adjusting the fake mustache he’s wearing as a disguise. He watches as the hostess shows Charles and you to an intimate table for two by the window, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating your faces.

“There must be some mistake,” Charles says, looking around in confusion. “I was under the impression we were meeting Sebastian here for dinner?”

You look equally perplexed. “That’s what he told me too. He said to meet at 8 o’clock sharp.”

“Well this is just awkward,” Charles runs a hand through his tousled hair. “Should we wait for him or ...”

Before you can respond, the waiter arrives with a basket of bread and butter. “Good evening, my name is Gerardo and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Actually, we’re still waiting on-” Charles begins, but the waiter cuts him off.

“Ah yes, Mr. Vettel asked me to inform you that he will be unable to join this evening after all. A last minute obligation came up. He insisted I take excellent care of you both and that the evening is on his treat.” Gerardo smiles broadly. “So what will you have to drink?”

Sebastian smirks to himself at his cleverly orchestrated ruse from his secluded table in the back corner. He watches with bated breath as a flustered Charles and you exchange an awkward look.

“I’ll have a glass of Chianti,” you say finally, breaking the tension.

“Make that two,” Charles adds with a resigned sigh.

As Gerardo heads off to grab your drinks, an uncomfortable silence falls over the table. “You know, we don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Charles says, ever the gentleman. “I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding.”

“Don’t be silly,” you reply, offering him a warm smile that makes Sebastian’s heart melt a little. “It would be rude to ruin the evening Sebastian so carefully planned, even if he’s not actually here to enjoy it.”

Charles visibly relaxes at your acceptance of the situation. “You’re right, of course. If it’s a free dinner, we would be fools to turn that down!”

You both share a laugh, finally breaking the ice. Sebastian feels a swell of pride watching the two of you start to let your guards down around each other.

Over the next hour or so, Sebastian is delighted to see Charles and you become more at ease, trading jokes and stories over several delectable courses of pasta, veal, and freshly baked focaccia. He’s never seen either of you look so lighthearted and carefree, nor has he witnessed two people connect on such an organic, genuine level before. It’s positively magical to behold.

Gerardo arrives once more, this time bearing a decadent slice of torta della nonna for you to share for dessert. “Compliments of the house,” he announces with a wink before departing.

You immediately dig into the lemony confection with gusto. “Oh my god, this is dangerously good,” you moan through a mouthful of pastry cream and flaky crust.

Charles tries and fails to stifle a laugh at your unabashed enthusiasm. “You’ve got a little ...” he gestures vaguely at the corners of your mouth.

“What? Where?” You ask, attempting to wipe the stray crumbs and smears of powdered sugar from your cheeks.

“Here, let me,” Charles says softly, reaching across the table with his cloth napkin.

Sebastian watches with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest, as Charles tenderly swipes the napkin along your lips, his thumb grazing your cheek in the process. The moment seems to last an eternity, the two of you locked in each other’s smoldering gaze.

Then, ever so slowly, Charles leans across the table towards you. Sebastian can scarcely breathe as he witnesses the magnetic pull drawing the two of you together. This is it, this is finally happening, he marvels silently.

Sebastian lets out an inadvertent yelp of glee and instantly slaps his hands over his mouth. A table of nearby diners turns to gawk at the strange mustached man.

“Ahem, sorry! Hairball,” Sebastian rasps out in a terrible Italian accent. He slinks down in the booth, burning with embarrassment as the other patrons slowly turn away with disgusted looks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Charles and you also turn towards the commotion, the heated moment effectively ruined. Damn it, he was so close!

You and Charles eventually turn back towards each other, the awkwardness having returned. “We should, uh, probably ask for the check soon,” Charles mumbles, unable to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve got an early training session in the morning anyway,” you reply, the disappointment evident in your voice as you stare down at the table.

Inwardly cursing his rotten luck, Sebastian motions for the bill and slips his black credit card into the folder when Gerardo brings it. He knows the only way to redeem this night is to insist you and Charles stay for one more drink. Maybe add a little more wine confidence to help reignite that spark you both nearly combusted over just moments ago.

As Gerardo whisks away to process Sebastian’s payment, the older German steels his nerves. He removes his ridiculous disguise, straightens his tie, and makes his way over to your table with purpose.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Sebastian asks with an exaggerated wink as he reaches you. “It appears Mr. Leclerc and Miss Schumacher were stood up this evening. For shame!”

“Ah, Seb!” Charles laughs in surprise at seeing his friend and former teammate. “We should have known you were behind this madness.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re a menace! I can’t believe you tricked us like that.”

Sebastian claps his hands together and flashes you both a devilish grin. “What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic who cannot abide two clearly smitten people tiptoeing around each other any longer. Now, Gerardo is going to bring you the finest Barolo they have, on my dime, and you are going to remedy this sexual tension situation once and for all over another bottle or three!”

Charles opens his mouth to protest, but you laugh delightedly and nod towards Sebastian. “You know what, I could go for another drink. What do you say, Charles?”

The older Ferrari driver seems to wilt under the weight of your brilliant smile, Sebastian can’t fault the man for that. “Ah, what the hell,” Charles shrugs, throwing his arm around the back of your chair. “Let’s see where this night takes us!”

Sebastian settles in, pouring you all generous glasses of the deep ruby wine when Gerardo delivers it. He may be getting on in years, but his matchmaking job has only just begun. One way or another, he’s determined to ensure his two protégés quit stumbling over each other and finally discover the romance that’s been blossoming under their noses all along.

Sipping his wine, Sebastian gazes at you and Charles, sees the tenderness flickering in both your eyes as you lean in closer together over the candlelight. He smiles contentedly to himself.

Mission accomplished.

***

The paddock is mostly deserted at this late hour, the muffled sounds of the teams packing up drifting in from the garages. You linger near the Ferrari motorhome, watching Charles sitting alone on a stack of tires, shoulders slumped. He’s been increasingly withdrawn these past few days leading up to the Japanese Grand Prix.

You approach slowly, not wanting to startle him. “Charles? You okay?”

He looks up, managing a small smile when he sees you. “Hey, mon amour.”

There’s a weariness to his voice that tugs at your heart. You take a seat beside him, letting your arm brush against his in a subtle show of support. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Charles is silent for a long moment, pulling his helmet off and turning it over in his hands. “It’s Suzuka,” he finally says, so softly you have to lean in to hear him. “Being back here … it’s difficult.”

Your brow furrows. Right, this is where Jules Bianchi crashed, his accident eventually proving fatal. Charles had been incredibly close with his mentor and godfather. “I can’t even imagine how painful this must be.” You cover his hand with yours. “Having to race on the same track ...”

“I relive that day over and over.” Charles’s accented voice is thick with emotion. “I can still see the footage of his car slamming into the crane, like it’s burned into my mind. He was my friend, my godfather, like a brother to me. And now every year, I have to come back to this place that took him from us far too soon.” He squeezes his eyes shut, a stray tear escaping.

“Oh, Charles ...” You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. His body is rigid at first before melting against you, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him tightly as his breath hitches with suppressed sobs, your own eyes stinging. How many times has he bottled up this grief, putting on a brave face for the world?

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his back. “I can’t imagine the pain you’ve carried all these years. But Jules wouldn’t want you torturing yourself like this.” You pull away enough to frame his face with your hands, meeting his reddened eyes. “He’d want you to keep living, to keep pursuing your dream that he helped nurture. He’d be so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

Charles manages a watery smile, covering one of your hands with his. “You’re right. Thank you, chérie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He leans in, resting his forehead against yours with a shuddering sigh. “I just miss him so much some days. Like an ache I can’t shake.”

“I know.” You brush away the dampness on his cheeks with your thumbs. “Believe me, I understand that ache all too well.”

A crease forms between Charles’s brows as he regards you intently. “Your papa.”

You give a solemn nod. “Everyone talks about him like he’s gone. But he’s not, he’s still here, still breathing. It’s just … he’s not the same man I grew up with anymore.” You blink back tears of your own. “Sometimes I’ll see flashes that remind me so much of how Papa used to be. And then that illusion is shattered and I’m grieving all over again for the person he was.”

Charles’ arms wrap around you fully, tucking your head under his chin. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be. Seeing those glimpses of the man he was, only to have that hope ripped away.” He presses his lips to the crown of your head. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

You let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, definitely doesn’t feel like it most days.” Pulling away, you try for a smile. “But we Schumachers are fighters. We don’t stay down for long.”

“That’s my girl.” Charles grins, cupping your face and brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m lucky to have you by my side through all of this craziness. I don’t know what I’d do without your support, especially this weekend.”

“Are you kidding?” You turn to fully face him, clasping his hands in yours. “Charles, you’ve been my rock too, you know that? Signing with Ferrari this year, following in my father’s footsteps … the pressure has been immense. But you’ve never let me crumble under it. You’re always there with a laugh or a hug or some silly joke to make me smile even on the hardest days.”

Charles’s grin turns lopsided, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always makes your heart flutter. “Well, someone has to keep that ego of yours from inflating too much, future champion.” He leans in until his lips are a mere breath from yours. “But in all seriousness, we’re in this together, okay? No matter what the future holds, I’ll always have your back.”

“I know,” you murmur, feeling his words like a soothing balm over the parts of your heart still aching for your father as you once knew him. “And I’ll always have yours. We’re a team, on and off the track.” You close the distance between you, kissing him deeply.

Charles returns the kiss with fervor, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you close. The worries plaguing you both seem to temporarily fade into the background amid the warmth and solidity of his embrace. When you finally break apart, breathless, his emerald gaze holds an intensity that steals the air from your lungs in the best way.

“Je t’aime,” he murmurs, the endearment like a vow falling from his lips. “No matter what happens out there tomorrow, or any other race day, that will never change. You and me against the world, princesse.”

You flash him a coy smile, feeling desire begin to simmer low in your belly. “Is that a promise, Mr. Leclerc?”

“Mmm, I can make it one if you’d like.” Charles waggles his eyebrows, making you giggle as his hands roam freely over your back and sides, pulling you flush against him. His voice drops to a husky whisper. “Maybe I can find more convincing ways to pledge my devotion once we’re back at the hotel.”

“I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to that,” you say breathily, leaning in to nip at his lower lip in a way that makes him groan. “Though if memory serves, I seem to recall you saying something about honoring the team’s curfew tonight?” You trail openmouthed kisses along the sharp line of his jaw. “Wouldn’t want to be … sleep deprived before the race.”

Charles’s fingers flex against your hips as he lets out a shuddering breath. “You’re really testing my willpower here.”

“Payback for all those times you’ve tortured me.” You punctuate the statement with a sharp nip to the sensitive skin below his ear, making him jerk against you with a strangled sound. Pulling back, you smirk at the glazed look in his eyes. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

He blinks slowly, then his gaze narrows in a way that makes heat flare across your skin. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that later.” His voice is low, almost a growl that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“I look forward to it.” You lean in until your lips are nearly brushing his again.

“Tease,” Charles accuses, though his kiss quickly swallows any further retort.

You lose yourself in the press of his mouth, the exploring glide of his hands over your body, the undeniable chemistry that still sometimes takes your breath away. When you finally break apart, gasping for air, you stay wrapped in each other’s arms, foreheads resting together.

“Thank you,” Charles murmurs after a long beat of comfortable silence. “For always knowing how to pull me out of my own head. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“That’s what partners are for,” you say simply, brushing back the silken strands of chestnut hair falling over his forehead. His eyes are so warm, so full of love and adoration, you feel it envelop you like a cozy blanket. “I’ll always be here to lean on, just like you are for me.”

Charles catches your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. “And I’m grateful for that every single day. Facing the good times and bad, together.” His thumb strokes over your knuckles. “I know Suzuka will never be easy, not with the weight of the memories here. But you make the burden feel lighter. Like no matter what, I’ll be okay as long as I have you by my side.”

You lean in, brushing a featherlight kiss across his lips. “Always. No matter what the future holds, you’re stuck with me, Leclerc.”

A slow, utterly content smile spreads across his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He steals another lingering kiss before glancing toward the pit area, where the last few stragglers are packing up for the night. “As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, I suppose we should try to get some rest before tomorrow.”

Sliding off the tire stack, he offers you his hand, that warm gleam still dancing in his forest-colored eyes. “Though maybe we could indulge in a long, hot shower first? You know, to … unwind after such an emotionally draining evening.”

You raise an eyebrow at his transparent attempt at nonchalance, but can’t help a smirk from tugging at your lips. “Why, Mr. Leclerc, are you propositioning me?”

“Would that be so terrible?” He tugs you into his arms, leaving a trail of teasing kisses along your jaw. “After all, we did have quite the … charged conversation just now. I’d hate for all that pent-up tension to distract us on track tomorrow.”

You let out a breathless giggle as his wandering hands and lips leave tingles across your skin. “Well, when you put it that way … I suppose a nice, relaxing shower could be just what we need to clear our heads.” Looping your arms around his neck, you meet his heated gaze through lowered lashes. “Lead the way, liebling.”

Charles’ responding grin is nothing short of wolfish. “With pleasure.” Scooping you up in his arms, he heads for the parking lot at a swift pace, leaving the weight of Suzuka and its ghosts behind for the night.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you bring your Ferrari across the finish line, tires smoking from the incredible pace. Your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio, congratulating you, but the words are drowned out by the thunderous cheers echoing around the Autodromo Nazionale Monza.

You can hardly believe it. Your first season with the Scuderia and you’ve just won the Italian Grand Prix — on the hallowed ground that your father once ruled. The sea of fans decked out in red is a sight to behold, celebrating wildly as you complete the cool-down lap.

Pulling into parc fermé, you kill the engine, the high-pitched whine slowly dying away. Undoing the straps, you clamber out, still trying to process what just happened. This is really real.

“You!”

The familiar voice makes you turn. It’s Charles, beaming from ear-to-ear despite settling for second place today. He pulls you into a massive hug, squeezing you tightly.

“I can’t believe you just did that! Amazing drive!”

You laugh, giddy with joy and adrenaline. “I still can’t believe it either! Everything just … clicked.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Charles chuckles, ruffling your sweat-damp hair. “You were incredible out there. Absolutely brilliant.”

Hearing the praise from your boyfriend means everything. You know how hard he’s worked, how much he’s sacrificed to get this far. And he’s still your biggest supporter.

The two of you finally pull apart as the rest of the team makes their presence known, congratulating you with bearhugs and massive pats on the back. You did it — you brought the victory home for Ferrari at the Temple of Speed.

After the chaos of the post-race celebrations dies down a little, it’s time for the podium ceremony. You can’t wait to stand up there, basking in the adulation of the wildly passionate Tifosi. As you make your way out with Charles and the third place finisher, the crowd’s cheers swell to a new eardrum-bursting level.

Climbing the steps, you take your spot on the top level, heart racing as you look out over the endless sea of fans. The air is filled with brilliant red smoke, passionate flag-wavers creating mesmerizing patterns. You’ve seen Grands Prix in Italy before, but being up here, having actually won — it’s on another level entirely.

Speeches are made, anthems are played, and then it’s time to crack open the podium champagne. As the bottles are picked up, a rolling chant starts building in the grandstands:

“La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”

The sound shakes you to your core. Tears instantly spring to your eyes.

Charles, beside you on the second step, grins and nudges you. “Listen to them! You’ve done it — you’ve made them fall in love with you just like they did with your father.”

Looking down at him with misty eyes, you mouth, “Thank you,” so overwhelmed that you can’t speak. He slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. The two of you share a soft kiss as the chanting grows louder and louder.

As you pull back, gazing out over the surging tide of humanity, faces beaming up at you in adoration, it finally sinks in. This moment — winning at Monza for Ferrari, with Charles by your side, the Tifosi embracing you wholeheartedly — is beyond anything you ever could have dreamed.

The emotions pour out in waves of joy and pride and disbelief. You raise your bottle high, echoing the chants and cheering your heart out to the crowd. They roar back even louder, feeding off your energy in the way that only this group of diehard fans can.

Once the champagne showers subside, giddy fans whistling at you and Charles canoodling on the podium, it’s time to head back down. But the celebrations are just getting started. The team wants to keep the party going.

On the drive over to Maranello, you find yourself sandwiched in the backseat between Charles and your race engineer, Ricky. Everyone is grinning like maniacs, high on the thrill of victory, singing drinking songs at the top of their lungs.

“Solo per lei! Principessa di Monza!” Ricky bellows, gently elbowing you. The rest join in, filling the car with the chant of “Only for her! Princess of Monza!” You can’t stop giggling, leaning into Charles, deliriously happy.

Once you finally roll up to the factory, the party spills out of the car and into the streets. The entire workforce has turned out, waving huge Ferrari flags, beating drums and sounding air horns in celebration. You’re immediately swarmed, being passed from hug to hug as champagne is sprayed in joyful arcs.

They finally manage to sweep you, Charles, and most of your garages inside the factory, where long banquet tables have been set up in the main hall. An enormous cheer goes up as you enter, sparkling wine sloshing from hastily poured glasses all around you.

The meal that follows is a total blur — amazing food, flowing alcohol, raucous toasts, and the happiest pandemonium you’ve ever witnessed. You keep getting tugged from conversation to conversation, everyone wanting to hear how the race played out from your lips. Charles sticks by your side the whole time, looking on with sheer pride.

At one point, you end up going shot for shot with Fred Vasseur, the team principal pouring vodka like his job depends on it. “La mia principessa!” He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy. “You’ve made us all so proud today!”

He hoists his glass. “To our Princess! The Princess of Monza!”

The chant starts up again all around you. “La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”

You beam at them all, squeezing Fred’s hand. No words can describe this feeling, being embraced so completely by your team — your family. This is what you’ve dreamed about since you were a little girl. Following in your father’s footsteps, bringing glory to Ferrari, carrying on the legend.

The party rages on long into the night. At some point, you lose track of time completely, delirious with exhaustion from the whirlwind of emotion.

You come around for a moment, blinking in the dim glow of the factory lights. There’s quiet rumbles of laughter around you, echoing off the walls. Looking around blearily, you realize you’ve been tucked into a makeshift bed fashioned from a pile of Ferrari t-shirts, nestled in one of the car assembly spaces.

Charles is there too, cradled against your side, one arm wrapped protectively around you. The rest of the team — your PR officers, engineers, mechanics, everyone — is strewn about in similar nests, all of them totally conked out.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle deeper into Charles’ embrace, feeling his lips brush the top of your head. This bizarre, wonderful scene seems to encapsulate everything about being part of the Ferrari family. It’s chaotic and overwhelming and unlike anything else in the world.

But most of all, it’s home.

As you start to drift back to sleep, savoring the lingering scent of champagne and motor oil, one final chant echoes in your head:

La principessa di Monza.

La principessa di Ferrari.

***

11 Months Later

The last few laps feel like they’re happening in slow motion. Every turn, every gear shift, every tiny input to the steering wheel is magnified tenfold as the circuits count down. The pressure is immense, but you’ve been here before. You can do this.

“Stay calm, stay focused,” your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio. “The calculations look good. Just bring it home steady.”

Nodding to yourself, you downshift entering the stadium section, the roar of the massive crowd surrounding the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez swelling in your ears. This is it — your chance to join the likes of motorsport’s greatest heroes by winning the Formula 1 World Championship.

Your first victory at Monza, being crowned the “Principessa di Ferrari” by the adoring Tifosi, was a dream come true. But this … this is what you’ve worked towards since you were old enough to understand what your father achieved. To etch your name into the history books forever.

The laps tick by agonizingly. Every time the pitboard comes into view, your heart rate spikes. But you’ve got a comfortable gap to second place, managing the race perfectly. Just a few more corners now.

“Final lap, final lap,” your engineer calls out. “Looking brilliant. Stay comfortable and you’ve got this!”

You suck in a deep breath to steady your nerves. Out of the sweeping Curve 3 and onto the pit straight, the crowd’s thunderous cheers are reaching fever pitch. You can see the seas of red-clad fans absolutely losing their minds, knowing the woman they idolize is about to achieve immortality.

Crossing the finish line, you finally let out the breath you’ve been holding for what feels like ages. The emotion is overwhelming — a combination of pure elation, disbelief, and total exhaustion.

You did it.

World Champion at last!

You cruise around, yelling unintelligibly into the radio as the celebrations kick off around the circuit. There’s confetti in the air, smoke flares going off in brilliant shades of red, and a full-throated roar that could probably be heard all the way back in Europe.

Pulling into parc fermé, you switch off the car, letting the weight of the moment sink in. Tears of joy prick at your eyes as the magnitude of your achievement hits home. Ever since you were a little girl, running around watching your papa, this has been the ultimate dream for you.

And now, it’s finally happened. You’re a World Champion. Just like him.

The first person to reach you is Charles. He comes sprinting over from his own car, bounding past the marshals without a second look. One glimpse of the huge smile plastered across his face is all it takes for you to dissolve into giggles and delirious tears.

“You did it! You brilliant, brilliant woman, you did it!” He shouts, grabbing you up in his arms and spinning you around in a whirlwind hug.

“I can’t believe it, Charles! It felt like a dream … like it wasn’t really happening!”

You’re both laughing and crying at the same time, drunk on the euphoria of the moment. Clutching each other tightly, you press your foreheads together, trying in vain to compose yourselves.

“I’m so proud of you,” Charles murmurs, gazing at you with adoring eyes. “You worked so incredibly hard for this. You deserve everything.”

Surging forward, you capture his lips in a searing, passionate kiss. For a few brief moments, the two of you are alone, lost in the depth of your emotions and your all-encompassing love for each other. Nothing else in the world matters but this perfect second frozen in time.

You finally break apart, breathless, when the rest of the team sweeps in to congratulate you. They swarm around in a laughing, whooping mass, jumping up and down, hugging, chanting your name over and over.

“To our champion! The Queen!”

The cry comes from Antonio, one of the veteran mechanics who’s been with the team since your papa’s days. He clasps your hands tightly, gazing at you with pride.

“Sei la regina! The Queen of Ferrari!” He hollers over the raucous din, tears shining in his eyes. “Just like your father, you’ll reign forever!”

Your eyes start brimming over again, overwhelmed. The tears roll down your cheeks, smearing streaks of sweat and grime from the race. But you can’t stop beaming.

All at once, the rest of the crew picks up on Antonio’s declaration. Their cheers and chants coalesce into one booming refrain:

“La Re-gi-na! La Re-gi-na!”

The sheer adulation washes over you in waves, every face beaming up at you in utter reverence. You find yourself struggling to take it all in. In a few incredible seasons, you’ve elevated yourself into the realm of legend in their eyes.

Charles wraps his arms around you from behind, steadying you as your knees start to go weak. You can feel his smile radiant against your neck as he cheers and whoops right along with the rest of them.

“You hear them?” He chuckles, kissing your temple. “It’s all for you, mia regina! My Queen.”

Hearing your love, your partner, your other half call you that sets off a fresh round of giggles and sobs. Turning in his embrace, you loop your arms around his shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply.

When you finally part, you look out over the still-roaring crowd, many of them carrying elaborate signs with intricate drawings depicting you as a regal sovereign. Some have fashioned ornate crowns out of random merch and foam, holding them high. Others set off flares and smoke bombs in Ferrari red.

For a moment, their euphoric cheers fade into the background, drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears. Closing your eyes, you let the enormity of the moment wash over you, embracing the pride and humility and disbelieving joy.

This is your coronation. The new ruler of the Scuderia — la regina di Ferrari.

“La Regina di Ferrari! La Regina del Mondo!”

You can only chuckle in disbelief, Antonio and Ricky carefully taking your hands to hoist you up onto their shoulders in throne-like celebration. Charles is right by your side, standing vigil as your King Consort.

As the party spreads out around you, confetti and smoke filling the air, you look out across the ecstatic crowd. All you see are fervent faces, worshiping you as their new Queen of the World.

It’s a delirious scene that you never, ever could’ve imagined. And yet it feels so natural, so right. Like you were born to be in the center of this storm of jubilation. This is your true home.

And now, you’ve taken your rightful place as its ruler.

Mexico City burns long into the night in tribute to the newly-coronated Queen. Tomorrow, the party will likely continue all the way back to Maranello. But in this moment, you’re lost in the swirl of ecstasy, allowing yourself to be swept up in the currents of adoration.

La Regina di Ferrari.

La Regina del Mondo.

***

Eight Years Later

Jules can barely contain his excitement as you and Charles help him into the little red race suit. He’s practically vibrating with energy, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“Easy there, petit coureur,” Charles chuckles, ruffling Jules’ hair affectionately. “We’ll get you suited up and on the track soon enough.”

“I’m gonna beat everyone!” Jules declares confidently. You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“That’s my boy,” you say with a wink. “Just like your Papa and me.”

Charles grins and pulls Jules into a hug. “We’ll see about that, won’t we? Today’s just for fun though, remember? No official points or anything.”

“I know, I know,” Jules says impatiently. “But I’m still gonna win!”

You laugh and swing him up into your arms, peppering his face with kisses until he squeals with delight. “Whatever you say, liebling. Now let’s get you out on that track!”

The three of you make your way out to the karting circuit, hand-in-hand. You can already see a small crowd starting to form along the fences, phones and cameras at the ready. A familiar scenario, even at such a low-key local event.

“Mama, Papa, look!” Jules points excitedly. “Those people want to take pictures!”

“That’s right, schatzi,” you say gently. “Your Papa and I are pretty well known in motorsports.”

“Like movie stars?” His eyes go wide.

Charles laughs. “Something like that, I suppose. More like … really famous racecar drivers.”

“Whoa ...” Jules seems to be processing this new realization. “You’re the best ever, right? The bestest?”

You share an amused look with Charles. “Well, we’ve had our fair share of success,” you hedge.

“Your mother is a multi-time World Champion,” Charles says proudly. “As am I. We did pretty okay, I think.”

“Woooaahh!” Jules looks absolutely awestruck, like his little mind has been blown. It’s both adorable and bittersweet — your own child, only just now grasping the level of your accomplishments and fame.

The crowd has grown considerably by the time you reach the pit area, people pressing against the barriers in hopes of getting a glimpse of the royal family of Maranello. A small team of event staff try valiantly to keep order, but it’s a losing battle.

“Excuse me! Y/N! Can we get a photo?”

“Charles! Over here, please!”

“Oh my god, is that little Jules? He’s so cute!”

Jules clings a bit closer to you and Charles, startled by the commotion. You pull him protectively against your side.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just some fans who are excited to see us.”

Charles gives the crowd a regretful smile and a small wave before ushering you both past the security team and into the pit area. The calmer, more controlled setting seems to ease Jules’ nerves.

“Why were all those people yelling and taking pictures?” He asks with a small frown.

“Like I said, we’re pretty famous racers,” Charles explains patiently. “A lot of people know who we are and want our autographs or photos with us.”

“Like celebrities!” Jules says, the admiring light returning to his eyes.

You laugh and ruffle his hair again. “Something like that, yeah. Your Papa and I have had a very successful racing career over the years.”

“The best careers,” Charles amends with a wink at you. “Multiple world titles each.”

“World titles?” Jules looks utterly baffled by the concept. “Like … the best in the whole world?”

“Exactly,” you confirm, feeling that familiar swell of pride. “We were the fastest drivers in the world, for a few years at least.”

“Whooaa ...” Jules seems torn between awe and disbelief. “You’re like … superheroes!”

You and Charles both crack up at the adorable comparison.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Charles laughs, “but I suppose to some we come pretty close, eh?”

He scoops Jules up and swings him around, making him shriek with laughter. You watch them with a content smile, suddenly aware of how blessed you are to have this life — your incredible husband, your precious son, the career successes you both achieved. It’s more than you ever could have dreamed.

“Alright,” Papa says, setting Jules back down. “Why don’t you go grab your kart and we’ll get you out on the track? Think you can take on the world champions?”

Jules gives a determined nod, that familiar fire blazing in his eyes — the same look you’ve seen in your husband’s familiar green ones a thousand times over the years. “You bet! I’ll show you how it’s done!”

With one last hair ruffle, you send him scampering off excitedly. Charles slides an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” He murmurs against your temple. “So much like us at that age. I can already tell he’s going to be a hell of a driver someday.”

You lean into his embrace with a contented sigh. “He is … and just look at how the crowd reacted to him. He’s barely grasped that we’re famous, and now he’s already getting mobbed himself. Our little star in the making.”

Charles makes a rueful sound. “We’re going to have to get used to that, I suppose.”

“Oh, I think we can handle it,” you say lightly. “We’ve had plenty of practice being in the spotlight, after all.”

He laughs and drops a kiss to your hair. “That’s true enough. As long as we stick together, we can get through anything.”

“Exactly.” You turn in his arms to face him properly, cupping his jaw tenderly. “You, me, Jules … nothing else matters as long as we have each other.”

Charles’ eyes are warm with devotion as he gazes down at you. “My soulmate. My family. How did I ever get so lucky?”

He leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet, the rest of the world temporarily fading away. You lose yourself in the familiar comfort of his embrace, the love you share-

“Ewww, gross! Stop kissing!”

You break apart with a laugh to find Jules making over-exaggerated gagging noises nearby.

“And the moment’s ruined,” Charles teases, keeping an arm looped around your waist.

You bend down to Jules’ eye level with a mock stern look. “You just wait until you’re all grown up with a sweetheart of your own. Then you’ll understand.”

He scrunches up his nose theatrically. “Never! Girls are gross!”

You and Charles share an amused look.

“If you say so,” Charles chuckles. “Now let’s get that kart fired up.”

Jules’ entire demeanor shifts in an instant, that fierce competitiveness surfacing once again. He scrambles into the cockpit of his little kart and takes firm hold of the wheel, looking suddenly years beyond his age.

“You’re going down!” He declares brazenly. “I’ll leave you both in the dust!”

And just like that, the proud parents are replaced by your familiar racing mentalities — the thrill of competition, the desire to win. You share a conspiratorial grin with Charles.

“Is that so?” He taunts playfully. “In that case, no more taking it easy on you two.”

You bend down to kiss Jules’ forehead, unable to resist a parting quip. “Promise you won’t be sad … because Mama always wins.”

With that, Charles heads off to grab his own kart, leaving you and Jules alone for a brief moment. He looks up at you with shining eyes.

“You’re my hero, Mama,” he says simply. “And Papa too. I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”

You feel your heart swell fit to burst, filled with more love than you could possibly put into words. Bending down, you pull your beautiful little boy into a fierce hug, eyes shining with unshed happy tears.

“Oh liebling … you already are. You’re everything we could have dreamed of and more.”

You press a lingering kiss to the top of his head, overwhelmed with affection. When you finally pull back, there are indeed tears shining in your eyes.

“Now go show your parents what you’ve got, baby,” you say with a watery smile. “I can’t wait to see you out there.”

Jules gives you a determined nod, eyes blazing with that trademark fire. “You got it, Mama! Get ready to lose!”

With that, he slams down the visor on his helmet and revs the little engine. You step back with a laugh, watching him peel out onto the track with all the confidence and flair of a seasoned pro. Like parents, like son indeed.

By the time Charles rejoins you, his own kart idling beside yours, Jules has already completed a couple of warm up laps. You can’t resist shooting Charles a smug grin.

“Well, well … looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He drives just like you.”

Charles snorts, clearly trying to downplay his obvious pride. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s all your genes coming through.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a sudden commotion from the fences draws your attention. The crowd has grown even larger, people pressing against the barriers with raised phones and voices calling out excitedly.

“Oh my god, it’s them!”

“They’re so cute together!!”

“Over here, please! This way!”

You share a resigned look with Charles as event staff rush to try and control the growing swarm.

“This is what it’s going to be like from now on, isn’t it?” You murmur. “Our little family, constantly in the spotlight.”

Charles shrugs, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he watches Jules blaze by. “What else is new? We’ve been there our whole careers. At least this time, we get to share the fame together … as a family.”

You lean into his side with a contented smile. Out on the track, Jules whips past in a blur of determination, completely unbothered by the fawning crowd. Just a little boy living out his dream, regardless of who his parents might be.

“You know what?” You say softly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Charles drops a kiss to your hair as the roar of the crowd and engines swells around you. “Me neither, mon amour. I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

[piastrisun]

don’t smile.

─────⠀ don’t smile series: part one.

pairings: lando norris + singer female character.

summary: unfortunately everyone has their owns ways to deal with a breakup. she turned heartbreak into lyrics, he turned it into a performance.

faceclaim: sabrina carpenter.⠀warning: none.

notes: named protagonist and messed up dates (as usual)

series masterlist ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ next part

liked by username1, username and others

f1gossip according to close sources to the couple, lando and marlene decided to end their relationship after three years together.

tagged landonorris, marlene

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username idgaf about any celebrity couple but THEM?????

username1 i just fell at my knees 😭😭

username2 WHAT??????

username3 this has to be a joke, i’m NOT believing it until one of them confirms it

username4 thank god, she was too much of a goddess for him

username4 (i’m actually not taking this news in a healthy way)

username5 don’t tag them, it’s fucking weird

username6 source: trust me bro

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marlene ⠀ and ⠀ landonorris added their stories!

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marlene this year has been WILD

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username she’s losing her mind probably

marlene i am, ty for noticing 🤍

username GIRL?????

username2 prettiest crier award goes to… marlene!!!

username3 if i say attention seeker for that second pic then what

username4 you’d be wrong, get out

username5 she’s been posting pictures like that years before meeting lando, what are u on

whitneypeak i’m obsessed w you

marlene i LOVE u

username6 we love you and hope you’re okay!!

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landonorris good days at home

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username so glad to see your smile!!

username2 that happy face 🥹

username3 is it my thing or he’s been too happy for a person that just ended a 3 year relationship

username4 i thought it as well tbh

username you don’t know this man wtf???

username6 live love laugh lando

username7 marlene liking this, so unserious

username8 the difference between his post and hers is very…

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f1gossip has a new love affair arrived for our dear mclaren driver?

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username SAY SIKE RIGHT NOW

username2 oh that was quick…

username3 these comments??? he doesn't owe grief to a relationship that didn't work out

username4 true but dating two months later after a breakup it’s insane

username5 play ‘is it over now? (taylor’s version)’

username6 LMAOOOO that’s an insane thing to say

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marleneupdates marlene recently with her team at electric lady studios in new york!

tagged marlene

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username2 NEW ERA INCOMING???

username3 the gasp i just let out

username4 off topic but she’s three apples tall

username5 quite literally 😭😭😭

username6 need new content NOW

username7 not ready to let go emails i can’t send

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marlene added to their story.

replies to your story:

madisonbeer so excited about this 🩷🩷

marlene i’ll try my best 4 u

georgerussell63 musical gossiping?

marlene you already know!!

landonorris and others liked your story.

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liked by username, georgerussell63 and others

landonorris :)

view all comments

username pookiest pookie to ever pookie

username2 he‘s pregnant with the 2025 wdc here

username3 IM CRYING i hope he reads this

georgerussell63 oh yeah?

username4 WHAT DO YOU KNOW GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL

username5 kinda hate when a man is the happiest after a breakup

username6 as a lando defender, i agree

username7 why do you exist if you’re not mine 😭😭

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liked by maxfewtrell, taylorswift and others

marlene you think it's happy hour, for me, it's not

view all comments

username WAIT. is this what i think it is

username2 babe wake up, mother is serving cryptic lines again

whitneypeak i know a song lyric when i see one

marlene 👀

username3 SUBTLE LANDO SHADE????

username4 you dropping hints like breadcrumbs and we’re HUNGRY

reneerapp your move is coming and i’m so ready

marlene you know me too well!!

username5 i swear, if this is a breakup song, i’m going to scream. i’m not ready

username6 i feel like the breakup will become real once she starts singing about it 😭

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landonorris added to their story.

replies to your story:

maxfewtrell FIREEEE

landonorris we look kinda lame

maxfewtrell so lame

keeganpalmer do u know what being home is

landonorris no, next question

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liked by madisonbeer, username and others

marlene ‘don’t smile’ is officially yours now!! go listen, i hope you love it as much as i do. thank you for your endless love and support. 🤍 ୭  ׂ  𓈒

view all comments

username on repeat already

madisonbeer this song is beautiful. congrats, love! 🩷

marlene couldn’t have done it without you

username2 IM NOT OKAY

maxfewtrell such a bop, mar!!

marlene thank you for believing in me 🫶🏽

username3 i love they stayed friends 🥹

username4 “i want you to miss me, you're supposed to think about me every time you hold her” SO REAL

username5 heartbreak into art as always

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©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 25’.

[that-student-that-has-homework]

Portgas D. Ace Headcanons 01

Excuse me Oda-sensei, but that 40 year old Ace is simply criminal. Thank you so much for blessing us with him

Anyway! Have some Husband!Ace headcanons For more Ace content please head to my Tumblr MasterList

Ace is, respectfully, a huge simp for his wife

To the extent that the Whitebeard crew straight up jokingly awarded him with a “Biggest Wife Simp” Award

They made it look official and had Whitebeard sign it and everything. There's even a stamp.

Ace has it framed and hung proudly on the wall next to your bachelor’s degree / college diploma / degree in general. 

I feel like despite his own personal insecurities, Ace still manages to be an amazing father

I imagine Ace originally setting out for like one or two kiddos at most (because y'know...what if he's not good enough) and ending up with 3 or 4 kids

Thing is, that’s both your faults.

Ace is tender and goofy with his kids, and he’s so friggin caring: to the extent that…well wouldn’t it be neat to see him with maybe another 2 or 3 kiddos of his own? 

(Your husband is hot okay?)

In his case, he swears you have a unique glow about you when you’re pregnant. But more than that when he sees you with your first born, he suddenly wants a big family with you.

I imagine his kids are an eldest son, then his princess, then the youngest boy who takes after his uncle Luffy.

His kids aren’t parentified. He keeps his issues far, far, away from them. Besides, he’s got you by his side.

He was dedicated to making sure they got as much playtime as possible.

He heard about learning through play, and he is DEDICATED to doing that as much as possible

Ace’s kids are spoiled with affection, but not spoiled brats.

While it’s true he’d give them the world, he’d rather let them go get it themselves. 

For example: when they asked for a tree house, he gave them the greenlight immediately.

But they had to build it themselves.

It was a super fun project lasting a little over two months with the whole family involved.

Oh and the Whitebeard crew helped too.

It took a while to get the design down initially, then the shopping logistics and whatnot (they used a lot of math here - see education via play)

Building the thing took maybe a weekend or two because the Whitebeard Crew and even the Strawhats came over to help

(It was mostly Franky and Usopp doing work, Sanji was cooking with Thatch)

Uncle Luffy was not allowed near the construction zone after an accident.

They almost destroyed the tree house with their partying once

Ace’s kids were not happy and no one was allowed in the backyard for the rest of the night

He makes sure they have proper manners and self-defense skills

You had to help out here, no lie.

He admitted he needed your help, especially after a dinner with Garp where Makino tagged along to see Ace again

He puts all of his kids into martial arts classes

especially his princess - he’s so proud of her when she beats up bullies

He’s not great at discipline though to be honest. He probably goes about it similarly to Garp. 

Ace will not tolerate any of his kids being nasty to their mother. No matter the phase.

You will have to hold him back if you want to let them get their frustration off their chest.

He’ll let them talk, but you’ll have to keep a hand on him somewhere, his arm, his hand, his knee, his shoulder, his back and rub soothing circles

Let’s just say, “talk shit, get hit,” is Ace’s attitude towards anyone being demeaning towards you (more so with adults, not his kids, but that's why they get a scolding)

"Ace my love" (he melts every time you call him that) "the kids’ll start thinking you love me more than them if you do that"

"My kids won’t disrespect their mother though!"

"They’re just venting darling, and when they say or do something that violates my boundaries, I'll be sure to reinforce it. Lead by example right?"

If they ever feel like pissing Ace off for fun they can just say something kinda not nice about you and he'll get mad and they'll flee from him giggling like the little gremlins they are

Ace is veeeeeeeeerry physically affectionate and he isn’t shy about it at all.

At gatherings with the Whitebeard family, he will gladly seat you in his lap, he will happily hug you as you are seated.

His arm is on your waist most of the time.

They tease him to make him tone it down, he does not.

He, in fact, dials it up. Turns up the heat lol.

You have kids? Not in front of them? What do you mean, not in front of the kids? It’s important they know just how much he loves their mama!

So he will continue to be playful with his hugs and kisses and other displays of affection.

It’s nothing too over the top. Just hugs and quick pecks wherever.

Your entire head is fair game for his smooches, your arms (he loves kissing your pulse and then making eye contact, sneaky guy that he is), your shoulders.

Maybe lifting you and spinning you around. Cuddles. Little bites.

He will play-wrestle his kids to “fight” them over getting to cuddle you, and then he’ll just put all his weight on all of you in a group cuddle

Just to let you know, your kids also receive all the warmth and love of his affections.

When his sons are still tiny and adorable, he smooches them all over. The kisses grow less frequent as they grow older, but the hugs do not stop.

Oh no, hugs galore.

Ace still pecks his little princess on her forehead though

When they’re all under ten he’ll wrap them in a hug (after he chased them down and caught them so they’re laughing and screaming) and start smooching their cheeks while they laugh and try to get out of his grasp

Also yes she’s his princess, but that girl has no problem throwing a fully grown man twice her size around, he made sure of it.

I reiterate: Ace is not remotely shy about displays of affection

Like his eldest could have a friend over, and Ace would still launch a full scale hug attack using the rest of his troops (daughter/youngest)

It's complete with screeching, screaming, and a lot of laughter

His kids used to get teased for it, but it didn’t take more than a few conversations for them to instead jeer at the kids that teased them.

"You’re all jealous your parents don’t love you like ours do"

"How sad, your parents don't hug and kiss you"

Their dad, grandpa, uncle - uncles really, are all gremlins - it's in their DNA

The kids are really physically affectionate with each other as a result

Deadass they’ll be kicking the shit out of each other one second and the next they’ll be all cuddled and huddled up playing Mario Kart or something

Ace is his kids’ hero.

His sons aspire to have his level of fitness.

His daughter, when she’s older, uses him as a standard for dating

You're relieved

Ace is touched and a touch nervous, because he is aware of his shortcomings, though he works hard to keep improving

Of course when you look at him, a twinkle in your eyes, and tell him, “I’m so proud of her, I’m so proud of you!” He feels better

When you continue: “if she can find a guy like you, who cherishes her as much as you cherish me, I’d be so happy.”

Ace loves you so much he swears

[woso-dreamzzz]

Award

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Zećira Mušović x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Zećira gives you an award

When you were little, you didn't attend award ceremonies.

You watched them on tv, sure, if they were being televised but you were much too little to actually attend. If it was early enough, you would wait by the phone with whoever was babysitting you so you could talk to Morsa and Momma. If it was too late in the evening, you stayed up to watch and then went straight to bed.

So, this is the first time you've attended an awards ceremony with your mothers.

But it's not one of theirs.

It's yours.

You don't quite know what to expect for your FIFA awards show so you're not quite sure if this is living up to your expectations or not.

Everything just seems to be kind of happening around you as you sit there listening to the hosts talk about last year's season and all the work that's being done on and off the pitch.

It's only when Zećira appears on stage with an award and an envelope that you start paying attention.

Magda also sits up next to you. She'd been slouching previously but she sits upright fully and stares hard at her old teammate.

"Calm down," Pernille hisses from your other side as Magda stares, unblinking," You look crazy."

"I'm just paying attention!" Magda hisses back as the nominees are announced again.

You've come off of a very successful last season at Arsenal and the high of winning the World Cup but you still don't feel too confident.

You're up against the keeper from Lyon in France and the keeper from Juventus in Italy. Both had amazing seasons as well, both with and without their national teams.

It's a difficult one to call and, while Morsa and Momma seem confident, you don't allow yourself to hope.

If you don't get your hopes up then you can't be disappointed.

But Pernille's holding your hand and you can see Magda crossing her fingers.

Zećira clears her throat, opening the envelope.

"And FIFA's women's goalkeeper of the year award goes to..."

You suck in a breath, realising with a jolt that you actually will be disappointed if you don't win. You didn't dare hope but now you're sitting there, the hope creeps in a little.

You think it would be pretty embarrassing to lose now after everyone parading you around as a once in a lifetime keeper.

You catch Zećira's eyes as she pauses.

You can't really remember being interested in being a keeper until Zećira. For as long as you can remember, you've wanted her approval. You think that you wouldn't be half the keeper you are now without Zećira fostering it in you a young age.

"Sweden's Y/N!"

You're stuck in your seat, unable to move.

Magda hugs you first then Pernille and you're still frozen.

You're not entirely sure how you get up on stage.

You suppose you must have walked but you don't remember any of it. To you, it was like you blinked and suddenly you were climbing the stairs.

Zećira is in front of you and suddenly you are taken back to when you were little, when you weren't as tall as you are now and had to crane your head back to look at her.

She had seemed so out of reach when you were little, so big and strong that you couldn't even hope to compete with her.

But now, you can look at her eye to eye.

It doesn't seem to matter though as she pulls you into a hug.

You still feel like that little girl that followed her around on the pitch and had her practice with you in the park. You followed her around at camp too, eager to learn everything you could. You always want to impress her when she comes to your games.

You want to impress her now and you think you've done that because she hugs you for longer than she would have hugged anyone else on stage on live tv.

"I'm proud of you," She whispers as the crowd claps.

(You're pretty sure you can hear Magda cheering and you don't have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about that right now).

"Thank you," You say back, still awestruck as Zećira pulls away.

"You can smile, you know," She teases," You just won an award. Best keeper in the world."

"Only for the year," You remind her and she laughs.

The award is heavier than you thought it would be, the sudden weight in your hand feeling strange.

You look down at it.

This is your first goalkeeper of the year award.

But one day, it'll be just one of many.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Rockstar!Eddie

You meet Eddie at a music festival and he shows you that he can treat you much better than your ex-boyfriend.

Lost Number: Part One (18+)

Lost Number: Part Two

Lost Number: Part Three(18+)

You jump at the chance to finally hook up with your celebrity crush in a porta potty at a music festival.

Fulfill My Fantasy (18+)

You and Eddie get seated next to each other at an awards show after years of mutual pining.

And the Winner Is…

You and Eddie have just started dating and decide to keep it on the down low until Eddie reveals that you’re together in an interview because you get jealous only for him to prove afterwards that he belongs to you and only you.

Jealousy, Jealousy (18+)

Eddie catches you reading fanfiction about him and decides to let your experience the real thing.

I Can Help With That (18+)

Eddie is nothing but heartbroken from his break up with you as he goes on yet another tour with Corroded Coffin only for you to try to win him back.

I Can(t) Do It With a Broken Heart

Eddie is paying too much attention to his rising fame that he completely forgets that you exist. Once he realizes his mistake, he tries his best to make it up to you before it’s too late. 

I Just Wanna Be Close Enough to Feel You

request: you’re a new roadie on Eddie’s tour and he’s determined to look out for you

request: rockstar!Eddie is absolutely obsessed with popstar!you

request: popstar!you and rockstar!Eddie decided to debut your relationship at the Grammys

request: older!rockstar!Eddie definitely has a thing for you (18+)

Tattoo artist!Eddie

Wanna Bet? (discontinued)

You don't like Eddie, but he's going to convince you that you do, even if it takes a bet to prove it.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four (18+)

Husband!Eddie

A bathroom counter make out with your husband, Eddie.

Better Late Than Never

request: Eddie gives you the best Mother’s Day

request: Eddie makes you feel good about your body after you have your first baby (18+)

request: you and Eddie argue about the tile you want to put in your kitchen

Bartender!Eddie

Your boyfriend, Eddie owns the bar you just so happen to frequent and you’re definitely his favorite customer.

Favorite Customer

Boyfriend!Eddie

You mourn the loss of your boyfriend, Eddie who died fighting in the Upside Down. Or did he?

He’s Back! (From the Dead)

Eddie just can’t get enough of you or your pussy.

So Sweet (18+)

Eddie moves in with Steve, Robin, and Nancy and decides to invite you over for a swim to break in the new pool while everyone is at work.

Under Water (18+)

request: Eddie’s van is busted but he’ll damned if he can’t get to his girl

request: Eddie always reads aloud and it’s your favorite thing about him

request: you accidentally eat an edible and Eddie helps you through it

request: Eddie just really loves your tits (18+)

request: you and Eddie always end up fucking in his van (18+)

request: you accidentally give Eddie a black eye

request: Eddie helps you through a hard time after you both escape the Upside Down

request: you and Eddie move in together

request: you hate the smell of weed and Eddie assures you that it’s not a deal breaker

request: Eddie takes anxious!you to a concert

request: you and Eddie reunite after five years of being apart (18+)

request: you propose to your boyfriend Eddie

request: you make Eddie feel secure about his scars after he gets attacked in the Upside Down

request: Eddie is head over heels for clumsy!you

request: ditzy!you tries to convince Eddie how he does his card magic tricks

request: filthy birthday sex with your fiancé Eddie (18+)

request: a make out session before bed with your boyfriend Eddie

request: Eddie makes you feel really good about your body after you tell him you’ve been feeling insecure (18+)

request: Eddie is convinced that you can take all of him but you’re not so sure (18+)

request: high shower sex with your boyfriend Eddie

request: Eddie shows you got D&D works when you decide to join the club

request: Eddie wants to see if he can make you orgasm just by sucking on your tits (18+)

prompt request: you’re jealous and Eddie know just how to show you that he belongs to you (18+)

prompt request: Eddie asks you to marry him

prompt request: Eddie shows you just how much he loves you (18+)

prompt request: Eddie gives you the best birthday ever

Best friend!Eddie

You buy some weed from your best friend Eddie and after shotgunning from him, you both find yourselves wanting more.

Do Me a Favor? (18+)

You finally tell Eddie that you’re in love with him and he has the exact opposite reaction you’re expecting.

I Must Confess

Your best friend Eddie helps you after you get into a fight defending him.

I’ll Take Care of You

You and Gareth form an arrangement to make Eddie jealous only for Eddie to play right into your hand.

Whatever it Takes (18+)

request: you get roofied and Eddie helps you every step of the way

request: Eddie proposes to you after years of being just your best friend

request: you and Eddie announce your proposal to your friends and family

request: your best friend Eddie is very eager to show you just how much he loves you (18+)

request: you and Eddie play seven minutes in heaven

request: you and Eddie finally get your happily ever after

request: you and Eddie are in love with each other and while dating his doppelgänger, you realize you'd much rather have the real thing

request: you and Eddie watch a movie and decide to sleep together after watching a dirty scene (18+)

prompt request: Eddie knows exactly how to make your feel better about your body insecurity (18+)

Older!Eddie

Eddie takes you on a date and can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you look in your dress, and most importantly, what you’d look like out of it.

Take it Off (18+)

Eddie is a regular at the store where you work and flirts with you every chance he gets.

Backseat

request: you have a crush on your older neighbor, Eddie and decided to repay him in the most generous way after he helps you (18+)

request: you like being the dominant one in the bedroom

request: Eddie takes care of you when you start your period

Mechanic!Eddie

Because of a misunderstanding, people think that you and Eddie slept together and are quick to judge you for it even though the only sex with Eddie you’ve had has all been in your head.

Guilty as Sin?(18+)

Eddie hot wires your car with the intention to take it for a joy ride but you catch him before he can.

Drive Me Crazy

request: you cut your finger while making dinner when you get distracted by Eddie changing

Virgin!Eddie

You hook up with a very inexperienced Eddie in a club bathroom.

First Time (18+)

You teach Eddie how to give you a hickey.

Just Like That (18+)

You get your nipples pierced and your best friend, Eddie is the first one you want to show.

Touch Me (18+)

Eddie gets a tongue piercing and you give him the opportunity to do something he has never done before.

Taste Me (18+)

Eddie decides that he's finally ready for his first time.

You Can Have Me (18+)

request: you teach virgin!Eddie how to eat you out (18+)

Fuckboy!Eddie

You and Eddie have been hooking up with each other for a while and have unknowingly been falling from each other. After overhearing him talking with his friends, you’re convinced that he only sees you as a hook up, but he’s more than willing to show you just how down bad he is for you.

Something More

You send a risky text asking Eddie to meet you at Lover’s Lake to finally have your way with him and to your surprise, he actually shows up.

Rock the Boat (18+)

Eddie takes you for a joyride in his car. Based on the song "Joyride" by Kesha.

Joyride (18+)

request: Eddie gets jealous, but you assure him that there’s nothing to worry about (18+)

request: you have hate sex with your enemy Eddie (18+)

Model!Eddie

Your designs are finally being showcased in a magazine, but it turns out that you slept with the model the night before.

Sew Far, Sew Great (18+)

Actor!Eddie

You and Eddie are playing the romantic leads in a movie. The only problem? You can’t stand each other.

Playing the Part (18+)

You and Eddie play a game of truth or drink for an interview.

Truth or Drink

Shy!Eddie

Kiss Me

Eddie decides that he’s finally ready to have his first kiss.

Show Me (18+)

You help Eddie through your first time sleeping together.

request: extroverted!you finds out that shy!Eddie gets very cuddly when drunk

request: shy!Eddie introduces extroverted!you as his girlfriend to his friends

Perv!Eddie

request: Eddie helps finish you off after he hears you moan his name while masturbating (18+)

Eddie x shy!fem!reader

With a predicament, the boys beg you to ask Eddie to postpone a DnD session because they know he will do anything you ask.

Flattery Works With Me

You and Eddie think that your feelings for each other aren't reciprocated but you both couldn't be more wrong.

Flattery Will Get You Everywhere

request: you sleep over at Eddie's for the first time

Random Eddie oneshots

request: Eddie has heart eyes for alt!you

[hischiershoe]

Mystery Man | Joe Burrow

a little smau of joe with an actress :) i made reader friends with drew and madelyn from obx for some reason so enjoy that 😭

enews

liked by user1 and others

enews BREAKING! Actress yourusername thanked boyfriend in #OSCARS acceptance speech last night despite being assumed single. Any ideas as to who this mystery man is? 🤩

View all comments

user1 Who cares

yourfan1 Our girl is an Oscar winner 🥹🥹

yourfan2 You wish you knew huh (me too)

user2 She shouldn’t have won 😒

yourfan1 cry about it

yourfan3 Maybe it’s Drew

yourfan1 They’ve both said a thousand times they’re just friends

yourfan3 Instead of worrying about her personal life, maybe redo this actually congratulating her 😀

liked by yourusername

yourusername

liked by joeyb_9 and others

yourusername I can’t even begin to explain just how grateful I am for all of you for making this possible. Thank you guys for supporting and believing in me so I was able to get my first Oscar!! In honor of that, here’s some of my favorite pictures from last night with some of my favorite people 💜

View all comments

user1 WHERE’S JOE

user2 DID YOU LEAVE WITH JOE BURROW

yourfan1 MOTHER IS MOTHERING SO HARD THIS YEAR

madelyncline You’re always a winner to me 😍

yourusername You sap (i love you sm)

madelyncline Can’t think of anyone more deserving 🩷

user3 I can

daisyedgarjones ❤️

yourfan2 I LOVE YOU

user3 Who’s in the last picture

user4 We see him in the likes

drewstarkey 👹

tmz

liked by others

tmz #yourname seen kissing Bengals QB #JoeBurrow amidst dating rumors 👀

View all comments

user1 Didn’t see that coming lol

yourfan1 So what? Leave them alone

yourfan2 And the award for hottest couple in the world goes to….

user2 Maybe she can bring some winning vibes to them next season

yourusername

liked by jacobelordi and others

yourusername Well, I guess the mystery man has been revealed 🤷🏻‍♀️

tagged joeyb_9

user1 idk who i’m more jealous of right now

user2 Imagine thinking you and your man are the hottest couple the you see these two in the same room

yourfan1 I had hope it was Drew 😔

madelyncline The first picture looks good I wonder who took it

joeyb_9 My girl 🧡

yourusername Luckiest girl in the world🤍

user3 I’m going to pretend this was for me

yourfan2 Our girl***

drewstarkey Finally someone else can hold your shoes

yourusername That’s what you think

user4 Are we going to see you at any games this next season??

joeyb_9 posted to his story.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

Content: Theater Kid!Chrollo x Theater Kid!Reader, modern era, no Nen or crazy stuff, the Troupe members are just kids who grew up in the same neighborhood and had happy childhoods🥹, SARASA IS ALIVE!!!, female reader (I’m so sorry😭), mentions of different musicals and plays, mentions of séx, mostly fluff

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Theatre Kid!Chrollo, who’s known you ever since you were both only 6. Your parents both brought you to the same youth theater program 2 towns down just to see how the both of you would be as actors. Chrollo is staring at you doing the improv, impressed by how quickly you can snap back with such an emotional line right after the person in front of you starts the scene with no context at all.

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who falls in love with you because of how talented you are in acting, your angelic voice, and hardworking attitude. Whenever you’re both performing a show together, even if the director cuts a scene or adds a scene within a day’s notice, you’ll have it mastered within that very day. He can’t help that the admiration turns into romantic feelings!

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who’s ecstatic whenever you’re both cast as some sort of romantic duo. Whether it’s the Phantom and Christine, Cady and Aaron, Gabriella and Troy (which you weren’t particularly happy about), Ben and Mal, Marius and Cosette, or Alexander and Eliza (Chrollo wasn’t too happy about that one)

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who is perfect at acting JD from the Heathers. His acting is so impeccable and realistic, but when you’re cast as Veronica and Chrollo is singing Meant To Be Yours, his reaction seeing your “dead” body doesn’t really seem like acting anymore, especially not the small sobs that he lets out

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who acts so well with you whenever you’re in a romantic duo together that the entire school ships the both of you. Especially in the curtain call, when you and Chrollo walk out together, everyone is cheering for the both of you to kiss, in which Chrollo playfully “pretends” to plant his lips on yours until you walk away, fanning your bright red face. You tell him it’s just the bright lights shining on you that makes you feel warm—yep, it’s totally not the fact that Chrollo almost kissed you. Yep, totally.

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who is always the one paying for your food at the after parties. Whether the party is at a steakhouse or sushi restaurant, he will always take out that damn wallet before you do and pay for whatever you want to eat or crave that day.

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who finally kisses you during the last curtain call of your senior year. You can see Shalnark, Bonolenov, and Kortopi cheering, Franklin and Pakunoda clapping, and Phinks, Feitan, and Nobunaga seemingly talking about bets, and Nobunaga taking out his wallet in annoyance to give Phinks and Feitan both 500 dollars.

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who goes to the same elite college as you to pursue an acting career. You’re both dating, though unlike your child and teenage days, you’re not constantly acting in the same shows anymore. You both get role offers often, with mind blowing auditions.

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who only ever talks about you during interviews. Social media and paparazzi go crazy over the both of you, making so many edits of the both of you to all sorts of songs. The amount of edits you’ve seen of the both of you with people calling you both “mother and father” or saying “help bi panic rn” is honestly funny.

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who proposes to you at age 24 at the Oscars after he won the best actor award. Everyone on the internet and the awards ceremony is going crazy, and when you say yes, all you can hear are screams, cheers, and clapping—but all you can feel are Chrollo’s strong arms holding you close and his lips on yours.

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who cries when he sees you in the white dress. After all those times the characters that you both act get married, the actors acting those married roles are finally getting married themselves.

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who is always joking about “consummating your marriage” right in front of the paparazzi and media, in which you always pretend that you don’t know him, much to the internet and your fans’ amusement.

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who is always shielding you from the paparazzi. The moment Chrollo sees one, he instinctively walks with his arm looped around your waist, other hand holding yours as he stares at the paparazzi trying to take a picture of you. Whenever someone asks a weird question about you during an interview, Chrollo isn’t afraid to shoot right back with a snarky yet still polite reply.

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who is infinitely more protective of you while you’re pregnant. You have some insane pregnancy glow, and he’s aware of that. So whenever you’re on the red carpet and all sorts of people are taking pictures of you and your bump, Chrollo makes sure that they don’t get too close and make you uncomfortable.

Theater Kid!Chrollo, who isn’t a kid anymore. In fact, he has kids. He’s always making sure that your twin son and daughter never have much information given about them to the media, and that the media won’t get many pictures of them—if any at all. After some incidents of invasive paparazzi taking pictures of your kids and posting them on social media, both you are Chrollo are pretty damn close to quitting acting just to make sure something like this never happens again. Finally, after much coaxing from your managers, agents, and publicists, you both finally decide not to after setting some ground rules.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

bro why was i using the word “internet” like im a millennial or something😭 guys im gen z i swear

[starkwlkr]

Hi anon with missing cillian request this side!!!😅😅

I just wanted to say ur work on cillian with nolan!reader was soooo good and was wondering if u could write one where she attends the award shows with him and chris and they include her in their speech

(Maybe nolan reader had given the book to her father🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️)

And if u could include some sweet couple and parents moment that would be AWESOME!!!!!!

what a night | cillian murphy (nolan!reader)

when you heard cillian’s name being called at the 2024 oscars, you felt like a tearing up, but you promised you weren’t going to cry. eh, some promises were meant to be broken.

the audience stood up to applaud for your husband. he turned to you and kissed you. you made sure your lipstick didn’t get on him like it did before. “i’m so proud of you.” you whispered to him as he gave you a hug.

when he released you, he stepped aside and saw his father in law, christopher, ready to give him a hug. you were sure twitter was going to make memes about the hug. it was something you discovered recently about how your father was always casting cillian in his work. you saw many jokes about it that it made you genuinely laugh.

finally, cillian made it to the stage to receive his oscar. in a room full of people, he found you staring at him with eyes full of love and proudness.

“i’m a little overwhelmed. thank you to the academy. um, chris nolan and emma thomas it’s been the wildest most exhilarating most creatively satisfying journey you’ve taken me on over the last twenty years. i owe you more than i can say. thank you so much. and thank you for not firing me after you found out your daughter and i were dating.” he said as the audience laughed.

the camera showed chris and you laughing at his joke.

after thanking the crew and cast, he looked at you. “thank you for being my partner in life, the mother of our beautiful children, my best friend, you are my person. i love you.” your father watched as you teared up.

after cillian finished his speech, you were tapped on your shoulder by your father, who offered you a tissue. “thanks, dad.” you chuckled as you took it.

next it was time for best director, a category you were nervous for your father.

“and the oscar goes to . . . christopher nolan, oppenheimer.” steven speilberg announced. your father had done it, finally. he was an oscar winner. after eight nominations, he finally got his golden statue.

after he hugged and kissed emma, he walked to your direction. cillian was still backstage, but he was watching close by. your father hugged you for a few seconds then kissed your cheek.

“you did it!” you cheered.

“it’s yours too, love.”

when he got to the stage, he was greeted by steven and got handed his oscar. it was truly a surreal moment. he first thanked the studios and several people who helped make the film.

“to my daughter, you are the reason for this.” he held up the statue. “you have a brilliant mind and a kind soul and i’m extremely proud to be your father. you gave me the book that this film is based on and you helped create a masterpiece. thank you forever. i share this with you.” his words made you cry even more.

you blew a kiss to your father then wiped away a tear. it was a dream come true.

shortly after, cillian got back to his seat, golden statue in hand. “did i do okay?”

“you did it perfectly, my love.”

when it was time for best picture to be announced, you were a bit confused. you weren’t sure if al pacino was didn’t care or if he was joking, but your father’s film had won best picture. it was a weird way to announce it, but your father and the oppenheimer team walked to the stage to receive the award.

it was definitely a perfect way to end the night.

[boiohboii]

Noble prize winner wife (Toto Wolff x reader)

It's no secret that Toto Wolff is married, but no one ever saw his wife, for a while people doubted he actually had a wife as very few were invited to the wedding and she doesn't attend any races, but when they finally decide to go to an event together they break the Internet

or

in which they're the IT couple; with money, beauty and brains.

N.B: WARNING: not proof read, so there might be some spelling mistakes, like 2 or 4 swear words, f word. If I missed anything please let me know.

Face claim: Song Hye-kyo

Liked by danielricciardo, carlossainz55, lewishamilton and 967,187 others.

mercedesamgf1: Boss, you are too cruel for keeping your genius of a wife away from the paddock. Please welcome Dr. YN LN, 2 time Nobel Prize winner, to our page and hopefully the paddock soon (boss please let us invite her).

username: Holy fuck, she's serving 2 different looks

username: Mrs. LN , I am nothing but a speck of dust on your heels

username: SHE IS SO UUGGGHHH

username: she looks so dreamy

username: CAN TOTO WOLFF FIGHT

username: oh girlie, you gonna have your ass handed to you

username: you better hide

username: oh man, you prepared for a KO? cause Toto ain't letting no body touch her

username: at first I was all like, why won't he show his wife, but after seeing her and reading about her in the Nobel Prize Winners book, it's understandable

username: not me calculating my chances of winning against Toto Wolff

username: you know damn well you losing

username: I'd start begging before the fight even begins

Liked by Lewishamilton, Pierregasly, Charles_Leclerc and 890,517 others

mercedesamgf1: congratulations to our Mr & Mrs Boss on 15 years of marriage 🖤🖤 wishing for a baby boss soon

username: I am loving all the Wolff family content we are getting

username: they have 15 years to make up for

username: tbh I don't care about Toto, I just want to see YN

username: Toto didn't let people know that YN is his wife cause he knew she'd be stealing his fans

username: everyone switching to the YN LN lane

Liked by Lewishamilton, Charles_Leclerc, carlossainz55 and 917,621 others

Mercedesamgf1: The Mercedes team would like to congratulate Dr. YN LN on her hard work throughout the years and her leadership in such an important medical field. Her research has been helpful to many doctors and her website is extremely useful to our future doctors. Thank you Dr. LN for your work and dedication.

username: I love how this turned into her fan page

username: I would like to be adopted by the wolff family

username: the sunglasses are such a look

username: with every photo of her i get more and more obsessed

username: I love my mother

username: ever since they decided to go public about each other I have been feeling more and more single

username: her going to a race, toto going with her to receive her award can you all stop making us feel lonely as hell

username: wishing for her to join toto to the FIA awards ceremony

username: she will serve

username: will eat everyone up with her style and leave no crumbs

username: I am buying some crystals

username: no one will give a f about the drivers if she goes

username: bet toto took the third picture

username: for research purposes, I would like to know where the second picture was taken

Liked by Mickschumacher, formula1, maxverstappen and 918,369 others

mercedesamgf1: we would like to thank Dr. YN LN for joining us this evening, it had been a pleasure to have you with the Mercedes team. The Mercedes admin would like to ask our boss's Boss if you can please convince Mr. Wolff to give us a vacation a few days till he can find his way back from your eyes (can't blame him, I want to get lost in there too)

username: NOT THE ADMIN OUTING WHO'S THE BOSS IN THEIR MARRIAGE

username: BOSS'S BOSS!

username: well, now we know who ears the pants in this marriage

username: THE GLASSES MADE A COMBACK

username: THEY HAVE A DOG!!

username: I would not be surprised if the next photo is of them with a 14 year old kid

username: milf yn and dilf toto

username: don't mess with me rn

username: listen, I thought black is her color, but that pink dress is doing something to me

username: her doing her hair up is so sexy of her

username: fuck the kardashians, she is the only one I want to keep up with

username: you can't just make me die with a photo then to resurrect me with a cute one only to have my heartbeat crazy with the third

username: what cute one? The dog is doing nothing to distract us from her look

username: all I see is mommy

Liked by Lewishamilton, Pierregasly, Georgerussel and 826,179 others

mercedesamgf1: The boss is a bit busy, no better time for some team bonding.... the admin is so happy, thank you universe for giving Mr. Wolff some work

Lewishamilton: where are you guys? I want to join

mercedesamgf1: @.lewishamilton get in line, we have 5 other drivers on the waiting list

danielricciardo: @.mercedesamgf1 does that mean you will send me the location now?

mercedesamgf1: @.danielricciardo you are the third buddy, you have 1 British boy and 1 Spanish man in front of you

Charles_leclerc: @.mercedesamgf1 I thought I was before Carlos!

Carlossainz55: @.Charles_leclerc I told you I'm meeting her first

Georgerussell: @.mercedesamgf1 is that why everyone is coming to out paddock?

Danielricciardo: @.mercedesamgf1 wait, I was forth, who was first on the list

Mickschumacher: @.Danielricciardo hey man ✌🏼

Landonorris: tell Mrs. LN to check her phone please, I am standing in the cafe and her order isn't available

Mercedesamgf1: it's fine, you can just come to the location I sent you -Boss's boss.

Pierregasly: YOU HAVE HER NUMBER!

Maxversteppen: this is so unfair

Landonorris: go cry about it somewhere else

Mercedesamgf1: @.danielricciardo one British boy had been removed from the list

username: not everyone and their mothers wanting to meet YN

username: they are all down so bad and I understand

username: I would not be surprised if every single driver shows up next week with a swollen face

username: toto really had a point in keeping his wife hidden from these HOOLIGANS!

username: lando having her number is the most unexpected thing

username: how do you think Lewis and George are feeling?

username: they are crying in the club rn

username: not Mick being the first one on the waiting list

username: he's like a duckling following its mother whenever she comes to the paddock

username: the fact that she went twice and in both times Mick was seen just following her around

username: toto having to literally grab Mick by the back of his neck to be able to have a moment with his wife was the best thing to happen in 2023

mercedesamgf1: unfortunately all drivers that aren't with our team are banned from the paddock, Boss's order

username: toto really fighting for his wife's attention

[whenmemorydies]

Lessons of a mentor: every second counts

The Bear brainrot continues unabated and a character that has been sitting at the back of my mind since I first watched 2x07 Forks has been Chef Terry. Her influence is felt in a multitude of ways throughout season 2, most notably via the impact she's had on her former chefs, Carmen and Luca. What fascinates me more about Chef Terry though are the parallels between her and Syd and the home truths that both these powerhouse women keep dropping (and which many a loudmouth dude on this show keep missing...*womp*).

Lots more under the cut. This is a long post but this show is so bloody juicy I couldn't help myself!

Who is Chef Terry?

So quick recap: Chef Terry is the Executive Chef at Ever, a 3-Michelin starred restaurant in Chicago, loosely based on and shot on location at the actual Ever. In the show, the restaurant opened in 2012 and was awarded "the best restaurant in the world" that same year.

In 2x07 Forks as Richie walks past portraits of Ever's alumni, we learn that both Carmen and Chef Luca (now based in Copenhagen, Denmark) both worked at the restaurant together, under Chef Terry. This is previously hinted at in 2x04 Honeydew when Luca talks to Marcus about working with a chef who worked "harder and faster than [Luca] ever could," and who inadvertently pushed Luca to get "better than [Luca] possibly could be, just from trying to keep up with him."

Chefs Carmen and Luca at Ever.

In 2x07 Forks, we get Chef Terry's origin story as she recounts it to Richie, who Carmy has sent to Ever to stage for a week. We learn that:

Chef Terry, like Richie and Syd, is an only child. She likely had a tense relationship with her father (who we learn was a Corporal in the military) before he passed, but is incredibly close with her mother, her only living parent.

Carm getting Richie a spot to stage at Ever was not a favour because Chef Terry doesn't do favours:

Chef Terry is quick to praise folks who try to learn. Note when she asks Richie if he'd like to peel mushrooms with her and she tells him that his first attempt is great (despite the fact that process-wise, he peels them in the exact opposite direction she does):

She had previously tried to open "a giant place" years ago when she was younger, and by her own description, "was on fire [and was] arrogant." Chef Terry then says she moved too fast and couldn't keep the place open.

She later opened Ever after coming across the building's "For Lease" sign while walking.

Its clear from her conversation with Richie about Ever's beginnings that Chef Terry is a firm believer in it never being too late to try again:

But for me, the most important thing we learn about Chef Terry in the 5 minutes she's on screen with us, is her belief in time being well spent. When Richie first sees Chef Terry, she's quietly peeling mushrooms by herself in the kitchen. When Richie asks her why she's doing this work, instead of a stage, we get this lovely bit of dialogue:

Chef Terry then goes on to tell Richie about her father and how he kept pocket notebooks in which he made hundreds of entries about different experiences while he was on military tour.

While Chef Terry never tells Richie how her father signed off on each of his pocket notebook entries, its implied by the end of the episode, that The Bear's mantra of "every second counts" originates from those very notebooks.

This was revelatory to me. Up until Chef Terry and Richie's conversation in 2x07 Forks, "every second counts" in this show was synonymous with Carmy's "sense of urgency", taped to the pass in 1x02 Hands and tattooed across his knuckles in the form of "S O U".

Prior to 2x07 Forks, "every second counts" was wrapped up in the frenetic pace of a restaurant's back of house, with Mikey dying well before his time and by his own hand, with the panicked need to fix the regret and broken-heartedness that accompanied years of estrangement, with Donna's litany of cooking timers going off every other minute in a kitchen covered in chaos and passata. It had to do with time slipping away and the persistent, but always losing battle to try and steal it back.

But in Chef Terry's conversation with Richie, it is made clear to the audience that the lesson in "every second counts" is not about speed or clawing anything back. Those notebook entries were not made for any other reason than to describe, remember, and step into a moment. Chef Terry peels mushrooms at first light in her restaurant because it attaches her to her work and connects her to those whose bellies she fills with her food. "Every second counts" is about savouring every second that we have, while we have it, and being present in each of those moments, as much as we can.

Its about realising that every second does count because every second has meaning.

Time spent informed by this knowledge, is time well spent.

Lessons and Parallels with Sydney

Like Chef Terry, Sydney also tried to run her own business, Sheridan Road, but it "got too big too fast", and she was unable to keep up with its demands. As she tells Carmy in 1x05 Sheridan,

My credit got destroyed. I mean, my whole shit got rocked.

The failures of both of their respective businesses pushed both women into the depths of existential crisis. Chef Terry tells Richie how she had been "unemployed, angry, depressed", and "blaming everybody else for all the time I'd lost."

While Sydney never makes an admission like this about the fallout of Sheridan Road, the depth of the impact of that failure on her is clearly apparent in the show, most notably in 2x09 Omelette. In this episode, Syd's father Emmanuel asks her why she is putting so much pressure on herself to be successful with The Bear. Syd responds, its because she doesn't know if she could start another business.

Later in the same episode, we hear Syd's even more vulnerable admission to Carm about her fear of failure, under that pretense for intimacy table.

Like Chef Terry, Sydney does not do favours. Recall when she fixed Tina's bouquet garni-infused cream in 1x04 Dogs after the latter kept ignoring Syd's advice on how to prep the mashed potatoes and ended up ruining her first batch of cream in the process:

Also, bonus Fak attack (lol) from the same episode:

But also like Chef Terry, Syd is generous with her praise when folks try - as opposed to only praising those who succeed. The praise is for the attempt in the moment to grow, not in the growth itself. Recall in 1x02 Hands as Syd calls out orders to Ebra, he falters and says back the wrong count. Syd gently corrects him and Ebra tries again, after which Syd says,

Gorgeous. Thank you, chef.

Its a small moment, but its one of the first times we hear the word "gorgeous" used inside The Beef. You can literally see Carmy's shock at the utterance, at the firm kindness of the exchange between Syd and Ebra. I personally like to think this might also be a moment of recognition for him, where he sees an echo of his mentor, Terry, in the woman he's about to hire as his sous chef.

And finally, of all the characters on this show, the one who seems to best understand that every second counts because every second has meaning, is Sydney. To me this is epitomised by her omnipresent notebooks in which she's always writing, clearly echoing Chef Terry's father and his will to remember the detail.

Sydney's question to her father in 2x09 Omelette is also indicative to me of a person who understands that each moment we have on this tiny blue dot is precious. When Emmanuel tells her that he doesn't think she needs to make everything "the thing" because she will always have his support, Sydney asks him,

Why can't we put everything that we have into everything that we can?

I've no doubt that Sydney's ethos, embodied by this question, is the result of the passing of her mother when she was a child. With that loss, Sydney would have learned from a young age that every second is important. She knows that you can't get more time, so you make the most of that which you have. Or in her words, you put everything you have, into everything that you can.

Its striking to me how differently Syd and Carm have interpreted the intention behind "every second counts" in the context of death and bereavement. Sydney moves through life with a drive borne out of knowing that our lives are finite and so every second contains the potential for possibility. Its why she had the guts to start her own business, had the optimism to apply to work at The Beef under a culinary hero, and had the hope to take a punt with The Bear.

In contrast to this, Carmy rails against time: at the time that he lost with Mikey, at the seconds that he might lose with each hiccup that delays a plate on the pass. For him, there's never enough time because it is constantly being snatched away.

He tells us in 2x03 Sundae that he struggles with being present in the moment and open to the world because he is always waiting for "the other shoe to drop",

I have to remind myself to breathe sometimes. I have to remind myself to be present, you know. Remind myself that the sky is not falling, that there is no other shoe. Which is incredibly difficult because there is always another shoe. I dunno, I think, you know maybe if I could provide more-more-more amusement or-or enjoyment for myself, it would be easier to provide for others, you know.

This isn't to say that Carmy isn't trying. Throughout the show, we've seen glimpses of him stopping to sit within a moment: his making time to talk to Richie about purpose in 2x01 Beef, his constant beckoning to Sydney to "say more" in both seasons 1 and 2, his return to art and drawing in season 2 - an act that physically forces you to slow down and observe detail, his repeated attempts to check in with Natalie about how she's doing despite his discomfort at the question, and most obviously, taking the time to softly, intentionally and unhurriedly comfort a worried Sydney with less than 25 minutes to open on the opening night of their restaurant.

To me, there are a number of reasons why its no surprise that Carmy is drawn to Sydney. I've mentioned a few here in this reply to @mod-doodles. Chief among them though are her consistency, her stability, and her integrity, all informed by Sydney's ethos of putting everything she has into everything she can; into making every second count, just like Carm would have seen his mentor Chef Terry do while he was at Ever.

I reckon Carmy's ultimate challenge in The Bear is going to be getting to the realisation that Chefs Terry, Sydney and even Luca (recall his chat about "openness" with Marcus in 2x04 Honeydew) have already reached: that because every second counts, happiness and peace - indeed amusement and enjoyment - are to be found in the doing, in the process, in the getting there, together. I'm sure by the end of our journey with these lovingly crafted characters, Carm will get there too.

Author's note:

Incidental to the above is this show's God-tier level casting. Storer and Calo have made it a point to cast famous and immensely talented actors in some of the smallest parts on this show...why? I'm thinking specifically of the casting of Jamie Lee Curtis as matriarch/walking emotional vortex Donna Berzatto and Olivia Colman as Capo/Chef Terry. Jamie Lee Curtis appears in The Bear throughout one full episode (2x06 Fishes) and in one scene (with everyone's favourite unproblematic king, Pete) in 2x10 The Bear. Olivia Colman appears in the show for just under 5 minutes, at the end of 2x07 Forks.

I reckon that, while the speaking parts for these characters are relatively small compared to other roles in The Bear, the casting choices here are reflective of the impact of these two characters on Carmen (in particular) and others on the show. The showrunners needed to cast folks whose reputations would precede them in order to instil in us, the audience, the same gravity of their presence as would be felt by the characters in the world of The Bear.

Donna Berzatto:

Donna's impact on the psyches of her children is huge. For evidence of this, watch the faces of Carmen, Natalie and Mikey whenever they're in proximity to their mother in 2x06 Fishes. They are constantly watching her, gauging her reactions and her levels. This is most clearly the case for Natalie who spends most of Fishes in a state of panicked fear, anticipating her mother's every move. Who better to cast as the anxiety-inducing-word-slurring-flirtatious-alcoholic Berzatto matriarch than scream queen, 80s/90s sex symbol and survivor of intergenerational substance abuse, Jamie Lee Curtis?

Chef Terry:

In contrast to Donna, Terry is a stable, consistent force of nature who has mentored successive waves of chefs that have walked through Ever's halls. She's overcome setbacks and had to relaunch herself, doing so with great success, while remaining grounded. While Olivia Colman's been plugging at acting on screen for over twenty years, she didn't reach the height of fame that she's currently enjoying until much later in her career and her life. By many public accounts, she's an incredibly talented, kind and down to earth A-lister. Also this interview with her is so Chef Terry coded I wouldn't be surprised if Calo and Storer read it and offered her the role the next day:

“There’s some amazing actors who don’t get asked back because they don’t behave very nicely,” she said. “Learn your lines, try and know everyone’s name, be on time … There’s a million people who would have your job in a second and more … who are better than you. Take your job seriously and not yourself.”

Without naming names, Colman said: “We all have actor stories of people who were unpleasant, unkind, ungenerous – and it goes around.”

Nor should actors ever become too grand to take on even a short film, she suggested: “Some people might think: ‘I don’t do that any more.’ I think that’s exciting to do. You’re going to meet new people or a new writer who might remember you later on … [Do] not get too up yourself, too grand. Work is work. If I now decided: ‘Oh, I will only do feature films,’ I might not work again.

“If you get accolades for something, enjoy it for a bit, but put it aside and pretend that hasn’t happened a week later. You still need to work and no one else will remember it either after a week. So crack on.”

Yes, Jamie Lee Curtis and Olivia Colman are fantastic actresses who could have acted the pants off their respective roles without their own personal backstories and filmographies doing any lifting...but given the limited time that they're on screen, having actresses who can bring all of that history and shorthand to the role is GOLD for quickly creating meaning and depth for the audience.

As soon as Donna first turned that corner in the kitchen in 2x06 Fishes chaotically balancing a tray of branzino in one hand and a cigarette in the other, yammering about spilling shit everywhere, I knew I was in for a ride. Likewise, as soon as Chef Terry gently suggested where Richie might find the polish he was looking for (instead of biting his head off because he was a mere stage and she was Capo), I knew I needed to be seated for the lesson that 2x07 Forks had been building up to all episode (and indeed that Richie's entire character arc had been building up to for almost two seasons). And phew...did these two brilliant women absolutely deliver.

K that's the end. If you made it this far, DM me because you are probably incredibly patient, kind and like to read and I need more of that energy in my life LOL. Thanks for spending some of your precious time with me <3.

[sodapopboy]

one minute away from death, sodapop curtis will crumple in on himself, protected by a manmade hill as blood trickles onto the grass. he will weakly press his dirt covered hand to his lips. he will think of his mothers gentle hands as she’d wash mud off his and darry’s faces. he was five years old at the time.

fifty seconds away from death, sodapop curtis will sit on his ass for the first time in ages. a privilege he used too sparingly. like the night darry slapped ponyboy, he thinks. he fumbles with his pocket to reach his lighter, but his hands seem to be weaker than he thought. when someone finds and recovers his body, they will read the words engraved into the lighter and wonder who ‘sandy’ was, and wonder if soda had a wife at home.

forty seconds away from death, sodapop will tune out the sound of the battlefield. he’s brought back to the first day of middle school, and sitting at some table in the center of the cafeteria with kids who didn’t necessarily get him. he remembers seeing a ravenette boy sitting alone, and getting up without another word as soon as they locked eyes. steve graduated a few weeks before soda was drafted. he saved himself, the army boy thinks, and he couldn’t be more relieved.

thirty seconds away from death, sodapop curtis will think of ponyboy. he won’t see him graduate, he thinks sadly. he doesn’t let it get to him. he remembers the day ponyboy brought back his first real award at school, something regarding writing. soda remembers how on that same day, he brought back a report card filled to the brim with D’s and even one F. sodapop curtis will die with a grin on his face, knowing ponyboy will be the first curtis boy to graduate, and will never touch the battleground. soda is fine with that, much preferring to see ponyboy clutch books instead of artillery.

twenty seconds away from death, sodapop curtis will think of darry. he has lost too much, and soda doesn’t know if he’ll come back from this. if he’ll even try to deal with it. darry has lost two of his brotherhood, and is about to lose the last living remnant of his mother. he finds it laughable, darry had spent all this time worrying his head off about ponyboy, and soda’s the one who slips through his fingers like sand.

ten seconds away from death, sodapop curtis thinks of his parents. his mother, oh-so beautiful and caring. his father, the strongest man he knew. he thinks about how they made their oldest son promise to always look over their two younger ones. he thinks about how he walked into the sterile hospital room as they were clearing it out, and saw them sharing one hospital bed, intertwined. for now, and forever.

when death washes over sodapop curtis, he will not be mad. he slumps against the manmade hill as he slowly goes slack, being here for only 18 years and yet he felt much more older than dally and johnny.

the boy will lay there, limp and content even in death, because above everything he’s done in his brief life, he has loved.

[world-of-wales]

THE PRINCE OF WALES HAS GIVEN AN INTERVIEW AT THE END OF HIS OFFICIAL VISIT TO SOUTH AFRICA.

During the candid and emotional interview he admitted how the past few months had been ‘brutal’ due to the health scares The Princess of Wales and King Charles went through :

‘Honestly? It’s been dreadful. It’s probably been the hardest year in my life. So, trying to get through everything else and keep everything on track has been really difficult. But I’m so proud of my wife, I’m proud of my father, for handling the things that they have done. But from a personal family point of view, it’s been, yeah, it’s been brutal.’

Speaking about the Princess of Wales he said that :

‘She’s doing well. Doing well.’

Speaking about what it meant to host the awards in Africa, a continent he connects very deeply to as he spent time there following his mother's passing and it is the place he proposed to The Princess of Wales as well, he said :

'Hearing the Circle of Life. I don’t know about everyone else, but hearing the Lion King and things like that gets me quite emotional, So, when they started singing and I saw the clips from the top of Table Mountain and we were all there and it’s happened. I did feel quite emotional.'

He then spoke about his children watching the awards saying :

'I don’t know yet. I haven’t clocked in with them yet but I hope they did.'

William added of his relaxed demeanour in Cape Town this week :

'It’s interesting you say that ’cause I couldn’t be less relaxed this year, so it’s very interesting you’re all seeing that. But it’s more a case of just crack on and you’ve got to keep going. I enjoy my work and I enjoy pacing myself and keeping sure I have got time for my family too.'

He also spoke about his family's opinions on his beard :

'Well Charlotte didn’t like it the first time. I got floods of tears the first time I grew a beard, so I had to shave it off. And then I grew it back. I thought, hang on a second and I convinced her it was going to be okay'

He also spoke about his new role as the Prince of Wales and how he intends to 'royal' in a different way than his grandmother and father before him :

‘You mention the added responsibility and the freedom in the same sentence,’ he laughed. It’s a tricky one. Do I like more responsibility? No. Do I like the freedom that I can build something like Earthshot then yes. And that’s the future for me. It’s very important with my role and my platform, that I’m doing something for good. That I’m helping people’s lives and I’m doing something that is genuinely meaningful.’

William spoke about the BTS work that goes into setting up huge events like Earthshot successfully :

‘So, the Earthshot is a culmination if you like of all that put together. But it takes a lot of work, and there’s a lot of unseen stuff that goes on, a lot of meetings, a lot of people coming in, a lot of chatting and phone calls, letters, all trying to sort of make the Earthshot get to being the best possible entity it can be'

He talked about his frustrations over reluctance as well as more involvement from buisness & governments saying :

‘I’d like it to be more a team sport. And so, when you go and approach people...business...or even government...and say, listen, we’re building this incredible thing. Please come on board. Some people are extremely fast and keen to it. Others take a little bit longer and it’s those people who take a little bit longer, I’m like, guys, we just don’t have the time.'

'So, yes, I get a bit frustrated that it takes a long time to convince people that this is worthy of their attention. But I guess that’s the nature of a global environment prize, you start from scratch and it’s going to take a bit of time.'

On his hope for the solutions & the impact and his message to those who can invest, he said :

'So you guys have seen for yourselves the scale of the solutions. I mean, they cover all sectors in all walks of life. Brilliant people, some barely started, some been a bit more established and have a bit more money. But overall all doing fantastic work in the same direction. I think the key thing for us is how do we translate that into more impact, more scale, and ultimately, greater progress in tackling environmental challenges.’

On his hope for more involvement, ‘I definitely think so. We’re giving this amazing platform to all of them. And really it’s an amazing platform for business to come in and poach what they want. But if we keep waiting....we’re going to keep eating into time that we just don’t have. And so my message to business really is: hurry up and be courageous. Invest faster because we just don’t have that time.’

[piastrisun]

a night to remember.

pairings: timothée chalamet + female reader.

summary: in a room full of stars, it’s his love for you that shines brightest. when he wins, he takes a moment to remind the world—of how much you mean to him.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 1.8k.⠀ warning: none.

notes: i’m so proud of this guy it makes me feel parasocial, but i can’t help it. he deserves it so much. <3 maybe same time next week? oh btw, this has a social media post at the end. enjoy!

you sit at the table with timothée’s cast and his mother, your heart racing as the evening unfolds. the room is buzzing with excitement, the chatter of guests and the soft clink of glasses almost drowned out by the anticipation in the air. it’s the sag awards, and tonight is different. this is the night timothée could win his first major award, the one everyone has been waiting for.

you glance at him across the table. he’s dressed in a suit inspired by bob dylan, the legendary musician he portrayed in the biopic for which he’s nominated. it’s a daring choice, but it’s perfect. the suit exudes confidence, and the way he carries it with ease is a reflection of his dedication to the role.

despite the accolades and recognition, there’s still a sense of humility about him. he hasn’t won any major awards yet, but you know how hard he’s worked. and tonight, that hard work could pay off. you feel a bit of pride in your chest, knowing you’ve seen him pour his heart and soul into this role, knowing how many sleepless nights and long rehearsals it took for him to get to this point. your eyes trace the familiar path of nerves and excitement in his eyes, and you can’t help but feel in awe of him.

as the award ceremony continues, your thoughts keep drifting back to how far he’s come. he’s still the same guy you’ve always known—awkward, humble, and so fiercely passionate. his ambition has always been there, but there’s something about tonight that feels different. this is the moment he’s been working toward for years, and you can feel it in the way his hands fidget slightly with his cufflinks, how his smile seems just a little bit wider tonight.

the anticipation builds as the presenters announce the nominees for his category. your heart skips a beat, a mix of excitement and nerves flooding through you. the presenter’s voice, lily, cuts through the noise of the room. “and the actor goes to… timothée chalamet!”

for a moment, the words don’t register. your eyes widen, and you look at him in disbelief. timothée, too, is stunned. his mouth parts slightly, his face a mixture of shock and awe, as if he didn’t quite believe this moment would ever come. then, the applause begins, building into a roaring wave that sweeps through the room, but he’s still processing the announcement. he’s worked for this moment for so long, and it’s finally his.

he looks at you first, his eyes wide, searching for some kind of reassurance or confirmation. you’re already on your feet, eyes brimming with pride. he slowly stands up, and the moment seems to move in slow motion as he turns to his mother, pulling her into a tight hug. she holds him close, her face radiant with pride, and you can see the genuine emotion in her eyes.

after a brief moment, he releases her, and then, with a soft smile, he turns to you. there’s a softness in his expression as he pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly. he holds you for a few seconds, the warmth of his embrace calming the nerves that are racing through you.

before he pulls back, he presses a small, soft kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering just a moment longer than usual. “i love you,” he whispers, and you feel your heart flutter in response, a lump forming in your throat.

then, he steps back, takes a deep breath, and turns toward the stage. he walks with purpose, but there’s a subtle tremor in his steps, as if the magnitude of the moment is still sinking in. the room’s energy is palpable, and you watch him go, pride swelling inside you with every step he takes.

as he reaches the stage, he looks out over the crowd, his face now settling into the calm expression you know so well—humble, grateful, but still with that undeniable spark in his eyes. the camera flashes as he grabs the microphone, he tries to raise it but fails, his awkward chuckle filling the room. you smile softly, your eyes welling up as you watch him laugh awkwardly.

“how i raise this up?” he says, his voice light, trying to hide his nerves. “guess i’m gonna talk low.” the entire room chuckles, and you find yourself laughing along with them. it’s so him—charming and disarming, always putting people at ease. you catch his gaze, and he gives you a playful smile, making you feel like he’s speaking just to you.

“not gonna get this up,” he continues, his face shifting into something more serious but still kind, his sincerity unmistakable. you watch him fumble for a second, thinking how endearing his nerves are.

timothée straightens, his smile fading into a more serious expression, though it’s always kind. his gaze scans the crowd, landing briefly on you, and you can feel your chest swell with pride. he begins to speak, his words measured and thoughtful. “well, thank you. i was not expecting this at all, truly. uh—” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, and you feel your heart swell even more. “i start by thanking my mother, who’s here with me tonight. she’s been working with actors for forty years…”

you look over to his mother, who blows him a kiss. your eyes glisten as you watch her, feeling so deeply for him and his journey. his mother’s love and support have always been there, and you’ve witnessed it up close, how it shaped him into the man he is today. without thinking, you lean your head on her shoulder for a moment, just taking in the warmth of the moment. the claps around you are a beautiful hum, but it’s his voice that cuts through it all, drawing your attention back to him.

“i know the classiest thing will be to downplay the effort that went into this role and how much this means to me,” he continues, his voice growing more confident. “but the truth is, this was five and a half years of my life. i poured everything i had into playing this incomparable artist, mr. bob dylan.” your chest tightens at his words. you feel the pride swell in your chest. the tears that were threatening to fall now stream freely down your cheeks. he’s worked so hard for this, and it’s all culminating in this moment. his passion, his dedication, his love for his craft, it’s all evident now. he’s always been driven, but this—this was different. as he speaks, the camera pans to you, and you hold his gaze, your heart full as you look at him with nothing but admiration.

you watch him as he continues, his words flowing with such passion. the camera focuses on you, and you can’t help but let your smile shine through, sparkling with pride.

he keeps speaking, his words brimming with gratitude as he names his castmates, his eyes shifting between the crowd. “i’m in pursuit of greatness,” he says, his voice strong. “i know people don’t usually talk like that, but i want to be one of the greats. i’m inspired by the greats. inspired by the greats here tonight.” he lists off names—marlon brando, viola davis, michael jordan—and you listen intently, knowing that each name represents a part of who he wants to become. you can see it in his eyes, the hunger for greatness, not for fame, but for the purity of the craft. and you know that about him. it’s not about awards or recognition for him, it’s about leaving a legacy, about making something that lasts. his art. his soul.

you feel the weight of the moment, knowing how much it means to him. he grabs the award from the stand, his hands trembling slightly under its weight. he laughs, a little self-deprecating, but it’s clear that this moment is everything to him. “this doesn’t signify that,” he says, holding up the award a little higher. “but it’s a little more foiled…”

the room chuckles, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes. you love this about him, his authenticity, his humbleness. his words mean so much, and he doesn’t even realise how much of an impact he’s making on everyone here, especially you.

he turns the award in his hand, then pauses, his gaze finding yours in the crowd. he looks at you with such intensity, such affection, that your breath catches in your throat. “lastly,” he says, his voice softening. “before i run out of time…i want to thank someone very important.” he gives a small, knowing smile, and you feel your heart skip a beat, everyone in the room noticing the shift in his tone.

“to my beautiful girlfriend,” he begins, his eyes never leaving yours, “you’re not just here with me tonight—you’ve been here through every moment of this journey. you’ve been my biggest supporter from the start. when i didn’t think i could do it, when i doubted myself, you were the one who pushed me forward.”

his words hit you like a wave, and you can feel your eyes misting over. his sincerity makes your heart swell with love and pride. the room is silent as everyone holds their breath, witnessing a truly intimate moment.

“you listened to me struggle with my guitar for hours,” he laughs softly, shaking his head as if remembering those frustrating practice sessions. “you told me i sounded good even when i didn’t.”

a few scattered laughs echo through the room as the audience feels the warmth of the moment, but for you, it’s just the two of you. he takes a small step forward. “thank you for being there. for being here tonight. i hope you stay forever.” he says, his smile full of affection and tenderness. “i love you. thank you.”

the camera pans to you now, and you don’t even try to stop the tears as they fall. your heart is bursting, every word of his an affirmation of the love and connection you’ve shared over the years. the applause rings out, but it feels distant, like you’re suspended in a moment that’s just for you two.

you stand up and clap too, your hands shaking slightly, your smile so wide you can barely contain it. this man, the one you’ve been beside through thick and thin, is sharing your love with the world, and you couldn’t be prouder.

as the room fills with applause, he catches your eye, his gaze soft and filled with everything he doesn’t need to say aloud. you mouth the words back to him, “i love you,” and he grins, as if he’s the luckiest man alive.

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liked by monicabarbaro, zendaya and others

yourusername as it was written!! couldn’t be more proud of this one. you’ve worked so hard for this, and i’m so lucky to be here to witness it. you deserve the world, timmy. here’s to all the greatness yet to come!!!!! ⭐️⭐️

comments on this post have been limited.

tchalamet thank you thank you thank youUuuU, or everything

tchalamet I LOVE YOUUUUUU !!!!!!! 🤍🤍

nicoleflender So proud of you both. This is just the beginning!!

zendaya YASSSSSSSSS!!

kidcudi legend in the making 💪

florencepugh literally crying for you two

pauline.chalamet 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

yourbrother WOOOO, to more nights like this!

tayrussell look at you two 🩷🪽 the cutest

ellefanning OUR WINNERRRRRR

─────────⠀☆⠀─────────

as the comments keep pouring in, you smile to yourself, your heart full. it’s not just the award that matters—it’s the people who love him, who have been with him through every high and low, and the fact that you’re there to witness it all. you close your phone, take a deep breath, and look back at him, watching him chat with his family, the glow of the night still evident on his face.

you walk over to him, ready to celebrate this win together—knowing that there’s much more to come, but for tonight, this is enough. he wraps his arm around you as you join the circle of people congratulating him, and you whisper to him, “i love you.”

“love you too,” he replies softly, his voice just for you, and for that one moment, everything else fades away.

the future is unknown, but you know one thing for certain: no matter where it takes you, you’ll face it together. this night, this moment—it’s just the beginning of everything to come.

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 25’.

[kirisredriot]

After Vil’s Broomquet card was released I saw a lot of theories about what happened to his mom since he’s never met her and doesn’t even know her identity. I’ve had this idea for awhile and I haven’t seen this theory yet (apologies if it has been thrown out there and I just didn’t see it). But what if Vil’s donor conceived.

What if Vil’s dad was struggling to find a long term relationship. Someone who can handle being with one of the most famous actors. Someone who wants him for him and not the money. He wants kids and as the years go by he feels like time is slipping away. He see’s his costars kids when they come to visit their parent on set and the joy on his costars faces when they see them. And he wants his kid to come and visit him on set too.

Finally Vil’s dad was done waiting for the right partner to come around and takes matters into his own hands. He contacts a clinic known for its discretion obviously recommended to him by costars who needed some help conceiving. He’s offered a book of women who donated their eggs and he flips through it looking for the right woman to be the “mother” of his child. He chooses one and then is connected to a surrogate who will carry his child for him. The surrogate signs a NDA and he hands over his genetic donation so Vil is 100% his father’s son. A month later he is contacted by the surrogate letting him know that she’s pregnant. Vil’s dad is over the moon his dream is finally coming true. A few months later he’s informed he’s having a boy.

He goes on as if life is normal for the next nine months, giving nothing away as he secretly prepares for his new arrival. The nursery is decked out and outfitted with only the best. Nannies have already been interviewed and hired at the ready for when he inevitably has to return to work. Then he gets the text he’s been waiting for. His surrogate is in labor. Baby Schoenheit is on his way.

Holding a newborn Vil for the first time was better than all the awards he’d won in his career.

The tabloids went crazy when Eric Venue announced Vil’s birth. Rumors flew when no one could dig up any information about Vil’s mom as his dad remains tight lipped about Vil’s conception. A one night stand, secret girlfriend, a costar who recently gave birth, and dying in childbirth. The reality is no one knows who his mother is other than a now redacted donor number.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Ok so like. AU where Sakumo was born during the warring states.

Going with my timeline, Hatake Haruka was 49 when she had Sakumo, a good 5 years into Konoha's creation.

Meanwhile her twin sister had Hashirama at only 19, and Tobirama at 24.

(There's some sort of joke to be made here about her sister getting all the fertility in the family)

So like, super easy timeline tweak: Haruka just gives birth way, way earlier. Maybe at the same time as her sister has Hashirama, so they're the same age

Anyways I don't have any specific thoughts for this. Just like. Sakumo in warring states. I wish to see it.

Sakumo being raised by the Hatake clan as their heir instead of growing up orphaned at 7 with his entire clan dead overnight,,, ough,,

He grows up in the woods of iron country, acompanies his mother to Iron Court that fateful day that the Daimyo began to crack down on Iron shinobi clans,, Does this mean he replaced someone in the original party that went or is he just there alongside them?

Tetsuo is no longer clan heir, which is also part of what got most of the kids his age to stop picking on him. (Well, that and the fact he started beating them up for it) So does that mean the teasing continues for some more years than it would have otherwise? What's his place in the clan like, if he isn't heir? I feel like Haruka might still single him out as someone to keep an interested eye on, and his father is still one of Haruka's most trusted people, so.

Tetsuo and Sakumo friendship,,,, that'd be an interesting change in dynamic actually, since in the original Tetsuo kind of acts as an older brother / uncle figure. He's supposed to raise Sakumo after Haruka goes and dies, (tho ofc he also then goes and dies) was training him to be clan heir— but now in this AU they're like. Around the same age. Actually, if anything, Sakumo is older than him. That's fun to think about

Umm Sakumo maybe taking Tetsuo under his wing when they're kids and helping discourage the other kids from picking on him? That could be fun and also just an interesting flip in dynamic

Tetsuo is no longer Haruka's second, now he's Sakumo's in this verse ig

Anyways.

Sakumo having Kakashi around or some time before Konoha's founding ,,, Kakashi is one of the first Konoha kids, let's go

Let's say he's like. 5 when Kagami and friends are like. 10. Does that work? I think that fits in with the timeline but this is a silly what if AU so I'm not going to worry about it too hard

Kakashi being friends with Hashirama and Mito's kid,,, whoever tf they are. They'd be like. 6 to his 5, so. Childhood friends!! And cousins, actually. That's another fun thing to think about.

"Kakashi is actually directly related to the founders" aus are so fun but u know what's even MORE fun? When u take one of those aus and make it like. A relevant relationship we get to see on screen in some way.

Tobirama babysitting Kakashi and Hashirama's kid,, he is winning all the best uncle awards

Anyways yeah. I feel like Sakumo's presence would have to affect things somehow, but I'm mostly just having fun thinking ab the silly day to day. Maybe we could get second hokage Sakumo instead of Tobirama out of this or smthn, idk.

Sakumo and Kakashi existing somehow manages to save enough clan members for the Hatake to survive to modern Konoha, totally changing the political map.

Maybe he somehow manages to prevent Hyuuga Hiname's poisoning, meaning she actually manages to become clan head and begins to dismantle the caged bird seal? Or maybe he doesn't and gets to be one of the people who allied themselves w Hiname who are forced to look on as she's not so secretly killed for her beliefs, unable to interfere bc of it being an "inter clan matter"

Or maybe his interference affects when Madara left the village, giving Konoha a few more (or maybe less...) years of peace (if we go with the idea that the jinchuriki being created sped up the first shinobi war)

Idk, but, having ideas. Having thoughts. It's fun to think ab.