#at least hes still leading the championship

[molliemoo3]

All I wanted today was an Alex Palou win, and the only Spanish man to lose today was him

[harmonysanreads]

OMG could you just imagine how smug wanderer will be if he gets to lay on darlings lap? A dream come true for him, as for the other party members.... well-

It's almost comical to compare Wanderer's past deeds to the shenanigans he's pulling at present. Make no mistake, he's completely lucid of his actions and how unbefitting it should be for him to do them. But there's the matter of you, with your annoyingly endearing kindness that attracts all sorts of malicious attention. He can't quite complain about it either because it saved him as well and even though Nahida emphasized how relationships aren't about balancing the books — his mind convinces him that that's why he's doing all of these. But in truth, he leans into that perception only because it suppresses the smidgen of guilt that gnaws at him (ew). Wanderer knows there's a boundary and he treads carefully around it. In any case, as long as he's cautious, he knows you'll always be his shield.

Kaveh is so flabbergasted, astonished and dumbfounded at the uncensored audacity of that brat that he chokes halfway through his sip of the wine — but even if the beverage wasn't in his hand, he's sure he would've choked on his breath anyway. To this day he's still dreaming about holding your hand and here's Wanderer, showing him the thumbs down while soaking in the comfort of your lap! His shock gradually fades as he wonders if he needs to pretend to be sick or something to get that treatment. But, knowing his luck he's sure it'd backfire as well. So he just seethes in his seat, for now.

Alhaitham doesn't even give the impression that he's looking at the fiasco — except he is by the rim of his book, more keenly than the rest present at that. To be even more honest, his eyes have never left you since the moment he entered the tavern so, he's acutely aware of every moment that lead to this... display. While the rest watch in disbelief, he's taking mental notes and running various simulations in his mind to picture the perfect scenario where he will instead be in the position of Wanderer. Or at least, doing so distracts him from succumbing to the less than pleasant feelings that arise at the sight.

Tighnari is exasperated. Yes, no dramatic response, just exasperation at its purest form. He's a busy person and it's only because of you that he's made his visits to Sumeru city regular. He does not have the time or energy to tolerate such incidents every single time. He's tried to convince you that the harmlessness of Wanderer is faux and just an act, but for whatever reason, your trust in the boy seems to be resolute. So he can do nothing but bear witness to these stunts with increasing audacity and that makes him want to tear his hair out at this point. Just you wait, he will find a way to expose the brat one day.

Of everything Cyno was expecting to see this evening, this was not at all in that list. He's not unaware of how touchy Wanderer tries to get each time he and the others are in the vicinity. A seasoned Matra's senses are far sharper than ordinary folk and Cyno is the only one that gets the message of this gesture immediately. He knows it's a warning and a claim. He can tell that there's something off about Wanderer and no, it isn't his act of being a goody-two-shoes. This stunt further justifies his suspicions and paired with the strength he displayed at the last round of the InterDarshan Championship — Cyno has made up his mind. He will challenge Wanderer to a duel right then and there, have fun settling this dispute.

[ferrstappen]

primero llegó verstappen l MV1

a/n: MONACO by Bad Bunny. that's it that's the tweet. this isn't very long and its all over the place but I hope you like it <3

summary: Suddenly, Max isn't annoyed about being featured in a music video.

Max couldn't stop staring at himself in the mirror of a tent full of outfits, cameras and people moving from one place to another. In his mind he already did enough promo for the team, more than enough after being crowned World Champion for the third time and a huge contributor to the comfortable win of the Constructors Championship as well.

Maybe appearing in a music video was where he draw the line?

He wouldn't have an issue if it was him on his fireproofs doing a couple of laps in some closed circuits, maybe even some hot laps, but having to pose next to his RB19, wearing a faux leather jacket and showing one of his TAG Heuer Monaco Titan, because he was a walking billboard, was a little too much on his books, especially as a make up artist mixed different shades of some foundation, and Max was trying really hard not to take offense after he told him "his dark circles were incredibly hard to conceal".

Here he was doing favors and in return was being offended by his lack of sleep and naturally pale complexion.

He almost laughed after noticing Checo staring at himself in the mirror, the same confused and uncomfortable look on his face, and the same tight jacket as they contemplated the marina from above.

In conclusion, yes, this was well above his paycheck. Max also wouldn't deny he didn't thrill on the presence of paparazzi in quiet Monaco. granted, they were looking for the big star who was doing some shots around the city, walking hand in hand with his model girlfriend, but he could still make out some yelling for him and Checo.

Then, his day took a turn.

Some crew members wearing headphones and what he assumed were the assistants approached him and Checo, telling them this wouldn't take long since all they had to do was walk around the car, get in and out of the car, with and without the helmet, all while blasting the song.

A very catchy and good song that mentioned he was the first one to cross the finish line. At least he couldn't complain about that.

But he was internally complaining when, once again, he found himself on the make up chair with the same make up artist who had a problem with his dark circles, but this time the place was much different.

A sharp suit and this time a heavy Patek Philippe on his wrist as he walked inside the Casino of Monte Carlo. Now he was greeted by Bad Bunny himself, who thanked him many many times for being a part of this, and in return Max thanked him for even thinking of him for his song. They fell into a comfortable conversations about cars when the singer motioned for two girls to come over, one Max recognized as Kendall Jenner, the other he didn't know but was eager to.

"Max, this is mi novia, Kendall, and this is her friend (y/n). They're doing some stuff on the background, don't they look incredible?"

Max swore the designer dress you were wearing was painted on you, because there was no way it could fit so perfectly on your body, with a couple of stray hairs adorning your face and long eyelashes accentuating your eyes.

"It's so nice to meet you, I'm such a big fan of motorsport," you stretched your hand and it caught Max off guard, not really knowing what to do.

So he panicked and gave you a weird handshake before lifting your hand to his lips and leaving a kiss, and he had never felt more like a creep, but he noticed you blushing and a giggle leaving your lips.

You wanted to add something when the crew called everyone to start shooting, Benito and Kendall leading the way, and the only thing Max thought of doing was to offer you his arm which you gladly accepted.

The song was blasting as everyone pretended to talk and surround the roulette, but you and Max weren't pretending to laugh or to talk.

He even left Checo by himself, he'd forgive him eventually.

"I'm pretty sure the camera is on us in this moment," you told him through gritted teeth, trying to keep a perfect smile.

"What should we do?" Max asked, trying to hide his smile while doing his best to give you his best seductive stare.

You knew he was flirting with you and it was surprising. After seeing him on screens and social media you figured he'd be cocky, not having any trouble flirting with women every weekend on different countries, figuring out a way with foreign languages, but you never pictured him as a giddy, easily flushed, good for banter man, and the only thing you wanted was to leave this shoot and have him show you the city, dressed to the nines and maybe pretending to be cold in the end so he could put his jacket over your shoulders, and that way you could see him with just a white shirt and undone tie.

But you were getting a bit ahead of yourself, especially when you heard the director yell cut and tell you and Max to pay attention to the instructions, earning you the glare of everyone in the room.

"Ey, cabrón, que se están enamorando, déjalos solos!" Hey, they're falling in love, leave them alone. Those were Benito's words.

And God, was he right.

[jburrgf]

Bags.

Can you see me? I'm waiting for the right time. I can't read you, but if you want, the pleasure's all mine. Can you see me using everything to hold back? I guess this could be worse, walking out the door with your bags.

pairing: joe burrow high school! x book nerdy y/n reader.

summary: high school sweethearts, book nerdy girl, shy-misterious jock, player x nerd girl.

description: joe starts going on s/n book club, and one day they got stuck together at the classroom by mistake.

It was a truth universally acknowledged in my high school that Joe Burrow, the star quarterback, was unattainable. Joe Burrow is basically a myth. He’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time—on the football field, leading our team to state championships, and in my honors classes, where he sits quietly, blending into the background. He’s the quarterback, but he's not what people expect. He’s shy, nerdy, and mysterious.

I’ve always been invisible to Joe Burrow.

I mean, not exactly invisible—we’ve gone to the same school since we were in kindergarten, sat in the same classrooms, shared the same air—but for someone like him, I might as well have been a ghost. I always thought he had no idea who I was, just another face in the sea of people who adored him.

Still, I was ridiculously in love with him.

I had been hopelessly, head-over-heels, and completely smitten with Joe Burrow since the seventh grade. It wasn’t just that he was good-looking, or that he was the star quarterback—although those things certainly didn’t hurt. No, what had drawn me to Joe was how kind he seemed to be to everyone, how he went out of his way to help people even when he didn’t have to. There was something about the way he carried himself, a quiet humility that made him different from the other guys on the football team.

Still, none of that mattered because, as far as I was concerned, I was just another face in the crowd.

So, when I saw Joe walk into the same after-school book club that I attended every Tuesday, I was shocked. The school's book club is a quiet, nerdy escape for me after hours, and apparently for him too. At first, I thought he had wandered into the wrong room, but then I saw him sit down and pull out a copy of Great Gatsby. The fact that the quarterback was not only in the same room as me but also reading the same book threw me completely off-guard. For weeks, I couldn’t focus on anything but how to avoid making eye contact with him while somehow hoping he’d notice me.

But he didn’t.

Or at least, that’s what I told myself every single time I snuck a glance at him. He was quiet, focused, and didn’t engage much during discussions, unlike me. I always had my hand up, always contributing to the conversation, but never to him directly.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, and the faint scent of old paper filled the school library. I sat in my usual spot, the far corner of the room where the sunlight barely touched. My hands played absently with the spine of the novel in my lap, but my mind was elsewhere. Specifically, it was on Joe Burrow.

He was late to the book club meeting again, not that it surprised me. I was used to him sliding in just as Mrs. Fowler began her rambling analysis of whatever novel we were discussing. His late arrivals had almost become routine. He’d offer a sheepish grin, mutter a quick apology, and take his seat across the table from me. Every time, my heart did that ridiculous thing—skipping a beat or two—like I wasn’t used to seeing him in the same room after months of this.

He was a mystery I couldn’t quite solve. In class, he was quiet, smart, but always reserved. In the hallways, he blended in despite the attention the football team got. And here, in book club, of all places, he sat a few feet away, focused, intense, and always... distant. It drove me crazy, even though I had no right to expect anything from him.

I sighed, glancing at the clock. Mrs. Fowler was wrapping up her talk about the The Great Gatsby, and I hadn’t heard a single word. The meeting was almost over, and there was still no sign of Joe. Maybe today he wasn’t coming at all. Maybe—

The door creaked open, and there he was, slipping inside the room as quietly as possible, his eyes scanning the room. As expected, his gaze landed on the empty seat across from me, and my pulse quickened. He muttered his usual apology, and Mrs. Fowler barely acknowledged him. I kept my eyes down, pretending to be engrossed in the pages of my book, but my mind was far from calm. I could feel his presence like a warm weight across from me.

The minutes ticked by, and the meeting ended, the rest of the club members gathering their things to leave. I lingered, as usual, taking my time. Joe remained seated too, flipping through his copy of Gatsby, even though he’d barely participated today. I stole a glance at him, hoping he wouldn’t catch me. But as fate would have it, our eyes met.

My heart jumped into my throat, and I quickly looked away, my face heating up. Get a grip, Y/N, I scolded myself. He’s just a guy. A guy who probably doesn’t even—

“Hey, Y/N,” Joe’s voice broke through my thoughts, soft and hesitant.

I blinked, turning back to him, my heart now hammering in my chest. “Oh, hey,” I managed to say, surprised he’d even spoken to me.

He gave me a small, nervous smile, like he wasn’t sure if he should have said something or not. “Did you like the book?”

I blinked again. “The book?” I repeated, feeling like an idiot. “Oh, yeah. I mean, it’s a classic, right?” Great response, I thought sarcastically.

Joe nodded, and for a second, it seemed like he might say something more, but then he fell silent, his attention shifting to the clock on the wall. “I guess we better—”

Suddenly, the lights flickered, and the sound of a door clicking shut made both of us freeze. I glanced toward the entrance of the library, my stomach dropping as the realization hit. “No way…”

Joe got up, striding over to the door and trying the handle. It didn’t budge. He pushed it again, harder this time, but nothing happened. “I think… we’re locked in,” he said, turning back to me with a bewildered look.

For a moment, I just stared at him, processing the situation. Locked in? With Joe Burrow?

I stood up, clutching my book to my chest as I walked over to the door, peering through the glass. The hallway was dark, deserted. “The janitor must have locked up,” I muttered, feeling a strange mixture of panic and disbelief. “They didn’t notice we were still in here.”

Joe let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Well, this is… unexpected.”

I glanced up at him, the reality of the situation sinking in. We were stuck. Together. For who knows how long.

“Yeah,” I breathed, my heart racing. “Unexpected.”

We sat in silence for a while, both of us too awkward to speak. Joe leaned back against the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him, while I perched on the edge of a desk, nervously flipping through the pages of my book. The quiet between us was almost suffocating, and I could feel my pulse in my ears.

“Do you think they’ll notice we’re gone soon?” I asked after what felt like forever.

Joe shrugged, his eyes flicking to the window. “Maybe. But I think most people have already gone home.”

I swallowed, trying not to let the panic rise. “Great. Just… great.”

Joe chuckled again, and I glanced at him, surprised by the sound. It was soft, genuine, and I realized then how rare it was to hear him laugh. His eyes caught mine, and for a moment, the tension between us eased.

“You don’t seem like the type to panic easily,” he said, a teasing note in his voice.

I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know me very well, then.”

The silence stretched out between us, heavy with unspoken thoughts. I could feel the warmth of Joe’s presence even though we weren’t sitting close. My mind raced, but my words seemed stuck somewhere in my throat, tangled up with nerves. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, watching as he fidgeted with the cover of his book, his fingers tracing the edges like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“Um,” I started, then immediately regretted it. The sound of my own voice startled me, and I felt my cheeks heat up. “What… what about you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you join the club?”

Joe shifted a little, glancing at me briefly before his gaze darted back to the floor. He shrugged, his shoulders rising in that quiet, unsure way that made him seem far less like the confident quarterback everyone assumed he was.

“I guess… I just like books,” he muttered, his voice soft. “It’s easier than… you know, everything else.”

I nodded, understanding what he meant. “Yeah. It’s kind of nice to disappear into a story sometimes. I get the feeling. Nobody know me."

Joe gave a small nod, still not quite meeting my eyes. There was a vulnerability in the way he held himself that surprised me. Here was Joe Burrow—the guy everyone talked about, the quarterback who led our school’s football team to victory—and yet, in this quiet room, he seemed almost… unsure. Just like me.

The room felt smaller suddenly, like the space between us wasn’t as wide as it had been moments ago. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but the words caught in my throat, tangled up with my nerves. I wasn’t used to talking to Joe, and now that we were alone, I found myself hyper-aware of every small movement he made, every glance he sent in my direction.

After what felt like an eternity, Joe cleared his throat, the sound quiet but startling in the stillness. “I’ve… always noticed you,” he said suddenly, his voice barely audible.

My heart stopped. I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. “What?” The word slipped out before I could stop it.

Joe’s face flushed a deep red, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “I—I mean, not in a weird way,” he stammered, his words rushed and awkward. “Just… you’re always there, you know? In class. In book club. And, uh, you’re really smart. I just… noticed.”

I stared at him, completely at a loss for words. Joe Burrow— Joe Burrow —had noticed me? My heart raced, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I was too stunned, too flustered.

Joe shifted uncomfortably, clearly regretting his confession. “Sorry, that was weird. I didn’t mean to—”

“No!” I blurted out, louder than I intended. I winced at the sound of my own voice, feeling my face grow even hotter. “I mean, it’s not weird. I just… I didn’t know.”

Joe’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for a moment, we just stared at each other. There was something raw and uncertain in his gaze, something that made my stomach flip in a way I didn’t fully understand. He looked just as nervous as I felt, and somehow, that made it easier to breathe.

“I didn’t think you’d ever notice me,” I admitted quietly, my voice shaky but honest.

Joe’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. “No, that’s… I mean, how could I not? You’re…” He trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words. “You’re kind of amazing.”

My heart stopped again. Amazing? Me?

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t used to compliments—especially not from Joe Burrow. I could barely manage to look at him without feeling like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. So instead of speaking, I just offered a small, shy smile, hoping it was enough to show him I appreciated what he said.

The silence between us stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It felt like we’d crossed some invisible line, like something had shifted between us. Neither of us knew what to do with that shift, but neither of us seemed to want to break it, either.

After what felt like forever, Joe glanced toward the door, then back at me. “Do you think… we’ll be stuck here for a while?”

I shrugged, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over me despite the situation. “Maybe. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Joe nodded, but instead of looking anxious like he had before, he just leaned back against the wall, his posture relaxing a little. I could feel the tension in my own shoulders easing too, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t mind the idea of being stuck in this room. Not with Joe.

“I’ve always thought you were too smart for me,” he confessed, avoiding eye contact as he ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t know how to talk to you. And then, everyone expects me to be this... athlete. Like that’s all I’m good for.”

I was speechless for a second. How could someone like Joe, someone so confident on the field, be so unsure of himself off it? That quiet moment between us, surrounded by old paperbacks and classroom desks, felt like something out of a story I’d read before. And suddenly, all the reasons I’d convinced myself he wouldn’t ever notice me melted away.

“You don’t seem like the typical quarterback,” I said before I could stop myself.

Joe raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “What does that mean?”

I blushed, realizing how that sounded. “I just mean… you’re here. In book club. That’s not exactly where you’d expect the star athlete to be.”

He laughed, the sound soft and self-deprecating. “Yeah, I guess not. But I’ve always liked reading. It’s just… different from what everyone expects.”

I nodded, understanding what he meant. We sat in companionable silence after that, the quiet no longer feeling so heavy.

As the minutes ticked by, the air between us softened, and the weight of our earlier awkwardness started to lift. Joe’s posture became more relaxed, and for the first time, I felt like we weren’t just two strangers stuck in the same room. We were two people who, despite everything, had more in common than I ever realized.

“So,” Joe started again, his voice low but steady, “if you like reading so much, do you have a favorite book?”

I bit my lip, considering his question. It seemed like a simple one, but the answer was anything but. There were so many stories I loved for so many different reasons. “It’s hard to pick just one,” I admitted. “But I guess, if I had to choose… maybe *Jane Eyre*.”

Joe’s eyebrows shot up, and he tilted his head slightly. “*Jane Eyre*? Really?”

I nodded, feeling a little self-conscious but also oddly proud. “Yeah. I mean, it’s more than just a romance. It’s about finding yourself and standing up for what you deserve, even when the world expects you to settle.”

Joe’s lips quirked up into a soft smile, and for a moment, I wondered if he was laughing at me. But then, he nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. It’s... about being strong, right? Even when things don’t go your way.”

“Exactly.” I smiled, surprised that he seemed to understand. “I guess I always admired Jane for that. She never let anyone make her feel small.”

Joe’s smile faded just a little, his eyes dropping to the floor again. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I get that more than you’d think.”

His words hung in the air between us, and I felt my chest tighten. I wanted to ask what he meant, but the look on his face told me it wasn’t something he’d share easily. He shifted, rubbing the back of his neck again—a nervous habit I was beginning to notice. When he finally spoke again, his voice was softer than before.

“People always assume things about me,” he said, his gaze still fixed on the floor. “Like, because I’m the quarterback, I have it all figured out. But… most of the time, I don’t. I feel like everyone’s watching, expecting me to be someone I’m not.”

I stared at him, feeling a sudden pang of sympathy. I had never considered what it might be like to be Joe Burrow. To have all that pressure on your shoulders, to be constantly seen but never really known. “That sounds… hard,” I said quietly.

Joe nodded, his expression still serious. “It is. But… then there are moments like this.” He glanced up at me, his eyes meeting mine, and my breath caught in my throat. “Where it feels like maybe… I don’t have to pretend.”

For a second, neither of us said anything. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and the room suddenly felt a lot smaller. Joe’s eyes stayed locked on mine, and I could see the vulnerability there, the quiet need for something real—something he didn’t have to fake.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” I whispered.

Joe’s gaze softened, and the tension between us thickened, but not in the awkward way it had before. This was different. There was something unsaid in the air, something I wasn’t sure either of us was brave enough to address. But it was there, lingering in the space between us, waiting for one of us to make the next move.

Joe shifted again, pushing off the wall and taking a small step toward me. My heart pounded louder in my ears as he came closer, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel the heat radiating off him, and suddenly, all the air seemed to disappear from the room.

“So, what book are you reading lately?” I asked.

His eyes met mine then, blue and steady. “Oh, um... just some science fiction stuff. I’m not as into the classics like you seem to be.”

I blushed. “How do you know what I read?”

Joe smiled, a little shyly, looking down at his hands. “I pay attention more than you think.” He stopped for a moment and got back talking again. “I’ve liked you for a long time. But I never thought you’d be interested in me. I mean, you’re... you. And I’m just... well, I’m just the guy who throws a football.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Joe Burrow—*the* Joe Burrow—liked me? All this time?

“I—I don’t even know what to say,” I stammered, still reeling from the shock.

He glanced up at me then, his blue eyes more vulnerable than I’d ever seen them. “You don’t have to say anything. I just... I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time, but I was too nervous. I didn’t think I was good enough for you.”

I shook my head, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “Joe, I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The room felt impossibly small, like the world outside had shrunk away and all that existed was the two of us.

“I never asked you out because I thought you were too smart for me. You always know what you want and you’re so intellectual and funny, and smart, and beautiful…” Joe admitted softly, his gaze still locked on mine. “I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with a guy like me.”

I couldn’t believe it. All this time, I had thought he was out of my league, that he didn’t even know I existed. And yet, here he was, confessing that he felt the same insecurities about me.

“I always thought you didn’t even notice me,” I whispered.

He smiled then, a small, soft smile that made my heart ache in the best way. “I noticed.”

My breath caught, and suddenly, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of us. Joe took another step closer, so close now that I could feel the warmth of his body against mine. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking down to my lips and then back up to my eyes.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I knew was that Joe Burrow was standing inches away from me, looking at me like he wanted to close the distance between us.

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my skin. My heart raced, and for a moment, I thought—this is it. I thought he was going to kiss me.

But just as the space between us seemed to disappear, the sound of keys jingling echoed from the hallway. The door creaked open, and the janitor appeared, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw us.

“Oh!” he said, startled. “Didn’t realize anyone was still in here. You two okay?”

Joe stepped back quickly, his face flushing red. I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as well, the moment shattered in an instant. “Uh, yeah,” Joe muttered, running a hand through his hair nervously. “We’re good. Just… stuck.”

The janitor chuckled, oblivious to the tension in the room as he held the door open for us. “Well, you’re free to go now.”

I glanced at Joe, my heart still racing from the almost-moment we’d shared. His eyes met mine briefly before he looked away, his face still red. Neither of us spoke as we gathered our things and made our way to the door.

But as we stepped into the hallway, Joe’s hand brushed against mine, just for a second. It was brief, but enough to send a jolt of electricity through me.

“Y/N,” Joe said softly, his voice hesitant, “about what I was going to say before…”

I looked up at him, my heart still racing. “Yeah?”

He swallowed, his eyes flicking away for a moment before returning to mine. “Would you, um… maybe want to go to the spring dance with me? If you’re not, you know, already going with someone.”

My breath caught, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. He looked so nervous, standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets, waiting for my answer.

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. “I’d love to.”

Joe's face lit up with relief, a shy smile pulling the corners of his mouth. "Great. I was so afraid of you saying no to me."

"I could never," I said, honestly.

"That's... that's perfect." He agreed with me. "So, I'll pick you up around 7:40 pm, okay?"

I agreed with my head, giving him a smile back. But instead of Joe moving away from me, he started walking towards me. Slowly, making my heart throb inside my chest. The last thing I saw was his eye just before mine, and then he kissed me.

Like a real kiss. A kiss from the movies, that kind of kiss you say to your children. His lips were soft, his mouth tasted like peppermint. His hands were lost, but he found his way to the place I liked - my waist.

The boy walked away, looking into my eyes soon after. I just couldn't believe it. He smiled, shy, his cheeks turning red at an extreme speed, showing that he was also nervous. Nervous just like me.

"So..." He started talking again, but suddenly stopped. "Sorry, I got lost. I didn't expect this to happen today. Actually, I wanted to, but not in a strange way, you know-

"Joey." I called him by his nickname and saw his eyes getting brighter. "It's okay. I got you. See you at 7:00 at my house?"

He smiled, winking at me. "I'll see you on Tuesday." He smiled again. "We can read our books together after the club.

"It looks like a plan!" It was the last thing I said to him when I turned my back on him.

We separated in the hallway, but as I walked towards the exit, I couldn't stop smiling. I had come to the book club just expecting another quiet afternoon. Instead, I left with the promise of something new—something real. Something real with Joey.

[oofthwoods]

VICIOUS! ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: arthur leclerc likes a certain type of woman: smart, neglects intuition, and not as good as him.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: set in 2021, during echo's formula 3 season. they're both jerks to each other here :/ based on vicious by sabrina carpenter (emails i cant send pretty much defines their relationship). this is short but it's important for her future relationship with a certain someone | i used echo instead of y/n here, but tell me which one you prefer

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 2.09k

"I TRIED TO LOOK FOR THE BEST IN THE WORST BUT LIKE, FUCK ME, THAT CAUSED A COMMOTION."

As the evening progresses in Austria, the bustling noises of the city begin to fade into the background, replaced by the occasional murmur of distant conversations and the gentle swish of car tires on the damp pavement. The scent of rain lingers in the air, mixing with the subtle aroma of pine carried by a cool breeze from the nearby mountains. The warmth of the day still lingers, but it's now more tolerable, just a faint reminder of earlier heat.

Arthur paces back and forth on the soft carpet beneath his bare feet, his footsteps creating a restless rhythm that echoes in his mind. Every so often, he runs his fingers along the curtains, feeling the delicate and cool fabric against his skin. But it's as if he's only scratching at the surface of the problem consuming him.

The third stage of the Formula 3 championship went off without a hitch for the three races. Arthur claimed the fastest lap in the second race, while Y/N took home first place in that same race. Prema and Art teams were locked in a heated competition for points during the first half of the championship, with the French team ultimately taking the lead after Frederik Vesti's win at the last race in the Red Bull Ring.

Throughout that weekend, Arthur barely spoke to her. Despite being swamped with commitments such as hectic meetings, exhaustive tests, and endless interviews, they used to make an effort to connect even if it was just a quick call. However, her messages were always met with prolonged periods of silence before receiving a brief and unenthusiastic response, leaving her feeling confused and frustrated. Every attempt to call resulted in reaching voicemail without any explanation or apology for his absence.

Despite her victory in the second race, he was not one of the people who congratulated her. He also did not attend the podium ceremony for the third race, where she secured an important second place for her team. She had sent him messages, but he only responded with a short "thank you" for her congratulations on earning extra points for setting the fastest lap. He completely ignored her invitation to join her and some other drivers in a celebration.

She finally couldn't take the silence any longer and broke it with frustration. "Can we at least talk? We're not kids anymore, Arthur," she said, sitting on his cluttered bed.

"Are you leaving for France tomorrow?" Arthur asked quietly, still refusing to look at her as he packed his suitcase.

"No. Fernando wants me to go to Madrid and then Silverstone with him during my break. The team doesn't need me at the factory, so I have some free time," Y/N replied with a heavy sigh, feeling the tension between them.

She received only a grunt as a response, which was enough for her to know that it was time to speak up. "Are you going to turn around and actually use words, or are you going to keep grunting like some kind of primitive?" Her voice held a mix of determination and disappointment, reflecting her growing frustration with the lack of communication between them.

Arthur spun on his heels and made his way slowly towards Y/N, his face betraying a medley of conflicting emotions. She stood up from the bed, keeping a close eye on his expression in anticipation of what might happen next.

Their relationship was still new; they had met at a party thrown by a mutual friend who was also one of her teammates. That night, everything seemed to align perfectly for their chance encounter, and the initial spark of attraction quickly grew into something more profound. Through casual touches, shared smiles, and intimate conversations about their interests and preferences, they were building the fragile yet promising foundations of their relationship.

He paused, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the perfect words to express himself. She watched with curiosity, waiting for him to speak.

"Why didn't you let me overtake you?" Arthur asked, sounding unsure.

The girl furrowed her eyebrows, trying to comprehend his question. She repeated it in her head, trying to understand the underlying meaning. "What do you mean?"

Arthur seemed annoyed by her confusion and scrunched his face in response. "In yesterday's race. I was right behind you, but you wouldn't move out of the way."

Her arms automatically crossed in front of her chest, her tone becoming defensive. She didn't like where this conversation was headed. "Why should I let you pass, Arthur? I don't remember breaking any rules to earn my spot."

Arthur released a frustrated sigh, feeling the tension between them escalating with each word they exchanged. He closed the distance between them, hoping to find some understanding in her eyes.

"I'm not accusing you of breaking any rules, cherie." His tone softened, attempting to diffuse the situation. "I just want to know why you didn't make room for me to pass. It seemed like you were intentionally blocking me."

Y/N felt the weight of Arthur's words as an accusation, and it only added to her growing frustration. She couldn't believe they were having this argument now, when there was so much at stake for both of them.

"Of course I was blocking you! We're competitors, remember?" Her voice was firm, but she laced it with a confused laugh. "My team needs those points. I need those points. Why would I let you have them?"

Arthur took a step back, caught off guard by the intensity of Y/N's response. He looked both surprised and disappointed, struggling to process her strong emotions.

"I just thought you would understand," he muttered, his voice trailing off as if he regretted speaking at all. Unable to meet her gaze, he turned away.

She felt a surge of anger within her, a mix of frustration and sadness. She was taken aback that Arthur would question her integrity on the track, especially considering their intimate relationship off of it.

"Understand?" She repeated, each word dripping with disbelief. "Arthur, I want that title just as much as you do. It's not my responsibility to make it easy for you or anyone else. You know that."

There was a tense moment of silence between them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city outside. Y/N felt a pang in her chest at the feeling that something was unraveling between them, something that might never be fully repaired.

"I know," he replied, his voice betraying a hint of weakness. "But I thought we were more than just competitors."

Her expression softened briefly, a flicker of sadness crossing her features before she steeled herself with determination.

"Arthur, I can't sacrifice my career for our relationship," she said, her voice softening slightly. "We both knew what we were getting into when we started dating."

Arthur's voice turned defensive as he tried to justify his actions. "Don't you think it would have been better if I had won?" He glanced at his girlfriend, his eyes pleading for understanding. "You're still new to this category; there will be other chances for you."

She raised her eyebrows, her gaze unwavering and intense. "So, you're saying it would be acceptable for me to lose simply because I'm a rookie?" Her tone was sharp, like a blade cutting through the air.

Arthur paused, searching for the right words to explain himself. "No, that's not what I meant," he stammered, but Y/N cut him off.

"Did you give the same speech to all the other rookies too?" her sarcasm evident.

Arthur's discomfort flickered across his face before he turned back to meet her unwavering stare. "The other rookies aren't in a relationship with me," he retorted with a hint of harshness.

Y/N fell silent, digesting his words. Then, she stepped closer to him, locking eyes with determination.

"Tell me honestly, Arthur," she began calmly yet emotion thick in her voice. "Did you want me to let you win because I'm a rookie or because I'm your girlfriend?"

Her question hit Arthur like a punch to the gut, leaving him struggling to find the right words. He couldn't hide from the truth any longer.

"I…I'm not sure," he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper as uncertainty and vulnerability seeped through. "Maybe it's a bit of both."

Her expression hardened, her eyes showing disappointment and frustration in equal measure. She had expected more from him, hoped that he would acknowledge his own flaws and confront them head-on.

"So you don't trust me as a competitor, as a driver?" she asked, her voice betraying a slight tremor of emotion that she was trying to contain.

Arthur's heart raced as he met her intense gaze. He knew his words had hurt her and shattered the trust she had in him.

"That's not what I meant, cherie." He struggled to find the right words, but they sounded hollow even to his own ears. "It's just…I don't know how to handle the fact that you're better than me."

She was filled with conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to scream at him, to tell him that his insecurities were not her responsibility and she couldn't sacrifice her own ambitions for his approval. But at the same time, she felt a twinge of empathy for him, understanding that his insecurity came from a place of deep vulnerability.

"Arthur, I can't change who I am because of your doubts," she said firmly. "And I won't apologize for excelling at what I do."

Arthur's voice took on a smooth, almost patronizing tone, a subtle edge of superiority laced within his words. "You must be feeling quite pleased with yourself, wouldn't you agree?" he mused, his tone carrying a delicate sting. "Stepping onto the stage as a rookie and quickly grabbing the spotlight. Impressive, definitely, but experience and dedication? Those are qualities that develop over time, babe."

Her brow furrowed slightly, a mix of disbelief and hurt flickering across her features. "I just want us to understand each other," she started, her tone gentle yet resolute. "I'm not trying to belittle what you've achieved. But it's not about placing blame. If you truly have the experience and talent you speak of, shouldn't overtaking me come as second nature, without needing to ask?"

Arthur's cheeks flushed with a sudden surge of anger, the tension between them palpable. "You underestimate what it takes to rise to the top," he retorted sharply, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Talent is one thing, but true success in this realm requires more than just skill. Experience is the key that sets winners apart from the rest."

Her eyes narrowed subtly, a flicker of impatience dancing within them. "What makes you assume I lack dedication and experience?" she questioned calmly, her tone holding a hint of challenge. "Just because my journey in this sport hasn't been as long as yours doesn't diminish the effort I've put in."

Arthur emitted a dry chuckle, his resentment barely concealed. "You've had quite the advantageous start, haven't you?" he remarked, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You believe your familial connections and wealth entitle you to success? Reality doesn't operate on such privileges."

Her hands tightened into fists, a surge of defiance coursing through her. She refused to let his patronizing remarks undermine her accomplishments. Her voice remained composed yet firm, slicing through the tension. "Privileges? It's ironic coming from someone who's thrived under their brother's shadow," she countered, her gaze ablaze with determination. "You stand there, relying on your average talent to compensate for the countless doors opened by your surname."

Arthur's complexion deepened with a flush, a blend of shame and anger twisting his expression. He despised the constant comparisons to his brother, weary of residing in his sibling's imposing shadow. This resentment fueled his determination to establish his identity.

"I'm not my brother," he snapped with intensity.

She met his gaze steadily, her defiance unyielding. "No, you're not. And that's the problem," she countered sharply, her tone slicing through the air.

The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension, the air crackling with unspoken animosity as they stood facing each other. Her eyes burned with fury, her hands clenched tightly by her sides. She was done playing nice.

"I'm not carrying anyone's burdens," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "I have my own stuff to deal with. You don't like the fact that your girlfriend is better than you? Consider this problem solved."

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[themultifanshipper]

You could cut the tension with a knife. A double DNF was not good for the team or for you and Seb, both of you being so close to a championship win you could almost taste it.

Warnings: Violence, rancid vibes, under negotiated everything, very bad etiquette, rough sex, slapping, choking, all the good shit

Requested by 🐇

The crash was most definitely his fault. He tried to squeeze you into the wall, but miscalculated terribly, leading to both of you hitting the wall and losing a potential 43 points for the team.

To say you were pissed was an understatement. It was very obviously his fault, and everyone knew that, which made it all the more infuriating how cocky and dismissive Seb was about it.

On the walk back to the pits, he tried to make it out that you were to blame, trying to gaslight you into apologizing, and you completely lost it, launching yourself at him. You were halfway through strangling the life out of him before the marshals finally came and separated you.

Afterwards it was all side-eyes and glares in the media pen, doing interviews with at least 30 feet between you at all times. God knows what kind of bullshit he was spewing to the cameras as the interviewers swooned over his stupid handsome face as he flirted shamelessly to avoid having to answer any real questions.

When asked about what he thinks of you as a person, he answered with “Well it’s no secret that we don’t work well together, she’s not exactly a team player. Obviously she’s a beautiful woman everything, but she doesn’t belong here with the best of the best. She should follow her dad and stick to endurance.” He smirked and thanked the interviewer before moving on to the next one.

It wasn’t until you were back in your hotel room that you saw the interview, and when you did, you threw your phone across the room in anger. How dare he? You were p2 in the championship for the second year running. You dad had never even made it to formula 1. The fact that Seb would compare you to him even though he knew you wanted to distance yourself from your father’s image as much as possible sent you into a rage.

And before you knew it you found yourself banging on Seb’s hotel room door.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you shouted, as soon as he opened the door. He’d obviously come out of the shower, his wet hair dripping down his torso as you quickly trailed your eyes up and down his body. He didn’t even respond, just grinning lopsidedly at you.

“How dare you compare me to my father?” you shoved him backwards into the room and slammed the door behind you. The fucker didn’t waver, still smirking at you as if you were the funniest thing in the world right now. You wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face.

“I’m p2 in the fucking championship you asshole!” you went to slap him but he grabbed your arm and used your momentum to slam you against the wall, pinning your hands above your head.

So you tried to knee him in the crotch, but he slotted one of his legs between yours, gluing himself to your front. You squirmed but it was no use, he had you trapped.

“What are you going to do now, hmm?” he purred smugly.

Headbutt him is what you wanted to do, but before you could move he grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly.

You didn’t flinch though, if this is how he wanted to play it, you weren’t going down without a fight. So you bit his lip. Like, full on chomped down on it. He yelped and shifted backwards, wide eyes now full of anger and contempt. At least you’d finally managed to wipe that sexy infuriating smirk off his face.

He slapped you, hard, but instead of it hurting, it just served to fuel the fire burning inside you. You gasped and stared at him in disbelief, his pupils were dilated so the blue was barely visible, and his lip was bleeding slightly. What a sight.

“Do that again” He didn’t even hesitate as his hand struck your cheek a second time. Your hips involuntarily bucked up into his, and he groaned as they made contact with his rapidly hardening cock.

He rolled his hips and growled at the pathetic whimper you let out. He kissed you again and released your hands in favour of grabbing your ass and lifting you up, wrapping your legs around his hips and pressing you into the wall harder. You panted into the kiss, hands roaming and grabbing anything you could as he grinded against you roughly.

After a few minutes of biting and scratching and riling each other up even more, he couldn’t take it anymore so he put you down, immediately working at your pants to get them off as fast as he could.

Once you were both naked, he sat you on the nearest surface, which happened to be a desk, pushed you down roughly with a hand around your neck, propped your feet up on the edge and rubbed his cock along your folds, making you writhe in anticipation.

“You think you can take me just like this?” He asked, venom dripping from every word.

You nodded quickly but that didn’t satisfy him. He slapped your most sensitive area and you gasped, clit throbbing at the rough treatment.

“Use your words, slut”

“Yes! I can take it Seb just fuck me!”

He slapped your pussy again and you cried out. It was painful in the most delicious way and your concentration started wavering as you got lost in the feeling.

“That’s not very polite. Beg for it, baby.”

You did. You begged so much, so fast. You’ll deny till the day you die but any defiance you had disappeared embarrassingly quickly. Seb was so endeared that he wasted no time slipping just the tip in, but that was already a stretch.

Inch by inch, he pulled out and slid back in, doing his best not to hurt you, the absence of preparation suddenly in the forefront of his mind.

You on the other hand were loving every second of it. His cock stretched your walls out deliciously as you took more and more of him, and once he was buried inside you to the hilt, you moaned pathetically, feeling so incredibly full.

“Move, please Seb!” you whined, so he pulled out and slammed back in roughly, and the noise you let out, you would also deny making, but it drove Seb wild, so he tightened his grip around your neck and slammed into you repeatedly, hitting your g-spot with impressive precision.

You mind felt floaty and your body started going limp with the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you, and Seb noticed so he let go of your throat and shoved two fingers into your mouth.

“Suck” he ordered, and you did, biting his knuckles gently just to piss him off.

Once his fingers were nice and wet, he trailed them down your body to your sensitive clit and started rubbing tight circles as he continued to pound into you, trying to get you to the edge, him being embarrassingly close already.

It took you no time at all and you came with a shout, body arching off the desk as he chased his own high. He came inside you with a loud moan and slumped over your body, both exhausted after being so wired up all day.

He pulled out and got a damp cloth from the bathroom to clean you up with, before helping you get dressed, in total silence. You were both in shock at what you’d just done. You were teammates, bitter rivals, and now you had his cum dripping down your leg.

You stood at the door, unsure of what to say, when Seb pulled you into a brief hug.

“I didn’t mean it you know. The stuff I said in the interview” You looked at him with frown, he smiled. “I was just trying to piss you off enough for you to do something about it”

“You bastard” You giggled, opening the door to leave.

You were halfway down the corridor when he added “By the way, the crash was your fault! You should never try to pass the reigning champion when he’s leading a race!”

You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to look back.

God, you hated him.

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt 18

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

A/N: and we are here, one more chapter to go. any ideas? any thoughts? I hope you enjoyed this ride because i surely do! listen to ocean and engines by niki to feel this chapter a little more. alsooooo, i'm hinting a new series with the close of this one with our favorite second lead.

About You Series

2014, Sochi Autodrom

It was the first Formula 1 race in Russia and everyone expected fanfares about it yet the reality is far different. It was rare that the whole grid was so quiet. The grid was always buzzing with reporters trying to get a scoop to photographers capturing every single interaction to fans clamoring to get signature from their favorite driver. Today, the whole paddock seems to be walking on eggshells.

Well what does everyone expect when it has just been four days since that awful tragedy in Japan. It felt like it was so wrong in many levels that the drivers are back on track when one of their own is currently fighting for his life.

The doctors told them that there is a possibility for recovery but all can only be determined when he regains consciousness. It was hard to hold on to false hope so the feeling of grief sits heavy on their shoulders.

There were drivers who are angry. Checo Perez was in a screaming match with one of the FIA officials during media day. He demanded how is it possible with all the safety precautions that has been implemented, a tragedy such as this still exist. Jenson, although a little more calmer in his tone, asked for someone to be accountable for what happened to Jules.

Some were emotional. It cannot be denied that those closest with Jules couldn't keep their tears in. Max Chilton, his teammate, was crying the minute he saw that their garage only has one car. He was so used to seeing Jules greeting him and having him on track that it felt unreal that he may never see him again. Another one struggling is Daniel, who has been Jules' bestfriend. Ever since Suzuka, his eyes were red from crying and his usual happy self was gone. It has deeply affected his race performance but he couldn't hide how he feels.

Then there were those who are driven with guilt. Lewis should have felt like in cloud nine after gaining the driver's championship yet he felt empty. No celebrations for that because how could he be happy when Jules is still unconscious. Adrian Sutil founds himself in a battle with guilt even if no one was blaming him. He witnessed the whole thing in front of him and it all happened so fast.

For Sebastian, it wasn't an option to be emotional, angry, or guilty. He has to be rational and if possible hide his feelings as much as possible. He takes it upon himself to look after the whole grid, it was the least that he could do for everyone.

But then in rare moments where he is in his driver's room, an hour away from the race, he lets his guard down.

"Seb, I'm just dropping these oranges"Y/N wheeled in "Seb?"

The distress signals were calling Y/N with how Sebastian stayed with his back turned. His heavy breathing and the shaking hands were a dead giveaway that he has been crying.

"I'm okay, I'm okay" Sebastian repeated like a mantra.

He knows that Y/N has her own fair share of emotions to deal with Jules' tragedy. It mirrored her own a few months ago and she would spend night sleepless after being tormented by the memories of the accident. He needs to show that he is someone strong that Y/N can lean on so he cannot afford to show her that he is crying.

"Please seb, you can talk to me"Y/N begged, inching closer.

"I'm okay, I'm okay"

"Please Seb, I'm just trying to help you"Y/N explained "Please don't shut me out"

"I said I'm fine."

The tone was harsher than what Sebastian has intended. Even he was shocked by his voice and he couldn't help but face her to apologize. A very wrong decision on his part because he saw how equally shocked Y/N has been.

"I'm sorry, I just" Sebastian was lost for words "I'm just honestly so tired and you have been pressing me for something...but I'm still really sorry"

Y/N nodded her head. She was with Sebastian with the past few days and this has been a common occurrence. A part of her hurts that Sebastian seems to be shutting her out but there was the rational part of her brain that tells her that this is just a normal response from the accident. She bits back some of her words and lets out a heavy sigh.

"I'm really sorry" Sebastian embraced her.

She nods reluctantly, there was nothing she could do if Sebastian doesn't want to say anything. For all the years she knew Sebastian, he could be stubborn when he wants to.

Y/N reached out for an orange and handed it to Sebastian.

"Can you peel one?"Y/N asked "Just like our old traditions?"

A small smile appeared on his face and it felt like they were back to the good old days. It seems like it was just yesterday when they were sharing their first oranges and thinking that it brought some kind of luck during Sunday races.

Both of them wish that they were just back to much simpler times. When Sebastian was still a young reckless driver, who wants to prove himself and Y/N was still Mark's assistant. When the problems that they faced were still menial and nothing is as complicated like how they are right now.

They spent some time in silence eating their oranges until the clock starts ticking closer to the start of the race. The buzz of the door outside is getting a bit louder and both of them wished that they can just disappear inside the driver's room forever.

"You come back safe to me Seb" Y/N wistfully stated. The tender smile that they both shared knows how much this sentence weighs right now.

"I'm always coming back for you"

2014, Circuit of the America

Plenty of emails have remained unread ever since Y/N took her leave from the office. Although, it was not part of her job description, Jenson trusted her to sort his emails. Her replacement is someone competent but she is not someone that Jenson could trust yet, hence the pile up.

It was now time to open up the emails and delete the unnecessary ones as it takes up a lot of space. Jenson places himself at the hotel cafe, ready with a cup of coffee to keep himself awake.

"How does she do this every single day"Jenson mutters under his breath.

His respect raised somewhat higher after looking at 10 emails. Most of them were brand deals or an invitation to join a shady business deals. Jenson sorted out the mails into junk or those he would check on with his manager.

Ping.

Jenson almost groans upon realizing that there was a new email that has just been sent. He was ready to say forget it and let it have its turn to be waited upon. But then the subject of the email was written in all caps and bold, emphasizing the gravity of it all.

'WEBBER RESIGNATION LETTER'

The document attached to the email was plain and simple. It discusses how her accident has caused her incapable of fulfilling her duties and that she needed time off to recover completely. She stated how it was one of the best years to be able to work in McLaren and it was unfortunate how it has to end this way.

On another hand, the email itself was a personal letter to Jenson.

"Dear Jenson,

First of all, I apologize since I didn't have the courage to tell you all of this in person. This is an incredibly tough decision to make and I wasn't even sure if I was actually doing this until I hit the sent button. I'm really sorry that I'm emailing something because I'm too scared to face you right now.

Second, I wanted to thank you for everything. You have been the person that I have spent a lot of good and bad days with. You also let me see the different variations of you. The media may always paint you as a cheeky guy who was lucky to win a championship but I see more than that. You are a good person who cares a lot. You love rarely but its genuine. You push yourself to the limits even when you have a shit car or even teammate.

Lastly, I hope that my resignation will bring you peace. I know that you keep blaming yourself for my accident and you still think that you should have been the one driving the car. It pains me that you blame yourself for what happened to me. It wasn't your fault Jenson. I will keep repeating it a hundred times over until you get it through your thick skull. Learn how to forgive yourself and not be too harsh on yourself.

Jenson, I wish I could tell you how much I wanted to stay in this world. Motorsports is the only thing that I know but I have to take some time off. I have to heal myself physically, mentally and maybe even spiritually. Everything has been really draining and it is taking a toll on me. I know you may hate me for my decision but I hope you could understand this one day.

Always with you Jenson, Y/N.

The laptop's mousepad was slippery due to the tears that have fallen from Jenson. He felt a wave of embarrassment after realizing that he was in a public place and it would have made big headlines if someone caught him crying like this.

"Are you okay Mr Button?" a small voice tugged Jenson's jacket.

Jenson saw a young boy in buzzcut wearing a pajama set. He seems to be no less than 10 years old. Jenson immediately fixes his face to greet him.

"Yeah, I'm okay kiddo" Jenson tries to force a smile.

"My sister says its not nice to lie" the boy pointed out "however sometimes my sister lies sometimes pretend things are better than it seems. She says those lies are happy lies"

The ability of children to see through people should be discussed. Jenson finds himself tearing up a bit more after being confronted by a child.

"Here is my hanky"the boy pushed his blue handkerchief towards Jenson "I think you need this today Mr. Button"

Jenson smiles gratefully, he wanted to ask the name of the boy and thank him when someone else approached the table.

"You're Jenson Button? Can we take a photo?"

"Yeah sure"Jenson agreed.

The giddy McLaren fans immediately went next to him. He smiled the best he could and he hoped that his crying wasn't that all visible. After all is said and done, the fans thanked him.

Jenson turned to look for the kid but he was long gone. The existence of their interaction only existed with the blue handkerchief which has the name RJ.

Maybe someday he will meet that RJ kid again to thank him.

2014, Interlagos

When Y/N suggested that they have something to talk about during dinner, Sebastian took it as a sign to make it up for her. He knows how difficult he has been the past few weeks and it took him a while to revert back to his old self. He also knows that this has been a difficult season for Y/N with the accident, Michael, Jules, and every fiasco. They deserve a night out.

And like a poetic justice, he wanted to replace the horrible memory of the restaurant in Brazil last year.

He went all out with the whole preparation. He was dressed in some nice polo, a beautiful dress sent to Y/N, and a gorgeous flower arrangement. He planned to make this evening something memorable and a far better ending than last year.

But the candlelit dinner seems to be lacking its romantic aura with the way that their food has been half-eaten and their wines untouched. It doesn't take a genius to guess that this evening might not go well.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Sebastian spoke up "You don't like the food?"

"It's fine, I'm just not hungry" her voice was almost a whisper.

In Y/N's head, she felt extremely guilty. She wanted a simple dinner with Sebastian to talk to him about her plans to take time off F1 and take a break. But seeing how Sebastian prepared so much for the dinner date, she felt like she couldn't find a perfect timing to break the news to him.

"You don't have to keep hiding, you could talk to me"Sebastian urged her to open up.

There was no point in prolonging the agony, might as well rip the bandages out.

She sucked in air as she delivers the news, "I'm resigning as Jenson's PR"

The fork that Sebastian was holding clatters down his plate. Surprise was evident on his face since he didn't expect this at all. There must be another team offering her a job that's why she resigned.

"Did Ferrari offer you a job?" Sebastian was trying to be optimistic. "Or did Nico finally poach you to join Mercedes-"

"No other teams, I'm just resigning"

His eyes were looking at her trying to see if there is any bluff or whatsoever, "Can I ask why?"

"There has just been a lot going on"Y/N admitted "I needed to heal and get back on my feet. I need to focus on getting better so I don't have to trouble you lot"

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Sebastian pressed “If that’s the only thing bothering you then you don’t have to worry about a thing. I can always fly to Monaco during weekends which are not race weekends and-“

Sebastian stops upon seeing the sad smile that she has on her face. Her hands pushed the set of keys that he entrusted to her. There was a moment of silence between the two of them and its like they could hear both their hearts pounding in this impending moment of confrontation.

“I have to go on my own Seb”Y/N explained “All the stuffs that I have to relearn, I need time to recover from everything that happened”

‘Then I’ll be by your side,’ Sebastian wanted to protest. But he felt lost for words.

“This whole situation is far from healthy and I cannot burden you any longer when you are also struggling to cope with the losses that we have experienced”

Slumping back at his seat, Sebastian could just recount the several events that happened in the past few months. Everything was a whirlwind for the two of them and at the back of his mind, he knows that Y/N is being reasonable. She needed time to recover from the tragedies and Sebastian also needed to cope healthily rather than pushing people away.

He gazed at her and he seems to notice for the first time how its taking a toll on her. It was a far different cry from that girl who he first met but Sebastian couldn’t help his feelings.

“But I love you” Sebastian managed to say something at last. He loves Y/N so much and the pang of pain in her eyes shows how Y/N loves him as well.

“And I do love you Seb”her voice cracking “But this isn’t a right time for us since we’re both broken and we will end up hurting each other if we stay together”

It wasn’t unlike Sebastian to give up in a fight. He was born to be competitive and fight for what he wants. However, how could he continue to fight when the white flag is already waved and its only waiting for his peaceful retreat.

“So what now..”he wondered.

“I’ll try to find myself”she answered bravely but tears were stinging her eyes “And I wish we could both recover and we can find happiness again”

He could only scoff at that, “That’s impossible for me to do”

“Seb please..”

“You can’t just ask me to let go of you and leave you alone when all I wanted to do is be by your side” Sebastian continues “I love you Y/N and isn’t love just enough to keep us going through things together?”

The woman in front of him started laughing bitterly. He could hear the laughter taunting him but at the same time the tears were falling down her cheeks. It was a whiplash of emotions.

“I wish love was enough that it could help me walk again. I wish love was strong enough that Jules is awake. I fucking wish love was enough that you don’t have to push me away when I was trying to ask you what’s going on.”

Both of them stared at each other like they were trying to figure out who was the stranger sitting in front of them. They both didn’t know how it suddenly escalated and turned into this kind of situation.

“All I ever wanted was a clean break”Y/N pointed “I was trying to take care of you Seb”

“No”Seb rejected “You’re running away from your problems”

Wiping her tears away, Y/N sent a message to Mark. It was a good thing that Mark insisted on being nearby so that if the whole thing goes south then he could pick her up right away.

“I’m leaving now. This is goodbye”

Y/N struggled to wheel herself out but she would not ask Sebastian for any help. She managed to turn her back from Sebastian and she felt hurt that Sebastian was not doing anything to stop her from leaving.

“Did you love me?”

The question stings Y/N and she halts. If she didn’t love Sebastian then she would be selfish and stayed with Sebastian to burden him with her troubles. She loves him so much to the point that she refuses that he was a getting a broken version of herself. She loves him to the point that he recognizes that she didn’t want to hurt Sebastian in the long run that’s why she chooses to recover and heal.

“It don’t care if you don’t”Sebastian declared “Because I love you and I’ll love you enough for the both of us. I will wait for you until you feel better, until you feel okay. I’ll be here”

Those words were something that she badly want to hear. It almost made her abandon the idea of leaving everything behind, she wanted to be so selfish. But she kept going and tried to not look back.

“Goodbye Sebastian”

[fangirl-dot-com]

Alex Albon ft. Lily - Karma

Aaahhhhh, welcome to part 5 of this series! Now this one takes place farther into the season. But, I wanted to publish this series as one, instead of doing separate chapters for when they happened after races. This one is going to take place leading up to the Silverstone Grand Prix! So the July 3-ish (Austria is July 2 and Silverstone is July 9, so the week in between). As of this chapter, reader now has three different couples who would absolutely do ANTYHING for her. 

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love you all <;3 

[TAG LIST IS CLOSED]

“Are you for real?” you muttered to yourself as you looked at your mismatched luggage. You really needed to ask Lando if he could get you some new suitcases with that fancy company he has a partnership with. And someone had tried to get into your suitcase, because you noticed the latch had a few scratches on it. You’d definitely be calling the airline later. Max was right, you should have just flown in with him on Air-Max. 

Definitely next time. 

At least you had all of your luggage. You were still standing next to the carousel when another small bag caught your eye. For some reason, the tag also had your name on in. You carefully grabbed the bag with mesh windows and looked at it. This was definitely not yours. You stepped away from the area and took a seat on a bench. You placed the bag on your lap and unzipped it. Your eyes widened at the sight. 

Inside was a large, fluffy cat. Big eyes stared up at you as you stared back. Your head leaned to the side, and it’s head followed you. Your hand bolted to your phone in your pocket. You needed to call the number one cat-dad. 

The phone rang for a few before, and before Max had an opportunity to answer, you voice flooded the air. 

“Max, I have a cat and I don’t know what to do with it!” 

Max paused for a bit on the line. 

“Hello?” 

“I heard you kid. Aren’t you supposed to be at the airport?” 

You huffed. “I am. But when I was getting my bags, this carrier-thing had a tag with my name on it. I opened it and there’s a cat inside! I’m too young to be a mother.” 

“Y/n,” you could image him pinching his brow. 

“I had a goldfish once and he died three days later.” You were starting to freak out. 

“Take a deep breath.” You did as instructed. “Ok, here’s what you’re going to do. First, does the cat have any identification on it?” 

You reached in and carefully parted the cat’s fur. On his neck was a little collar with a pendent that had a figure of a horse. Other than that though, there was nothing. 

You spoke into the phone, “No. It doesn’t.” 

Max sighed on the other line. “When I fly in, I will meet you at your flat and we’ll see what we can do. Are you being picked up at the airport?” 

“No. I have to go get my car. Someone brought it last night so I could drive to my flat by myself for a few days before the race.” 

“That’s nice kid. When I get in, I’ll call and come over. Kelly has been wanting to see your flat for a while. Something about her promising you that she’ll help you decorate the rest of it? Can’t believe you didn’t ask me.” 

You deadpanned, even if he couldn’t see it. “Max, you display your championship trophy on your Red Bull mini fridge. You have no interior design instincts.”

He sputtered over the phone, before he was interrupted on the other side. “Ok kid. I’ll see you when I get there. Houd van je geitje.” (Translation : Love you kid) 

“Love you too. Have a safe flight.” You hung up and looked back down at the cat, who seemed to be more wide awake. “Hi bud.” Your hand reached under its face and scratched lightly. The cat started to purr lightly. 

You stood up after you re-zipped the carrier. Luckily, it had a shoulder strap so that your two hands could be free to get your suitcase and keys. “Ok cat, let’s get going.” 

You started to make your way to the pickup car line. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people there. You walked right up to the counter. You gave the nice lady your name and ID so that she could get your keys for you. 

As you waited, your mind drifted to your semi-new vehicle. You had finally decided what car you actually wanted, so Christian, Vito, and Max had decided to come with you for the purchase. You, of course, had matching cars. One for Monaco and one for London. Lando had begged you to get a Jolly like he had, but you wanted something a little more classy. 

Your dark green Porsches were your children. 

Unlike Max, you didn’t want to necessarily buy a car that “supported” a rival team. You were tempted with one of the new Audi models, but the two Porsches just screamed at you. It had taken a while to get approved, but they had finally become yours about two months ago. The one you kept in Monaco was an older, classier model. The one you had in London was a bit more flashy with its convertible top. 

As you were daydreaming about driving your beloved car once again, two people had come into the room. And one of them did not sound happy. 

“What do you mean our hotel has been canceled. Yes I know we still have the nights for the two days closer, but not for the next two! Where are we supposed to stay? Also, has there been any news on Horsey?” The man sighed, and sounded like he was choking back a sob. “Ok, please keep me updated.” 

Your curiosity got the better of you. Turning your head, your eyes landed on one British-Thai Williams driver and his amazing golfer-girlfriend. You decided to be friendly, and a bit nosey. 

“Hi Alex,” you almost whispered. 

His and Lily’s head whipped up at your voice. He was able to shoot you a small smile. 

“Uh, is everything ok?” you prodded. 

Alex’s mouth opened and closed, trying to find words. When he couldn’t, Lily spoke up for the two of them. 

“Well, our hotel was canceled and we really can’t find a place go figure. And the airline somehow lost Horsey.” 

You cocked your head. “How does an airline lose a whole horse?” The two of them giggled. 

Alex finally spoke up, “Logan thought that Horsey was an actual horse the first time as well. Horsey is actually my cat.” 

Your eyes bulged. You were about to speak when the nice lady returned with your keys. You quickly thanked her before walking closer to the couple. You gestured for them to follow you. Once the three of you were outside, you parked you suitcase before pulling the carrier closer. 

“So, I’m thinking that he’s actually yours then.” You handed the carrier over. You had never seen Alex act as quickly as he did. He gently placed the small bag on the floor and unzipped the top. Horsey’s head popped out and he meowed loudly at the sight of his owner. Alex scooped him up and brought him close to his face. 

You continued, “Somehow, he had one of my name tags on his bag. I’m glad that Max now doesn’t have to help me find where he’s supposed to go.” You offered a small smile as your hand now rested on the top of your suitcase handle. 

Alex now had a bright smile. “Thank you so much. I was devastated when I couldn’t find him. The airline swore that he was on the flight. I guess he just got a bit misplaced.” He turned to Lily. “Now what are we going to do about the hotel situation.” 

Lily got out her phone and started to scroll; Alex’s head was leaned over, trying to see the screen. An idea popped into your head. 

You spoke up, “Well, my flat has a guest bedroom and my car is big enough to hold the luggage.” You shrugged as you pointed in what you hoped was the direction of your Porsche. 

Lily shook her head, “We don’t want to intrude.” 

Your hands waved in front of you. “Nonsense. I invited first. And besides, a friend of Logan’s is a friend of mine.” 

Alex looked shy as he smiled, “Well if you don’t mind. It would only be for a night or two!” He quickly added that last bit. Redness flushed his embarrassed face. 

“Perfectly fine. I think Max and Kelly are coming over tomorrow if that’s ok,” you asked as you made your way to the car, Alex and Lily followed. 

“Y/n. It’s your flat, we don’t care.” You popped the trunk and struggled to get your suitcase in. Stupid clothes. Alex quickly shoved the fur ball into your arms and took yours and Lily’s suitcases. The two of you smiled at each other as you also watched Alex struggle. 

“What did you both pack in here?” 

“Clothes,” your voices sounded at the same time. A smirk was shared as the trunk finally was able to be closed. You handed the cat back to Alex as you opened your door. Lily climbed into the passenger seat, while Alex took up the back row with Horsey. 

You carefully turned your car on, and it rumbled to life. You slowly backed out of the parking space, turned, and headed to the exit. As you stopped at the stop sign, your finger pressed the button for the top to fold back. As soon as your car was outside the garage, the sun seemed to fill up the extra space around your group. 

As you drove to your flat, you mentioned, “Lily, you can play some music if you’d like to.” 

She swiped up on her phone and connected it to the Bluetooth. “Any song you want to listen to?” 

You thought for a moment. What song could you choose and not be embarrassed to death. Lily seemed like a T-Swizzle woman. 

“Uh, how about Karma by Taylor Swift?” You thought that Lily would be the excited one, but a gasp from Alex had your eye brows raised. 

Lily rolled her eyes, “Alex is such a swiftie.” 

It was your turn to gasp, “I say when we’re all together, us, Daniel, and Lando need to go to a concert together.”

“Lando is Swiftie?” 

“A closeted one, but a swiftie none-the-less. I think Charles is one too.” 

Alex also added, “George is one as well.” 

“Shut up. I love that. Go Carmen.” Lily finally took this opportunity to sing. You rolled the dial for the volume and turned it up. As the car flew down the street, the three of you screamed at the top of your lungs. 

“Karma is a cat!” Alex held Horsey up in the middle. 

“Purring in my lap cause he loves me,” Lily say along. You had been able to put your sunglasses on. You felt cool. Look at you, hanging out with adults. If Max could see you now. 

The drive to your flat wasn’t a long one and you got there quickly. As the car came to a stop under the covered walkway, your doorman came out to meet you. 

“Hi Richard,” you sweetly said to the older man. He wasn’t like grandpa old, more like Christian-old. 

“Welcome back ma’am. I see you’ve brought visitors?” He gazed at the driver and golfer. 

“Yes sir. They’re staying for a couple of days. Something went wrong with their hotel.” By now, Lily had been given Horsey and Alex was working on getting the luggage out. 

“Glad to see that you’ve taken Mr. Verstappen’s advice.” Richard smiled at you. 

You scoffed. “Max just thinks that I have no friends.” 

Richard replied, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you really don’t.” You heard Alex laugh behind you. Your eyes squinted at the Thai. 

“I will leave you down here.” Alex looked worried for a bit before Richard started to laugh. “Richard I don’t pay you enough to laugh at me.” 

“Y/n, you don’t pay me.” 

“I know. All right folks, let’s go upstairs.” You took your suitcase from Alex and hauled it behind you. Richard always so kindly parked your car for you. Something about how he didn’t want you to have to walk from the parking area to the door. 

The elevator was filled with a comfortable silence. You quickly sent a text to Max to explain the situation. He and Kelly were already planning to stay at a hotel nearby. Your flat was open to them if they didn’t want to sit in the room. 

The elevator doors opened and you led the pair to your door. You looked over fondly at Logan’s door as you unlocked your own. You would have invited him over as well, but he wasn’t getting in until later. 

Once the lock had clicked, you opened the door and was met with the scent that was undeniably you. The warm hints of vanilla and cinnamon wafted around the space. You were so glad that the automatic air freshener had kept working while you were gone. Your apartment in Nice never smelled the best, and it was so depressing to come back to. 

“Welcome to mi casa, that’s French for front door.” You channeled you inner George Russell and held your hands out wide, showing off your living room. The pair just looked at you a bit strangely. You put your hands back down. “That’s actually not French, uh, Arthur and Charles would have my head.” 

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, but it’s too late to change anything. “Uh, I can show you the room? It’s not decorated the best, but there’s a pretty big bed and closet space.” You turned around to start walking down the hallway. They followed you closely. 

Once you opened the room, the two gasped. You winced, thinking that it was a bad one. 

“Y/n this is so lovely,” Lily told you, putting her hand on your shoulder. 

You beamed at the praise. 

“Thank you,” you shyly muttered. Alex still had a look of shock and awe as he stepped into the room. You think that the big window helped bring the room in a lot. 

“You need to tell me how you decorated this,” Lily spoke as she looked around the room. You rubbed the back of your neck. 

“Well, Kelly helped me a lot. And I spent a questionable amount of time on Pinterest. The rest of the house still needs some help, but the bedrooms were the easiest to get done.” 

“It looks great,” Alex finally found his voice. 

“Thank you. You two are welcome to look around. I’m going to go unpack and take a shower. Did you two want to go to dinner? Or we can stay in and I can make something?” 

The girlfriend and boyfriend looked at each other, silently communicating. Finally Lily broke eye contact and looked at you. 

“If you don’t mind, and if it’s no trouble, we’d like to stay in.” 

“You two both agreed with that by looking into each other’s eyes?” They nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll go to the store after.” 

Lily offered to go with you and you happily accepted. The minute you got to your room, you allowed yourself to breathe. You shot a quick text to the group chat with you, Max, and Kelly. 

Little Racer: 

Hey, so we made it and I’m making dinner tonight  Do you two want to join? 

Big Racer: 

Sure kid. We land in a few hours.  Just let us know when you want us to come over! 

The Better Half:   

Hi sweetie, sounds good.  Are we still on to go out tomorrow? 

Little Racer: 

Max you still need to learn how to not type with punctuation Yep I’m all good! Also, Lily and Alex are staying with me for a bit, could I invite her as well?? Max and Alex can do something manly 

Big Racer: 

eXcUsE mE? Interior design is manly enough 

Little Racer: 

*Blink* sure 

The Better Half: 

Max, I love you, but your apartment is terrible  We’ll talk more about it at dinner  See you then Y/n <;3 

Little Racer: 

Bye Kellyyyyy &lt;3 Bye Max

Big Racer: 

Why does SHE get a heart and not me :( See you soon kid 

You placed your phone down on your charger and got clothes for after your shower. You didn’t want to take long, as there were guests that you needed to entertain. You just stuck to the basics to get the stale airplane air off of your skin. You’d feel better once you smelled like yourself. You changed right after, not caring about your wet hair. 

You were pleased to see the two on your couch. You worried that they might have felt as though they needed to wait for your instruction. You grabbed your cross body bag and your sneakers. 

“Lily will you be ready to go in the next few? Also, Max and Kelly might come back while we’re gone, so Alex could you let them in?” Alex gave you a nod and Lily let you know that she was ready whenever you were. You slipped your shoes on and headed for the door, Lily was right behind you.

You had texted Richard beforehand that you were coming down soon. It was nice to see your car waiting for you. Richard held the keys on his finger that you took as you passed. You have him a quick thanks and tipped him well. He had told you time and time again that he was paid more than enough, but you never listened. You weren’t stingy with the people who were good to you. 

The trip to the store was uneventful. You were thankful that Lily was with you so that she could buy some adult drinks that your ID would not be enough for. The plan for the meal was simple enough. Something that could cater to your, Max’s, and Alex’s diets without any one of your trainers getting onto you. 

When you got back, you noticed an unfamiliar car in the front. You shrugged at the sight, knowing it was probably Max and Kelly’s rental for the first few days. As you opened the door, you could hear Alex and Max talking wildly. You rolled your eyes. 

“Wow, thanks guys for the offer to help with the groceries. Real nice.” The two immediately shot up and you laughed. Alex took Lily’s bags while Max took yours. Kelly stood up to give you a hug. 

“Hi Y/n,” she said, bringing you into her arms. You squeezed tight. It had been a while since you’ve seen her outside of “work.” 

After you let go, Kelly reached over to give Lily a hug as well. Seeing the two women in conversation, you made your way to the kitchen. 

“Kid, your lack of Red Bull in your fridge is disturbing,” Max said once he saw you. 

“Was that a Star Wars quote?” you asked, giving him a hug. 

“Possibly.” He shot you a sneaky smile. By your legs, Horsey had started to rub up against you. You leaned down to pet him. 

“I think he likes you,” Alex said in a sing-song voice. You just scoffed as you pet him.

“Everyone likes me.” Now that earned you a scoff from Max. You looked up at him and raised your eyebrow. “Name one person who doesn’t.” 

“Marko?” Max questioned with a wince.

“False. He texted me early and said that we need to get brunch this weekend. You’re losing your spot as Red Bull’s golden child.” Max only responded with an eye roll. 

Alex thought hard as well. “Uh, there’s that one journalist who seems to hate you. What’s his name again?” 

You rolled your eyes at the mention, “Louise Tynker. Mans has made it his mission to get me to say the wrong things. Like last week he asked if I thought Daniel should have taken Checo’s seat instead of me.” 

Max smirked, “And what did you tell him?” He took a sip from his drink. 

“I told him that Daniel is a great driver, but Christian made a decision to put me in the seat instead. Sorry that I didn’t know I was in the running for even being considered to take the seat.” 

“And what did you say after that?” Oh. 

You exhaled a laugh, “I told him that his microphone might get more juicy answers if he got it out of his ass.” 

“That’s my kid.” Max raised a hand and you hit it. Alex’s eyes were wide at the confession of the story before he started to laugh as well. You quickly got the dinner ready, and before you knew it everyone was enjoying themselves at your table. 

As you picked at your food, you decided to ask, “So do you two want to come with us to look at decorations or do you want to just stay here?” 

Lily groaned, “Alex has no design skills.” Alex gawked at her. 

Kelly spoke up too, “Same with Max. Y/n are you sure you wanted to invited them?” All eyes were on you and you shrank back into your chair. 

“Uh. He can’t be worse than Max?” 

Max squawked in his seat, trying to come up with an argument. 

Lily cut into her dish, “Trust me, he is. He put all of his trophies in the laundry room.” 

You looked over at him, “Alex, you know trophies are supposed to be displayed on mini fridges, not washers and dryers.” 

“Hey! Leave my championship trophy and mini fridge alone. You can’t talk cause you don’t have one.” 

You quickly pointed to your F2 championship trophy in the beautiful display case that was the centerpiece in your living room. You raised an eye brow. “Wanna try again?” 

“Trophies don’t belong on mini fridges.” 

You looked at Alex. 

“And not on washers and dryers.” 

You, Lily, and Kelly all hummed in agreement before getting back to the conversation. Tomorrow would be hectic, but you’d have fun. 

Hopefully.

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost @misartymis @boiohboii @alexander-hamilhoe @jayda12 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @fangirl125reader @itscrzy @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fionaschicken @torchbearerkyle @ineedafictionalman @loaksmuntxa @classiclitfreak @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense @luisie @jayda12 @comfortzonequeen @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @inejghafawifesblog @treehouse-mouse

[kiesbrainjuice]

— EVEN CALM ONES HAVE MELTDOWNS ! akaashi keiji

syn : as you two were supposed to go on a date, he got an unexpected meltdown

wc : 1k

tw : none just comfort and pure fluff

You were excited for your movie date with Akaashi, having planned it for days. As you made your way to his house, you couldn't help but smile, thinking about the cozy evening ahead.

Meanwhile, Akaashi was struggling through one of his worst days. Overwhelmed by emotions and anxiety, he found himself in the midst of a meltdown he couldn't control. He had never opened up about these episodes before, always managing to keep them hidden from you and others.

Today, however, was different. The intensity of his distress made him forget about your plans entirely. He hadn't messaged you to cancel or reschedule, lost in his own world of panic and inner turmoil.

As you approached his front door, Akaashi was curled up on his living room floor, hands gripping his hair, trying desperately to regain some semblance of calm. The sound of the doorbell pierced through his clouded mind, causing him to freeze.

Unaware of the situation inside, you waited patiently, wondering why Akaashi was taking so long to answer. Little did you know, you were about to witness a side of him he had never intended to share, at least not like this.

The inevitable confrontation loomed as Akaashi, still shaking, slowly made his way to the door. He knew he couldn't hide anymore, and a mix of fear and shame washed over him as he reached for the handle, about to reveal his vulnerable state to you for the first time.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

As Akaashi opened the door, your smile quickly faded. His disheveled appearance and tear-stained face immediately set off alarm bells in your mind.

"Akaashi?" you asked softly, concern evident in your voice. "What's wrong?"

He couldn't meet your eyes, his body trembling slightly. Without thinking, you stepped inside and gently closed the door behind you.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Akaashi whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean for you to see me like this."

Instinctively, you reached out to him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "It's okay, baby. Can you tell me what's happening?"

Akaashi's breath hitched as he struggled to explain. "I... I sometimes have these... meltdowns. I've never told anyone. I'm so sorry."

Your heart ached seeing him in such distress. Carefully, you guided him to the living room couch, sitting down beside him.

"You don't need to apologize," you assured him. "I'm here for you. What can I do to help?"

Akaashi's eyes widened in surprise at your calm reaction. Slowly, he began to open up about his struggles, his breathing gradually steadying as you listened without judgment.

As he spoke, you gently took his hand in yours, offering silent support.

As you sat together on the couch, Akaashi's trembling slowly subsided. He took a deep breath, his fingers intertwining with yours.

"It's... it's the volleyball championships," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "The pressure has been building for weeks. Everyone's counting on me to lead the team, to make the perfect sets. I can't stop thinking about all the ways I could let them down."

You listened intently, your thumb gently stroking the back of his hand. "That sounds incredibly stressful," you said softly. "It's a lot of responsibility to carry."

Akaashi nodded, his eyes still downcast. "I've been having nightmares about missing crucial plays, about disappointing my teammates, Kotaro. It's like I can't escape it, even when I'm awake."

Sensing his need for comfort, you carefully opened your arms. "Is it okay if I hold you?" you asked.

He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and you gently pulled him into an embrace. Akaashi's body was tense at first, but as you held him, he gradually relaxed against you.

"You don't have to face this alone," you murmured, running your fingers soothingly through his hair. "Your team trusts you because of your skills and dedication. It's okay to feel overwhelmed sometimes."

As you continued to hold him, Akaashi's breathing deepened and steadied. The warmth of your embrace seemed to provide a sanctuary from the storm of his anxieties.

"Thank you," he whispered after a while, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "For being here, for understanding."

I apologize for the confusion. You're right, Akaashi is indeed the guy in this scenario. Let me adjust the dialogue to reflect that:

As you held each other, the tension in the room gradually began to dissipate. Akaashi's breathing had steadied, and you could feel him becoming more relaxed in your arms.

After a while, you gently pulled back to look at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "You know," you said, your tone lighter, "if you wanted to skip our movie date, you could have just said so. No need for all this drama."

Akaashi blinked at you in surprise before a small chuckle escaped him. "Oh yes, because having a meltdown is so much easier than just texting you."

You grinned, happy to see a hint of his usual dry humor returning. "Well, you always have been one for the theatrical. Remember when you 'accidentally' set the ball into my hands just to hold them?"

Akaashi's cheeks flushed slightly, but he was smiling now. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, feigning innocence.

You laughed, poking his side playfully. "Sure, Mr. 'Oh, my aim was off, how clumsy of me.'"

He swatted your hand away, but there was no heat in the gesture. "If I recall correctly, you were more than happy to catch that ball."

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for a smooth setter," you teased, earning you an eye roll from Akaashi.

As your laughter subsided, Akaashi's expression softened. He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For everything."

You leaned into his touch, your eyes meeting his. "Always," you replied simply. "Now, what do you say we order some takeout and have that movie night after all?"

Akaashi nodded, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "That sounds perfect."

As you both settled in for the evening, the earlier distress seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth of understanding and the comfort of each other's company.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Ⓡ kiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[dear-ao3]

another f1 question from me bc i'm new, why do we not like the mclaren team

aright well without getting too into it because im going to get into it on the update post:

mclaren have 2 drivers: oscar and lando

lando has been with mclaren since 2019, has been signed with them the whole time hes been in f1. oscar has been with mclaren since 2023, has also been with mclaren the whole time hes been in f1

theyre both very strong drivers. mclaren is a top 4 team (theres 10 teams). they have the fastest car this season. they have been very consistent the whole season. oscar is the only driver to have finished every single race this season, lando has had only one dnf in a full length race. theres been 16 races this year, of those 16 races at least one mclaren driver has been on the podium for 13 of them. (most of any team)

anyway

red bull have been dominating the last few years. last year red bull won all but one race and max verstappen won all but three races. max won the drivers championship by like 250 points or something and red bull won the constructors championship by something insane like 400 points (not exact but u get the idea)

this season red bull is still on top but only by a little bit.

in the constructors (team) championship, red bull currently has 446 points. mclaren currently have 438. they are rapidly closing the gap to red bull (despite only winning three races this season) because both of their drivers are very consistent and they have a good car.

however. the drivers championship.

max currently is leading with 303 points. lando is in second with 241. charles (of ferrari) is in third with 217 and oscar is in 4th with 197.

there are still 8 races to go.

now it would be Hard for lando to win the drivers championship at this point, but it is not impossible. he is also definitely closer than oscar is. normally what happens is that a team picks one driver to prioritize because theyre more consistent/experienced/have more points/have a better chance at winning etc etc. lando has been doing better than oscar has in that regard (hes won 2 races, oscar has won one, lando has 4 pole positions this year, oscar has none, etc whatever)

despite this, mclaren are not prioritizing either of their drivers. the owner of the team, zak brown, has said now multiple times that they have "two number 1 drivers" which is weird. because lando is actually close to catching max in the championship. and this is not a chance btw that comes around all the time. f1 is a lot of luck, a lot of chance and then also skill. you can be the most skilled driver, but if your car sucks youre not going to win. mclaren have the fastest car, two very strong drivers and a solid chance to win the drivers championship with lando and the constructors championship as a team, but despite that, they are not prioritizing lando.

meaning that there are no team orders to have lando be running in front of oscar if the two cars are right next to eachother in position, theres no rules to not pass eachother, theres no rules for oscar to protect lando if he is leading. the only real rule seems to be to not hit eachother but they can race eachother (meaning the team wont say that one car needs to finish above the other car) which again, when you have a driver that is in contention to win a world championship, that is kind of insane.

so first there was a race a few races ago where lando was in first and got team orders to let oscar who was in second get past him so that he could win because oscar had been leading the whole race up until possibly the weirdest pit stop call mclaren could have made that essentially put lando in front of oscar. lando gave them a hard time about it but ultimately let oscar win because they told him that if he wanted to win a world championship that he was going to need oscars help (like as a number 2 driver)

so now this past weekend oscar passed lando on the first lap and took the lead (lando starts first and oscar started i think it was second) because there were no team orders for him to not do that. then towards the end oscar was in second and lando was in third (charles was in first which was something that mclaren let happen but thats not important right now) and the cars were close enough that they could have swapped positions. mclaren would have gotten the same number of points but lando would have gotten more points than oscar which would have helped him individually in the drivers championship because max was finishing behind him and this was a race where he was closing the point gap to max. but, mclaren didnt make that team orders call. so oscar finished second and lando finished third.

so essentially landos shot at a world championship title is getting bongled because of mclaren's inability to make the decision as to which driver is their number 1 driver.

so much so that nico rosberg (who was a part of one of the most infamous teammate rivalries where both him and lewis hamilton were at eahcothers necks for a championship title) has told mclaren now not once but twice that they need to make a call as to which driver is their number 1 driver because its going to hurt their drivers and also the team in the long run.

now none of this is oscar or landos fault. there could be contract stipulations that are preventing mclaren from picking a number 1 driver (oscars manager, mark webber, was an infamous number 2 driver to sebastian vettel during the time seb won his 4 consecutive championships so its possible that he might have something in oscars contract to prevent the same thing from happening to him or whatever) or it could be something else. reguardless, its clearly a team problem and not a driver problem. the drivers are there to race and if the team tells the two of them to race eachother they are going to race eachother. both of them are strong drivers and they want to win. but because the team is letting the two of them waste time racing eachother it opens the door for other people to win or for them to lose points or for lando to not end up winning the drivers championship.

its kind of confusing. but tldr: mclaren refuse to prioritize one driver over the other and theyre throwing away their chances at winning the championship because of it

will buxton (who infamously has some bad opinions but didnt on this one) summed it up really really well in the post race show this past weekend

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | vi.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

"You know you shouldn’t lead him on like that," Mindy muses from your bed, her eyes not lifting from the Stephen King novel she’s engrossed in. 

You place your phone above the vanity drawer after hanging up. You just decided on another study meetup with Ethan. 

It’s been a few weeks since he began tutoring you. There’s been a sharp improvement in your grades and you’re starting to believe that maybe you’ll be able to graduate just like the rest of your friends. 

Before, all those things felt as unreachable as the stars in the sky. But Ethan, with his kindness and unlimited supply of patience, made it a reality. 

Sure, you won’t be a top student anytime soon, but at least now there’s hope of you not failing the course and falling behind. 

"What? I’m not leading him on. Ethan and I are just friends," you defend, puckering your lips as you apply the finishing touches to your makeup before the big game. Your gaze keeps bouncing to the clock. The playoffs begin in a little less than an hour. 

Tensions are high tonight. This is no regular game as whichever team wins will go on to compete in the national championship. 

It’s one of the reasons Chad and most of the guys on the team have been in a weird mood all week. 

Besides, honor’s at stake when a team plays on their own turf. 

The pressure’s been off the charts for the cheer squad too, Alana having run the team into the ground to perform well today and not miss a single step. 

Despite how exhausted you are, you’re almost thankful for that. Focusing on cheerleading has helped you file away that god awful night. 

The humiliation you experienced still burns a hole inside you whenever you remember it.

While you can’t quite shake the lingering sensation of being watched, you can at least try to reclaim a semblance of normalcy. 

Hopefully Ghostface had his fill of tormenting you and won’t do anything like that ever again. 

Mindy arches her brow and scoffs, "It’s pretty obvious he’s got some desperate puppy crush on you." Under her breath, she mumbles, "...And I’m still not entirely convinced he’s not Ghostface."

You pause, the tip of your lipstick almost snapping as you press it tight against your mouth. You unleash a heavy sigh and whirl to her, brows drawing together.

"Mindy, please. Not that again," you plead. 

It's not the first time your best friend has shared her doubts regarding Ethan and you wager it won't be the last.

Every time she catches you texting him or hanging out, disapproval paints her features. She also squints and gestures at him that she’s watching him whenever she crosses paths with him. 

It saddens you that she can’t get along with him and won’t relent regarding her suspicions. 

Ethan’s helped you so much. It’s unfair that your best friend keeps claiming he’s a murderer without any evidence to back it up. 

And outside of tutoring, he’s been a great friend to you, always here to wipe your tears and listen to you talk about anything, however trivial. Every time you ramble on about cartoons, your collection of stuffed animals and how you’d love to get more, clothes or anything really…Ethan wears that same fond smile on his face. 

Outside of Chad, you never had a guy best friend. Unfortunately since getting into college, you haven’t seen much of him since he’s so well liked and has developed such a large circle of friends. 

So Ethan’s a breath of fresh air. 

You relish the ability to talk without fear of judgment or being belittled for the things you pluck joy from or how forgetful and absentminded you can be sometimes. 

Ethan has not made fun of you once for misremembering a word or your tendency to get lost around campus. Instead, he escorted you to class and promised to be with you more often so it doesn’t happen. He also agreed with you that it’s not your fault because every building looks the same, which everyone in your friend group laughed at you for mentioning before.

Mindy leaps from the bed, exclaiming, "Come on, Ethan? Shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky." She lets out a humorless laugh. "Maybe he went all 'if I can’t have you, no one can' and decided to get rid of the competition…permanently."

Your eyes roll as she concludes her theory with a repeated stabbing motion towards her throat.  

"You’re ridiculous." You get back to gauging your reflection. As you adjust the pink bow in your hair, you add, "Ethan’s cool. And I can actually understand some of the stuff Professor Atkins says in class now thanks to him."

In the mirror, you watch a sullen Mindy fold her arms behind you. 

"I still don’t trust him." She flicks her hands skyward and exhales in defeat. "But I can’t tell you who to hang out with."

You step away from the vanity to make your way to your pouting best friend. She accepts your hug, a deep scowl still etched on her face. 

"Let’s just drop it, okay?" you offer. "I hate arguing with you."

Mindy sighs against your shoulder.

"I’m just trying to keep you safe."

Leaning back, you squeeze her shoulders and smile. 

"I know, and I love you for it…but you gotta ease off him, Min." She groans at that, tossing herself back onto your bed with her arms spread. As she glowers at the ceiling, you maintain, "Ethan’s been an amazing friend to me."

More curses are grumbled under her breath. Shoulders slumping, you elect to give it a rest and stop trying to convince her. 

You know how stubborn Mindy can be. There will be no changing her mind tonight, or anytime soon. 

Casting the upsetting topic aside, you hop to the center of the room and spin in your cheerleader outfit.

"How do I look?"

"Like a fembot specifically designed to appeal to the male gaze," Mindy deadpans. 

You angle your head sideways. "Is that a good thing or bad thing?"

She chuckles and smiles at you before elaborating, "You look smoking hot, babe." The befuddled frown on your face vanishes, an elated grin supplanting it. Mindy returns to her reading and gives you a thumbs-up. "Break a leg."

Grimacing, you grab your pom-poms from underneath your bed and head for the door. 

"Hopefully not or Alana will kill me."

You’re on your way to meet up with your squad when you stumble upon Ethan in the hallway. As usual, he’s dressed simply in a blue button-up and dark slacks, damp locks of his curly mane kissing his forehead. 

He greets you in that bashful way he does while you beam at him, shaking your pom-poms. 

You jog in his direction with a bounce in each step.

"Ethan, hey!"

His gaze widens as it roams over you, pink dusting his cheeks. 

"Wow, you look…"

Placing a hand on your hip while the other lifts your pom-pom above your head, you adopt a cheerful pose. 

"Cute?" you suggest. 

Ethan’s throat ripples as he gapes at you. 

For a while, he only does that, stare at you open-mouthed. 

His face then turns an even brighter shade than before as he dips his head down momentarily. 

"Y-Yeah. Something like that," he stammers. 

His reaction drags an amused chortle out of you. You surmise it’s the first time you’ve addressed him in your full cheerleader getup and he must be somewhat taken aback. 

"I didn’t know you liked sports," you observe.

He shrugs.

"Not particularly but everyone is going and Chad’s my roommate." He points at the camera hanging from his neck. "I also kind of got roped into taking pictures for the school paper."

Some of the other cheerleaders wave at you as they’re running out to the field. The impatient clamor of the crowd already swells from the bleachers, loud enough to be heard even from the corridor. 

One of the girls from the squad, Lisa, stops as she catches sight of you and Ethan. A quiet conversation flows between the two of you, an inquiry swaying in her hopeful blue orbs. 

You give her an imperceptible nod and she smiles at you, quickly averting her gaze and striding away when Ethan glances from her to you with a look of utter confusion on his face. 

"What the hell was that about?" he asks, thick brows drawing together.

"About that…It’s good that I ran into you because there's something I meant to tell you, hm, more like ask you."

He inches closer, his eyes on you wide and alert. 

"Ask me what?"

A sliver of hesitation zips through you but you remember the promise you made just a few hours ago at cheer practice. 

You can’t back down. 

You swallow a lungful of nerve and reveal, "So…one of the girls in my squad sort of has a massive crush on you."

"Oh," he exhales, his shoulders sagging. His smile fades, understanding seeming to dawn on him. "You mean that girl I just saw?"

You nod and explain,  "Her name’s Lisa." He considers you blankly. You wave your hands in front of yourself. Words rush out of your mouth in an apprehensive string. "I know. I know. Trying to set up your friends is so cringe but she noticed you since the beginning of the year. The thing is she’s shy and doesn't know how to approach you. I promised her to ask you if you’d be interested in hanging out sometime." You twiddle your thumbs and mumble, "She’s super pretty and so nice, and she’s even into that same board game you told me about the other day…" You trail off, forehead creasing as you try to remember the name. 

Ethan tonelessly corrects you when you misspell the name of the game. 

You perk up and giggle, "Right. She just told me. I don't know how I forgot."

Ethan studies you long enough that it becomes unnerving and you start fidgeting under his sizzling focus. 

You grow nervous, wondering what he’s thinking. Usually, you wouldn’t meddle with anyone’s love life. But Ethan’s done so much for you. If possible, you want to do something for him too.

You just don’t know what you could do to thank him. 

Setting him up with someone from your squad seemed like a good idea, especially since you’re pretty sure Ethan’s single. You haven’t seen him hang around any other girl besides you. 

A heavy sigh drops from Ethan’s chest as his lips lift into a small half-smile. 

"The thing is, I already like someone," he confesses, patting his camera.

Your eyes bulge as a wave of embarrassment washes over you. 

"You do? I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize." You blink up at him in curiosity. "Who is she? Does she know?"

He chuckles. "She doesn’t know anything."

You approach him and squeeze his arm encouragingly. 

"Well you’re awesome so if she can’t see what’s right in front of her, you’re allowed to move on."

Ethan lets out another wry laugh. 

"If only it were that simple."

Your brows knit. "What do you mean?"

He runs his hand through his thick curls and exhales a long, weary breath. 

"She’s all I can think about. Literally." He pauses, his gaze corralling yours. "Every hour of every day, I think about her."

"Wow, that’s intense." You rub his forearm and send a sympathetic smile. "Sounds like it’s more than just a crush. Sounds like you’re in love with her."

"Yeah, I guess I am. Silly me, huh?"

"Don’t say that. I’m sure things will work out in the end. You deserve to be happy, Ethan."

His attention on you sharpens before a slow smile unfurls on his lips. 

"You know what? I think I do."

"Of course you do."

Your answer makes him smile wider. 

The moment is shattered when one of the players wedges himself between you and Ethan and steals an ephemeral, chaste kiss from you. 

The buff brunette quarterback flashes you a pearly grin.

"A kiss for good luck?" he says, winking at you.

"Uh, sure," you reply shyly, butterflies swarming your belly. 

He smiles at you one last time before jogging towards the stadium. 

"Who’s this guy?"

You blink, Ethan’s deep, blunt voice startling you. 

Pivoting back to him, you explain, "Oh. Tyler and I met at the boba shop the other day. It’s too early for anything serious but he’s cute and has been super nice to me."

It’s been pleasant to bask in some sense of normalcy again after what happened last month. You craved it. Tyler’s easygoing, fun to be around and he’s never pressured you to do anything once. 

Ethan’s jaw clenches as he scoffs, "Do you just go for every guy who buys you candy or gives you some half-assed compliment?"

Your mouth hangs open in shock. "Ethan? What do you mean?" 

He scrutinizes you for a few seconds before sighing and moving to walk away. 

"Nothing. Don’t worry about it."

The hand you wrap around his wrist stops him, Ethan halting in his tracks. You tug him back with a contrite pout, your concerned gaze rising to meet his. 

"I am going to worry about it. Ethan… Did I say something upsetting? I feel like maybe I did. I'm sorry about Lisa. I thought she'd be your type. She's everyone's type."

"Well, she isn't mine," he replies icily. 

Budding tears tickle the back of your eyes but you repress them. It’s not the time to weep. The game’s about to start. 

So you swallow them with ease, deciding you’ll give Ethan a proper apology later on. 

Instead you give a sunny smile and ask, "Are you coming to hang out with everyone after the game? We all decided to meet up for chili fries and beers whatever the outcome is."

Ethan’s eyes fall on your hand wrapped around his wrist. He shifts your grip so your small hand rests in his larger one. He studies your twined hands, rubbing his thumb against the back of yours. 

When he looks at you again, a glint dances in his chestnut orbs. 

"Thanks but I’m gonna be busy actually." He flashes you a broad grin. "I just remembered I have some trash I need to take out."

~

[theres-no-escaping-us-pal]

NEWSIES AND WHAT AFTER SCHOOL CLUBS THEY’RE IN + WHAT SPORTS THEY DO

JACK KELLY

he definitely does sets for the school productions

he also does lights

he did track in elementary-middle school school but quit freshman year to focus more on art

but he runs every morning

also he def started an art history club with davey and kathrine

DAVEY/DAVID JACOBS

he plays piano is jazz band

and he’s in debate

he plays tennis

he wins state championships for tennis

and he totally joined theatre tech cause all his friends were doing theatre in some capacity

helps kathrine with editing the school paper when she gets stressed

he’s in honors math and science

maybe english too

CRUTCHIE MORRIS

band

he’s a band kid

idk what instrument

don’t ask me

i’m not a band kid

but he is

and tenor in choir

he plays in the pit band for the school productions

helps jack with sets sometimes

honors english

b average

KATHRINE PLUMBER/PULITZER

she’s a total academic weapon

class president 5th grade-senior year

she’s in debate

chief editor of the school paper

runs the year book

stage manager

on the varsity volleyball team

was on jv her freshman year

when people ask her how she gets straight a’s she’s like “idk i’m just smart”

a+ average

RACETRACK HIGGINS

he’s on the competitive dance team

also ensamble or a minor role in every school production

he’s been the lead once

he didn’t like it

in honors math

he also does track (hehe race track)

he gets a’s in math and b’s and a-‘s in everything else

most flexible on the comp team

best turner on the comp team

was in debate for two years but quit because he started having stress related panic attacks and stress vomiting before debates

b+ average

ALBERT DASILVA

competitive dance too

he used to play soccer in middle school and part of freshman year

he’s in theatre normally ensemble but likes to be speaking roles

c+ average

pours his time into dance

like it’s his favorite thing

terrible at chaine and pique turns

he’s great at pirrouettes and a la seconds though

SPECS IDK HIS LAST NAME

competitive dance guy #3

he’s on debate too

2nd most flexible on the comp team

worst turner

amazing leaps

b average student

forgets his contacts for dance frequently so he just dances with no glasses on

in jack’s art history club

FINCH CORTEZ

also on competitive dance

least flexible

average turns

terrible leaps

good at tricks

he’s trick man

really likes doing theatre

school photographer

b- average

SPOT CONLON

def on the gymnastics team

don’t ask me why and don’t argue with my flawless logic

he keeps his grades just high enough to still be on the team

also on the wrestling team

people are always asking why he does those two cause there like polar opposites

he’s just like 🤷‍♀️

b average

definitely runs some kind of social justice or lgbtq+ club

(also applies to uksies spot)

MORRIS DELANCEY (specifically the mike faist version)

soccer and dance

specifically tap

he likes tap

and he’s been doing soccer since he was in middle school

he’s on debate team

he’s not very good but he makes it through

a- average

OSCAR DELANCEY

football

don’t ask me why i don’t plan to explain

c+ average

i have nothing else to say

SARAH JACOBS

varsity soccer

and debate team

and honors english, history, and science

and choir

she’s a mezzo

don’t tell me i’m wrong

i’m not

she’s a student tutor

like when a student needs tutoring she’s the persian they go to

for english, science, or history

a average

kinda academic rivals-lovers with kath

(sorry if these are shitty)

[white-sinner]

Yandere mafia boss son

x male ice skater reader

Warning: threats, sex, mafia, rudely reader

☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☾☾☾☾☾☾

Alex. the son and heir of one of the leading figures in the mafia underworld enters a high school full of talented people what happens when he meets m / n the rising star of the gold medal at the ice skating world championships? Alex has achieved and will achieve everything he desires. Will he try to be a gentleman or will he be more abrupt with our dear ice skater?

yandere mafia boss: who was not at all happy to go to a school all his life and studied at home instill how he could learn the ways of drug and underworld in a normal school ?but now things have changed he knows how to defend himself with weapons and how to pretend flawlessly but still going to school will give him the opportunity to interact with "ordinary" people

yandere mafia boss son: that even though you two were in the same biology class he never noticed you until he was looking for an after school class because it was compulsory and he stumbles upon the skating rink and there he sees your figure skating with it your hair E / c moving, your uniform that matched your bright eyes. to say that he was enchanted was an understatement

yandere son mafia boss: that he feel his cheeks blush when you had finished your choreography you turned to look at him and with fox eyes you asked him

"did you like the show?"

at that moment he froze and after a few seconds he replied that you were very good and introduced himself as Alex Adonis and invent a fake job for his parents obviously he couldn't tell what job they really did so he made up that they were bank owners throughout America, China and Italy and you replied

"hmm.. interesting I'm Y/n L/n rising star of ice skating i could say it was a pleasure to meet you but I'd be lying you seem full of yourself but who knows maybe we'll see ecoters around the school bye”

yandere son of the mafia boss: that say he remained infatuated was little. not even a thank you? such an abrupt answer? no one had ever answered him so rudely before but this only made him fall in love even more. good looks, personality, talent what more could he ask for from his prince now he had a mission to make you hers be it with good manners or with bad at the top of his family he was like this. Your first love is the one that will stay by your side forever all life was like this for his father, grandfather, great grandfather it was like this for generations and it was always correct

yandere mafia boss son: that towards the evening he summons the whole family to announce that he had found his other half obviously bringing all your personal information taken with some “research” his mother and father gave him their approval saying you were admirable perfect for the family but they warning Alex that you two had to give birth to at least one heir but he could easily rent a bitch to stay pregnant and then after the baby was born he would kill her

yandere mafia boss son: who went on for months courting you by giving you your favorite flowers, jewels, he was always present in your ice skating competitions, when you fell asleep in class he would come over to cuddle you. what is this feeling you had? were you perhaps falling in love?

yandere mafia boss son: that during his confession he reveal that he is the heir of a mafia clan and if you had not accepted his proposal he would have hurt the people you care about and locked you up in his giant house. to which you replied

“okokok! but don't hurt the people I care about!!”

at which a tear fell from you

“don't cry puppy as long as you're with me and you don't try to run away everything will be fine you just remain my snow prince now sign this is later i'll take you to meet the family don't worry I've already contacted your parents you'll stay with me for the whole weekend”

and Alex let you into the limousine

 yandere mafia boss son: that after dinner he picked you up and took you to his room which was full of roses and candles. he puts you on the bed and slowly undresses you you knew very well what he was about to do and yet you didn't stop him he was crazy sick but he was your crazy

“w-wait! I'm not ready i-I can't- AAh~” “you're so tight m/n this is your first time? it's not so puppy~”

he smirked

“what's up aren't you being presumptuous anymore? Do you remember the first time you told me my prince? well I think it's time you take your punishment “

“ i'm s-sorwy aaa~ too much too much I c-ant aaaah~”

“mmh…look a bit you're already praying for forgiveness you're so delicate”

he starts to going faster than it already wasn't going

" but you know when you act like a bad boy you take the consequences puppy maybe you forgot who you have to obey"

"A-Alex aaa~ Alex "

"don't worry my name will be soon the only thing you will know”

his cock was too big for you and he liked it a lot

The reader in the morning=♿️

☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☾☾☾☾☾☾

[charlessainzz]

ready player one

poll called for max fluff! let's do it.

The light peeked through the thin curtains causing your eyes to flutter open. Stretching your arms out, you feel around for him. The space next to you is smooth and cool, missing your favorite person. Lifting your head up you look around the room trying to find Max as your eyes continue to adjust to the light. You notice clothes scattered all over the ground. A shirt, socks, running shorts. Max had had a late night training session, leaving you to put yourself to sleep at midnight alone. 

Placing your feet on the cold floor, you spring up hearing all your joints cracking. You know exactly where that man is. He is relentless. Preparing for the race coming up this week. 

Walking down the hall to the simulator room, you can hear the device still on. It’s on a loop, repeating itself over and over. Creaking the door open gently, you see your lover slumped in his chair. Snores escaping his lips softly. Like usual he felt he needed more sim time. He had to be the best, even if he was already comfortably leading the championship 3 races into the season. 

You grab a blanket from the basket and place it over his body. Leaning down you lay a little kiss on the tip of his nose. Before you can move, his arms snatch you up and into his lap. Causing you to lose your breath. 

“Morning y/n”, he rasps as his eyes open. 

“You left me alone again, I missed you”, you whisper into his neck.

He sighs knowing you hate sleeping alone. He cups your face and gives you a peck. “I know… I just needed more training time”, he explains.

“Max, you're unbeatable. Who are you trying to outrace?”, you ask honestly.

“I don’t know.. myself maybe”, he whispers back. You let out a giggle. 

“Hmmm well let me give you some real competition then”, you joke and turn to the wheel delusionally ready to set a world record. He wraps his arms around your body ready to watch you make a fool out of yourself.

“Prepare to meet your match Verstappen”, you snide at him. You hear the countdown… 3, 2, 1, Go! Hitting the gas your car launches down the track. Your car heads into turn 1 and you’re feeling confident. As you turn, you make a rookie error sending your car into the barrier. Your face goes tomato red and Max bursts out laughing.

“Wow y/n, I think you’re ready to get behind the wheel of a real f1 car!” he playfully says. He takes the wheel from you and restarts the game. “Now watch the master at work”, he says into your ear. You nestle into his lap content with being in his presence, even if you have to watch him sim race. Letting the sound of the engine lull you to sleep, you close your eyes content. At least you aren’t sleeping alone now.

[aleskie-hischier]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 𝟑𝟔 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 SUMMARY: A park, a game, the World Championships, and a question Ice to Meet You Masterlist Previous | Next

Word Count: 6.3k Warnings: A lil swearing, some family stuff, mentions of the devs losing

Training was brutal. Even more than usual. But that was to be expected with Words fast approaching. Mila had a title to defend, after all. She first claimed it in 2015, then again in 2016. She lost the title in 2017, but got it back in 2018 and hasn’t let go since. And she wasn't about to now. At least, not without a fight. So, she took each fall, took every bruise. The pain felt like a small price to pay for another win. Still, her age was definitely creeping up on her. She’s at the age of retirement for most female figure skaters. God, she’s not even 23 yet but her knees are fucked. 

That’s the thing about figure skating that no one talks about. It consumes you. You train and train and train, and that’s all you have. It’s all you do. You train until you’ve bruised every inch of your body. You skate until you fuck up your knees permanently before you’re even thirty. You fall, you get up, and then you fall again and again and again. And it hurts. And the worst part is, Mila loves it. She loves it so much she’d stay forever if she could.

“Mila, you went too far into the edge,” Georgi called out, his voice tinged with exasperation. She hadn’t been landing her jumps properly all day. “Pull your left arm back in a bit more and keep leaning on the outside edge—really create that energy to lift you up properly.”

She nods. She knows what to do. She knows how to jump. She just…wasn’t getting it right today. And she was starting to get frustrated. She sensed Georgi picking up on it when he waved her off for a break.

“Calm yourself,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Go take a breather, we’ll come back in five.”

Mila skated off, slipping her skate guards on before finding a seat by her bag. She’d had off days before, but never this close to something as important as the World Championships. Was this a sign? Was her body finally giving up on her? The thoughts spiraled until she felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

A text. She sighed, pulling it out, almost grateful for the distraction.

Mystery Man (nico): Can I see you? 

She gives a small smile as she reads the text. She hadn’t expected to hear from him so soon, especially not after a loss like that. If it were her, she would have shut the world out for days. But maybe he was just built differently—better, kinder. No, scratch that. He was a better person than she was. That wasn’t exactly a high bar to clear, but still.

Mila: I’m at training :( But you can come and watch if you want 😁

Mystery Man (nico): Send me the place 😄

She quickly typed out the address of her rink, hit send, then took a deep breath before hobbling back over to Georgi, ready to get back to work.

Not that the short break did much good. She was still struggling—falling, wobbling on her edges. Her landings were sloppy, and her entries? Basically cheats. After one particularly bad fall, she let out a frustrated breath and looked over at her coach.

“Okay,” she pants, looking over to Georgi, “If the Russians can cheat their jumps, why can’t I?”

“Because I refuse to have you retire early because of bad technique,” Georgi huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “You’re too good for that.”

She couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at her lips. It was nice, having someone who believed in her, who saw her as better than her mistakes. Better than she saw herself sometimes.

“Okay,” she smiles, “Let’s try again.”

This time, she ran through the jumps with a little more focus, a little less frustration. And though it was still far from perfect, it was better. Not great. But better. Maybe it had just been her nerves pulling her down, weighing down her feet like lead. As she finished her last jump, she wiped the sweat from her brow and tried to calm her racing thoughts.

Okay, she told herself, Nothing dire, nothing wrong. Just a bad day.

Sometimes that’s all it was. Life moves on, time doesn’t stop. It was just a bad day.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

When she’s out of the showers, dressed in a thick, cozy sweater and leggings, Mila pulls out her phone to check in with Nico, only to spot him sitting by the bleachers. He had on a Devil’s hoodie, black sweatpants, and a snapback—worn backward, of course. She was starting to think hats were his thing.

“When did you get here?” She asked while approaching him, still towel-drying her damp hair.

“A bit ago,” he smiled, glancing up from his phone. “You were in the middle of training, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

She scrunched her nose and sighed. “It was a bad day.”

He nodded solemnly, the weight of his own recent loss clear in his eyes. “We all have them,” he said, more to himself than to her. “What matters is that you push through and do better next time.”

The look in his eyes was determined, as though he needed to believe the words just as much as she did. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh captain, my captain,” she said dramatically, trying to lighten the mood. “What wise words you have!”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “What can I say? The captaincy’s still new, but I’m getting used to it.”

“Well, I suppose exposure therapy has its merits,” she teased, brushing her hair back and giving him a sidelong glance.

He hummed in agreement. “So, how do you deal with a day like today?” he asked. “When everything feels... off.”

“You mean a shitty training day?” she grimaced, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

She grabbed his hand—his much larger hand in hers—and pulled him toward the parking lot.

“Get in,” she said, opening the passenger door to her car. “I’ll drive you back later.”

He raised a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I can’t believe I’m letting you kidnap me.”

She winked, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Key words: you’re letting me.”

He laughs before settling into his seat.

The drive to Mila’s secret place is tranquil, filled with easy conversation—the kind that flowed without much effort. They have idle chatter about their days. Nico talks about training that day, talks about the team and how they’re handling the game from last night.

“They’re reeling,” he says, “But they’re trying not to let it get to them. I think they’re working harder because of it. I feel like…they feel as if they have something to prove.”

“Wouldn’t you rather they work harder because of a win?” she asked.

“Wouldn’t any athlete?” he countered with a small smile.

“Fair enough.”

At a stoplight, Mila handed him control of the music. “Go ahead, play something. Anything you want.”

Nico's face lit up mischievously as he scrolled through her playlist. Suddenly, the car was filled with a booming beat and rapid-fire lyrics in a language she didn’t understand. She shot him a bemused look.

“Is this…in German?”

“Swiss-German,” He clarifies, shrugging, “You said I could play anything.”

She rolled her eyes but grinned. She’s not not enjoying it. The beat is catchy even though she doesn’t understand anything the artist is saying.

After a few moments of silence, the music almost fading into the background as she bobbed her head to his music, Nico glanced at her, his voice softer. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah? Why?”

He hesitated. “It looked like it hurt… when you fell.”

 She blinked, her mind flashing back to the rough landings she’d had earlier. She tried to brush it off with a joke. “From heaven?”

But Nico wasn’t laughing. He looked at her with genuine concern. “On the ice.”

She scrunches her nose.

“I mean it. I heard it. I mean, the sounds were…” He takes a breath. “I’m surprised nothing’s broken.”

For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She’d almost forgotten he had been watching her practice. “I’m used to it,” she shrugs.

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

“I guess.” She swallowed hard, staring at the road. “That’s the first thing you learn in skating. How to fall.”

“I remember.” He smiled faintly, recalling his own experiences on the ice. “But what I remember most was learning how to take a punch.”

They shared a laugh, easing the tension between them. The conversation shifted back to lighter topics as Mila drove into a secluded woodland area, the kind of place that felt worlds away from the bustling city.

“We’re here,” she says, “Hold on, I’ll open the door.”

“You’re really giving me the princess treatment here,” he jokes as she opens the door for him, “Isn’t that my job?”

“I’d give you flowers if I had any,” she smiles. It’s true. She’d give him a million roses if she could.

She grabbed a bag from the backseat before leading Nico through a small gate not too far away from where they’re parked. The soft chirping of birds filled the air as they walked in silence, hand in hand, until they reached a quiet spot under a large tree.

“This should be good,” Mila said, laying out a blanket she pulled from her bag. She sat down, gesturing for him to join her. 

It was a tight fit, his legs stretching beyond the edges of the blanket, but neither of them seemed to mind. They sat quietly, letting the sounds of nature surround them. After a moment, Mila laid down, staring up at the canopy of leaves above.

“This is where I go to clear my head,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “I stay here for hours. Just thinking. Or listening to music. It’s far away from everything. I like it”

Nico listened, nodding in understanding. “It’s peaceful.”

They stayed like that for a while, the quiet settling over them like a warm blanket. Every now and then, he glanced at her, watching the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the serene expression on her face.

“Take a picture,” she teased, cracking one eye open. “It’ll last longer.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he said with a grin, pulling out his phone.

She shifted, propping herself up on one elbow, and struck a playful pose. “Here, I’ll even smile for you.” She stuck her tongue out, flashing a peace sign as he snapped photos of her.

He got into it quickly, directing her poses, both of them laughing at the absurdity of it all. They laugh over the faces Mila makes, laugh at the photobombers in each photo. And then they’re back to silence. The calm rushing over them. Then and there, they were just two people, free from the pressures of their sports, from the weight of their responsibilities.

But eventually, the conversation turned back to the game.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Mila asked, sitting up to face him. “The game yesterday?”

Nico sighed, staring up at the sky.  “I don’t know what to say,” he says after a moment, “We’re a good team. We have good players. But we can’t seem to get it together. I don’t know how to help, how to fix it.”

She hums in response, sitting up to face him. “Do you wanna hear what I think?”

He nods.

“I think,” she contemplates, “That’s not something you should worry about.”

His brows furrow.

She continues, “You can bring up the team’s thoughts to the coaches, you can cheer up the boys, you can defend your team to the media, and you can lead by example.” She takes a breath. “It’s not your job to make strategies or figure out the dynamics of each player’s play style. You can help. Tell the coaches how the boys like to play best, how they like to be coached, how they respond to the strategies. But you aren’t solely responsible for how they play. If they suck during a game, then they suck. You can’t control that. All you can really do is try to make things better for them next time.”

He sighed deeply, lying down on the blanket. “I don’t want to fail them.”

“I don’t think you will,” she smiles gently, “You just got named captain like, what, a month ago? You’re not gonna be perfect from the start.”

“Were you? At skating?”

“Nah,” she smiles, thinking of her five-year-old self who couldn’t even balance on the ice, “I sucked for, like, thirty minutes. And then I learned how to hold myself up on the ice.” She smiles at him. “You’re still in your first thirty minutes. You’ll be just fine.”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Here’s the thing: Mila is ridiculously good at Goldfish. Nico learns that the hard way. By losing five games in a row.

“Okay,” he groans, furrowing his brows as he studies his empty hand. “You’re definitely cheating,” he pouts.

“You just suck,” she shoots back, smirking as she sticks her tongue out at him, clearly relishing her victory. So she’s an arrogant winner, sue her.

“I don’t suck,” he protests, a cute pout still present on his face.

“Says the guy who’s lost five times in a row,” Mila teases.

“Let’s play a different game.” He places his cards on the ground. “Goldfish is banned until further notice.”

“Fine, fine, you sore loser,” she giggles, leaning over to shuffle the cards back into the deck. “What do you have in mind?”

“I...don’t know, actually.” He tilts his head, thinking. “What do people play when they’re trying to get to know each other?”

Mila pauses, fingers tapping rhythmically on the deck. “Hmm, my friends and I did that 36 Questions thing once. We can do that?”

Nico narrows his eyes. “Wasn’t it 20 Questions?”

“Nope, this one’s different.” She pulls out her phone and quickly taps a few buttons to pull up the list. “Originally, it’s supposed to help people fall in love, but I think it just helps people build a connection.”

“Fall in love?” Nico raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. “We’re getting serious now?”

“Oh, hush. You know what I mean.” Mila rolls her eyes but grins back at him. “You in?”

“I’m in.” He mirrors her grin, scooting a bit closer.

Mila scrolls for a second before reading aloud. “Okay, first question: ‘Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?’”

Nico lets out a short laugh. “This is supposed to make us closer?”

“It starts off easy. Just trust the process,” she smiles, “It might surprise you.”

He thinks for a moment. “Maybe someone smart? Or someone I could learn from,” he hums, “You know, I’ve always idolized Roman Josi. He’s one of the best players in my opinion. So, maybe him.” 

Mila nods, a little smile playing on her lips. “Solid choice.”

He thinks for a moment. “Or maybe Stephen Hawking.”

“Stephen Hawking?” She chuckles. “That’s a bit out of left field.”

“I could ask him about the universe. We could talk about black holes or something. I think that’s pretty cool. Maybe I wouldn’t understand much of the science, but it’d be nice to learn about it.”

She smiles. “I want to dine with Taylor Swift. She’s cool.”

He laughs. “Of course. You played just her music for the first half of the ride here until you let me play my stuff.”

Mila places a hand on her heart in mock offense. “Hey now, Ms. Swift is my treasure, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico chuckles, leaning in slightly as the teasing banter flows easily between them.

She grins, locking eyes with him for a moment. “Next question?”

“Shoot,” he replies, settling in as they move to the next one.

“Would you like to be famous? In what way?” Mila groans, dramatically rolling her eyes, “Let me tell you what I tell everyone. I just want to skate. I could care less about the media. I mean, I love the fans and all. They’re great. But, I just want people to know me for skating, not for being marketable or having the right image or whatever.”

He nods in response. “Exactly. I love the fans. I mean, they’re the reason we can even do this.” She nods at him. “But I don’t want the glamor of it. I just wanna be known for hockey.”

They briefly go through the next question. The park around them hums softly with life—children’s laughter, the rustling of trees in the breeze—but for now, it feels like the world is just theirs, this little bubble on the blanket. 

Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?

They both agree to just winging it, not putting too much thought into the what-ifs. There’s no use worrying about something that you don’t know about. It’s different from sports, they agree, you prepare for competitions to get the best results you can but phone calls can be wild or they can be mundane. You can’t control what’s gonna happen there, but it’s at least easier to adjust to the vibe of the conversation.

“Next question,” Mila says, “What would constitute a “perfect” day for you?”

Nico hums, thinking it over for a beat. “Honestly? Maybe just a chill day to myself. Spend it with family and friends, then go home, relax with a good book, and have a nice dinner afterward.”

He’s a pretty simple guy, Mila realizes—no drama, no big wishes. He’s mellow, easygoing. He appreciates the mundanity of life—wants to bask in the simplicity of things. She likes that about him. Likes that, outside of hockey and competition, he’s just…a guy. It’s refreshing.

“That sounds nice,” she says softly. Then, with a small smile, she adds, “I think I’d want to do things I’ve never done before. Go to an arcade, make a scrapbook, paint, maybe decorate a cake. Stuff like that.”

“You’ve never been to an arcade?” He asks, eyes wide with disbelief. 

She shrugs. “Didn’t have the time. Or, you know, the friends to go with. I thought it wouldn’t be fun to go alone.”

“I’ll take you,” he says, determined, “Next time. It’ll be fun.”

Mila narrows her eyes playfully, holding out her pinky. “Promise?”

He links his pinky with hers, their hands gently locked together. “Promise.”

“Good,” she says, playfully stern. “You can’t break this. Pinky promises are sacred.”

“I swear it.”

She smiles and they move on.

When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?

For what in your life do you feel most grateful?

If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

They go through question after question, laughter filling the air. Some answers are ridiculous—like when Nico declares he would want the power to make the weather always match the climate of his hometown in Switzerland. Mila teases him about being spoiled by the picturesque Alps.

Other answers, though, carry more weight. Mila’s face softens when she answers that she’s most grateful for her coaches. “They’re like parents to me. They’ve just…always been there.”

The questions keep flowing, and they don't all dig deep into their personal lives, but they savor the silliness of it all. It’s fun, Mila realizes. And maybe that’s what the game is about—finding the fun in figuring out if you have chemistry with the person you’re answering it with.

Mila pauses when they reach the next question. She cringes a little before reading aloud, “How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?”

Nico has this certain smile as he thinks about it, his expression softening into something nostalgic. “I feel like my family’s pretty close,” he starts, his voice warm. “I don’t get to see them as much now since they’re back in Switzerland, but we spend as much time as we can together over the summer when I’m home.”

He continues, “We spend a lot of time together at the lake, at the beach. We’re all athletes, so it’s always fun playing sports together. My mom makes the best food. We talk all the time while I’m here. They come visit whenever they can.”

He smiles as he talks about them. He loves them. That much is clear. There’s a quiet ache in her chest as he speaks, something that makes her feel a bit jealous of it all. She wants that feeling, longs for the warmth in his eyes as he talks about his mom’s cooking or spending time with his siblings. 

“That sounds… wonderful,” she replies, her voice soft. She means it. The feelings are foreign to her. Unfamiliar. Strange. But she finds herself yearning for it.

Nico’s eyes flicker with curiosity. “What’s your family like?”

Mila hesitates, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “They’re okay,” she starts, keeping her tone casual, though her gaze drops to her lap. “My parents are both doctors—surgeons—so they were always busy. And my brothers were so much younger that we never had anything in common.” 

She hates how her words are dampening the light mood. She feels the familiar tightness in her chest and quickly rushes through her explanation. “I moved away when I was young so I didn’t get to spend much time with them after that. And I had competitions near holidays so it just wasn’t efficient to come back home.” She shrugs, trying to sound nonchalant. “But we’re…okay.”

Nico’s brow furrows in that way it does when he doesn’t quite understand something. “They never came to watch you skate?”

Mila forces a small laugh, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “They’re not exactly big fans of the whole skating thing. They wanted me to be a doctor. Or a lawyer—anything but this.” She fixes her gaze on the sky, trying to keep her tone light. “My dad even offered a trust fund if I ever chose to be a writer or a researcher or a teacher or some other ‘low paying job’” She says with air-quotes. 

“Literally anything but this.” Her voice wavers with sarcasm and a hint of bitterness. “My grandparents funded my international competitions until I was eighteen. And there’s funding from the association. So that helped.”

There’s a beat of silence. Nico shifts beside her, his hand brushing against hers. Kind of like he’s reassuring her. When he finally speaks, his voice is low. Sincere. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but…” He swallows, and when he speaks again, there’s a weight to his words. “You don’t deserve that.”

The sun is setting, shades of pink and orange littering the sky. The park is quiet now, with only the two of them left on their picnic blanket, surrounded by the soft hum of the evening. Mila watches as Nico glances at the dimming sky, his face relaxed yet somehow wistful.

"It’s getting dark," she murmurs with a chuckle, breaking the comfortable silence between them. "Seems like we’re the last ones here."

Nico pouts in response, his lips turning down in exaggerated disappointment. “That means we have to go soon,” he says, though his voice suggests he’s not in a rush.

She doesn’t want to leave either. There's a part of her that wishes they could stay like this forever—just the two of them, away from the world, no pressures, just...like this.

“We can’t do the rest,” she says softly, “Let’s end on a high note, yeah?”

He smiles and nods, eyes following her as she scrolls through the list of remaining questions.

Mila stops, a mischievous smirk creeping across her face. “‘Tell your partner something that you like about them already.’”

He laughs, throwing his head back slightly. “Of course you’d choose this one!”

“It’s the most fun one left!” She teases. “Unless you’d rather answer ‘Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?’” She says, voice taking on a dramatic, playful tone. “I mean, that’s morbid!”

She tries not to let it show, but there’s a flutter in her heart. There’s something intimate about the question, something that makes her feel like the gap between them is closing with each word he could say.

“Okay, okay,” he smiles, “I like that you’re…talkative, but you listen.”

She raises a brow, curiosity piqued.

“I mean that,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, “I don’t always have a lot to say. I say things mostly as I see them and there’s not much to explain. But you? You have a lot to say and you say them easily. And then I speak and you…really listen.” His eyes glint with sincerity, making his smile even more captivating. “You ask questions, you react, and you call back to other things I’ve said before. I think that’s part of it too. You remember. Not a lot of people do.”

Mila’s smirk fades into a more genuine smile, her cheeks warming at his words. She didn’t expect him to think that of her. She just thought she was being normal. It’s a special kind of feeling when someone you like tells you that you listen. She gets the feeling of not being heard. She wants to listen to him forever.

“Your turn.”

“I like that you…start things.”

This earns him a playful, incredulous look from her.

“Like…” She tries to find the words. “I’m not the type to start conversations or invite people to hang out. But you do that.”  She locks her eyes with his, sincerity woven into her tone. “It’s hard to start things. It’s hard for me to start things. But I think you get that about me. I mean, you were the one who talked to me first—both times, I might add—and you messaged me first, you sent the first picture, sent the first video. You’re the one who asks me to hang out. I admire that about you.”

Without missing a beat, he tells her, “You’re worth it. All of it. I start things with you because I want to.”

Her heart swells at his words, a rush of warmth flooding her veins. “I want to do those things for you too,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper, but the intent rings true.

“You can,” he assures her, his tone gentle. Kind. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m right here.”

Mila decides that’s another thing she likes about him. 

He waits for her.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

They hang out a lot more after their little impromptu gettogether at the park. They get lunch, hang out at the cafe they went to the first time he asked her out, and fall into a comfortable rhythm. Nico watches her study, sometimes quizzing her with flashcards, playfully teasing her when she struggles with a card she should’ve known. They carve out time for each other. And when they aren’t free, they text all night—little ramblings about their day, stories about their friends. Sometimes it’s more heartfelt—losses and failure, the pressure to excel. They keep talking until one of them gets too sleepy to continue, often ending with a send-off of heart emojis—red for Nico, blue for Mila.

Today, they’re hanging out at Mila’s apartment. She’d invited him over. A first for the two of them. It’s a nice but strange feeling to have someone in your space. The apartment wasn’t messy (she stress-cleaned the night before), but she found herself glancing at everything, wondering if it felt too personal. Yet, once Nico arrived, Tulips in hand, his easy going presence helped put her at ease.

She had made them lunch and the way he complimented her cooking made her heart flutter. She found herself smiling more than usual. They spent the afternoon watching a dating reality show, laughing together as they made fun of the contestants' ridiculous personas, judging their decisions and betrayals. His laugh was infectious, and Mila found herself finally relaxing.

It was all fun and games until Mila remembered she was leaving for the airport tomorrow. For the World Championships. Normally, she’d remember well in advance thanks to Nicole’s insistence at helping her pack, fussing over her like a mother would her child. But this time was different. Hers and Georgi’s anniversary would fall on the same week as Worlds, so Georgi was taking her out for the day.

“You’re a big girl now,” Nicole had told her with a wink.

But was she?

Now, here she was, running around her apartment as Nico sat cross-legged on the floor, folding her leggings and turtlenecks like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Shit. I can’t find my skate guards,” Mila muttered, rummaging through her closet, her voice tinged with rising anxiety.

“Aren’t they in your gym bag?” Nico asked, glancing up from the neat pile of clothes he’d just finished folding. He was leaning back against the couch, watching her dart back and forth.

“I need my lucky ones,” she replied, a whine creeping into her tone. “The last time I didn’t wear them, I lost the championship.”

He chuckled softly, the sound light and easy. She’d find it cute if she weren’t so stressed.

“Us athletes are so superstitious aren’t we?” He teased, though there was an understanding in his voice.

“It’s only acceptable if the superstitions work,” she huffed, finally spotting the guards buried under a pile of scarves. She clutched them triumphantly, a small wave of relief washing over her.

Nico, done folding, patted the spot next to him on the floor. “Come here.”

Mila hesitated for a moment, but then walked over and sat down beside him. He pulled her close, his arm slipping around her shoulders, and she melted into him, the warmth of his embrace instantly calming her.

“You’ll be fine, you know. Even without the lucky skate guards or whatever rituals you have.”

She leaned her head against his chest, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the edge of his sleeve. “You don’t know that,” she whispered, the weight of the competition looming over her.

“I do,” he said softly, his voice full of quiet certainty. He rested his chin on top of her head, holding her a little tighter. “You’re the best one there is.”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Competitions were always hard. Physically and mentally. Especially mentally. She always seemed to psyche herself out and it almost always showed up at the worst possible moments. At the worst of times, it manifested as she skated, making her switch to easier jumps at the last minute. During practice, she could nail every jump with ease. But on the ice, under the glare of the lights, things became different. Georgi often told her that her biggest competitor was never the other skaters—it was herself. She was inclined to agree.

At the short program today, she’d under-rotated a salchow and ended up in second.  Second. A perfectly fine result, for anyone else. But it wasn’t where she needed to be, and that salchow—it shouldn’t have been a problem. It was one of the easier jumps. She could do it in her sleep during training. So why was it such a challenge in competition? God, she should’ve pushed harder to take that jump of her program. She's never been good at it. But it was too late now. Her results weren't too bad, sure. But it wasn’t where she wanted to be—where she needed to be. She needed to win. And a second place finish wasn’t getting her there.

She tries to calm herself by taking walks and spending time with her Team USA teammates. It didn’t work, but it was worth a shot. She couldn’t shake the heavy feeling settling deep in her chest. What is wrong with me? 

She wants to talk to Nico, hear his voice, have him comfort her. But she switches her phone off during Worlds. Half out of superstition, and half because she couldn’t resist the urge to doom-scroll through Twitter. It’s a bad habit of hers, reading through all the comments—positive and negative. Mostly the negative, reading every harsh comment from strangers who knew nothing about her. And yet, once she started, it was hard to stop. So, she kept her phone off. It was safer this way, even if it made her feel a little lonelier.

When the day of the free skate comes around, she’s all nerves. Her nails dig into her skin as she fidgets around. She tries to convince herself that second place isn’t bad. She still got a medal with it. But who was she kidding? Second place is the first loser. No one remembers second place. 

But what if she fumbles harder? What if she doesn’t even place? That was worse. That’s what everyone wanted. She’d never failed to make a podium her entire career. Never. How could she ever deal with that? Worse still, this season she’d won every competition she entered up until this point. She didn’t want to start her off-season with a loss. She knows how that ends—with her feet bleeding and a doctor’s note telling her to stay away from the rink until she was “mentally ready.” Whatever that meant. Ready for what? Skating was her life. She had to be ready. She didn’t have a choice.

Georgi put a hand on her shoulder, his voice steady, his presence solid. “Just skate,” he said, looking her in the eyes.

She stared at him, like he’d spoken another language. That was his advice? But Georgi was always like this—calm, grounded.

She took a breath.

The roar of the crowd filled the arena, but it was distant. Muffled. 

She tried to focus on the feel of the ice under her blades, the glide, the familiarity of it all. 

It was just her and the ice. Her and her old friend.

Just skate.

And so, she did.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

She gets a call from Nico the next night—actually, she has one other missed call from him, but she tries not to dwell on it. Her gold medal is safely tucked into her luggage, nestled between her clothes. She leaves for the airport in an hour. And she’s excited to go back home. She’s excited to model her medal for her friends, excited to place it on their necks as they act like they’d won it themselves. The thought makes her giggle to herself.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft and low. He sounds tired.

“Hey,” she replies, leaning back on her bed. “Long day?”

“Yeah, training was tough this morning,” he says with a sigh. “But it was good. The energy was good. We won the game earlier.”

“Congratulations!”

“Same to you, Ms. World Champion.” She can practically hear the smile in his voice. “I told you you could do it.”

“You did.” A warm feeling spreads through her chest, remembering their moment in her apartment—how he believed in her even when she didn’t.

“What are you up to now?” he asks.

“I leave for the airport in an hour,” she says, glancing at her packed luggage. “Just hanging out in my room until then.”

“Excited to go home?”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding even though he can’t see her. “Can’t wait.”

“I’ll get you flowers when I see you again.”

She smiles at the thought. “What kind?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I want Tulips, like the ones you got me last time.”

“Then tulips it is.”

Her smile widens as she leans further into the pillows, relaxing into the sound of his voice. The conversation flows from there. She asks him to tell her about the game so he does—recounting every goal, every save, and even a few funny moments that happened on the ice. She made a mental note to watch a rerun when she got back.

She’s reminded of the time difference when she actively hears Nico getting sleepier. His voice becomes slower, lazier, and then he yawns, trying to muffle it.

“I think you need some sleep, hun,” she says softly, her tone teasing but affectionate.

“I want to talk to you more,” he murmurs, and she can almost imagine him, sprawled out on his bed, struggling to stay awake.

“You’ll see me soon,” she assures him, her voice gentle, “It won’t be long. I promise.”

He hums in agreement, though his voice sounds distant, like he’s already half asleep. “Okay.”

“See you soon, Nico,” she whispers, her heart warm.

“See you soon.”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

He shows up to her unit just a few days later with a bouquet of tulips in hand. He’s dressed a little nicer than usual—wearing a crisp button-up and tailored dress pants. The sneakers keep the look casual, but there’s something different about him tonight.

“What’s the occasion?” she asks, raising a brow as she lets him inside.

“I was hoping you’d let me take you out tonight,” he says, his voice soft but carrying an excited edge.

She gives him a quizzical look from where she’s arranging the flowers in a vase, glancing down at her current outfit—a comfy house shirt and loose shorts. “Now?” she gestures at herself, amused.

“I’ll wait,” he says with a smile. “You can change.”

“Okay,” she replies, still confused but warming to the idea, “How fancy are we going tonight?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering his words. “Something comfortable, but, you know, like you wouldn’t regret wearing it on a date.”

“Oh,” she smirks, crossing her arms. “So this is a date?”

He smiles back, the kind of smile that makes her stomach flip. “If you want it to be.”

She pauses, teasing him with a mock-serious expression before finally grinning. “Give me twenty minutes.”

She’d be ready in less. 

[backmarkerr]

please....can u speak on the conspiracy

So the conspiracy (more like a theory, really) is that Kimi was pushed out of the team starting in 2008 to make way for Fernando, who was more appealing to the big sponsor coming in. Before you click out thinking "Max, that's stupid, no team would throw a championship for a sponsor." I agree! But keep in mind that they didn't throw the championship, they fully expected to win the WDC with Felipe (and almost did) and did in fact win the WCC in 2008 with Felipe and Kimi despite everything. But there were really suspicious things going on. So with that in mind...

It's 2008. Kimi has just won Malaysia, the second race of the season. Three days after his win, there's this:

.

Ok, kinda weird, but whatever. F1 runs on rumours, right? Suggesting that Kimi might retire when he's doing so well is silly. And in the article they seem to be pretty ambivalent over whether it would be Felipe or Kimi to leave.

Fast forward to Spain two races later. Kimi scores his second win of the season and takes the championship lead. The season is shaping up pretty well for the defence of the title, you’d think this would be a good time for him, but again, the story du jour is Ferrari wanting Alonso in Kimi’s seat for 2009.

[x] I guess now we know at least Massa's seat is secure...?

If you’re like me, that sounds stupid. The reigning champion just won the last GP and his contract runs until the end of 2010, so this media narrative makes no sense. Something pretty catastrophic would have to happen for that to ever come to fruition, right?

So anyway, he gets a first row start in Monaco. Great, that's almost a surefire win/points, right? Wrong, he got a drive-through penalty due to the team not fitting the wheels to the car on time before the race start. Not a great race and he ends up outside of the points. Lewis is now ahead in the WDC by 3 points. Not really a disaster, but...

[x] what on earth...

[x] again the talk of retirement.... I mean, it's weird, right?

Zero points in Canada due to being rear-ended in the pitlane, which the team can’t control. Then he’s back to being neck to neck with his teammate and Lewis by the time the British GP is done in early July, with all three drivers on 48 points. Good news, right? Just gotta stay on track and not fuck it up somehow.

[x] sigh... (this one's a little harder to source as it was printed media, but I've seen this exact interview quoted in different pages)

So anyway, they change his front suspension for the next race in Germany. Kimi has always been very sensitive to changes in the car, so he knew something was wrong. Ferrari (via Michael, who was then head of development) say he's just not adapting well to the upgrades. Maybe, sure, but why aren't you bringing upgrades that are geared towards your world champion?

(an interesting remark from Mark Hughes here if you scroll down to the comments, which adds weight to Kimi not being listened to when it came to car development in 2008)

Bar a podium in Hungary, Kimi scores 0 points in 4 out of the next 5 races. It takes until either Monza or Singapore (hello crashgate!) for Ferrari to put his suspension back as it was.

He proceeds to get 3 podiums in the remaining 3 races but it’s not enough to catch up. By Singapore he was already 27 points behind his teammate (reminder this is the old points system) and very much expected to play the supporting role. In the penultimate race in China he very obviously gave up P2 to his teammate:

"I know what the team expects." [x] / [x]

Yet the narrative in the media and from Ferrari themselves is that his motivation is bad and he's not assertive. It was so pervasive that to this day people still parrot it and say he just didn’t care after 2007, despite Kimi always stating he was fully committed and clearly getting annoyed whenever journalists asked about his motivation even years later.

Montezemolo at the end of 2008 even 'joked' that "Kimi in the recent races was replaced two or three times by a friend, but next year he'll be back." Basically saying that Kimi wasn't really present, you know? An interesting thing to say when this absent driver scored 18 points in the last 3 races (three consecutive P3s), while the one who was amazing and had the team's full backing scored 20 (P7, P2, P1).

A whole 2 points' difference, maybe someone should hire that "friend"...

So why did they do this?

Well, the theory is that Santander (I promise this isn’t like the dumb Sainztander takes) wanted a Spanish-Brazilian lineup due to financial interests (Spanish bank, big market in South America with a looming IPO in Brazil), so Kimi was basically being pressured out of the team from early 2008 onwards. Like I said at the start, the team weren’t really throwing away 2008, as they expected to win the WCC with both drivers (they did) and Massa to be able to win the WDC, which would of course be beneficial for their new sponsor. And he almost did. Almost.

[x] they're not in charge of driver selection but this specific driver line-up would good for them. (this archived copy of the article is from 2010, but the text makes it clear it's from 2009)

Of course at this point we have to wonder if a team like Ferrari would bow down to a sponsor's demands. I can't tell you what the internal considerations were or how much money was on the line, but it's also not like Santander were telling them to get rid of Kimi for a bad driver, you know? Fernando is a great driver, so from Ferrari's perspective they were just trading a great driver for another great driver who also appealed to this huge sponsor, and an Alonso-Massa line-up would be solid. And with the previous talk that Ferrari and Alonso had already inked a deal in 2008... It's just difficult to believe there isn't a grain of truth here.

So the alleged initial plan of having Alonso in 2009 was foiled when Kimi activated the renewal option in his contract. It was then that he was bought out of his last year (apparently paid for by Santander).

[from the book The Unknown Kimi Raikkonen]

As we can see, by the end Kimi was also fed up with what was going on, especially people pointing the finger at him and at his motivation, and his frustration is very clear in interviews like here at 2.35 and here:

Publicly, Ferrari said they wanted someone more in line with how Michael used to be (ironic since Montezemolo allegedly didn’t like how Michael made the team his), who could communicate with the team and give better feedback (ironic when Todt, Dyer, Stella and others said Kimi was very clear and precise.) Kimi himself has always stated that he wasn’t the issue, that his motivation was never lacking and that the real reason he was pushed out was politics and money.

[x]

[x]

If it had only been the mechanical stuff, I’d be willing to chalk it up to just bad luck and incompetence. Shit happens. But with all the rumours around it even before things went bad on the track and Kimi stating that his work and performance weren't the reason he was let go it becomes impossible for me to think there wasn’t an actual push going on to replace him.

Hell, even famed Ferrari fanboy Sebastian Vettel didn't think it was realistic for Kimi to return to Ferrary in 2014 precisely because Kimi isn't one for "bullshit" and "politics". Why would he choose to say that specifically? And according to Finnish media Kimi’s 2014 Ferrari negotiations included Montezemolo personally apologising to him. Now why would he apologise if they hadn’t done something wrong?

Personally I think Kimi's "certain people did certain things" refers to this. He never trashed anyone and always said he had no ill-feelings. And I believe him. But it doesn't mean nothing happened, lest we forget how well he handled Lotus not paying him.

The thing that really bothers me is that Kimi got the reputation for having low motivation and not caring about what he was doing (I heard that take just last month from an F1 youtuber, how Fernando was hired in 2010 because Kimi had mentally checked out 🙄), when obviously someone who wasn’t motivated and didn’t care would have simply called it quits under these circumstances. Instead he got P3 in the standings in 2008 (I know he’s talented, but he must have been trying at least a little), trained hard to lose enough weight to use KERS in 2009 (why would he do that if he didn’t care) and took the team’s only win that year despite the car being shit. Interestingly, pundits acknowledged his good performance complicated things when it came to Ferrari’s rumoured hiring of Alonso. So imagine how much more complicated things would have been had Kimi done better in 2008?

Anyway, this is long, but if you want something longer then I definitely recommend this post here. You might not agree completely with the original authors (there are parts where I wish there was more info), but I think they offer a lot of good research and information regarding the overall situation back in 2008/2009, and it's a good jump-off point for your own research.

But yeah. 2008 could have been everything. Or at least better.