#okay this is about every sports event ever

[sportsallover]

Can you believe I could be watching some sports event, and instead I have to work

[sweetbans29]

Catch Me If You Can - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You were untouchable, until one summer day (based on THIS request)

Warnings: cuteness

Word Count: 4.5k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I may have done a little too much with the backstory...

You were born and raised in Iowa City. Grew up going to all the local farmers markets and participating in any and all town events. Your parents are both teachers at the University of Iowa, your mom is a business professor, and your dad is an English professor. A lot of your time was spent on campus which made you pretty known starting at a very young age.

It started when you were a little girl, your parents would bring you to lectures and you would sit in the corner and do whatever you could to keep yourself occupied. The students in your classes never minded and would often come and color with you or read with you when class was over and your parents stayed around to answer questions.

When you were in middle school you would go to campus every day after school to do homework. It would either be in your parent’s offices while they had class and/or hosted office hours or they would let you go to one of the coffee shops on campus, as long as you were with one of their trusted students. At this point, you were pretty well-known on campus by both students and faculty.

Things pretty much stayed the same when you got to high school. You never really had many friends at your own school but had so many the second you stepped foot on campus. You continued to spend most of your time there - most of it studying but sometimes going to campus events (if your parents were okay with that).

The University of Iowa had always been your fate. With both of your parents working there, it was a no-brainer that's where you would be attending school. It also helped that you knew the campus like the back of your hand and were already known. It made going to college less intimidating.

For your high school graduation - there was a group of students at Iowa that hosted a view party since they all couldn't go to your graduation. If you got more than 8 tickets, they would have been there in a heartbeat. They live-streamed it from one of the lecture halls. You didn't know at the time but it filled up with students and faculty all super proud of your accomplishment and ready to have you as an official student. After your graduation, your parents took you back to campus saying they had a surprise - it turned out to be a surprise grad party with a couple hundred people from campus. You have never felt more loved than you did that day.

When fall rolled around, you started your journey as a Hawkeye. Campus felt like home and had become home when your parents gave you the option to commute or live on campus. It was a no-brainer as it was your dream to live on campus and would try and convince your parents to let you stay overnight ever since you were in 4th grade.

Your first year goes as expected. You started to make solid friends. Everyone knew you around campus and if they didn't they for sure knew of you. You would do homework at the same on-campus coffee shops and began to venture out more as you began studying on lawns and in different places to switch up the scenery. Freshman year was everything you had hoped and more.

Going into your second year at Iowa was about the same as the first. Campus remained comfortable for you. You couldn't go anywhere without several people stopping to say hello - people thought it would be annoying but you genuinely loved talking to people. You were well-known and well-loved by pretty much everyone.

As active as you were on campus, one area you never really paid attention to was sports. Your parents never made them a priority thus you never made them one either. Another reason they kept you away from games was because of the reputation a lot of the players had around campus. Ever since you started hanging out around campus in high school - your parents made it known that you were off limits and would remain off limits. It became an unspoken word on campus.

Even with your parents, relationships were never a priority for you. Not to say it was something you didn't want because there were times that you really did long to have the same experiences as your peers. After high school though, relationships weren't even a thought. It was interesting because it wasn't like there weren't people interested, but more so there was no one that you found interesting. Seeing your parent's love, your bar was raised far higher than any college student could really commit to.

It surprises you how frequently you get asked out. It isn't weekly but you consistently have people coming up to ask you out. It unofficially became a game on campus - specifically among athletes. They would place bets on who could get you to say yes to going out with them but nobody ever availed.

You of course learned about the whole thing when one of the guys you were friends with let you know out of respect for you. He was one of the waterboys for the men's basketball team and overhead them taking bets on who could get you to say yes. John always kept an eye out for you - he was a year older than you and treated you as his little sister. He has 3 little sisters at home, as he was the oldest and the first to leave for college - watching you was a second nature to him especially since he was one of your parent's favorite students.

When John learned it was more than the basketball guys and more teams were jumping in to see who could court you, he made it a point to make sure you always felt comfortable on campus. Not that he ever doubted you, but doubted all the guys and girls trying to get in your pants.

You were sitting and waiting for John and some other friends to meet up with you when you were approached yet again.

The star of the school's water polo team approaches you while you are studying on the lawn.

"Hey," he says trying to get your attention. You finish typing out your sentence then look up at him.

"Hi," you say with a smile. "It's Erick, right?"

He flashes a smile when you know his name. "Ya, we are in the same stats class."

You nod.

"Hey, I was just wondering if you were free this Friday night? The team has a game and it would be cool it if you came. We could go grab ice cream or something after and hang out." He asks with the confidence of you knowing who he is.

You give a light smile.

"Erick, I am sure you are a nice guy," you say - knowing all too well that he was not. It was just last week that he took a cheerleader out then was caught making out with one of her teammates the next day. "But I'm just not interested."

"Good luck on your game though - should be a tough one," you say and he walks away.

John comes up catching the tail end of the encounter and gives you a look.

"Another one?" He asks as you get up from the grass.

"Yep, nothing new - he went with the 'come watch my game then we can hang out' bit. You would think they would all get the hint considering I haven't been to a single Iowa game." You say.

"They all want to be the first," John says. You laugh.

"Well jokes on them," you say as the two of you head to meet up with the rest of your group.

You get through the rest of the semester with only a few more people attempting to ask you out. You never mention it to your parents because the last thing you need is them making some big fuss about something you have a pretty good handle on.

That summer is one where things took a turn in a direction you would have never expected.

A majority of your summer was spent around town at your favorite coffee shops. They would be your favorite place to read. It was something you did every summer at the same coffee shops - so much so that they would have a reserved sign at the table you would always sit at.

It was a gloomy morning when the shop was extra busy. You had been settled in for a while now and were sucked into your book. You are used to the buzz of the coffee shop but are pulled out when you hear a loud sound.

You look up and see a frazzled girl, bending over and collecting the bag she just dropped. You set down your book and immediately help the girl. You gather some things and stand up, passing them to her.

"Thank you," she says, still flustered from how busy the coffee shop is.

"Of course," you say with a smile, hopefully easing her.

"I came here hoping to have a quiet morning not realizing how busy it was going to be. I heard this is the best place to come to work," she says.

"Well I agree that this is the best place to work - it typically isn't this busy. I think there is an event going on in town this week. If you are looking for a table, you are more than welcome to join me," you say as you sit back down.

"Thank you," she says and sits immediately. It is just after she sits when you see her relax. You introduce yourself, offering your hand to shake. She reaches out and shakes it. She knows who you are - everyone knew who you were but thought it would be better to just keep your meeting simple.

"I'm Caitlin," she says. You smile at her - also knowing who she is. She had quickly became one of the faces on campus - the 'basketball superstar'.

"It's nice to meet you," you say with a smile. "You are always welcome at my table."

She notices the 'Reserved' sign on it and laughs.

"Did they do that for you?" She asks.

"Ya," you say with a laugh. "I've been sitting here for years now."

The two of you spend the rest of the morning working independently. You locked into your book shortly after your conversation missing the stolen glances Cait would take of you.

Caitlin took you up on your offer every day for the next several weeks. She even went out and got books to read just to come and spend time with you. The two of you would chat when she first got there, then would settle in and being reading for a few hours until you both got hungry. What started as a place for Caitlin to sit turned into so much more. The two of you started getting lunch together and really getting to know one another.

It's in the final month of summer when Caitlin asks you on a proper date. You are unsure at first but remind yourself that she isn't a stranger. The two of you have genuinely gotten to know each other over the course of the summer and you trust her.

It is after that first date that you decide Caitlin is worth it but if you were to ask her when she knew you were it, she would have said that first morning in the coffee shop.

Heading back into the school year, there were subtle changes in your day-to-day. You would still be on campus to study in all of your favorite places but when it came to grabbing your mid-morning smoothie, Caitlin would be waiting outside your first class of the day - smoothie in hand, waiting to walk you to your next class. Caitlin made it a point to be a part of your morning, just like you did in the summer.

It slowly became something Caitlin's team noticed - the first one being Gabby who passed by Caitlin holding two smoothies outside of one of the lecture halls.

"Cait - what are you doing here? Isn't your next class on the other side of campus?" Gabby asks when she sees her teammate.

"Ya, just catching up with a friend," Caitlin says, hoping Gabby will go before you come out. One of the things Caitlin had learned while getting to know you was the bitter taste athletes gave you. Caitlin was slowly changing that but didn't want to give you any reason to backtrack. She also hadn't told the team that she had started seeing you over the summer and would like to keep it that way for as long as she can. Not to hide you, but she valued having you all to herself. And she knew that the second her team found out - she would lose you to them. You were too incredible.

Gabby nods but her suspicion remains.

"Whatever you say Cait," she says and continues to walk. "I'll see you at practice."

Gabby turns a corner but stays in the vicinity - wanting to see the mystery person Caitlin is waiting for.

You walk out of class and see Cait standing against a wall with two smoothies in her hands. You make your way over to her and she meets you halfway.

"Why hello there," you say with a smile. She passes you one of the smoothies.

"Your favorite," she says and you thank her.

The two of you proceed to walk to your next class, missing a hiding gabby who sees Caitlin is walking with you. Gabby can't wait to take the news back to the team. Everyone knows you are not a fan of Iowa sports but here you are walking about with one of the biggest stars on campus. She also doesn't believe that Caitlin is one to wait outside of someone's class with a drink in hand only to walk them in the opposite direction of where she is going.

Later that day Caitlin arrived at practice to find her team bombarding her with questions.

"Woah, woah, woah - what's going on?" She asks overwhelmed.

"Gabby told us who you were spotted with and we think that is the cutest thing ever," Jada says - excited for her teammate.

Caitlin feels her cheeks heat up.

"How did you swing talking to her?" Another teammate asks. "She practically hates every sports team on campus."

"She doesn't hate us - well you know the shit that goes around with teams asking her out and making bets and stuff. It's left a bad taste in her mouth. It's not like they were discrete about it anyways." Caitlin says backing you up.

"Ya but still, I mean what makes you different - Cait you are the biggest name on campus right now and it is only junior year," Sydney says.

Caitlin shrugs, opting to leave how the two of you spent the summer out of the conversation.

"Is it even like that?" Kate asks. "I mean she could just be a friend."

"A friend that Caitlin goes out of her way to get a smoothie for then walk to class?" Gabby scoffs. "No ya, sure sounds like a friend to me."

The team keeps making fun of Caitlin to which she never confirms or denies any of their allegations. The two of you had been on several dates but never really solidified what you were to each other so Caitlin didn't feel like it was proper to bring it up when the two of you really didn't even know what you are yet.

"There is no way Caitlin could pull her - I mean it's CC, can you imagine her dating at all? Let alone the campus's princess." One of the girls says in a joking manner. Caitlin knows her team means well but it sort of rubs her the wrong way when they think she isn't worth your time.

Caitlin speaks before thinking.

"What if I get her to come to a game - would you believe it then?" Caitlin asks and immediately regrets it.

"No way in hell could you get her to come to a game," Jada says. "I've heard she's never gone to a sporting event nor will go near one with a ten-foot pole."

"Ya, but if she comes, then you'll all shut up about this?" Caitlin asks hoping it will be enough to just get you to a game.

"Get her there in your jersey and we will know it's real," Gabby says.

Caitlin grumbles but agrees.

After practice, Caitlin messages you and asks to meet up. You tell her to come over and that you will be making chocolate chip cookies - you know they are her favorite. Her mom also happened to send you home with her famous recipe after Caitlin brought you home once during the summer. It was before she asked you on a date - it was actually quite spontaneous.

"Would you be up for joining me on a little trip home? I told my brothers I would be there for an event of theirs. It won't be long but I don't want to make the drive alone." Caitlin asks you at the end of one of your mornings.

"I would love to," you say and she just casually mentions she is heading there now. When you still agree to join her - she is ecstatic but hides it well.

The two of you head to her home, talking the whole way there. When you get there Caitlin goes to help her brothers and you stay with her mom, she is baking for the event. You help her make her chocolate chip cookies and tell her about yourself. She then tells you all the stories of when Caitlin was little. You couldn't help but grow fonder of the girl after hearing about her childhood.

When the two are heading out, Anne pulls you into a hug and asks you to watch over her baby girl. You smile and nod. She then proceeds to stick something in your pocket - her chocolate chip cookie recipe.

Caitlin gets to your apartment and instantly recognizes the smell of her favorite cookies. You pull them out right after she gets there.

"Are these," she begins and picks one of them up right away.

"Caitlin! You are going to burn yourself!" You swat at her hand but she is too fast for you. She takes a bite of the cookie, blowing out the hot air and trying not to burn her tongue. Once she is able to enjoy it, her eyes close and she lets out a moan.

"You like them?" You ask, already seeing her answer. She finishes the cookie before speaking.

"Just like home. How did you get these?" She asks finally opening her eyes and going for another.

"From the one and only, Mrs. Clark - told me to take care of you," you say with a smile. "And I know that the only real way to care for you is through cookies."

Caitlin looks at you in awe and her mind begins going a mile a minute. Her mom doesn't give her recipe out to anyone - she doesn't know what you did in the kitchen with her that one day but seeing as you have her full approval, Caitlin begins to seriously consider what life would be like with you.

You can see the gears turning in her head.

"Talk to me," you say to her with a little laugh. "I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears. What's going on?"

Caitlin wants to tell you how much it means to her that you made her cookies, her mom's cookies. She wants to tell you how she misses how it was just you and her like it was during the summer and wishes the two of you could go back to that. She wants to tell you how she has started talking to your parents about you and how they have unofficially given her the okay to take you on a date (she didn't tell them how she had already taken you out but that is beside the point).

"How would you feel about coming to my game this Friday?" She asks, settling on getting this out of the way first.

You stand there putting more cookies on the cookie sheet, thinking over her question.

"I know you don't go to games and how much you aren't a fan of Iowa sports, especially with all the athlete's track records with you," she is cut off by you.

"Ya but I am a fan of you," you say which earns a little chuckle. Her heart skips a beat but she continues.

"But we are playing one of our biggest rivals and I think it would be neat to have you there," she says debating on adding the part about her team. She thinks about all you have been through and decides it is better to be honest upfront.

"And my team doesn't think I can get you there," Caitlin says nervously.

You look up at her amused, kind of shocked she would think you would be open to it. But you ponder it.

"It's not a bet - you know I am not like those other guys and girls. You know that right?" She asks.

You just look at her.

"Please tell me you know I am not like them," she says beginning to panic.

"Yes, CC, I know you are not like them."

"One of them saw me waiting outside of one of your classes and started saying that you're out of my league and it irked me." She says.

"And you thought it would be a good idea to tell them that I would go to your game and what? Cheer you on? Wear your jersey?" You press her.

"Well, ya - kind of," she says shyly.

You don't know why but this whole thing should make you uneasy but it doesn't. Not one person has actually told you to your face that their team was betting on you. Caitlin sought out talking to you about it - but in her words, it wasn't a bet.

"Okay." You say and her head shoots to look at you.

"Okay?" She asks.

"Okay."

Friday comes around and you look at yourself in the mirror. You are wearing Caitlin's jersey with some black leggings. You are second-guessing your decision and want to back out but know that's not an option.

You head to the game with your friend John. Caitlin got you two tickets which you instantly asked John to join you for.

The game is intense - watching Cait on the court was mesmerizing to you. She is electric on the court and you wish you had started watching her sooner. It's easy to see why so many people love her.

The game ends and Iowa takes the win by 4.

You turn to John.

"Should I go down to her? I don't know if I should wait until she is done or what to do," you say nervous.

"Go to her - show her how proud you are of her. Be the excited girlfriend," John says with a smile.

"She's not my girlfriend," You mumble.

"Just go," he says and pushes you towards the court.

You walk down to the now-packed court looking for Cait.

When you see her, you begin making your way to her. When her eyes find yours, she lights up. When you get to her you jump into her arms and she spins you around.

"You were incredible," you whisper in her ear.

"Thank you," she says with the biggest smile.

She puts you down and the two of you just look at one another. She finally speaks.

"I like you in my jersey," she says and you blush.

"Please stop," you say and hide your face.

"You're cute," she keeps teasing you.

"Okay okay, I'm going to go now," you say and begin to walk away.

"Wait no," she says and grabs your arm. "I'll be good. I promise."

You stop walking away and turn back to her.

"Come meet my team?" She asks and you nod.

You make your way to some of her teammates as Caitlin introduces you to them. You shake all of their hands then stick to Caitlin's side.

They all try to hide how shocked they are but don't do a real great job with it.

"You all look surprised I am here," you say with a laugh.

"We are - you are sort of known for avoiding sporting events like the plague," Kate says with genuine intent.

"Well, I decided to make an exception for a special little someone," you say and pinch Caitlin's side causing her to blush. All of her teammates take note and poke fun at her.

"Why Caitlin?" Sydney asks boldly and Kate hits her. "What? I am genuinely curious - Caitlin isn't the easiest person to be around."

You laugh and smile up at Caitlin. Then shrug.

"She puts up with me," you say.

"Ya but you're the campus's sweetheart," Sydney says.

"Don't let her fool you," Caitlin jokes and you hit her arm. She puts her hands up in surrender.

"Oh you two are cute," Kate says.

"I can see now why CC was playing extra hard today," Jada says coming over.

"Okay, you are all embarrassing me," Caitlin says and excuses the two of you. The team wants to get to know you more and protests but you follow Caitlin. She leads you to the tunnel where it is not so crowded.

"They are all sweet," you say.

"If by sweet you mean embarrassing then ya, they are great," she says laughing and rubbing her forehead.

You turn to face her.

"What is your intention with me, Clark." You say boldly, catching her a little off guard.

"Well, I really enjoy spending time with you - and I like you, but everyone likes you so that is really a given," she says stringing along more little comments.

The once confident All-American, now a blabbering mess.

"Caitlin Clark," you say pulling her out of her jumble of words. "Ask me to be your girlfriend."

She stands there looking at you, takes a deep breath, and takes your hands.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" She asks, her eyes locked on yours.

Without blinking, you respond.

"No."

"What? You literally just told me to ask you," she says with protest.

You laugh and she catches on to you.

"You are unbelievable," she says.

"I may be but I'm your girlfriend now, so you are just going to have to deal with me," you say.

"Well you just said no, so it looks like I am still on the market," Caitlin says now teasing you.

"Mmhmm, sure you are," you say wrapping your arms around her neck as her arms wrap around your waist. She laughs and looks into your eyes.

"I'm going to kiss you now," you say.

She waits and you stop leaning in - she takes you in.

"Okay," she says and your lips meet hers for the first time. The first time but certainly not the last.

AN: This may be one of my favorites...ever. But my opinion doesn't matter, let me know what you think. And as always, thank you for all the love and support 🤍

[orchidseason]

ꕥ Pro Hockey Player!Ellie ⌇ How You Two Meet Again

pro hockey player!ellie x fem!reader

You’re walking your niece to her figure skating lesson, distracted by her excitement, when you almost bump into Ellie in the hallway. She’s as confident as ever, but the flicker of recognition in her eyes—one that hints at the unspoken history of that night you shared—freezes you both in place.

warnings ⌇word count 1k, suggestive, previous one night stand between you two discussed, r used to be a figure skater

It was a quick mention, a sly quip into the conversation by your sister. Though teasing, she was half serious–wondering if you really would drive her daughter to her skating lessons. Out of your love for your niece—and your sister—you agreed. Having a kid in this day and age required a lot of money, so to combat that both your sister and her husband worked. They didn’t wish to be at work so often, it proved difficult to try and work but also take their daughter to all of her events. 

So, to take the load off of their shoulders a bit, you agreed. You’ll take your niece to the ice skating rink for her skating lessons. Issue is—this is the same rink you used to practice at. Your history with such a building—despite the six year gap—felt fresh, like it happened yesterday. You’re doing this for your sister, her husband, and your niece—not yourself. 

Today was her first day. You’ve driven her to the facility, walking beside her with a grin. She’s been yapping since you picked her up from elementary school. Every conversation with her makes you smile, your heart full of love for her. You open the door, letting her walk into the place first—following behind her. 

“I have my own skates,” she says, rambling as you walk the two of you to the reception desk, “they’re white. Mom got them for me.”

You take the sticky name tag from the receptionist, smiling at her before turning your attention onto your niece. “Well, I’m very excited to see them in a second.”

She then jumps in place, gripping your hand, “please, please, please can I have a muffin. They have a food thing. Please.”

You match where she’s looking and sure enough there’s some form of a confession stand. With your heart so weak for her, despite your low bank account, you nod with a sigh. She cheers, dragging you towards it. 

“Which kind,” you ask her. She just barely reaches the counter, eyes looking over each of the kinds of muffins. She picks chocolate chip. You buy it for her and settle down to sit at the many tables and chairs in the room. Similar to you, other parents and guardians are here with little ones—all awaiting for the lesson to start.

She sits there, grabby hand shoving the muffin into her mouth while her eyes are fixated on a random tv. You’re kneeled on the ground, helping her put her ice skates on.

“What’s that,” she asks, pointing somewhere.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” you comment, pinching her leg softly before looking, “that’s hockey.”

“What’s that?”

You roll your eyes, standing after having finished tying her skates, “it’s a sport on ice. You basically hit a little circle around.”

She tunes out after, continuing to watch some game on the tv as well as the ads.  Then, of course, five minutes before she has to be on the ice she murmurs, “aunt,  I need to use the restroom.”

Of course. You reach your hand out for her to take, “okay, but you gotta go quick okay, hon?”

You walk her down the hallway that’s between the two skating rinks. The left rink usually being for the hockey teams to practice while the right is where figure skaters generally go. With your attention down on your niece as she rambles about some friend in her first grade class, you’re unaware of the other woman walking the opposite way—towards you. 

The side of your body rams into her, the impact laving you twisted towards her.  You glance over, attention brought away from your niece so you can apologize to whoever it was—but you freeze. She continues to walk away, but she’s twisted her head back to look at you��a smirk on her lips and recognition laced in her look. Momentarily you get a flashback, a memory of that night. Of how she made you feel, of how rough her kisses felt on your lips, of how loud you were—her name spoken like a mantra. 

Your niece tugs on your hand, “come on, I need to go!”

“Right,” you say, moving along again—eyes still stuck where she was, “right, let’s go.”

When she takes your hand and drags you toward the rink, you can’t help but feel that rush—this little moment, her excitement, and your own flood of anxious memories. But for now, you're here. And that’s enough.

She ends up being like two minutes late, but it’s fine. She’s found her group and her coach, apologizing and explaining to her coach why she was late due to her last-minute bathroom break. Thankfully her coach is sweet, laughing it off and telling you to stop being so concerned—that she fully understands.

You settle into a seat among the other parents, your elbow propped on your knee, chin resting in your hand as you watch your niece skate across the ice. But even as you focus on her, your thoughts keep slipping back to the woman you just saw.

Just then, your gaze shifts to a poster on the wall nearby. Your heart stops. There, in bold letters at the top, is her name. Your expression falters as the realization hits you.

She’s not just a woman who plays hockey in her spare time. She’s made it pro.

pro hockey player!ellie m.list

taglist // @kaykeryyy, @vxsellie, @vahnilla

[sports-on-sundays]

Okay so 🤭 what if Y/N use to be with ( whatever Barca player you choose ) and they broke it off because they supposedly wanted to focus on their career and the reader was really heartbroken and omg to make it more better y/n is Carlos sister and then she sees or hear how they moved on already! And little by little she starts to be with lando and they announce their relationship when he wins in Miami!! Like full on hard launch. 😭🙌🏽

Also this got me motivated to think of more ideas ima write them down for the future 🤭

papaya girl / LN4

Summary: ex!Ferran x Sainz!baker!reader x Lando - After a devastating breakup with your footballing boyfriend, you think you'll never be able to date someone again.

Warnings: there's a golf scene and I don't golf so-!🤞, mention of sickness, foul language, sorry if some things are not accurate, headache, partying/dancing/drunkenness/clubbing, mention of getting so drunk you had no memory of what happened, implied getting drunk to dampen emotions, getting injured, vomiting, slight soulmate feel, a bit of suggestive talk, use of babe/baby/bae/baby girl/etc., I feel like every kiss I describe is exactly the same sooo- sorry about that! ✌

Requested?: YES! 😘

Author's Note: Do you ever write something so good that you wish you could make it into a movie? That's how I feel about this. I can imagine the scenes. Didn't plan it but I guess 24 is the magic number for this one. I made the request more dramatic because... I like doing that... 👉 👈 🥺 ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. PERFECT MIX OF ANGST AND FLUFF. I LITERALLY LOVE YOU! If you do have any more ideas and you're up for it, let me know!

When you met Ferran Torres, you were a Madridista with a passion for Ferrari. Being a Sainz, you've always been rooting for Real Madrid, but your favorite Formula 1 team isn't as consistent. Because before that, you were a McLaren fan. And before that, Red Bull. And everything else before that, too.

Wherever Carlos is, you're a fan of it.

You, quite literally, on the day you met Ferran, were wearing a Cristiano Ronaldo jersey and a backwards Ferrari cap.

And, well, he, a new arrival from Manchester City, liked that, apparently!

And it was beautiful. They way you slowly became closer and closer, growing to know each other more and more.

And then, maybe you just hit a point. Hit a point in your relationship where you wanted more, and Ferran realized that if any more was given by him, it would be too far for him.

And he cut it off. Said he was doing well in Barcelona. He had high hopes. You, a sold out Madrid fan, had been wearing his number on the back of a blaugrana jersey. And despite that blaugrana jersey, he ditched you.

He said his work, his career, his passions, his dreams, were more important than you.

But you can't complain, Y/n. That's fair. He was gentle in letting you know. He made it clear he didn't want any malice between you and him.

You roll over in bed, staring vacantly at your wall. There's a large Real Madrid flag hanging in the middle. A smaller Ferrari flag on one side. A few posters of bands and teams you like or events you've been to, signed by different celebrities. People who are more famous than 'Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister' or 'Ferran Torres's ex-girlfriend.' On one side, it seems silly to have a poster signed by Max Verstappen, but you do. On the other side of the flag, you have a peeling old McLaren poster, showing the younger versions of Carlos and his former racing partner, Lando Norris, looking just seconds away from breaking into a loud, hysterical laughter.

And next to that, you have a Barcelona poster.

You smile sadly to yourself.

I must look like such a conflicted sports fan.

You stand up, walking over to the wall. After gently peeling the Barcelona poster off the wall, you slowly trace the badge with your fingers, any hint of a smile now gone as tears begin to fill your eyes, threatening to fall.

"This is stupid," you murmur scornfully, your voice cracking softly. "This isn't even my team! It's not my city...!" You toss the poster across the room, leaving it in a place where you don't intend to pick it up anytime soon.

Let it gather dust and crumple. That's what Ferran did. He threw away our relationship like it was nothing but a worthless piece of paper. And now I'm suffering the consequences.

You sigh. You're trying not to let yourself be bitter. You want to look back on everything you and Ferran had and be happy. Appreciate it. You still love Ferran. You don't want to be angry with him.

Someone said to you once, Hurt heals with time, as long as you let it.

You grab a bold, red Sharpie from your drawer and your notebook from a dresser. You scribble those words in all caps, rip out the page, grab some tape, and hang the piece of paper where the FC Barcelona poster used to be.

You sigh, but nod, before turning to get ready for your day.

You hate winter. You never hated winter before this winter, but now you hate it.

With the breakup, you've been avoiding anything La Liga like the plague, even if it doesn't involve Ferran Torres. It just reminds you too much.

And with Carlos on winter break, getting ready for the start of the season, he's not around much. Going on different trips, he's quite busy. Which you don't like. You and your brother have a strong bond.

It's not like you don't have anything to do. You just don't have anything interesting to do. You have a shop that you run, but you have enough staff hired to not have to be there all the time.

Yes, in a family of racing, you were never too into it. Your strong spot is in baking and business running, so that's why you opened up a bakery in Madrid.

And being a Sainz, of course it was a success.

Same type of thing as Charles Leclerc's 'LEC,' except you're not the racing driver Charles Leclerc, you're not doing ice cream, and you've always been doing this, for five years now.

You watch as a young, excited couple walks in, jabbering away in English. You can just tell they're tourists as they get in line to order. Once they get to the counter, the woman immediately leans over the counter in excitement, saying, "Is Carlos Sainz here?" in English.

You chuckle. Sounds American. "Which Carlos Sainz?" you tease.

They look blankly at you as if you're just about the dumbest individual to walk planet Earth. You chuckle and say, "Why don't you get to ordering? There's a line."

Towards the afternoon, as things begin to quiet down just a little bit, you look up at the doorbell jingles and freeze.

When he reaches the counter, you snap at Ferran, "Why are you in Madrid?"

"Am I not allowed to be? Either way, hello to you, too."

You sigh, licking your lips as you study the Valencian boy. "What can I get for you?"

He shrugs and orders, before seating himself down at one of the seats at the counter. "How have you been, Y/n?" he asks.

"Fine," you swallow, staring down. "And you?"

"I'm good." From there, he begins just talking, as if we're old friends or something, and not exes.

He seems so happy. So content.

To not be with you.

Suddenly, mid-way through one of his many sentences, you slip your hand over his, almost on impulse. He stops, staring to your hands, and then to you.

You breathe softly, "Why? Why did you come here to just talk to me? Aren't you moved on? Ferran, this is torture for me."

Lines crease into his face. You can see him swallow, looking at your smaller hand on his. "I'm... I'm sorry. I am moved on. I'm doing well. I just thought maybe we could be friends. I'd never want to date you again; I'm not in the place to date anyone. I'm happy single. But I just feel bad. I know you're hurt, and... I'd be happy to still be friends with you, is all?" He slips his hand out from underneath yours and takes his cup of coffee with it, taking a sip as he watches you intently.

You drag a hand over your face. Though you didn't want to admit it, seeing him come in to the bakery gave you hope. That maybe he wanted to try again. But those words that came out of his mouth? They cut deep.

"Listen, Ferran," you barely whisper. "I'm still trying to work through what happened. Everything. It's hard for me. But I appreciate it, and when I'm ready, if I'm ever ready, I'd love to be your friend. O- Okay?"

He nods slowly, staring down. "Alright... Fair enough."

"What's wrong?" your older brother, Carlos, asks. You watch outside the window as the world travels by.

You sigh. "Ferran."

"Him, again?"

"Carlos," you sigh. "Stop. It's nothing new. I'm just missing him. He wants to stay friends, but I said I needed time."

"Ah. Well, you know, I did tell you never to date-"

"-a Barcelona player. I know," you roll your eyes with a little smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Hurt heals with time, as-"

"-long as you let it. I know," you comment, smiling a bit wider.

"Exactly. It'll come."

You sigh. "I hope so."

As Carlos pulls into the parking lot, you say, "So. Is that why you decided to take me golfing with your friends? Just wanted to check up on me, but you never have the time to sit down over dinner these days?"

Carlos smiles as he shuts off the car. "No. I could have made time. But I wanted your company golfing."

"You know I'm not big on g-"

"Shut up," he grins. "Yes you are."

"I suck."

"Not as bad as some people I know. In fact, you're actually pretty okay."

Soon, you meet up with a bunch of Carlos's friends. They're all chatting, and you're just kind of zoning off, looking out over the grassy hills, when suddenly you look up when Carlos says, "Ay! Lando!"

You blink in complete and utter shock. "Why is Lando Norris here?"

As Lando approaches, he eyes you, saying teasingly, "Well, thank you for the warm welcome, Y/n Sainz."

"Lando was just around, so he made the drive to meet us here," Carlos quickly fills in.

Soon, you're all off. After a round, as you're walking back to the cart to go get lunch, Carlos says, nudging Lando, "I think my baby sister is better than you."

Lando laughs. "You fucking muppet; what are you talking about?"

You grin, falling in step with Lando and Carlos. "I'm a better golfer."

"That is just wrong," Lando says, glancing at you. "Downright wrong."

"It's a Sainz thing," Carlos puts in. "There's no way for you to beat us, Lando. You can't. Winning runs in the family."

Lando rolls his eyes, reiterating, "Your baby sister is not better than me."

"You have no right to call me a baby," you put in indignantly. "I'm probably older than you."

Lando looks at you, his nose all scrunched up. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Hah! Same age."

"That still doesn't mean you get to call me a baby!"

"Her birthday is in January; different year than Lando's. Lando, you can call her a baby; you're older," Carlos says.

"Carlos!" you snap. "Don't give him permission!"

Carlos grins and shakes his head as he breaks off to chat with some of his other friends and get on the cart with them.

Lando grins, giving a discreet pat on your lower back as he murmurs, "Sorry, baby."

And for some reason, that makes you feel things. You decide to blame it on the fact that Lando's just good-looking.

Once you're all seated down with your lunch, you comment, "So what's with the whole..." your hand goes to your chin, referring to his facial hair, as you look at Lando expectantly.

Lando slams down his fork, saying lightheartedly, "Sick of people asking me that!"

You smirk. "Makes you look like you're forty."

"Whatever, baby."

"You know, I have a picture on my wall of you and Carlos when you were just babies, too."

As soon as Lando raises an eyebrow with a smirk, you know it was a mistake to word it that way. "You have a picture of me and Carlos on your wall?" he asks, mock condescendingly.

"No, no. I mean, I do, but- It's just an old McLaren poster." You immediately look down.

"What, are you a fan of mine?" Lando teases further.

"No! I'm a fan of Carlos, and you just so happened to be his teammate at that time. The point is that you two look like pipsqueaks in that photo! Lando, you looked so awkward, with all your acne-"

"What, Lando, you think she's a McLaren fan? She's sold out for Ferrari," Carlos interrupts.

"Literally! I deck myself out in red every Sunday!"

"Today's Sunday," Lando starts like the stupid idiot he is, "And I don't see you wearing red."

You groan, leaning back, covering your face in your hands. "Carlos, how are you this guy's friend? He's so annoying! Why'd you invite him for? How do you put up with him?"

Carlos just smirks, patting your shoulder, and says, "I'm used to having to put up with irritable people, after having to grow up with you."

You roll your eyes, fighting off a smile as all the guys around you at the table laugh out loud.

On the car ride back, you're mostly silent, your thoughts swimming with one thing and one thing only.

Lando Norris.

And there's a soft smile on your face as you think about your morning with him.

But Carlos can tell you're deep in thought. Usually, you'd be yapping away right now. "Anything on your mind?" he asks carefully.

You sigh. "Not much."

"You're bad at lying. You're staring out the window dreamily. What's on your mind?"

You sigh. "It's stupid. You'll make fun of me."

"I'm not stupid, though. I can already guess what it is."

You gulp. "How?"

"For the whole day, the only person you talked to was Lando."

You feel your stomach drop. "It's nothing serious, Carlos. He's just funny."

"You said something like that to me about Ferran Torres right before you officially started dating."

That makes you feel a bit sick. "Carlos, I won't let that happen again."

"Don't. And don't be getting interested in anyone until you're over your ex. And we both know you're not. And please don't be getting interested in someone like Lando."

"Why?" You eyebrows scrunch together. "I thought you two were buddies."

Carlos grins teasingly. "If you somehow got yourself with him, there would always be two annoying people in one place."

"You're intolerable!" you snap, laughing.

"You are too, hermana."

It strikes Carlos as strange when the first thing Lando says to him the weekend of Bahrain, before even a hello, is: "Is your sister here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Lando shrugs. "She's nice."

"No... She'll be coming to Australia, though..." Carlos can't help but feel suspicion fill his chest. He's always been somewhat protective of you, being his little sister and all.

"Perfect," Lando grins, and he's off.

In Australia, like any other race, you're decked out in your red. Ferrari hat, Ferrari jacket, red jeans. Ferrari earrings. Even your black shoes have a stripe of red on the sides.

Carlos always tells you it's dumb. But it's become a part of your whole thing, since you spend a huge amount of your life following Carlos around and going to Grand Prixs.

It's fun sometimes, being Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister!

But when you see a shock of papaya in your red world called Ferrari's hospitality, you squint, slipping your sunglasses up on your hat, and say, "Who said you could walk in like that uninvited?"

"No one," Lando grins, "but I'm only here to see you."

Your eyebrows raise as you stand up. "Wha-"

"Come with me. I'm going to barf if I have to breathe Ferrari air any longer. Just your terrible get-up is making me nauseous. I guess I'll be free from seeing that stupid outfit next year when Carlos isn't in Ferrari-"

"Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, but follow him with a grin on your face.

"So you broke up with your Barcelona man?" Lando start, cutting straight to the chase.

"Uh-" you swallow. "He broke up with me."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

You're not sure why Lando wants to know, and he certainly doesn't have any reason to know, but still you say, "We had been dating for a while, you know? I wanted something more. You know, to go deeper. Someday, I'd love to even maybe get married. But, Ferran... well, he didn't want to go the step deeper. Said he wanted to focus on his career. He broke it off. We're on fine terms, though."

"Ah..." he nods slowly. "That sounds like a tough breakup."

"Yeah... Yeah, it was."

He continues nodding, and catches your eye before saying, "So I'm assuming you want to... you know, you won't be up for any more relationships any time soon? Lot to work through?"

You suddenly feel your face begin to heat up. "Uh, well- depends on who it is, I suppose," you blurt without thinking.

"Hm?" He raises an eyebrow. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, considering the fact that your face is just about as red as that Ferrari hat on your head, I'm wondering what you think of me."

You swallow, feeling even more embarrassed. "Are you suggesting...?"

"If you're up for it, the night after the Grand Prix, you can meet me at my hotel room, and we'll go from there. Text me if you decide 'yes,' for the details."

"I don't have your numb-"

He gives a cute little smile and opens his hand to reveal a folded up piece of paper. "Now you do. See you later, Miss Sainz!"

You stand, dumbfounded, as he jogs off.

"Oh my God, Carlos! Well done! So well done! Oh my God!" you scream in the midst of your strings of excited swear words, in both Spanish and English. "Did you actually just win the Australian Grand Prix?!"

He grins as he kisses your cheek, patting your back and saying, "Yes, I actually just did."

You hug your older brother tight, resting your head on his shoulder. "Love you. You did amazing. After everything you've been through. You're going to be leaving Ferrari next season and with your surgery and everything and-"

He smiles a bit. "Want to let me go now? Can't squeeze me too tight, remember?"

"So you can drive a race car and win the race, but you're too fragile for me to hug you!" you laugh, but release him from the hug.

He laughs out loud. "Yes, pretty much."

Hours later, you stand in the lit, mostly empty hallway, knocking on the white-painted door. You've change out of your Ferrari red head-to-toe fit, and are now wearing a black t-shirt with the F1 logo in red on the left side, black sweatpants, and your hair held back by a headband.

Lando probably isn't here, you think as you wait. I look so stupid. He doesn't care as much as he acts like he does. He's probably out partying or something. He got a podium. Carlos won. There's no way he's just sitting around in his hotel room-

You look up in surprise as the door clicks and swings open to reveal Lando Norris standing before you.

You beam and say a bit too loud, "Lando!"

He laughs. "Hey..." He's dressed in a white button down, dark blue jeans, and his regular assortment of jewelry. "Want to come in for a bit?"

You nod. "Were you... just out?" you ask slowly.

He chuckles again, plopping down on the sofa. "If I were just out, I wouldn't be looking this neat."

"Oh... Oh?"

"Come on. Sit down next to me," he encourages with a wave of his hand. "Something funny- I've had my eyes on you for a while now."

You look up in somewhat shock. "That's why you're so confident about this?"

"That, and that I'm just the peak of all confidence," he jokes, clearly mocking cockiness.

You roll your eyes.

"But really. I've been flirting with you for a while."

This time your eyes widen. "No way."

"Just little. I knew you were dating that Torres-"

"How?"

He smiles. "Doesn't take much to find out. Anyway, I think you just blocked it out because you were dating someone else. Shows you're a loyal girl."

"Hm..." you nod slowly. "I... I suppose...?"

Suddenly, he takes your hand in his. "So, you like me?"

"I think I have for a while. Like you said- I blocked it out because I was dating someone else." You didn't even know that until now, hearing the words coming from your mouth.

He smirks. "Even better. So..."

"Yeah?" you ask, a little glimmer in your eyes.

"I'd like to know what the hell you're wearing."

Suddenly, your face falls. "Uh- I'm sorry- I- I thought we- Um-"

Lando laughs. "Y/n! I'm teasing!"

"O- Oh!" you laugh nervously.

"I was just thinking... Maybe you'd want to go out and celebrate with me?"

"Oh-" you nod. "Right."

"So, do you want to get changed? I'll text you where we'll meet in a half hour?"

You grin, standing up. "Sounds good."

"See you then."

"Holy fuck, man," are Lando's first words when he sees you. You're wearing sunglasses, a form-fitting sequin shirt, and flattering white jeans.

"What?" you ask anxiously. "Is it too much?"

"Too much? Y/n, you're gorgeous."

You sigh in relief. "Alright good... And- one thing."

"Hm?" Lando asks, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know if we... could we say we're... that you're my..."

"Partner? Boyfriend?"

You swallow. "Sure. I think... I think I'm good with that. At least for tonight."

He nods.

"But let's not make it clear here. I don't want the way for everyone to find out about this being, you know, by nightclub pictures on the internet."

He smirks a bit, nodding. "Fair enough, then. Let's go."

"Rise and shine! Let's hit the grind, Y/n!" an unfamiliar voice wakes you up.

You roll over to see Lando's handsome face looking down at you. You're in his hotel room, in the one bed. He's all dressed and ready to go, and towering over you, looking like a giddy dog.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. "I've got a killer headache. What happened last night." You feel disgusting, and wrinkle your nose as you get a whiff of the alcohol scent radiating off of you.

He grins. "I learned that you have no tolerance whatsoever."

You frown. "Unlike you, Norris, I'm not getting drunk all the time! Now, tell me what really happened!"

"Nothing much. Just a lot of fun," he sits down next to you, "and it's a shame that you can't remember any of it." He chuckles a bit, saying, "You got fucking wild. You were more fun though before you got absolutely drunk out of your wits."

"You didn't do anyth-"

"No, no!" he rolls his eyes. "Besides, Carlos was there. I wouldn't dare. You at least remember Carlos, right, being there?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, of course I do."

"But you really did completely black out? You don't remember anything?"

You swallow nervously. "No... I don't really remember anything... I mean, I guess..." You close your eyes, thinking hard. "Just dancing... music was super loud, but... that's not anything specific. I don't feel well at all now, though..." You start to feel a bit dizzy at the energy you're putting into trying to remember.

You open your eyes and look at Lando.

He smiles. "Well, it was fun, nothing more. Want me to bring you back to your hotel now?"

"Yeah, I guess..." you nod, cradling your head in your hands. "That'd be great..." You see the wine stain on your jeans. You can feel an ache in your ankle. You just need to clean yourself up.

Lando helps you limp to the car, assuring you that you just tripped. Saying your ankle is fine; it'll feel better in a few days' time.

You're not so sure.

As Lando drives, he knows he should tell you the details, like Carlos said.

But it still feels like you'd be better off not knowing at all.

Nine hours before

Though every single one of Lando's molecules in his body told him not to, he had to keep pushing you off. He sat talking away with some other dudes, and you sat his side, drunkenly trying to wrap your arms around him.

You blubbered softly about all kinds of stuff, a strange mixture of being utterly devastated and overly romantic.

Lando knew. You didn't get drunk this often.

A part of him felt bad. A huge part of him. He didn't think he had pressured you into anything. Certainly not intentionally. And you were the one who kept drinking more. But maybe he did...

Maybe it was his fault you were the mess you were now.

"Lando..." you murmured, your hand gripping his bicep. You leaned closer. "You're so sexy in that shirt." You reached over to unbutton another button of his shirt.

He gently pushed you away for the millionth time. "Remember, Y/n? You don't want anyone to know you're into me this much," he whispered lowly to you, running a hand through his hair. "Remember that, baby."

You pouted. "Ferran broke up with me and made me sad. Can't you make me happy now."

"Not now. I won't be doing anything when you're this drunk."

"I'm not that drunk..."

Lando snorted. "Whatever you say, lovely."

All was going as fine as it could be going. But then Carlos showed up. "Hey, Y/n-" he had started.

But you had interrupted him by slapping your hand on Lando's shoulder, leaning into it, and giggling giddily, "Look at this pretty boy."

Immediately, Carlos's eyes flashed with shock. And then vague panic. And then anger.

"Lando, how drunk did you get her?!" he snapped, raising his voice even more than he already was. The flashing lights on the Spanish man's face helped Lando's anxiety no more.

"I didn't get her drunk at all! I tried to stop h-"

"Yeah, fucking right. Come with me Lando-"

"No!" you had snapped, standing up to grab Lando's sleeve before your older brother could drag him away.

You were clearly biting back tears. "Lan didn't do anything..." You stumbled drunkenly into the British man, who steadied you gently, before helping you sit down again.

Carlos's face remained hard and steadied on Lando, but he spoke no words, as if he was battling in his head what to do.

Lando sighed. "Listen, Carlos. She won't remember any of this tomorrow morning. Let's just not bring this up again, yeah? It was a mistake. Stuff happens. She got wild and had one too many. We've all had those nights."

But Lando genuinely didn't think Carlos had had one of those nights before.

Lando certainly had, though.

"She deserves to know."

"Maybe she shouldn't, though. She's gone through a lot with her ex breaking up with her and everything. And I'm sure your career up in the air isn't helping her cause much, either. She loves you more than the world. And think about how worrying it was for her to see you go into surgery like that, and race right afterwards? The good emotions just hit her, man. But it's probably a lot. She's just going through a lot. She doesn't need the guilt of getting too drunk and acting a little stupid, yeah?" Lando ranted, intently studying the older Spaniard's eyes.

Carlos's eyes slowly softened. "Alright... I won't tell her what's happening once she's sober. Only if I can make a deal with you."

Lando bit his lip, running a hand through his messed up hair. "What is it?"

"I won't say a word to her, as long as you promise to stay away from my sister. I know you're interested in her."

Lando's eyebrows creased together. "What does that men? Why?"

"Quit trying to get with my sister, and then it's a done deal."

Lando let out a shaky breath, slowly nodding. "Alright, then. Whatever. It's a done deal."

Of course Lando didn't intend on following through with his end of the deal.

But when Lando turned around to check on you on the couch, he froze when he saw you were gone. "Where'd Y/n go?" he immediately asked the other guys and girls sitting around.

"The hot Spanish girl?" one guy asked in a painfully slow Australian accent.

"Yes, her!" Lando demanded, his buzzed brain filling with irrational panic and overwhelming confusion.

He lazily gestured and responded, "Went to go dance, I reckon."

And before Carlos or anyone else could react any faster, Lando tore into the crowd, shoving people aside and squeezing through gaps that weren't there, in search of you.

She's drunk out of her mind! What the hell was she thinking!

That's right. She wasn't thinking.

And then, he spotted you, just for a moment. Moving your hips, stumbling about, thinking you were just about the sexiest thing in the room.

"Move out of my fucking way," was Lando's polite way of shoving two guys out of the way.

He could see the sweat glistening on your face. He could see the dumb smile on your face, your high giggles. He could see fresh wine spilled on your white jeans. He could see hands on you; he took no energy to see who they connected to as rage filled his entire being.

And he watched, almost in slow motion, as your ankle rolled on your black stiletto, and you stumbled to the floor with a brain rattling, painful cry.

Immediately, Lando shoved his way to your side, slipping his hands under your body. "My God, Y/n!" he nearly screamed over the music. "You idiot! You beautiful, fucking stupid, idiot! Tell me why I fell in love with you! You're going to be the death of me!"

"Hi Lando," you murmured through tears. "My ankle..."

"Yeah, yeah, I see. Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

You swallowed, nodding as Lando tucked your hair behind your ear. He lifted you to your feet and let you lean on him as he helped you limp out of the club.

"I'm sorry, Lando..." you had muttered hoarsely.

"Hey, don't worry," Lando had responded. "Never apologize for having nothing but a good time."

But he, Lando Norris, disagreed with the words coming out of his mouth. That was his motto, his excuse, all the time. But as soon as soon as he saw you, someone he genuinely really loved, really cared about, living like that?

It made him sick to his stomach.

Speaking of that, as soon as you were outside, you stumbled away from Lando. He steadied you with one hand and held your hair back with the other as you doubled over and vomited, your previously red face impossibly pale.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah..." you gasped after about a minute.

"Alright. Okay. Let's get to my hotel room now."

Lando could barely understand your slurred words as you responded, "As long as we're getting away from here."

Now

You were going to go to the Japanese Grand Prix. But you just wanted to stay home. With a sprained ankle that confines you to crutches and an illness you've picked up, there was no way you were going to fly across the world for a Grand Prix, especially with the potential jet lag.

You lay on your couch and text Lando. You've been thinking, and you let him know that though you really do want to go places with him, you want to go slower.

You still don't know what happened on that night in Melbourne. For some reason, you can't get anything of significance out of Carlos or Lando. But you know more than what they're saying must have happened that night.

You asked Charles, because he was there. He provided a bit more information, but not much. He said he wasn't really hanging around you that night, but that he did see you cuddling with Lando.

When you asked Lando about it, he said you were drunk, it was just you not thinking, and it only happened once. That you stopped after he pushed you off.

And social media shows no one caught it on camera, or anything that night, for that matter.

So at least there's no fans going crazy over anything.

Lando texts you back, saying that he thinks it's best to go slow. Just let yourselves ease into whatever your relationship is going to be.

It's a relief to see he agrees with you on that.

But then he sends another text, asking you to try to keep it a secret. Even from your family, including Carlos.

You ask why, and he responds saying he simply agrees it's good to be private, and he doesn't want Carlos judging.

Though you're not sure about it, since Carlos is not only your favorite (only) brother, but also your best friend, you still tentatively agree to it.

Lando probably has a good reason.

Right?

By the time the Chinese Grand Prix comes around, though your foot is still in a walking boot, you're over your illness, and decide you're going to go for it and make the trip halfway across the world. After all, you've never been to China!

It's true that your walking boot doesn't look the best with your shades, shining silver jewelry, and overalls, but oh well. The most annoying part is literally everyone who even half knows your name (the Sainz part) keeps asking you what the hell happened to your ankle.

And you have literally no response but, "I fell," because you have no more of an idea than them, and there's no way you're about to say, 'Hah I just got drunk with Lando and got so fucking crazy that I twisted my ankle and sprained it! Anyway!'

Yeah, no way.

So "I fell," is the best option you have.

But the most concerning thing to you is that you haven't even seen Lando yet, all weekend. Though you haven't seen each other in a while, you've been calling, texting, and face timing often, your relationship growing a lot.

You chew your lip as you limp towards the McLaren garage. You peek in, scanning for Lando, but only see Oscar.

You limp to him.

"Whoa- What happened to your-"

"I fell," you say, thoroughly exasperated with this. "Anyway, is Lando around?"

"Lando? Uhhh..." he looks around.

Dude, hurry up. I'm not supposed to be here, your thoughts practically scream.

But then he walks in himself, and you grin, waving, "Lando!" you call.

He walks over to you, smiling. "Aw. Look at my little injured girlfr- uh, uhm, mate. My injured mate." He glances nervously at Oscar.

But the Australian just smiles, "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Lando nods gratefully, before leading you to a more private place. "Hey," he says softly once you're alone, his hands resting on your waist. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright... Ankle's getting better, slowly but surely."

"Oh, good," he almost looks relieved. "That's so good to hear. I'm so glad you made the big trip to be here, Y/n."

You smile softly. "I was starting to miss you."

He grins. "I was missing you, too, baby... I think I could make some time for you this weekend, too. We could just get take out, hang out at my hotel room, you know. No more partying, even if I win, right?" he teases gently, gesturing to your foot.

You snort. "Yeah. Yeah, no more partying for now for me."

Later that night, you lay next to Lando in his hotel room. His arms are wrapped around you, his hand rubbing your back. "Look at me," he murmurs sleepily.

You look up to see his soft eyes looking at you, with so much, tenderness, so much...

love.

You feel a flutter in your stomach. "Lando, how did we get here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Two months ago, I would lie awake in bed, dreaming about and missing Ferran. I was so lonely. Now here I am. Two months, and I'm laying here, in your arms."

He grins a bit. "I bet it's because we're meant for each other."

"That's cliché."

"No, it's not. I really mean it. You know, I had a crush on you even back when Carlos was in McLaren, you were around a lot more, in papaya."

"No, you didn't-"

"Yes, I did!" he laughs softly. "I really did. The day I saw you in the paddock. The day Carlos pointed you out as his sister. The day you flipped your hair and looked at me with those warm brown eyes. And then looked away from me, because in my first season in McLaren, I was the farthest thing from attractive."

You giggle at this. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not! That was the day that I knew- I knew- that someday, I was going to make you mine," he murmurs, his eye half-lidded as his hand gently caresses your cheek.

"Lando!" you squeak, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "Don't you dare make me cry for no reason!" You wait a minute, before saying softly, "Well, maybe, just maybe, back then, though you were a pipsqueak, you were kind of cute... And I've always gotten butterflies from your jokes and teasing, even all those years ago, before I was even dating Ferran."

He laughs. "Awww... So you've always had a little bit of a crush on me, too!" You can see by his blushing cheeks and beaming eyes that just this fact is making him feel warm inside.

You roll your eyes, giggling. "I guess, maybe...."

He flicks your nose gently, playfully, holding you even closer. You lay there in more silence, before Lando says softer, even more tenderly, "Hey, Y/n... can I talk to you about something...?"

"Of course, Lando..." Your eyebrows knit together.

You watch as he swallows. Nods. Sighs. "Okay... Something has been bugging me..." He pauses. "I... I feel like I never should have brought you out that night in Australia... you know? Like, beyond the sprained ankle."

Your eyes flash. "What do you mean?"

"Well... You just got so drunk, and... I feel so bad... Like, somehow, it's my fault... I didn't mean for you to get hurt, or to drink that much... I just thought we'd have fun. Like I always do with my friends. And you're my girlfriend; supposed to be my closest friend..."

"Lando," you murmur shakily. "Did you try to get me that drunk? You didn't encourage it, did you?"

He looks nervous. "I genuinely don't think so, but I'm nervous I did... I tried to tell you enough was enough, but maybe I should have looked out for you more... Maybe I should have worked better at keeping you from getting that drunk... But we were having so much fun and I figured you would know your limit... I shouldn't have assumed."

"Lando! Don't blame yourself! It was my fault. I got too drunk, I fell and sprained my ankle. The sentiment of you wanting to look out for me is nice, but when push comes to shove, I'm in charge of myself, just like you're in charge of yourself, and it was my fault. My mistake. M'kay, Lando...?"

He nods slowly, still looking a bit unsure. "Well, Carlos isn't mad at you about it. He's mad at me..."

"Carlos is what?!"

"Ah, fuck. Forget I ever-"

"Lando Norris, explain."

"Whoa, that's sexy," he laughs.

"What?!" you exclaim in exasperation, yet you're still unable to keep your stomach fluttering by Lando's sudden spoken intrusive thought.

He grins, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know. Full name, in such a firm voice? Like, yes, mommy, order me around. I'll do whatever you want me to," he says in a low, goofy, teasing voice.

You can't stop your face from heating up. "Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, your voice cracking awkwardly as you flick him in the nose this time. And you flick his stupid nose harder than he flicked yours earlier.

He giggles evilly, rolling over. "Look at yourself! You liked that! You're a blushing mess!"

"No, I didn't. What a stupid way to flirt."

"Oh, well, I can show you even more stupid ways to flirt. Because, apparently, it doesn't quicken your heart rate at all."

You groan. "You are so annoying."

He leans over, giving you a peck on your lips. "I know. And you know you love me for it."

You forget to ask him again about Carlos.

"Baby, c'mere," Lando says, nodding for you to join him in his driver's room.

"Dude, watch what you call me when there's listening ears around."

Lando shrugs. "It's only Oscar in the other room."

"So? What makes you trust Oscar so much, anyway?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. He's a good guy. And he's not gossipy, like me."

You laugh. "You are, are you?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm a fucking gossip girl."

You laugh out loud at this as Lando shuts the door of his driver's room behind you.

Lando grins. "Anyways, Oscar is trustworthy because he's not the type of guy to have any desire not to keep a secret."

You frown, crossing your arms. "Alright. Whatever. Anyways, why'd you bring me in here?"

Lando shrugs, sitting down on the one chair in the room. "Sit down, babe."

You blink. "Where? On the fricking floor?"

"Uh, no," Lando rolls his eyes jokingly, as if this is the most obvious thing. "On my fricking lap, Y/n. Come on now. Duh."

You can't help but find yourself blush at that as you slip onto his lap. He wraps his hands around your waist, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You smile, leaning into him as you ask softly, "So why'd you bring me in here? Just for kicks?"

He grins. "I need my Y/n fix before the race. You know, it'll make me drive better."

"Oh? Is that how it works?" Suddenly, though, before Lando can respond, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You slip it out and sigh. "It's Carlos, asking me where I am. I feel like I'm under surveillance."

Lando blows a raspberry before saying, "Just ignore it, bae. You're a twenty-four year old woman; Carlos needs to get over it."

"Get over what?" you ask, an eyebrow raised.

"You not being his baby sister anymore. You're my baby now," he murmurs into your shoulder, pulling you closer to himself.

You laugh. "I still can't decide whether you're the worst flirt I've ever met or the smoothest. But right now, I'm thinking the worst."

"Oh, well!" he says, looking up at you with innocent eyes, batting his lashes. "Doesn't matter to me, because either way, you like it! Anyway, back to before Carlitos had to interrupt-"

You giggle as he begins kissing your face and say, "Carlitos? I'm not even allowed to call him that without him going psycho man on me-"

"Mmm... Can you talk less? It's cuter when you do that giggle thing," Lando murmurs between kisses.

This causes you to laugh out loud. "Sometimes, Lando, I think you're so weird." You realize, in a strange way, though, Lando is right. Because of the giddy feeling of literally having your boyfriend shower you with kisses and love, you're just kind of trying to find anything to talk about.

But maybe you should just take one moment to shut up.

You lean into the kisses, exhaling slowly. Contently, despite your pounding heart and sweating neck.

Finally, you feel as though your face is absolutely, completely covered in Lando's kisses. You sigh, contented, as Lando kisses the tip of your nose, and then pecks your lips.

You giggle, opening your eyes to gaze into his.

But his eyes flutter shut as he leans in, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck. And his lips meet yours again, this time in a real kiss. You shut your eyes, enjoying those lips on your own, sending tingles throughout your whole body, causing your breath to grow heavier and heavier. Desire pulses in every beat of your heart, causing the passion in the kiss to build and build. Your right hand falls into his chest as the other knits itself in his curly locks. You feel Lando's hand on your hip as his fingers snake under to grip your ass gently. You can feel his hot breath on you, in you, apart of you, as his other hand gently stroking your neck, giving you little twitches of longing for more. Your tongues find an art of lingering exploration, Lando's hunger seeming to never be satisfied as his tongue and lips tease your nerves, the emotional and physical connections between you seeming stronger than ever. His hand slides down your neck to your back, pulling you closer to him, so your chests are pressed into one another.

Suddenly, though, there's a pounding on the door of Lando's driver's room. Your eye cracks open. Lando's squeeze tighter shut, his eyebrows creasing together, as if he wishes so much that this never has to end.

Lando grunts, finally pulling away. Oscar's voice on the other side of the door saying Lando's name seems to be in another, insignificant world. You're both gasping as you study each other's eyes in a certain awe.

A soft, mischievous smirk appears on Lando's lips. Those lips that now you can't stop staring at. "Was your first kiss with Torres that hot?"

You let out a breathy laugh. "Definitely not."

There's a pause, of just softly smiling, gazing into each other's eyes, before Lando breathes, his eyes half-lidded, "My fucking God," He gently, slowly strokes your warm, pink cheek. "Did I ever tell you how head over heels I am for you?"

Before you can respond, Oscar's voice says again from outside, "Lando, if you don't respond, soon, I'm coming in."

Lando groans again, leaning his head back, "You can't! The door's locked!" He then adds under his breath, "Fucking Osc, interrupting as soon as I was going to take it to the next step."

At this, you blush even deeper. "You were-"

Lando waves his hand dismissively. "I would have checked with you first."

You nod, breathing deeply.

"Alright, baby," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it up a bit. "Let's go see what the hell Oscar wants."

When the door swings open, Oscar can't help but chuckle how how much, in that moment, you two look like some snarky super villian duo, about to give him some cheesy monologue. You both stand, arms crossed, practically back to back. Lando wears a scornful grin and you display a glare as hard as stone. Even your clothes- Lando's racing clothes and your head-to-toe Ferrari red, finish off the silly look.

"What's so funny?" you demand upon seeing the Australian's laughter.

"Nothing, nothing. But I hope you guys know: These walls are not soundproof."

"What are you suggesting?" Lando snaps. "You couldn't have possibly heard anything, you idiot!"

"Whoa, whoa! I didn't! I'm just saying!" Oscar says, going on the defensive, putting both hands up. "Me and my girlfriend don't lock ourselves in my driver's room before the race, losing track of time and forcing you to go get us!"

"You and your girlfriend are probably going to buy a house with a white picket fence and have 2.5 children and a golden lab! Oscar and Lily is bad enough, but I'm surprised it's not John and Emily!"

"Whoa," Lando says, laughing as you walk out of the driver's room together and he shuts the door. "Shots fired. Calm down, Y/n; jeez."

But Oscar's laughing, too, so you know there's no need to apologize.

"Lan... You know I wasn't kidding earlier when I said I won't go out, right?" you say nervously as you walk into his hotel room, rolling your suitcase from your own hotel room.

"Yeah, I know you weren't. I wasn't kidding, either."

"So... What?" you ask, sitting down on the edge of his bed, crossing your arms. "You're planning on going alone? Then why did you bring me to your hotel room-"

"Y/n," he suddenly says, leaning down to gently grab your chin and look you directly in your eyes. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm staying right here."

Your jaw actually drops. "I'm sorry, but who are you and what have you done with Lando Norris? Because that man would never miss an opportunity to party."

This makes Lando let go of you and break into a fit of laughter. "Y/n!" he breathes. "What the hell are you talking about? Before that, I would never miss an opportunity to spend time with you."

You stare. "Okay, actually. I'm being serious now. What did you do with Lando?"

You watch as your boyfriend chuckles, sitting down next to you. "Baby. I'm not going to go out clubbing while you sit in a hotel room alone. And there's no way I'm taking you out again; my guilty conscience can't take that, and neither can your sprained ankle. So why not celebrate P2 here, just you and I, hm?" he says in a low tone.

Immediately, at this suggestion, you blush. "Oh, uh, Lando... I, uh... I don't know if I'm ready for something... you know... for that... right now... Not yet... You know, it's too early for me in our relationsh-"

Lando suddenly breaks into laughter again. Oh, that sweet, silly sound. "Y/n! My God, what a dirty mind you have! I wasn't thinking that at all-!"

"You, Lando Norris, are saying I have a dirty mind?! I bet you really are his doppelganger!"

He crosses his arms. "Only reason why I wouldn't suggest that is because I know you're not ready. Which is more than one hundred percent fine with me. I wasn't even thinking about that, anyway."

"What were you thinking, then?"

He smiles with his eyes. "Well, let's both get ready for bed," he begins pulling his shirt off over his head as you absolutely bear your eyes into him, "And once we're both ready, I'll meet you back... here...?" His confused face slowly turns to one of teasing nature when he sees your eyes trained intently on his bare chest. His perfectly toned abs. His perfectly shaped pecs. His strong, straight, tan back. The little brown beauty marks sprinkled all over his torso. You would love to kiss every single one of them. "Why don't you take a picture?" he smirks stupidly. "That way, it'll last longer."

"Oh, shut up," you murmur, licking your lips as you tear your eyes away from his bare middle. "You can shower first," you murmur.

Once you're both all clean and ready, you snuggle up under the blankets, only to find your arm brushing against Lando's bare skin.

You feel your heart flutter as you murmur, "Are you not wearing a shirt just to bother me?"

"What, no," Lando says, overly innocently. "I never wear a shirt to bed. Just like I'm sure you never wear a bra...?"

If you were embarrassed before, now it's ten times worse. You specifically decided to wear a bra, to avoid... that. And now here Lando is, bringing it up like it's the weather.

"Uh..." you begin.

"Anyway!" Lando says, apparently seeing the vaguely panicked look in your eyes. "Wanna just watch a show or something?"

"Yeah," you nod. "That sounds good."

Lando turns some stupid show on his laptop, and as you snuggle and it gets later, you become more relaxed. You lean your head on Lando's shoulder as he plays with strands of your smooth, wet, dark hair. Your hands begin softly feeling his chest, just drawing circles and feeling the shapes of his abs.

Everyday, you seem to get to know Lando more and more- inside and out.

He sighs, contented, and murmurs sleepily, "That feels nice."

You smile, nuzzling into him.

"I saw Barcelona and Madrid played today," he comments as your fingers continue stroking the abs under Lando's soft skin.

"Yeah... El Clásico..."

"You don't sound as excited as I thought you would. I thought you were big on Madrid."

"Yeah, I am... Just having been keeping up with La Liga lately, I guess."

"Hm... Well, would you like it if I could find some way to watch the game...?"

You smile softly. "Hm. Yeah, maybe that wouldn't be so bad..."

Lando nods, and soon, you're cuddled up with your boyfriend, watching your favorite team play against FC Barcelona/your ex's team.

It feels weird, but you like it.

You decide your bra isn't very comfy and slip it off under your shirt before tossing it across the room.

"You're finally over being embarrassed with me?" Lando teases.

You smile softly, shutting your eyes. "At least for now. Too sleepy to care."

He smiles back. "You're cute when you're sleepy. Cuter."

Soon, though, Lando is gently shaking you, murmuring, "Look. Your ex was subbed on."

"Hmmm? What about Fer?" you murmur with a yawn. You must have dozed off for a bit.

"Fer?" Lando asks, his nose scrunching up. "Yeah, Ferran Torres."

Your eyes flutter open to see your ex-boyfriend running onto the pitch. You feel a sudden, unexpected pang in your chest. When you and Ferran were still together, you watched him do that so many time, with a sense of pride and excitement.

But now, you don't feel much at all. It's no different from anyone else going out there to play.

But, like a train, memories of the past begin to hit you.

Going for walks with him. Cheering him on at finals. Hanging out with his teammates. Working out with him. Bringing him to the Barcelona Grand Prix. Exchanging gifts on birthdays and holidays.

Just all the little things you used to do.

Like snuggling with each other on late nights after Barcelona won.

Not unlike what you and Lando are doing right now.

Suddenly Lando's arm around you tightens, and he says, "You okay?"

"I- yeah..."

Lando leans forward to see you face. You try to turn it away. Lando doesn't let you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

"You're crying," he states softly.

"I guess..." you trail off, averting your eyes.

There's a few beats of silence before Lando states again, "You still miss him."

"I guess..." you repeat. "But... I'm happy to be with you... it just all happened so quick... It's a lot for me... I'm mostly over it- over him- by now, but sometimes things just... make me start to think. Reminsce of what's not anymore."

Lando slowly nods, and begins rubbing your shoulder. "I- Alright..."

"But don't worry. I'm way more happy to be with you right now than sad to not be with Ferran any longer."

"You're sure?" the Brit asks tentatively.

You nod, leaning into him once more. "I'm sure. One hundred and one percent."

"Hey, Lando," you grin giddily before the Miami Grand Prix. "Just drive your best out there, okay? Good luck, baby." You give him a high-five. You can sense he wants to give you a hug, but painfully knows he can't because of the ever-watching cameras and eyes all around you.

But he leans in close, until you can practically feel his breath on your face, and says softly, in just about the most heart-wrenching-in-a-good-way low voice, "Oh, baby... I'm going to go out there and win that race. For you."

"Oh, stop being such a romantic. You're going to make me cry."

He leans in, about to kiss your cheek, but you gently push him off, saying, "You better get going, Lan! Race is going to start soon!"

"Right! Bye bye, bab-"

"BYE!" you scream to overpower his stupid 'baby girl.'

And before you can even blink twice, it seems-

It's lights out....

And away we go!

"LANDO! FUCKIN'! NORRIS!" you scream as soon as you see him, running to him as fast as you can. Your eyes threaten to fill over their brims with tears as you leap into Lando's arms, immediately forgetting about hiding your relationship.

Right now, that just seems too silly to care about. It doesn't matter enough.

Your boyfriend is a race winner.

The racer winner!

He leans back with the most joyful, most romantic, most adrenaline filled, most glorious look in his eyes as they search yours. His hand slowly strokes your cheeks as he purrs, "I told you I would win it for you, didn't I?"

"Lando-" you begin in excitement, but are interrupted by Lando's lips on yours, aggressively, passionately leaning into yours, flooding all his emotions into you, sharing his dream coming true with you.

For some reason, you begin to cry. Flows of tears, flooding down your cheeks as you kiss each other, and your heart pounds at a million kilometres an hour. His hands grip your waist tight, and the moment-

It all seems so perfect.

Right now, you don't care about the fact it was supposed to be secret. You don't care about what Carlos will think or say or do, or what fans on social media will post. None of it matters.

In this moment, the only two people that matter are you and Lando, in a symphony of amorousness, standing on the top of the world.

In this moment, you and Lando, both in sync, know this is the right time. Though it's been merely three months of being in a real, serious relationship, it feels like several lifetimes.

You don't care about the shock of other people, or the cameras flashing and clicking and filming.

All the sudden, you're proud of it.

You want everyone to know, no matter how they'll react, that you're Lando's, and Lando is yours.

When you finally break away from each other, Lando's smile remains as he gazes into your eyes.

"Are you crying too?" you giggle softly as you spot a glint in his eyes.

"What? Me, crying? No, I'm not crying! Of course I'm not crying!" he says teasingly, hastily wiping at his eye with his thumb. "You're the one crying! But anyway-" He slips the papaya McLaren cap off his head and plops it on yours, saying, "Won't be needing this for the top step. Besides," he smirks, leaning in closer. "Enough with all this Ferrari stuff. I think it's finally time for you to admit: Papaya looks best on you. Papaya's your color."

As you watch him jog off after that, stunned, you feel pleased.

Finally, for once, content.

That's right. My color isn't white, or blaugrana. It's not Ferrari's red, either.

I'm a papaya girl.

His papaya girl.

[monzamash]

off the record — lando norris

"the line between personal and professional was already so blurred; so incomprehensibly faint that anyone looking in would have to squint to see it." lando norris x you (femreader) | 2.1k rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language, drug references) masterlist

The media pen was mayhem after what had been an eventful morning on track. Cameras hoisted every which way, journalists vying for their chance to get front row. And then there was you; little old you trying your best to muscle into every nook and cranny available, wrestling with the big boys and girls. You were a bit of a hot shot now, rising through the ranks online as a media personality and bringing it to the stalwarts of mainstream media.

And you were good – really good. An exceptional storyteller and an extractor of sorts when it came to getting the scoop, something you had honed in on during your days working freelance before eventually realising your potential. Somehow, you’d made it here. Reporting for Sky Sports. Coming to you live from Monaco. Dream shit.

“Lando Norris…” You started, microphone locked and loaded in front of the sweaty, nonchalant McLaren driver.

“Felt like you left a little bit out on track in practice this morning. P10 – where do you think you can get the car in qualifying this afternoon?”

“P1 obviously,” Lando quipped, chewing through his comically large drinking straw in an attempt to hide his smirk. Mocking.

“Yeah?”

“What do you reckon?” He asked, leaning forward ever so slightly with a mischievous glint in his eye that had you rolling yours.

You shrugged, “Wouldn’t count the McLaren car out, that’s for sure.”

“The car and…” Lando smirk widened, lips still pursed and baiting.

“The driver too? Maybe?” Dickhead.

“Maybe that too…” You gave in with a sigh, eliciting a wide smile from the man standing in front of a gaggle of reporters, waiting for your next question with snickering expressions.

“So high expectations going into quali then?”

It had always been like this with Lando from the moment you stuck your little hand held recorder in his face at Bahrain last year to now. He knew he could wind you up and find levity in whatever situation he found himself in at the end of a session – good or bad. It was always a friendly back and forth between journalist and driver. Harmless banter to make the monotony of the media pen just that little bit more bearable. Professional, until it wasn’t.

“The flirting is getting out of hand,” You whispered into his kiss, teeth clashing, hands fumbling as you fell back on your hotel bed with a huff.

“But you look so fucking cute asking me questions like that,” He growled in retort, hands making quick work of the jeans clinging to your hips – the ones that had been taunting him all day.

Everywhere he turned he saw you swaying from side to side, aching to have this moment with you now.

“Well duh,” You quipped confidently, eyes fluttering shut as his feverish lips ghosted above the damp patch of excitement between your thighs. Focus.

“But it has to stop.”

“Oh you want me to stop right now?”

“I’m not talking about…” You stopped mid-sentence when you caught the mischievous glimmer in Lando’s eyes, lips pulled into a smirk, “Okay, fuck you.”

“You love it,” He breathed out in barely a whisper, leaving a trail of marks down the inside of your thigh before finally giving you what you were waiting for. 

“And don’t pretend like the thought of me going down on you when you’re asking me those silly little questions doesn’t turn you on.”

Well he fucking had you there.

Lando punctuated his point with a long, teasing stripe to your cunt before burying himself between your thighs, only coming up for air when you tugged on his curls and demanded a kiss. He knew how you were, how needy and insatiable you could be. This was a thing now; a god forsaken mistake in Australia that had turned into a runaway train. Neither of you could stop it.

“I can’t live without this.”

The desperation spilled from your mouth in a guttural moan as you titled you hips upwards and let the twisted knots in the depths of your stomach unravel. The sight of you thrashing in pleasure below knocked the wind out of Lando, eyes and mind focused solely on fucking you through your high so perfectly, fingers bruising the buttery flesh of your thighs.

“God – fuck…” He could barely breathe, “Don’t – you don’t have to.”

And with one last pump, he was coming into the condom he’d slipped on without you even knowing. It was second-hand now, muscle memory and so fucking good. But it didn’t start that way – no, it was awkward goodbyes and a cold ‘thanks for that’ which made you regret ever answering your hotel door. The situation had changed in the blink of an eye – now he was lingering, kissing you in places that had you melting into the mussed sheets and begging him to stay a little bit longer.

It was pathetic how reliant you’d become and how distant you could be when he had to leave. The leaving part was the thing that changed and had you questioning all of it. It used to be that you could go shower and come back to an empty bed and not even flinch. Four months of he is just a causal fuck, no hard feelings to now not being so stoic on that sentiment but you wouldn’t admit that. Not to yourself and especially not to the man peering down at you – all lazy smiles and dimples and ocean eyes. You were fucked.

“I gotta go,” Lando whispered, brushing the stray strands of hair from your flushed face, pout present and needy.

“You don’t really though.”

“If I don’t go now I’ll never leave.”

The little voice in your head was monologuing – screaming out all of the reasons why he should stay because maybe deep down that’s what you wanted. But you couldn’t have that. The line between personal and professional was already so blurred; so incomprehensibly faint that anyone looking in would have to squint to see it. It was the devil on your shoulder that tormented you when it came to Lando, pushing the boundaries more and more every time you had him in your clutches. Risking it all.

“Kiss me before you go.”

And he did. Passionately, like a man in love because maybe he was. Maybe he had been for a lot longer than he’d realised – somewhere between Miami and now he let his guard down too far, too soon. You were flawless though, unattainably perfect that he couldn’t be blamed for falling victim to your allure – sharp eyes following you around the paddock, wishing he was the little notebook in your back pocket that garnered all your attention on race weekends.

“See you tomorrow?”

“If you’re lucky,” Lando quipped, knowing he would be the one curled up in his cold, lonely bed for the rest of the night waiting impatiently for tomorrow.

In any other circumstance you would think the two of you were like magnets, drawn together amongst the travelling circus that was your workplace. But you had a job to do and that was to seek out drivers and team principals, digging deep for any story you could find. There was a trust that you’d built with the teams, all of them respected your work and knew that you weren’t malicious; in fact you were the opposite.

“I really appreciate you not writing about my drunkenness last weekend… It wasn’t my finest moment unfortunately.”

Oscar was a rookie driver but also a total sweetheart, who admittedly had found himself in a precarious late night adventure in a Miami nightclub post-grand prix. How he ended up that drunk, you had no idea but you saved him from himself with the help of Lando, who Oscar would’ve thought was suspiciously close by if he wasn’t black out drunk.

“I got you, buddy but I think your Australian citizenship might have to be revoked after an effort like that… Very disappointing,” You teased in jest, both smiling into the blistering Monacan sun as you walked side by side into the paddock.

“I woke up with an L on my forehead which I can only assume Lando put there so I think my ego’s bruised enough thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah,” You cringed, “That might’ve been my eyeliner.”

“Is that right…”

Oscar’s tone was laced with suspicion but before he could quiz you on why you were still there that night and that he had started to notice the budding friendship between you and his teammate, he was being whisked away by one of his McLaren publicists. You were thankful that they'd taken his curious questions away – how the tables had turned.

Lando was watching you wander through the paddock behind his dark sunglasses, as had been the trend all weekend. Every time you glanced around he was there, wondering if he could sneak over and say hello. Sure, you were friends with a few of the drivers outside of work but when you stepped over that white line, the barriers of professionalism came up again. They had to, otherwise you would end up in a situation like this – gawking at someone you shouldn’t be.

But god he looked good.

He wore what he knew was your biggest weakness – a backwards cap and the black denim jacket he slung over your shoulders on that dark, stormy night in London a few weeks ago when Imola was cancelled and you needed a fix. Hotel hook-ups only. And all of this had you asking yourself, how on earth could you deny a good morning from the man who was the subject of your every desire?

“Good morning.”

“Well it’s not a bad one,” You smiled, more energised than Lando who was yawning into the crook of his arm, “Late night?”

He loved it when you did that. Sneaking little inside jokes into seemingly innocent conversation, naughty reminders of the nights you shared together when nobody was watching. The cheeky grin tugging on his lips a definite tell-tale that he enjoyed it – the tells getting easier and easier to spot the more you got to know him. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought that maybe he was into this as much as you. Little did you know.

“Yeah just squeezed in a late cardio sesh – you know how it is…”

A soft ahh slipped from your smirking lips, eyes trained on your path ahead as Lando strolled alongside, “What’s on the agenda today?”

You shrugged, half out of genuine cluelessness and the other half deflecting how nervous you were. Working in the media was your dream but walking through the hallowed halls of a sport you had loved for your entire life and that dream coming true made your stomach churn with every emotion under the sun. Especially in Monaco.

“You nervous?” Lando asked quietly, shaking you from your thoughts and panicked that you were talking out loud.

“Huh? Oh…” You waved him off and chuckled, “No – I mean, yeah but I always feel like this on race morning… But obviously you’re probably a lot more nervous than me so it’s nothing…” You were a stuttering mess and all Lando wanted to do was reach out and give you a hug.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. This was your little secret, a delicious secret that only the two of you knew and he didn’t want to ruin that. Instead, he dug his hands into his jean pockets a little deeper and gave you a reassuring nudge. Shoulder to shoulder, the same way you laid together the night before after what could only be described as the best sex of your life. Lives.

“My mum always said that nerves mean you care,” Lando’s voice was lower than before – a seriousness taking over, “You’ll do great, as always.”

“Thank you,” You matched his tone, “Hopefully I’m interviewing Lando Norris, Monaco Grand Prix winner…”

That’s all you really wanted deep down. Not the breaking story of the weekend or the drama surrounding contract talks at Red Bull. Just for the guy you had grown profoundly fond of to have some semblance of good luck for once. He’d worked hard for it, you’d seen it first hand and you’d seen the heartbreak when things weren’t going his way. Alas, that was what started this whole situation – frustrated post-race sex. Chef’s kiss.

Lando simply rolled his eyes and sighed loudly before leaning in a tiny bit closer than what you considered a safe workplace distance, “Kiss for good luck then?”

“Get the fuck out of here!” You laughed, kicking his calf with your platform boot as his infectious cackle of a laugh echoed through the growing crowd.

You watched him disappear somewhere between the motorhomes, searching for his team. The lingering feeling in your stomach made you slightly nauseous and a little excited for the next run-in with him. It was like a game of cat and mouse and you weren’t sure who was who but you liked it. More than you wanted to admit because he was Lando fucking Norris – f1's most eligible bachelor, the naughty boy from Bristol, all curls and dimples and undeniable charm. You couldn't help but wonder how many others he had wrapped around his finger like you.

He's just a casual fuck, you mumbled under your breath as you flicked open your notebook and got to work.

masterlist | askbox

[nhlclover]

SKATING LESSONS WILL SMITH

— event masterlist !

pairing: fem!reader x will smith

summary: growing up in california, hockey and skating was not something you came by often. now, dating will, he decides to bring it in to your life and teach you to skate

warnings: an appearance from macklin, descriptions of reader being born in socal

wc: 1.27k

notes: third fic in my twelve days of christmas celebration! despite being born and raised in canada i am a god awful skater.

The crisp cold air prickled against your nose the moment you stepped into the SAP Center, a world utterly foreign to you. Growing up in sunny California, your life had revolved around beaches, sun-kissed boardwalks, and the lazy rhythm of waves lapping against the shore. Skating had been something you’d only ever seen in movies — elegant and effortless. And hockey? That was a mystery, a sport that belonged to distant snowy places you never thought about.

But here you were, bundled up in a long puffer jacket, watching as players and their families swirled around the rink. The air buzzed with laughter and chatter, children weaving between the adults with fearless abandon, while you hovered on the edge, your heart pounding against your ribs.

Will watched as your eyes darted around the rink, clearly nervous about skating for the first time. “Hey,” he said softly, pulling your gaze away from the ice. “Come sit, I’ll help you with your skates.”

You perched nervously on the bench, your legs bouncing slightly as Will crouched in front of you, guiding your foot into the skate. His fingers worked expertly, threading the laces through each eyelet, tugging them tight but not too tight.

“Okay,” he said, glancing up at you as he tied the knot. “First rule of skating: trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “Easier said than done. What if I fall? Or take someone else out? Or—”

“Hey.” His voice was low, soothing, and when his eyes met yours, the chaos of the rink seemed to fade for a moment. “You’re not gonna fall. And if you do, guess what? I’ll be right there to catch you. Or at least to laugh with you about it.”

That earned a small laugh, and you felt some of the tension in your shoulders ease.

Will finished tying your skate and patted your knee. “There. All set. You’re officially ready to hit the ice.”

You glanced warily at the rink, where a group of kids zipped past, giggling. “I don’t know if I can do this, Will…”

Will stood up, holding out his hand with an encouraging smile. “You can. And you’re not doing it alone. Come on, take it one step at a time.”

Reluctantly, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his grip steadying you as you stood on the thick rubber mats that led to the rink. The skates felt alien beneath your feet, your ankles wobbling with each step. Will stayed close, his other hand at your elbow as he guided you to the edge of the ice.

“Okay, deep breath,” he said, stepping onto the ice first with practiced ease. His movements were fluid, as if the rink was his second home. He turned to you, his hand still extended. “One foot, then the other. You’ve got this.”

You hesitated, staring at the shimmering ice that stretched out endlessly in front of you. Your stomach twisted, and for a second, you thought about bolting back to the bench. But then you saw Will’s expression — patient, reassuring, and full of quiet confidence in you.

With a shaky inhale, you stepped onto the ice. The blade slipped slightly beneath you, and you clutched his hand like a lifeline.

“See? Not so bad,” he said with a grin, steadying you with both hands now. “Just keep your knees bent a little, and don’t lock them. That’ll help you balance.”

You nodded, still gripping his hands tightly as he led you forward. Your steps were cautious and slow, more like a shuffle than actual skating. Every few seconds, your skates would slide unpredictably, and you’d let out a startled squeak, causing Will to chuckle.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice like a warm anchor in the chaos of your mind. “You’re doing great. Just focus on me, okay?”

Little by little, you started to find a rhythm. Will kept his movements slow and steady, walking backward as he guided you further out onto the ice. The sound of blades cutting through the ice and the laughter of others faded into the background.

“Okay, I’m gonna let go now,” Will said, stopping in the middle of the rink.

“What? No!” Your voice rose in panic, and your grip on his hands tightened.

“You’ve got this,” he reassured, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Trust me.”

Before you could protest further, he gently released your hands and skated a few feet away.

The moment he let go, you wobbled, your arms flailing as you tried to keep your balance. Your heart pounded as you felt the unsteady glide of the skates beneath you. “Will!”

“You’re doing it!” he called, his smile wide and proud.

You blinked, realizing you were still upright, albeit wobbling like a newborn fawn. Tentatively, you pushed one foot forward, then the other. The movement was slow and uncoordinated, but it was progress. A thrill of accomplishment surged through you.

“I’m skating!” you said, half-laughing, half-disbelieving.

“Damn right you are,” Will said, skating backward to stay close, ready to catch you if needed.

Just as you were starting to feel proud of yourself, a blur of motion zipped by, and you heard a familiar voice call out, “Looking good out there, Bambi!” Macklin skated right past you, a smirk plastered on his face. 

“Bambi?” you echoed, glaring at him as he sped off.

Will was at your side in an instant, laughing. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous you’re picking it up so quickly.”

“I doubt that,” you said, your lips twitching into a grin despite yourself.

Macklin looped back around, throwing in a dramatic spin before skating off again. “Just don’t take out any kids, okay?” he called over his shoulder.

“Push me in his direction, I’m gonna fall on him and take him out.” you said, eyes narrowing on his speedy figure as he skated away.

Will burst out laughing, holding onto your waist to keep you from actually launching yourself in Macklin's direction.  “Not today, Bambi. Let’s stick to standing and skating for now.”

You grumbled something under your breath that Will couldn’t quite make out, but couldn’t stop smiling as Will guided you into another slow lap around the rink. He kept a hand on your back this time, steady and reassuring, while the other waved dramatically at Macklin as if to warn him to keep his distance.

You continued to focus on keeping your balance. The sensation of skating was still foreign, every movement precarious, but you were starting to feel a little braver. Your legs shook less with each stride, and you managed to glance around, taking in the rink without feeling overwhelmed.

By the time you stepped off the ice, your legs were like jelly, and your cheeks ached from smiling so much. As you sank onto the bench, putting your feet in Will’s lap so he could help you take off your skates, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe I actually did that.”

Will plopped down beside you, his own skates still on. “I told you you could. And you didn’t even fall once. That’s impressive.”

“What can I say, I’m a natural.” you shrugged.

Will smirked, tugging your skate off and setting it aside. “A natural, huh? Should I sign you up for the next practice? You and Macklin can battle for ice time.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully nudging his shoulder. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. But… I think I could get used to this.”

His grin softened, his hand brushing yours. “Good. Because I like having you out there with me.”

[babiebom]

Would they be a Girl Dad/Mom or Boy Dad/Mom

A/N: just know that this isn’t the weird incest-y thing that people have going on (the boy moms saying that no girl would ever compare to them when talking about their sons dating stuff) this is just what vibes they give off!! The is completely ignoring the how many kids they would have thing!!

Tw:cursing? Mentions of a afab partner in bachelors and amab partner in bachelorettes. Some angsty stuff but nothing too bad except for the authors note which mentions incest.

Wc:at least 5 for each!

Stardew Valley Masterlist

Sebastian

Girl dad

He just gives off girl dad energy

Like a daughter would soothe his soul if that makes sense.

Especially because I feel like he would have a daughter that’s exactly like her mother.

He would become softer, and would probably be carrying her everywhere.

Would be the parent that shows up to the school like “WHO TF HAS A PROBLEM WITH MY DAUGHTER?”

Absolutely doesn’t allow her on his motorcycle at all.

Maybe when she’s a little older he’ll get mods to a new motorcycle so she could ride with him but as a baby absolutely not.

She is a daddy’s girl through and through and it makes him happy because he never had a relationship like this with his biological dad nor with Demetrius.

Sam

Girl dad

You will see him teaching his daughter how to skate EVERY DAY

Like dude is a skater boy that’s also a musician.

He definitely has a daughter with her skirt on and some knee pads a helmet and some flannel or something.

And he’s like “okay try again! You’ll get that kick flip eventually.”

And you’re just like “SHES GONNA GET H U R T!!!!”

And he’s like “yeah but she’ll be fine :)”

It’s VERY stressful because he’s a little rough with playing sometimes because he gets too excited but it’s good to have a partner that will push your child like that.

He’s a very good fun dad

Vincent enjoys being an uncle.

Shane

Girl dad

Have you seen how he is with Jas?

Dude is a girl dad all the way!

Would teach his daughter how to take care of the chickens, and would try to teach them proper ways of dealing with their emotions because he doesn’t want her to end up like him.

I could imagine he’s one of those dads where his daughter posts something on a social media platform and gets the “this is no father behavior” or whatever people be saying

And she just makes another video with him standing there and is like ??????? I’m actually close to my dad thanks <3

Like his daughter would be strong but a good person because he would work hard to make sure she’s a person he wishes he could be. But not in a toxic way

More in a you could be and are better than me.

Alex

Definitely a boy dad

I think he gives off the vibes of a dad you see at the park

And you can immediately tell that his child is a boy and when anyone asks him he points to a little boy that looks exactly like him.

They have football days

And it just very much him fixing what he didn’t have with his dad, and giving his son as much love and care as he can.

It’s as if he is getting a do over, but in the form of having a child instead of him going back to being a child.

I can see him and his son in the kitchen with a mess everywhere trying to make you breakfast

He takes him to sports games and goes to all of his kids events at school.

They’re both EXTREMELY loud when doing anything together. It’s just shouts of excitement and joy.

Harvey

Boy dad

I don’t know he gives off that he specifically has a 3 year old son that clings to both of you on any given day.

Like a son with big eyes that can melt anyone’s heart and his hair is always neat.

Son may be a bit of a crybaby ngl but in a cute way. Because both of you allow him to express his feelings in any way he wants to as long as it’s healthy.

Like y’all’s son would be an incredibly sweet boy and so loving and caring towards other people and things.

Harvey has a picture of you and your son as his lock screen on his phone and the clinic computer. And he has a little picture (more like a million) of you three in his wallet.

Elliott

Girl dad

She takes mom’s looks but has his hair.

And also his bone structure.

Gives off Nepo baby vibes and has a big vocabulary bc Elliott would speak to her as if she’s an adult since the day she’s born.

Like yeah he still speaks softly and everything

But he uses adult words bc his kid is going to be smart.

Would be so sweet and would absolutely call her his princess.

Elliott is for sure in charge of bedtime stories and has probably already or has made plans to release a children’s book just for her

She gives him inspiration and a new meaning to his life.

Penny

Boy mom

She just seems like the type of woman to have a son

I imagine him literally either as a newborn with her never putting him down or like a 4 year old playing at the park.

I think he would be similar to her in personality but more like dad in looks.

He’s attached to her and they spend hours reading together because they’re both very into stories.

I think out of all the kids he would be the sweetest.

He’s very soft spoken like she is and she loves that he is (don’t get me wrong if he was loud she would still love him just as much) but she’s seeing all of the traits that she was more insecure about in him and figuring out that maybe it’s nothing to be ashamed of because those traits are lovely in him.

Leah

Boy mom

Like I mentioned in the other post I think she would have one child

And I think this little boy would be so creative it’s crazy

But is also super hyper so all of his art is chaotic but very cool

She probably started doing art with him the second he was born.

She makes a bunch of finger,hand,toe, and footprint art because he’s going to grow quickly and she wants to have something that she can look back on when he’s grown.

He’s encouraged to be messy and I think because of it he learns to clean up his mess quickly

They’re a very smilely duo and she makes sure to encourage him in whatever he wants to do no matter how absurd because no one encouraged her to follow her art dreams and she never wants him to feel like that

But also teaches the importance of accepting failure and continuing to try to achieve his goals.

Emily

Boy mom

Very strange like her but in a good way like her

She lets him express himself in all kinds of ways so he’s very…idk how to explain it

Sometimes off putting to people?

Sort of autism coded ngl

Like has no ability to read the room and very much says what’s on his mind no matter what’s happening

But it’s kinda impossible to get mad at him because he does it in a very nice way?

Probably has his hair dyed some random color that he wanted and everyone gets mad at Emily for it because “HeS a KiD hE cAnT dO tHaT!!!!!!!1!!!”

They’re also super close. But I don’t honestly think any of these bachelor/ettes would have kids just to hate them.

But they have the kind of bond that people usually have with their friends like where you can halfway read their mind and you don’t really have to say full sentences or anything they just get it.

Haley

Girl mom

OOOOOOOOF her daughter is the spitting image of her

Like her daughter knows EXACTLY what she’s going to look like.

Would probably dress her daughter up in expensive clothes and stuff and they’ll have mommy daughter dates where they get their nails done and go to a hair salon and go shopping and have their little drinks.

Her daughter would probably have a popular girl name because Haley would wanna set her up for success.

BUT unlike what people might think I think that Haley would be very…relaxed with her daughter if that makes sense

No almond mom shit

No making her feel bad

No being distant and distracted

Haley sometimes feels abandoned by her parents and I have a headcanon where even though she loves them and they love her they kinda made her feel shitty about certain things

Like her and her mother would get into arguments and her mother would say “I hope you have a daughter just like you so you can see how hard it is to deal with you!”

And after Haley has her daughter she sees that it isn’t really hard to love herself at all. Her daughter is just like her and it’s the easiest thing in the world to love her.

Abigail

Girl mom

I think Abigail would struggle with this at first because y’know I think out of all the bachelorettes she her up with the stereotypical roles in her household and even when she tried to go against it her parents wouldn’t let her

So when she has a girl she panics because what is she supposed to do? And she worries that she’ll be like her parents even though she does love and cherish them.

But as her daughter grows older she’ll relax more especially if her daughter is into video games and adventuring.

I think she would probably take her kid on hikes and stuff. Like she doesn’t really care for exercise but it’s kinda like adventuring going hiking.

So her daughter would grow up with a love for adventure and the outdoors but also with the knowledge that she could be into whatever and her mother will not judge and will always love her

Maru

Boy mom

I don’t know why but I can see her with a Spencer Reid son if that makes sense

A super nerd that’s super cute and lovable and also info dumps and inappropriate times

I think he would be space nerd instead of robot nerd and also maybe a bit of a bug/dinosaur nerd

And she’s like !!!!!! That’s so cool!!!!!!

They just talk for hours and hours infodumping at each other and everyone is like ??? What kind of conversation is that you’re both just taking turns talking for an hour straight???

BUT a difference is that she understands Demetrius’ position but also kinda is annoyed at him for his behavior

Like she would NEVER dream of holding her child back socially because she thinks his academic progress is more important

It kinda made her shit at socializing and she’s kinda grateful to have a partner and son that understand her

She wants him to be well rounded instead of just smart.

[slaughter-kin]

the 141 as dads

captain john price-

• this man is would be such a good dad

• we all know for a fact this man has a breeding kink so i see him having like 3/4 kids

• waking up early in the morning and eating bowls of cereal watching old cartoon re runs with them

• would start smoking outside or exclusively in his office because he doesn’t want that around them

• type of dad in his retirement to coach his kids football/soccer team

• the best for laying the child on his chest, humming as they fall asleep

• would be super interested in what his children’s interest are (this goes for all of them but i’m putting it here)

• takes his kids on camping and fishings trips

• loves to play hide-n-seek with his kids

• his kids would mock his actions and stand in front of the tv with his hands behind his back, and when they are napping on the couch his kid would also start snoring cause we all know this man snores LOUDLY

• type of dad whenever his kids mention they like eating something once he buys like 5 boxes of it

• would cry they say their first word no matter what is is

• loves taking them to the park

kyle ‘gaz’ garrick-

• okay literally the best dad ever

• i could see him with like 2 or 3 kids

• MATCHING OUTFITS

• if he had girls he would 1000% learn all kind of cute braid styles for them

• when he found out his spouse was pregnant he would be shocked but happy and would immediately buy 100 what to expect when you’re expecting books

• would hate when he kids got into trouble cause he would hate laying the law down but would sit them down and talk every calm but firm

• then would go into another room and be like 🥺

• would NEVER get angry with his kids

• all the mothers would flirt with him in the pickup line at school and he just ignores it

• he thinks his children deserve the entire world

• his kids call Price grandpa

• will blow raspberries on their stomachs until they they can’t stop giggling

• takes 1000 photos of his kids doing anything and then spam sends them to his spouse

• got so nauseous the first time he changed a diaper

• family halloween outfits

john ‘soap’ mactavish-

• such a fun dad

•pillow forts

• ice cream for breakfast

• if he had a son/sons he would cut their hair in the mohawk style as well

• would want so many children omg

• he comes from a big family so i think he would want one as well

• but if his spouse didn’t want a big family he would be okay with it

• if you’ve watched modern family he would be like phil dunphy

• would put his kids on those kid leashes whenever they go anywhere

• i feel like one thing he would struggle with is saying no to his children

• would always help them with their math and science homework

• type of dad to do push ups while his kids are sitting in his back and they are all giggling

• the proudest dad ever! is at every dance recital or sports game or talent show and if he can’t be (because of his job) he would ask all about it when he got home and even if they did poorly he would still tell them how proud of them he is and go her ice cream

•TICKLE FIGHTS

• it would also tear him up if couldn’t be there during a special event for his children

• i also feel like he would cry at major life milestones

• if his children/kid are into sports all you can hear at games is him yelling across the field

simon ‘ghost’ riley-

• GIRL DAD SIMON GIRL DAD SIMON GIRL DAD SIMON

• just imagine him with a pink baby holder strapped to his chest

• he would be such a good father omg

• with his past with his father he would be super scared at first but then as he’s holding this tiny infant he would get angry (not at child obviously) cause how could anyone treat their child the way his father treated him?

• would be super protective of his children (i mean all of them would tbh)

• as cute as it is for the baby to wear little skull head clothing, i don’t think he would want his children knowing ‘Ghost’.

• i think one thing he would struggle with is when his kids throw tantrums when it’s over something ridiculous like he wouldn’t let them pull their siblings hair or eat something gross off the floor and he doesn’t know how to deal with them. he doesn’t want to get to firm and scare them and he doesn’t want to give into such ridiculous things so he would kinda back away and look at you for help

• his kids would 1000% get his accent

• loves to lift them up with his arms, whooshing them around like they are a super hero

• has tea parties with his kids and their stuffed animals on a regular basis

• such a big softie for his children/child are you kidding me

• his children/kid use him as like a jungle gym and are usually hanging off his arms

• would never tell them what he does for work and when they ask he would just say ‘work’

i would give any of these men children or all of them

let me know if you have any feedback!!

[soleilpinto]

Cruising in Papaya: Behind the Paddock ˚‧｡⋆🍁

“Life’s Better on Saturn ” ˙���˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚ (Saturn, SZA)

Synopsis: Y/N Laurant, a glamorous socialite, meets Lando Norris during a race weekend, sparks fly between the two, but as their feelings deepen, they struggle to balance their secret relationship with their public lives, all while navigating the pressure of the fast-paced F1 scene.

Genre: (Some) Angst, Fluff, Romance

AU: Social Media and Written!au

Pairing: Lando x Afab!Socialite!Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: In all honesty, I hate how I’m already rushing out the chapters one by one, but my final semester is about to start and I have work so I probably won’t have the time to update like this soon. 😭

Cruising in Papaya Masterlist. (Prev./Next.)

liked by lettiemng, lando and others.

laurant.yn busy busy

flavy.barla 💋

— laurant.yn merci ma chérie !! x (thank you my darling)

alexandrasaintmleux si magnifique 😍 (so gorgeous)

— laurant.yn merci ! x

liked by laurant.yn, kimi.antonelli and 687,073 others

lando My tribute to a hero of mine 🇧🇷

Senna is a true legend of our sport and has inspired not only me but every driver who races today. He's the greatest to ever race around Monaco and I wanted to capture that in this helmet. His iconic design combined with mirrored chrome to reflect the streets he was so great on.

The balmy Monaco air carries the scent of the sea as you sit on the terrace of a chic café, the soft hum of luxury cars passing by blending with the chatter of your friends.

The group is animated as always, a mix of socialites who’ve grown up frequenting glamorous events like the Monaco Grand Prix.

They sip their rosé with practiced elegance, their conversation weaving effortlessly between fashion, parties, and—of course—Formula 1.

“I swear, Charles looked straight at me during the paddock walk last year,” one of your friends gushes, flipping her sunglasses onto her head. “He’s even more gorgeous in person.”

“And don’t get me started on the adrenaline during qualifying,” another chimes in. “There’s nothing like it. Y/N, you must be so excited—it’s your first Monaco Grand Prix, isn’t it?”

You glance up from your glass of sparkling water, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“It is,” you admit, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t really into F1 before Miami, but I guess I’ve had a change of heart.”

One of your friends narrows her eyes playfully. “A change of heart? Y/N, you practically rolled your eyes every time we brought it up. What happened?”

The group leans in, curiosity piqued, and you hesitate for a moment, trying to choose your words carefully.

“Well... I’ve been getting to know one of the drivers,” you say casually as if it’s not a big deal.

The table erupts into a chorus of gasps and playful shrieks. “Oh my God!” one of them exclaims, practically spilling her drink. “You’ve been holding out on us! Which driver?”

You laugh, trying to downplay the situation. “It’s not like that. We’ve just been talking a bit. I met him in Miami, and we’ve stayed in touch.”

“Stayed in touch?” another friend teases, raising a perfectly sculpted brow. “Y/N, do you realize how impossible it is for anyone to get paddock passes casually unless they’re very well-connected? And or loaded, like us, and you’re telling me you just ‘talked a bit’? Spill.”

You can feel your cheeks warm under their teasing gazes. “Okay, fine,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Lando invited me. Apparently, I’m one of his ‘special guests’ for the weekend.”

The table explodes in a mix of disbelief and excitement.

“Lando Norris? Are you serious? He’s adorable!” one of them exclaims, while another pulls out her phone to scroll through his Instagram.

“So, that’s why you suddenly care about F1,” someone else teases, her tone light but knowing.

You roll your eyes with a smile. “It’s not like that. He’s... nice, okay? Funny. Easy to talk to.”

“And cute,” another adds, grinning. “Don’t forget cute.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yes, and cute. But seriously, it’s nothing. He was kind enough to invite me, and I didn’t want to turn down the opportunity to experience Monaco like this. I usually turned you guys down, remember?”

Your friends exchange knowing looks, their smiles mischievous. “Nothing, huh?” one says. “Y/N, you don’t just end up as a ‘special guest’ for no reason. He’s clearly into you.”

You sip your drink, trying to hide your smile.

“Let’s just say I’m keeping an open mind about the whole F1 thing. For now.”

As the conversation shifts back to race predictions and paddock gossip, you glance out at the shimmering Mediterranean, the soft hum of excitement buzzing in the back of your mind.

The weekend hasn’t even started, but something tells you it’s going to be unforgettable.

@MonacoGlamWatch 🚨 Spotted: Y/N Laurant casually strolling through the paddock with her girl squad at the Monaco GP. No PR team in sight, just her and her friends. But why was she later seen in the McLaren garage? 👀

@EliteInsider Y/N Laurant is serving elegance at the Monaco Grand Prix today, but all eyes are on her unexpected appearance in the McLaren garage. No official work, just her and her very fashionable crew. What’s the connection? ���

@VelvetScene Y/N Laurant was all smiles in the McLaren garage today, and we’re dying to know why. No cameras, no campaigns—just her and her friends in their chicest outfits. Lando? 👀

@PaddockChic Okay, but why is Y/N Laurant in the McLaren garage with no professional ties and just her friends? She’s not even pretending to hide it. The tea is brewing. 

The Monaco paddock buzzes around you like a hive, the air electric with the chatter of fans, media, and the occasional roar of engines.

You stand with your friends near the McLaren garage, their conversation flowing effortlessly about the latest F1 gossip and weekend plans.

“So, Y/N,” one of them teases, tilting her head slyly. “How does it feel to be the paddock’s new It Girl?”

You roll your eyes, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrays your attempt at nonchalance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” another chimes in, nudging you lightly. “But I saw Lando giving you that look earlier. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“Okay, first of all,” you start, but your voice trails off as you notice a McLaren team member motioning subtly in your direction.

“You’re excusing yourself, aren’t you?” one of your friends guesses, her grin wide.

You sigh, smoothing down your outfit. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” another quips, her smirk far too knowing. “We’ll just be here... observing.”

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping as you turn and walk toward the motorhome.

Once inside, the hum of the paddock fades into the background, replaced by the cool quiet of the space. You spot Lando almost immediately, leaning casually against the counter, his water bottle in hand.

He’s dressed down compared to the chaos outside—team polo slightly rumpled, sneakers tapping lightly against the floor—but somehow, he looks even more at ease.

“Hey,” he greets, his smile lighting up as he sees you. “Surprised you made it through the crowd in one piece.”

You chuckle, walking over to him. “Barely. It’s chaos out there. I don’t know how you deal with it.”

“Years of practice,” he replies, pushing off the counter and gesturing toward the couch. “Come on, sit. You look like you could use a break.”

You settle onto the plush cushions, smoothing your skirt as he sits across from you.

“So,” he starts, leaning forward slightly, “what do you think of your second paddock experience?”

You tilt your head, considering.

“It’s... overwhelming, but in a good way. The energy here is incredible.”

“And the constant cameras?” he asks, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

You groan, dropping your head back against the couch.

“Don’t even get me started. I’ve never had so many people try to take my picture. It’s like they’re waiting for me to trip or spill coffee or something.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Welcome to my life.”

“Yeah, but you’re used to it,” you counter, sitting up again.

“You’re Lando Norris. People are obsessed with you.”

He shrugs, his grin softening.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not annoying. Especially when they start making stuff up.”

“Tell me about it,” you sigh. “People are already speculating about why I’m here, and it’s barely been a day. Gossip accounts are relentless.”

Lando leans back, his gaze flicking briefly to the window where the paddock chaos is visible.

“They don’t even need a reason. One picture, and suddenly I’m marrying someone I’ve barely spoken to. It’s ridiculous.” You nod, fiddling with the edge of a pillow.

“Or they’re claiming you’ve got some secret feud going on. I can’t even go to lunch without it becoming a thing.”

He grins, leaning in slightly. “Feuds and engagements? You’re really living the high life.”

“You’re impossible.” You laugh, nudging his knee lightly.

“Maybe,” he says, his tone lighter now. “But honestly, it’s nice having you here. Even with all the noise, you make it easier to ignore.”

You glance at him, catching the sincerity in his expression. His blue-green eyes hold yours for a moment, and there’s a warmth there that makes your chest tighten in the best way.

“Thanks,” you say softly. “It’s nice having someone who understands what it’s like.”

He nods, his smile small but genuine. “It’s not easy, but... I think it’s worth it.”

Before you can respond, a faint knock on the door reminds you of the world waiting just outside.

“Looks like our quiet time is up,” you say, standing and smoothing down your outfit.

Lando rises too, his grin returning. “For now. But hey, maybe we’ll give them something to really talk about.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you open the door, the noise of the paddock rushing back in. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he teases, his voice light but his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary.

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes and others

laurant.yn monaco with a twist

iamrebeccad 😍

lettiemng obsessedd

littlefoxhermes i smell a new motorsport fan

The low hum of the McLaren 720S fills the quiet Monaco streets, its sleek curves illuminated by the city’s golden glow.

Lando waits outside your building, casually leaning against the car, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other fiddling with his phone. When he looks up and sees you, a soft smile spreads across his face.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice warm. “Hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Not at all. Midnight drives with F1 drivers aren’t exactly a regular thing for me, though.”

He chuckles, opening the passenger door for you. “Well, let’s change that.”

You slide into the car, the luxurious leather seats cradling you as he closes the door and rounds to the driver’s side. The engine purrs to life, the sound deep and resonant.

As he pulls out onto the winding roads, the city stretches out below you, the harbor glittering like a sea of stars.

For a while, neither of you speaks, content to let the drive and the scenery fill the silence. But eventually, Lando breaks it.

“So,” he begins, glancing over at you briefly before focusing back on the road. “How are you feeling about all... this?”

You furrow your brows, though his tone makes it clear he doesn’t mean the drive. “About what, exactly?”

“Us,” he says simply, the word hanging in the air between you. “Whatever this is.”

You lean back in your seat, your gaze drifting to the passing lights.

“Honestly? I don’t know yet. It’s... different. But not in a bad way.”

“Different is good,” he agrees, his voice thoughtful.

“I just—” He pauses, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “I don’t want to rush this. Or put unnecessary pressure on it.”

You turn to look at him, your expression softening. “Me neither. I think... it’s okay to take our time. To figure out what this is without trying to label it right away.”

He nods, his lips curving into a small, appreciative smile.

“Exactly. I like spending time with you. A lot. But the media, the expectations—it can mess with things if we let it.”

“Then we don’t let it,” you say simply. “We keep it between us, no labels, no pressure. Just... whatever feels right.”

He glances at you again, his gaze lingering this time. “You’re surprisingly good at making things simple.”

“Maybe it’s you who complicates things, Norris.” You laugh softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

He grins, the tension in the car easing. “Touché.”

The car slows as he pulls into a quiet overlook, the harbor stretching out below like a postcard. He parks and leans back, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel as he looks at you.

“For the record,” he says, his tone light but sincere, “I like this. Whatever it is. I want to see where it goes.”

You smile, warmth spreading through you at his words. “Me too.”

For a moment, the world outside the car fades away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble. No cameras, no fans, no expectations—just a boy and a girl, exploring something new and uncharted.

“Alright,” he says finally, starting the engine again. “No labels, no drama. Just us.”

“Just us,” you echo, leaning back in your seat as the car glides back onto the road.

The drive continues, the conversation light but tinged with the promise of something deeper. Neither of you knows exactly where this road will lead, but for now, the journey feels enough.

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

Taglist: @bakingpiastries @linnygirl09

[diyasgarden]

Request

Patrick being down bad for his girlfriend and everyone knows it. She is oblivious to it.

Hiii!! I had so many ideas for this, that I decided to compile into one big headcanon list. If you ever want me to write something based on this, let me know.

Patrick and you are in what you view as a casual relationship. Maybe you were friends before this or if you randomly met at a party or some event, but you know his reputation so you just assume that whatever is going isn't serious for him. You're still having fun, so you don't really bring it up. There is a small part of you that wants to know, but you don't want to ruin whatever is going on. Plus, ignorance is bliss.

On the other hand, Patrick just loves being around you so much. He hasn't even processed it properly. Something about you is just so endearing to him (that even if he isn't aware of how much he likes you) it is obvious to everyone around. He isn't great with saying all of this (which is probably why you don't catch on), but his behavior blatantly exposes how he feels.

He constantly wants to spend time with you. When you guys start your relationship, you're both glued to each other's side. Constantly going on. Him constantly at your place. A lot of time in bed...yeah literally glued to each other. You think it's sweet, but don't think too much about it.

He also just loves holding you. His hand is always on you in some capacity or another all the time. In private. In public. He's holding your hand or holding your hip or even pulling you into your lap. You also don't think much about this. Even when your friends raise their eyebrows and look at you with a grin, you just shrug it off. You've seen how he has no sense of boundaries with people he is close with. This is just another example of that, you reason.

But as you both continue to see each other, it becomes more and more clear that he wants you to be a genuine part of his life. This means he invites you to his games. You don't think much of it. He is tennis player. Of course he is going to invite you to a game or two. You tell your friends this, but it becomes a little harder to explain when he asks if you want to stop by when he practices too. He loves seeing you by the court when he plays, regardless if its an actual game or just a practice. He's smiling at you, waving at you, even winking. To everyone else, it's him obviously showing whatever is going on between the both of you, you just assume it's him being the unserious person he is.

On top of that, he also genuinely wants to be a part of your life. In every way that counts. This means that anytime you invite him to something, he is 100% coming. That new restaurant you want to try? He's booking a table already. A friend's party? He'll be asking if you want him to bring anything. A boring family gathering you don't even want to go too? It's okay, he'll make it fun for you. Anytime you tell your friends your plans with him, they find it adorable how he's willing to do all of this for you. You brush them off, saying he just wants to keep you company.

He also takes an initiative to actually connect with the other people in your life too. Even if his only interest in them is the fact that they're connected to you some way. Your friends indulge him because they think its endearing how much he's trying. You assume he is talking so much because he is so extroverted (but you miss how he frowns a little bit when you only introduce him as Patrick).

Not to mention, your interests suddenly become his interests too. You like art? He's on the Wikipedia page of every artist you like trying to find out as much as possible. You like reading? He bought your favorite books to check them out. You like a certain sport? Now he knows all the rules now. Film nerd? He's watching any movie you've mentioned.

He likes to discuss these things or even join conversations you have with your friends about it. You think it's a sweet gesture and tell yourself he just wants to be able to make conversation or jump into conversations you're having with others. All the people around you know he just wants to show you that he cares what you care about. Especially because he keeps looking at you during these conversations, as if tracking your reaction to every word he says.

You only realize how down bad he is couple months into the relationship when he asks you to come to some event his parents are hosting. It's a first for both of you. He doesn't like going to these events, avoids them when he can. But when his parents insisted on coming to this one, all he wants is to invite you to come with him. He's never done this before, with anyone. You say yes, at first thinking he's just doing so because you invite him to so many things, but when he introduces you as his girlfriend with this goofy ass grin it fully sinks in how much he likes you. It's silly that after everything he does, this is the thing that made you have a eureka moment, but hey, at least you figured it out eventually.

[little-annie]

It's in the kitchen of their shitty little 1.5 bedroom apartment that Eddie Munson continues to bemoan his roommates request for him to watch the 2024 Olympic Games with her this evening.

“Christine Henrietta Cunningham,” he starts with a sigh, wiping the reminentes of yet another YooHoo from his upper lip, leaning a narrow hip against the countertop's edge, “there is no way in hell you are getting me to watch the Olympics.”

Already wearing her team USA sweater, Chrissy tries to protest. Just as she did last night and the night before. For some reason thinking it's such a dire thing that Eddie watches the Olympics this year.

“First of all, not my middle name. Second-”

“You would literally have to glue my eyeballs open.”

“Second-” she tries again, voice stern, pointing a yellowed spoon in Eddie's direction as she dishes up a bowl of Kraft Dinner for them both.

“There is not now, nor will there ever be, any reason for me to watch juiced up jocks prance around and play any form of sportsball.”

There's so many reasons. Christ. Fuck. So many. But he's not telling Chrissy that. He'll watch the reruns when she's not home. He couldn't possibly be caught dead after last time.

“What about the swim-”

“Not even Gandalf himself,” Eddie interrupts, “-could convince me to waste my precious campaign planning time on such a thing.”

Following Chrissy to the living room, bowl of macaroni in hand, Eddie refuses to sit down next to her on the couch. He's not going to watch. Nope. Maybe sneak a peak in passing? Sure. But not watch. Are you kidding me?

“What a about To-”

The metal spoon that was once in Eddie's hand chatters to the floor as he mock gasps. Neon yellow noodles on the tile that the cat comes running over to clean up, Eddie stands in abject horror. She wouldn't dare.

“Don't you dare say what I think you're about to say, Christine. My 2020 not obsession with Tom Daley shan't be spoken of. It was merely a blip in the system. A glitch in the matrix.”

He still thinks Tom Daley can get it. But that's neither here nor there. And what is there, is simply between Eddie and the well used bottle of lotion next to his bed.

Chrissy rolls her eyes, now sitting with her legs crossed on their ugly ass thrifted couch, patting the cushion next to her as if Eddie's a dog. “Eddie you literally watched every one of his ra-”

Races?

“I did not.”

Okay maybe we wanted to. Who wouldn't? But it's not like he obsessively watched every one of the man's races.

“... I missed two.” He admits Inna whisper.

And what a sheer travesty that'd had been

“Oh yeah. You missed two. Oh Edward, how could I forget?” After patting the cushion mindlessly next to her again and eating a spoonful of macaroni she faux whines, “‘Oh Chrissy, would you record the race for me? I don't want to miss it.’”

He doesn't sound like that.

“I do not sound lik-”

All pathetic and whiney? Eddie Munson doesn't sound like that.

“As if I would believe you actually gave two shits about the races you giant homo.” Chrissy rolls her eyes so hard Eddie's surprised she doesn't hurt her neck, “You just liked seeing those boys in spandex.”

Well…. She's not wrong. Sports are dumb. People playing sports for money is dumb. What the Olympics does to those cities in the aftermath of the event is dumb.

But she's not wrong.

Spandex

“…. I hate you”

“No you don't.” She smiles, blowing Eddie a kiss.

“Um. Yes I do.”

As if he could ever hate Chrissy.

Avoiding making eye contact with her as she continues to pat the cushion next to her and turning heel towards the hall, Eddie decides maybe it's just best to eat his supper in his room. Away from jockey spandex and its temptations, “Anyways. As I was saying. Fuck you and your jocky hobbies Chrissy.” Eddie yells from the hall, “My time is far too valuable to be wasted mindlessly drooling over arrogant jocks and their-”

In a sing-songy voice Eddie hears Chrissy call from behind him, “You're gonna want to watch this!”

He groans, turning back around from the journey he'd just started in the direction of his room, “I would rather di-” only to be caught short when a familiar mole dotted, spandex covered ass makes its way across his TV screen.

He'd recognize that ass anywhere.

Went to every goddamn swim meet at the stupid community pool to see that beautiful ass in motion for years.

He fawned over it in the halls of Hawkins High.

Drooled over it on the odd days he actually attended gym class. Tried to solely avoid eye contact with it when he found it bare and within reach in the change rooms only an hour later.

Fuck.

Eddie's knees feel weak and before he knows it he's climbing over the back of the couch, bowl of macaroni in his lap and mirroring Chrissy's position. Legs crossed. Eyes glued to the TV. Mindlessly eating chemicals that some big corporation somehow manages to pass off as macaroni and cheese.

“Is that Steve Harrington?”

Oh look at those moles.

Beautiful.

Those pecs?

Fucking hell.

“Christine!?” Eddie screeches from his position on the couch when Chrissy doesn't answer, just simply shrugs and smirks at him. The little devil. “Did I just see Harrington?”

“Told you, you'd want to see this.”

[katebishopsbow]

SOMEDAY IT WILL ALL BE OKAY • MAX VERSTAPPEN

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader (platonic)

summary: watching kevin and his daughter, laura, playing together at the paddock makes you emotional as you remember the love that you never get to receive growing up. max is here to remind you that your past doesn't define you, and one day you will be okay.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, daddy issues, mentions of absent parent

word count: 3.1k

author's notes: based on the real-life event of me tearing up when i saw that video of kmag's daughter playing with his visor. healing my own daddy issues one fic at a time :)

(image is not mine)

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

Kevin Magnussen is a great dad.

People can say whatever they want about his driving – aggressive and maybe a little dangerous sometimes – but there is no denying that he is an amazing father who puts his daughters above all else. The Dane is always joking about how his two little troublemakers have been giving him a constant headache, but the rest of the grid knows that he would do just about anything for his girls.

Occasionally, Louise likes bringing Laura and Agnes to the track to see their dad at work. Being a Formula 1 driver with all the hectic schedules and non-stop traveling means that family time together can often be difficult to come by, so Kevin cherishes all the time he gets to be as present in their lives as possible. 

The drivers all love it when the Magnussens visit the track, not only because Laura and Agnes are the sweetest little angels ever, but also because they get to witness the rare sight of Kevin “tough guy” Magnussen shedding his hard exterior and tease him about the heartwarmingly softer side he displays to his family. 

And while you would never admit this out loud, somewhere residing deep within you is envious – envious of this kind of love that you never got to receive. Sometimes when you look at Kevin interacting with his daughters – just sometimes – you find yourself wondering what it would be like to have a father who is present, who genuinely cares, who loves you with everything they have so much that you never have to doubt your worthiness.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You were standing with a few other drivers at the track, idly chatting about the upcoming race and your holiday plans now that the winter break is right around the corner when Kevin suddenly saunters nearby, holding the hand of the most adorable little girl. “Laura, come say hi!” he kneels down and says to her, sporting the biggest and most loving smile on his face as his daughter gives a shy little wave to the crowd of drivers before her.

“Hey there, Laura,” you wave at her, settling on a simple greeting since you have never been particularly great with children. “Hello, little one!” Lando greets with a wide grin as he offers Laura a fist bump, and the girl explodes into giggles when he pretends to yelp in pain at how hard Laura fist-bumped him. Classic Lando – always so good with kids.

“She’s got quite the punch, doesn’t she?” Kevin jokes while he chuckles at the sight, admiring the joyous smile on Laura’s face with the tenderest gaze he only reserves for his daughter. Becoming a father is the best thing that has happened to him, and he thanks the stars every day for being blessed with such precious gifts of life. Laura and Agnes – his biggest pride and joy.

“Here to be dad’s little assistant, Laura?” Max asks, his nose scrunching up in an adoring smile like the way it always does when he speaks to Penelope. The little girl nods bashfully before running to hide behind her dad, holding onto his hands as if he is her safe place, her rock.

Kevin laughs at his daughter’s endearing shyness, picks her up and envelops her in his embrace before placing a kiss on her rosy, chubby cheeks. “You’re the best assistant in the entire world,” he whispers softly, adoration swimming in his eyes while Laura lets out a giggle at her father’s words. The drivers around them cannot help but smile along with them – how can they not at such a heartwarming sight? 

Yet watching Kevin’s doting smiles and the way he looks at his daughter as if she is his entire universe, the initial warm fuzziness within you silently morphs into a dull ache that squeezes at your heart – an odd yet familiar feeling you know all too well. Despite your best efforts to push them away, your mind becomes clouded with hazy memories of the past – the painful past that has broken you and haunted you for years.

In the fogged-up memories of your childhood days, you were never at the receiving end of such an affectionate gaze. The only way your father has ever looked at you was indifference, annoyance, and a sense of uncaringness that tore your little heart up into pieces and left you wondering what you did wrong to be so undeserving of the fatherly love you yearned for. 

He never picked you up and hugged you as if you were a fragile treasure that he cherished. He never held your hand in a way that made you feel safe and certain that nothing could ever harm you because he would be your shield, protecting you from the world and its merciless cruelty. He never once made you feel loved and cared for, ignoring your attempts to gain his validation and approval because he loved himself and his ego more than he would ever love you. 

When you received good grades at school and showed him your report card with the rows of A’s, hoping that it would help you get his approval, he didn’t praise you. In fact, he didn’t bother saying anything. He simply gave you a half-hearted nod before shifting his attention back to the damned television screen in front of him, some uninteresting TV show that never should have mattered more than his daughter. So you stuffed the tear-stained report card back into your school bag, uncaring that it got crushed and crumpled, because in the end your hard work and effort didn’t matter. It never did.

When you had a rough day at school and came home with tears running down your cheeks, your father looked at you for a second, rolled his eyes and walked away. So that night you cried yourself to sleep as you soaked through your pillows with your wallowing tears, wishing that your dad could wrap you in his arms and tell you that everything would be okay. You knew that he could hear your sobs across the hallway, but chose to ignore you anyway. You wondered if he hated you that much, or was it simply because he never even cared to begin with?

And when he finally gathered all his belongings and disappeared from your life once and for all, you surprised yourself when you didn’t cry at the sight of the now-empty house. You had just felt empty and lonely – so painstakingly lonely. The kind of loneliness that seeped into your bones and slithered along your veins and consumed your soul. 

As you grew older, you became familiarized with that emptiness – comfortable with it even. You begin to find yourself pushing people away when they get too close, keeping most at arm's length because that seems like the safest option, breaking your own heart before others can do it because you never want to experience the same heartbreak your father has put you through.

Despite how painful it is, you hold onto that loneliness like a lifeline because how could you not when that’s the only thing you know? How could you love when you don’t even know what it feels like?

Even though it had been years since your dad had left, the emptiness he had left behind never seemed to fade away. They say time heals all wounds, but you call that bullshit, because then why does it still hurt like a fresh stab into the heart? 

Too deep in your storm of thoughts, you don’t realize the tears brimming in your glossy eyes and the way your lips quiver ever so slightly. “Hey… you okay there?” Charles, who is standing beside you, gives you an affectionate pat on the shoulders and whispers hushedly in your ear, worried at your sudden change in demeanor. Quickly nodding your head, you answer him with the best smile you can manage, “Yeah, just remembering some things.”

While most of the drivers still have their focus on Kevin and Laura, a few have also noticed your red-rimmed eyes and quietness. “What’s wrong?” Lando mouths the question silently toward you, eyes wide in concern as he tries not to shift everybody’s attention toward you. You shake your head and mouth “nothing” in reply to him as discreetly as possible, not wanting to ruin the group’s mood with your sudden sentiments. 

As much as you want to stay, you simply need to get away for a moment to recollect your thoughts. “Uh – There’s something I need from my driver’s room, so I’m gonna head off,” you hurriedly blink away the tears and put on the best smile – a skill you learned to master after years of being in the public’s eye. You hope that the excuse you just blurted out is somewhat believable, and you quickly disappear into the distance after your fellow drivers bid you goodbye. 

While making a beeline for your driver's room, you cannot help but feel so embarrassed, so guilty for the sudden burst of emotions that erupted in your chest moments ago. “What is wrong with me?” you mumble hushedly to yourself as you make your way to the garage – irritated and beyond annoyed at yourself that the mere sight of Kevin with his daughter is enough to bring you to tears. 

This isn’t something new to you. It isn’t the first time a good father-daughter relationship has made you tear up. Movies, TV shows, song lyrics – you always get so emotional when you allow yourself to get lost in your thoughts, thinking too deeply about the painful reminders of the love that you never have. 

It makes you feel stupid, because how broken do you have to be that trivial things like these are enough to make you cry? And it makes you feel scared, so utterly scared, because what if you were too broken to ever be capable of loving someone this much, too damaged to ever receive love despite yearning for it, and end up pushing away everyone who cares about you for the rest of your life.

When you arrive at your driver's room, you take a seat in the corner, breathing in and out while the self-blaming thoughts inside your head spiral in full force. This is so stupid, you are being stupid, and you hate yourself for being a fool and letting your past trauma affect you like this. Why were you even crying? There is nothing to be crying for. Stop. You need to stop.

Then you hear someone calling your name, voice faint and soft behind the door – Max. “You feeling okay?” he asks, and your delayed response and trembling voice as you answer him, “I’m fine.” are a clear enough indicator that you are far from okay. “Alright, I’m gonna come in now.” A sigh of mixed emotions falls from your lips – annoyance that you never seem to be able to lie to the man, and gratefulness that he always understands what you really need, and right now it is the company of your best friend.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says to you, eyebrows ceasing in sadness when he notices the expression on your face. Max hates seeing you like this, especially knowing the reason behind your tears is your absent father – someone who will never be worthy of having you cry over him. 

You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your race suit, guilt weighing heavily on your chest as you apologize, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to ruin the mood back there. Did the other drivers notice?” Max shakes his head with a frown, refusing to let you blame yourself for something you should never feel guilty for. “You don’t have to be sorry, you did nothing wrong.”

“I don’t even know why I am crying, honestly. Why am I still so angry and sad after all these years? It’s like… am I always going to be like this, broken? Will the hurt ever go away?” you explain truthfully to him while trying to piece your muddle-up thoughts together, yet you struggle to put them into words. How can you begin to explain the years of trauma your dad has left behind? How can you describe the mess of emotions you have for him – the hatred, the resentment, and the fact that you still love and miss him so much even after everything he has done to you?

You don’t need to, because Max understands, he always does. One of the reasons why you two became close quickly is because you share a similar, troubled past – something that is rather unfortunate to bond over, you would argue, but it brings you a great friend nonetheless. Max’s father isn’t exactly absent like yours – Jos Verstappen is still quite prominent in his life, along with his abusive and manipulative ways of raising his kids which he would vehemently deny and claims to be “tough love” instead.

Even though he is there, it doesn’t change the painful truth that the presence of his father has ruined Max. For years, he thought being violent was the way to solve problems because his dad always seemed to be able to solve his with his fist. He used to believe that you had to be perfect to be deserving of good things in life because he grew up with the punishment of “no dinner” if he had performed poorly in a race. He didn’t know if he would ever be capable of loving someone, and then he met Kelly and Penelope.

“You know… when I first met Penelope, I was terrified. I was scared that I could never be a good enough father figure for her, that I was too ruined to show her the love she deserved to have. But then I saw her, and then I realized I love her more than anything,” he confesses as he places himself to sit beside you, a reminiscent smile dancing on his lips while he remembers his first time meeting Penelope, the little girl who has become his family.

He remembers the suffocating fear of ending up like his father when he first held the hands of little Penelope, mind plagued with all the horrible what-ifs. What if he was a terrible dad? What if he couldn’t ever love Penelope? What if he was just like Jos Verstappen and ended up destroying her childhood with his anger and temper the way his dad had with his?

Then Penelope gave him a sweet smile, her tiny hand holding onto his pinky as she looked into his eyes with such trust and comfort, as if she knew that Max would love her more than anything in the world. Max genuinely thought he was going to cry, his heart surging with an overwhelming amount of love and determination to protect the little girl in front of her and give her the home she and Kelly deserve to have, and that’s when he knew that he had nothing to be afraid of – that he was going to do better than his father.

“Listen, kiddo. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, it just makes the pain bearable. But there will be a day when your wound will still be there – it always will be there – but the pain and the hatred will no longer consume you. And you will realize that you can be better and stronger than your past, that you can break the cycle, that you are deserving of such unconditional love too.” You listen quietly to your best friend’s answer, exhaling a relieved sigh at the words you so desperately need to hear, giving you hope that despite all your trauma, one day you will be able to love with such certainty as well.

You are never too broken to love or be loved. You are not damaged goods that need repairing. You are not a monster for being intimidated by love and affection, for pushing people away even though you want more than anything for them to stay. You just need to allow yourself to heal from the hurtful past, to understand that your past trauma does not define you. You need to allow yourself to feel, to accept the depths of your emotions, to understand that your sadness and anger are always valid. You need to believe that you will be better than your father, that you will not follow in his footsteps, and that you deserve to be loved just as much as anyone else. 

Feeling sentimental over this doesn’t make you stupid or a fool, it just makes you human. It is okay to cry over it, to be sad over it, as long as you remember that one day – while things will never be perfect –  it will certainly get better. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Max tells you with a smile, reaching for your hand to give it a comforting squeeze, and you believe him. For once in a very long time, you genuinely believe that everything is going to be okay. The impact your father has on you will always be there. You can never wipe away the hurt and awful things he has done to you, nor can you simply erase the simultaneous love and hatred you hold for him, but one day you will learn to move on and find closure, and you are going to be okay, just like Max said.

There is a knock on the door, and you can hear your name being called again, this time in the soft and squeaky voice of a little girl. “I’m here,” you answer, and peeking behind the gap in the door is Laura with a cheeky grin on her face. Kevin leads her inside your driver's room with an apologetic smile, “Hey, sorry… Laura says she wants to play with you and insists that I bring her here.” 

You watch as Laura crawls up into the seat next to you and Max, looking at you with the brightest toothy little grin ever, and your lips begin pulling up into a huge smile as well. “Is it okay if she plays here for a while? I’ve got a team meeting in 5 and she never likes coming to those…” Kevin asks apologetically before relief floods his expression when you answer him, “It would be lovely to have a little playdate with Laura.”

“Alrighty, see you later little one,” Kevin leans down to place a kiss on his daughter’s head, reminding her to be a good kid when he is away for the meeting, and you smile at the sight. Not an envious one, or a reminiscent one, but one of contentment because you know that one day you will be able to receive and give such unconditional love to someone too.

Someday, it will be okay. You will be okay.

[midnight-mourning]

Snow Frights & Snowball Fights

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 3❄️❄️

ITS STILL THE THIRD SOMEWHERE

I just keep having too much fun with these prompts gahhh, hope you enjoy!

Prompt: DCA's first christmas outside the pizzaplex, at reader's house maybe? At least a snow fight scene would be fun (I have never been in a snow fight so it's fun to read lols)

Word Count: 1825

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

"Fire extinguisher! We need the fire extinguisher!"

You cough, hand waving through the thick smoke in your kitchen, "I just, need an oven mitt. It's okay—"

"Found it!" Sun runs in frantically, trips, and faceplants on the floor beside you, as you take the burnt cookies out of the oven. 

Your smoke detector blares loudly above you, fume hood fan roaring just as loudly in your ears as it—slightly—helps to remove the smoke from your kitchen.

Once everything calms down again, namely Sun, you're able to assess the damage. 

Besides a tray of blackened husks you could once call cookies, not much at all. Sun wasn't banged up from his fall, and surprisingly neither was the fire extinguisher. Though, the emotional toll it had taken on both of you was much higher. And that was only the reactions you knew of, you can only imagine how Moon's feeling right now. 

Every holiday event or activity you'd tried to attempt with the attendants had ended sourly. From gift-wrapping, to gift-shopping, ice-skating, tree decorating, and so on and so forth. All of it had ended in complete and utter disaster.

And now, you could add cookie baking to that ever-growing list. 

You pick up one of the burnt black slabs—the result of an incorrect timer—and sigh. You were starting to feel defeated. You'd wanted this holiday season to be special, because it was their first outside the Plex. The first time you could truly share in the experience together, and so far, it'd gone horribly. 

To their credit, they'd both been great sports about it. Never actively showing disappointment or being upset when things went awry. But really, you think they were just keeping up the facade for your sake. 

Like now, for example. 

"You know, I think with a little bit of icing these might be salvageable!" Sun puts a hand on your shoulder, take the cookie from your hand. 

At that moment, it crumble into black dust, he laughs awkwardly. 

You sigh again, then laugh at the absurdity of it all. "I appreciate it, Sun. But I think if I even attempted to eat one of these I'd die instantly."

You pick up the tray, and carry it over to the trash, dumping it unceremoniously. 

"I'm sorry the cookies burnt." He says, sheepishly. "I should have paid better attention to the time."

You wave him off, and walk back over to him. Your arms wrap around his waist as you shake your head. "Nah, it's my fault, I should've known you'd get sucked into 'Rudolph'."

"It's just so interesting! Why is his nose so bright?" He asks, bending down to your level. 

You laugh, kiss him once, then lay your head against his chest. "Your curiosity never ceases to impress me. In a good way. You've always got such a, hope, despite it all."

He holds you closer, chuckling, "You're the one who taught me that, silly."

"See, you always say that, but I've yet to have any proof of it."

Quiet for a moment. 

"Moon thinks it's because you lack self-confidence."

You gasp, pulling back to look the sun-themed bot in the eye, "Rude! He was too shy to even talk to me the first three weeks I started working in the Daycare!"

"He won't admit to it but it's because he thought you were too pretty to talk to." Sun snickers. 

There's a bit of binary then, and as they bicker back and forth your gaze travels over to the window. What you see surprises you greatly. 

"Oh! It's snowing. First one of the season."

At this the binary stops. Sun whips to look outside, so fast that you almost lose your balance and have to break the hug, "Woah! Easy there."

But he's distracted, muttering a brief apology before hurrying over to the window. Once there, he presses both hands and his faceplate to the glass, just staring. 

When he doesn't say anything, you speak up, "Um, you good bud?"

"I've never seen snow in person before." His voice is soft, utterly enthralled, "It's, it's so, calm."

You walk over to stand beside him, watching as well, "Yeah. It is."

You check the forecast and whistle, "Wow, they're calling for a foot. Good thing we went to the store when we did. Won't be leaving home anytime soon."

"What?" That snaps him out of his daze, a bit of panic evident in his tone. 

You shrug, "Well, the roads will be covered, and it'll take a bit before anyone clears ours for sure. No big deal, just means I don't have to worry about work for a day or so."

He relaxes, "Oh, good. That means more time you can spend with us instead!"

"Exactly,"—you grin—"Tell you what, we'll go out in a couple hours and build a snowman or something, that'll be fun." 

There's no way this can go wrong, you tell yourself. It's just frozen water. Nope, no way. This'll be perfect. 

And so, after a few hours past, you bundle up and head outside. 

Sun of course had no need to worry about the cold, but there was the concern of water in his system, so he was dressed in a coat and scarf as well. 

It's still snowing as you exit your house, but not to the point it was uncomfortable. Just a soft, gentle snowfall. 

"Alright! Let's get to work," You bend down and start collecting snow, finding that it packs easily. Perfect, this is going exactly as planned—

You realize Sun's not standing beside you. 

Looking up, you find he's still standing in the doorway, half in, half out. Probably driving up your electricity bill while he's at it. 

But, based on the apprehension present in his body, any annoyance you might have stays buried away. 

You stop forming your snowman, only a small ball in your hand, "Is everything alright?"

"Just fine!" He calls over to you, but shrinks back inside more when a snowflake hits his face. 

You frown, and he seems to notice. 

He chuckles quietly. "Though, I suppose it's a little intimidating, as silly as that sounds."

You smile then, but inside your heart is twisting at the adorableness of the eight foot tall robot being afraid of snow. 

There was two ways you could remedy this. One being a much gentler and smoother approach than the other. 

Your brain decided on the violent option. 

On instinct, you launch the snowball in your hand at him, meaning to playfully hit his jacket. But you'd underestimated your throwing capacity. 

To your horror, it flies rapidly at the bot, landing square in the middle of his faceplate. Your eyes widen, hand coming up to your mouth. 

Immediately you're apologizing, "Oh my gosh, Sun I'm so sorry I promise I didn't mean to—"

"What. Was that."

Confusion mixes with panic, "I—a snowball? You know, like a snowball fight? But really are you okay?"

His hand raises and in one swoop, clears off his face. Then, he bends down, scoops up a pile a snow, forming a ball in his hand. 

*Poof!*

You look down, and sure enough, the remains of his snowball are on your chest. You look back up again and see he's already making another. 

You start to smile, and when he glances back to you, eyes upturned crescents, you realize that he's not upset. 

"I suggest you start gathering an arsenal, Starshine. Because I will not be holding back."

Your smile bleeds into a grin, and you instantly get to work. Before you can finish forming your return projectile, he's hitting you with another, and another. 

As it would turn out, the Daycare Attendant would be a skilled fighter when it came to snow. You didn't stand a chance.

Sun was quicker, had better aim, and better agility than you in any shape or form. By the time you called it quits, after literal hours of going back and forth, you were covered head to toe. And cold. So very cold. 

But, it was worth it. Witnessing the pure, unbridled joy he displayed as he threw volley after volley at you. Laughter near diabolical as he dominated the field over you. That was worth any amount of chill to you. 

Besides, at the end, when you bitterly admitted defeat, you'd been rewarded for your efforts, handsomely you might add. 

When attempting another throw at Sun—who was quickly getting closer—you trip, falling back into the snow. At the same time, your hit him with your weak attempt at a snowball, but he's so concerned about you it dazes him, causing him to stumble and fall as well. 

He catches himself before landing on you, hands planted on either side of your head, eyes wide. 

"Hi,"—you breathe out—"Funny seeing you here."

"Quite the coincidence."

You stare at each other for a moment. 

"Alright, I give up." You put your hands up between the two of you. "You and your freakishly good aim win."

He laughs. "Your effort was valiant, Sunbeam, but unfortunately for you, it simply wasn't enough."

You huff, but it doesn't hide your smile. 

"However, for being a noble competitor, and succeeding gracefully, you deserve a reward."

Before you can question what he means, Sun's leant down and placed his smile to your lips. Pulling away a moment later.

You nod, more to yourself. "Well that might've actually been worth it—"

A snowball is dropped onto your chest, disintegrating with little fanfare. 

You blink, then narrow your eyes up at the Attendant. "That's a dirty trick. One I won't be falling for again."

But yet, sometime later, after time to reheat and a bit of dinner, you find yourself back outside in the dark with the former naptime attendant.

You're prepared for this round though and—whether he lets you or not—you defeat him in this battle. 

Fully of adrenaline from your victory, you pull him in a half-hug and tumble to the ground together, this time however, you're the one on top. 

"Does this mean I get a kiss now?" Moon asks with a chuckle. 

You smirk, head held high, "I suppose. It's only fair, after all."

You bend your neck down, kissing him once. As you pull back, you're shocked to feel a bit of snow land on your head and neck. 

You shake your head, snow flying and make a noise, reaching out for more of the stuff to pile on Moon's faceplate. His snickering only drives your desire to get revenge, the two of you looking like idiots as you fling snow at each other while lying on the ground. 

You end up with a runny nose the next day, and a scolding from Sun, but as you sip on hot chocolate and cuddle on the couch with the—still slightly—displeased animatronic, you'd argue that it was worth it. 

Definitely worth it.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

And another done! Thank you to @deviouscrackers for the request. Finding out you've never gotten to have a snowball fight made this personal /j hope I was able to capture it for you :)

If you'd like to request, you have until 12/13 OR until all slots are filled, currently 11 of 31 are taken! See here for more details, thanks for reading!

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Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[wttcsms]

no but imagine a 2000s-esque romcom of a fic with journalist!reader and pro!sakusa. the very definition of an ambitious reporter, you get right down to business. except, it's not world news that you're reporting; it's something way more relevant and serves society much more: you're a celebrity gossip columnist.

okay, well you were a celebrity gossip columnist. however, a mega corporation ended up buying out a sports magazine and your beloved girly-pop magazine, and then decided to merge the two companies together to make some weird-ass blend of a publication. so, the focus on sports and athletics is still there, but the new managers want drama. something to get people to subscribe and to actually buy physical magazines again. besides having hot pics of shirtless athletes on the covers, they're requesting juicy headlines that can't be read anywhere else. you and every other writer has to be the first person to any story.

of course, it's a merger and with too many employees coming in from both former magazine companies, there will be cuts. everyone is trying to get the craziest story because everyone is trying to keep their job; you're no different.

fine. they want exclusive stories? then you, ever so ambitious, know who your mark is going to be: kiyoomi sakusa. he's the perfect target. he's rarely in the media for anything good or bad, everyone (from fans to haters) is hungering for any type of scraps on him, but most importantly, you have a bone to pick with him.

you overhear him at an event one day where he was complaining about journalists to his teammates. you think he's shit talking (he's just blunt but i wanted a darcy/pride + prejudice moment with sakusa!!! the misunderstanding that builds the prejudice u have against him!!!), and he's going on about how phony and annoying they are when they introduce themselves... it wouldn't sting as much, but five minute prior, you just got done introducing yourself to him!!! so, you're out for blood. you are going to crush sakusa with this article.

you know what they say: keep your enemies closer. so you build a professional relationship with kiyoomi first, gaining his trust, but somehow, this is the first time sakusa's ever felt seen by a person. he opens up to you. he starts telling you about his bad relationship with the media, how they all seem like vultures, ready to destroy him for no reason other than a paycheck, how you're different. he doesn't like doing much public media appearances or interviews because the media likes to blow everything out of proportion and he's not the type of person who's good at appealing to others.

your article is due SOON. you don't have another story lined up, and if that's the case, you better start searching for another job. you have to decide between your career or your relationship with sakusa. you choose him, of course, but before you can come clean about your original intentions, he ends up finding the draft of your article on him.

[pernesophe]

Wind Breaker Boys x Touch Starved Reader

(Minors, Ageless and Blank Blogs DNI)

Synopsis: How the Wind Breaker boys would handle a touch averse / touch starved S/O.

Characters in this post are:

Sako Kota (TW: fluff, comfort)

Hiragi Toma (TW: comfort, fluff, suggestive at the end)

Master List (I have no rights to these characters, the works they come from, or the art/screenshots/manga panels used in this post)

Kota Sako

(~1181 wc)

Sako and you have been dating for a short while - only a few months at this point. Though you usually don’t initiate physical contact - and have even shied away from it in past relationships - you have started to feel safer with Sako than you’ve felt with anyone before, so you decide that you want to cross that bridge with him. 

In the first week that you two started seeing each other Sako had the opportunity to witness a conversation between you and your parents when he came over to hang out. They barely registered his presence, and when they spoke to you - completely straight faced - they asked for updates on school. When you tried to introduce them to Sako they just nodded and pressed you more about school, to which your face dropped and you recited your recent accomplishments as if you were in some business meeting. All they said was, “okay, keep it up,” before leaving for some event. No hug or kiss goodbye, no praise or pat on the back, not even a simple “good job” over your school. 

After they left, you tried to apologize to Sako for how rude they were, but he just waved you off. From how you acted towards them it was obvious that they didn’t have an issue with him - they were just incredibly stiff people. He had stared at you for a long moment until you said, “what” with a curious tilt of your head.

“Good job,” he said simply and you chuckled at him and repeated your question. “School. You’ve been doing really well in school - good job.” He explained himself before repeating the praise, a little more firmly this time. That was the first time you ever shed tears in front of Sako - not big boohoo weeping, but just a few that you quickly wiped away. The two of you didn’t discuss your parents or your relationship with physical affection after that, but Sako was an extremely observant guy and seemed to grasp the situation immediately.

Because you two never discussed it, you've not so subtly been plucking up the courage to hold his hand for the past week, but you keep chickening out at the last second. He’s been an exceptionally good sport about it - not saying anything - but, as mentioned previously, he is observant. So, he has absolutely noticed out of the corner of his vision when you reach forward to grab his hand, but then you’d quickly pull away - a soft dusting of pink tinting your cheeks.

Finally, one night when the two of you are walking by the canal you reach for his hand again, but this time when you start to pull away, Sako silently closes the distance without even looking and gracefully envelops your hand in his. He only throws a glance your way when he hears you make a sputtering sound from his side, only to see you staring at the ground and blushing up to the tips of your ears.

”This is what you wanted, right?” He asks calmly, with an inquisitive arch of his brow. Slowly, you nod without meeting his hazelnut eyes - moving your other hand to fidget with your sleeve that’s now rubbing against his.

”Ye-yeah, but I was too scared to hold your hand first… I’m just not used to…” you slowly start to explain yourself in a small voice before trailing off. As you fidget with your sleeve more, you gingerly tuck your finger under the fabric of his jacket and hook it around his wrist for a little more comfort.

”I know.” Sako says simply, causing you to look up at him in shock, only to find him smiling serenely down at you. Your eyes widen as the realization dawns on you that of course your ultra quiet and observant boyfriend noticed every single one of your attempts over the past week. A small, grateful smile tugs at your lips.

”Thank you, Sako,” you murmur gratefully. Moving your hand from his wrist up to his bicep where you hold onto him there as you both continue walking hand in hand.

”Anytime,” he murmurs back as he squeezes your hand gently - a light pink dusting across his cheeks now as well.

After this day the two of you are seen holding hands all over town, and in private Sako lets you work up to more in your own time. Starting with cuddle-movie nights; which then led to cooking nights where the two of you would choose a recipe and learn it together - often having to hold your heads right next to each other as you both poured over the recipe. 

The first time the two of you kissed was on his birthday - and was the only time he asked you to touch him outright - he said that the only thing he wanted for his birthday was a kiss from you. He even told you that it was okay if you weren’t ready, and he was about to add that really he just wanted a kiss on the cheek. Overzealous, you held his face tenderly as you pulled him down to plant a kiss directly on his lips. Sako was stunned when you pulled away and redder than a stop sign. After that, you didn’t really have any issue touching or being touched by Sako. 

The most glorious day was when you received an academic award and your parents didn’t come to the ceremony because they were working, but Sako did. For such a quiet guy, he had convinced a few Shishitoren members to come along who all stood and cheered - including him - when you were called up to accept your award. That night you all went out to eat to celebrate, and Sako stepped out to buy flowers to surprise you with at the end of the meal and then walked you home after. 

You had never felt so special before, especially after Sako walked you into your house and waited for you to put everything down so he could grab you and pull you flush against him - one hand on your hip and the other holding your hand as he amateurly waltzed you around the room. Coming to a stop in the glow of the kitchen light, he beams down at you and kisses your nose before murmuring, “Good job, Y/N!”

The both of you devolved into a fit of giggles, as you hugged and thanked him earnestly before kissing him at the door and bidding him goodnight. Unbeknownst to you, your mom saw the entire display from the hallway. That next morning you woke up to a small bakery item - one your mom always used to buy you as a little girl on her way home when she would work late - with it a small note, ‘Good job sweetheart. Sorry I don’t say it nearly enough. Love, Mom.’

You make sure to thank her for it, but the two of you don’t talk in depth about it, instead you notice a real difference in how she treats Sako. More often, she will ask you about him than your schooling which leads to authentic conversations about you.

Toma Hiragi

(~979 wc)

Hiragi and you have been friends since middle school after he intervened when a group of your classmates were trying to harass you to date one of them. Since then the two of you grew closer and closer as friends until he asked you to be his girlfriend at the start of his second year of High School. Of course, you happily agreed and have been nothing but satisfied with how great your boyfriend is. The only thing is, now, partially through his and your third year - after dating for close to a year and a half - the two of you haven't even held hands. No one has ever questioned your relationship status, and Hiragi simply doesn’t push you about it.

One time, early on in the relationship, Hiragi went to grab your hand but you jumped and pulled away in shock. He didn’t look hurt by it - just really confused - especially when you began apologizing profusely and saying you didn’t mean to do that. He said it was okay, and asked if you could explain what happened to him. When you explain that you just don't have a lot of experience with physical affection, he is completely understanding and says he’s more than happy to move at your pace. And his actions always backed up that statement. It’s not like something ever happened for you to be this way, but it’s more like you’ve never gotten that kind of affection so it’s kind of like you’ve been soaking in an ice bath and someone took your hand out and ran it under hot water. It didn’t burn you burn you, but it felt like it did.

One day you’re at Hiragi’s house to hang out. He’s sitting on the couch in front of the TV, and you are coming back from the bathroom to sit next to him, but your foot catches under the rug and you fall instead. Swiftly, he catches you and on instinct - and with the cramped space - he swings you into his lap and holds you steady with his broad hands on your hip and thigh. Immediately you tense, and he freezes before he starts to relax his arms to help you up and onto the couch instead. Stopping when he notices your tight hold on his arm as you slowly lean into him more despite the tension in your muscles. He stops all of his movements and waits for you to tell him how to proceed - you don’t look at him as you take a steadying breath.

”Hiragi…” whispering softly and he leans a little closer so you know he’s listening intently. “I want… I want to be able to do this with you, but I have no idea what I’m doing,” admitting softly before meeting his gaze with vulnerability plain as ever in your eyes. “Ca-can you show me?” Requesting his help so timidly, so softly, and unsure of what you’re asking or if it’s even okay. Blinking a couple of times before he nods slowly and tightens his arms around you again.

”Do you want to try to, um, cuddle?” He asks, equally unsure of what’s okay with you, but to his relief you slowly nod. “Okay, well…” his eyes pour over the length of the couch before meeting your gaze again, “I’m gonna lay us down then, okay?” Posing the question in a cautious tone, and you nod with a little apprehension in your eyes.

Hiragi situates you so you’re both laying down on the couch on your sides and facing each other. One of his arms is under your waist to brace along your lower back while his other one is wrapped over your arm and on your other side with his forearm laid flush along your upper back so his hand is buried in your hair. As he does, you hug him tightly and bury your face in his chest.

Something about the close proximity, the weight and pressure of his chest flush against you along with his arms wrapped tightly around you makes you feel so incredibly safe that you begin to cry into his chest. Hiragi doesn’t say a word as you try and try to stifle your sobs, but when he squeezes you even tighter against him, the dam breaks as you sob loudly into his chest and grip onto the back of his shirt desperately.

”I’m sorry! I’m not sad, I swear…” you cry between sobs as Hiragi disentangles his hand from your hair to soothingly rub your back. Curling tighter into his chest, you try to muffle your sobs at least, but he bumps your forehead with his chin before cutting through your cries with his calming voice.

”I know - it’s okay,” he assures you gently as he presses a kiss into your hair. “Just let it out, you’re safe with me,” he whispers as he tightens his arms around you again - applying as much pressure as you can take. He lets you sob out everything, and when you’re done he grabs you tissues, water and some pain killers to help with the crying headache. After you’re feeling better he doesn’t pressure you, but offers for you to cuddle into his side while the two of you watch a movie. This time there’s no hesitation as you nod gratefully and curl up into his side on the couch, his arm wrapped securely around you. 

Once the two of you get over this hurdle, you’re able to progress your relationship much quicker after this. Almost immediately, the two of you are able to start holding hands in public and after a little while you blush and lean in when he kisses your face instead of tense up. After you’re both graduated and attending the same university, you finally let Hiragi touch you in a… non-God-honoring-way, and man… it sure felt like heaven when he did.

[pro-cycling-primers]

🚴‍♀️🚴‍♂️ So, you're interested in starting watching cycling in 2025 (I hope), but have no idea where to start? 🚴‍♂️🚴‍♀️

Before the start of the road cycling season this year, I thought I'd post some information for people completely new to the sport. You might have seen some Tumblr posts going crazy about men and women in tight lycra, or watched a bit of the Tour de France on TV once, or maybe this post found you some other way! Let's get to it.

When does it happen?

Cycling doesn't have a set timetable nor are races only at weekends. It's mostly the same each year, but there have been some changes over the hundred-plus years professional cycling has been around.

The WorldTour (highest level of pro cycling, more about that in a later post) season lasts officially from January until October, with the full women's calendar for 2025 looking like this:

And the men's like this:

Don't try to watch all of them. Or do, I'm just a Tumblr blogger hoping more people get interested in this great sport 🤷

Okay then, which races should I watch?

The answers to this are many and varied; every list of 'best races to watch' will have at least one cycling fan clamouring 'But HOW could you ignore [x]!?'

In terms of basic introduction to the sport, I think this would give a solid season-wide grounding:

Five one-day races have mostly arbitrarily been declared The Monuments: Milano-Sanremo, Paris-Roubaix, de Ronde van Vlaanderen, Liège-Bastogne-Liège, and Il Lombardia. (A more detailed post about these will be coming later in the season). All but Lombardia have men's and women's versions, with Milano-Sanremo Donne running for the first time in 2025, though Trofeo Alfredo Binda is a more well-established women's race in a similar region at a similar time.

Each has its own quirks, history, and favour different kinds of riders. The big names (except the pure stage racers) will be there.

I'd also recommend one of the early-season one-week stage races, Paris-Nice or Tirreno-Adriatico. They run at the same time, for one week in March, and present the first opportunity for the top stage racers to stretch their legs (another post about different types of riders will come). On the women's side, Itzulia Women or Tour de Suisse.

One of the Grand Tours is in my view, essential: Giro d'Italia, Vuelta a España, or the big one, the Tour de France

If you want, you can disregard this entire section and just watch the Tour. It's the biggest race there is, the most-covered, and teams bring their best riders in their best shape. It's a massive cultural event. If you take nothing from this post other than following a little closer in July, then it has been a success in my book.

How can I watch cycling?

Cycling has a serious lack of easily accessible coverage. Every race organiser has different TV rights arrangements, varying MASSIVELY from country to country, with some having free-to-air coverage of most races on national television but some having no option other than the paid services Discovery+ and Eurosport.

For an international suggestion there is a lovely site: tiz [dash] cycling [dot] io has free (!) livestreams of every race you could feasibly ever want to watch, and a back catalogue covering most of the last decade +

5-15 minute highlight videos from YouTube channels such as Eurosport, FloBikes etc. are also available a few hours after a race finishes! The Tour de France has its own channel with decent highlights and interviews.

See you later in the season!