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wethotcrazy · 1 month ago

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Parallel Lines

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Olympic Figure Skater! Reader

word count: 6638

i've had this marinating in my brain for a bit. i just think that racing and skating have such interesting juxtaposition so here it is.

Sagamihara always had a sleepy kind of charm, but Yuki and YN felt something else in the quiet mornings and late nights, the stillness only broken by the hum of dreams in motion. Growing up here meant routines and rituals, like early morning alarms and empty streets, the cold air pinching at their cheeks as they walked out to different but parallel paths.

They’d seen each other countless times over the years: two kids with big dreams crossing paths by chance, brushing against each other’s lives without ever truly touching. YN was always the girl with the figure skates slung over her shoulder, eyes bright and posture poised even at dawn. Yuki, in contrast, was the scrappy boy with an endless supply of karting posters and racing memorabilia, always dashing toward the next practice with the fierce focus of a kid who already knew his path.

When they passed each other, there was always a nod, a polite “Good morning” or “Good night,” exchanged in those shared spaces—two people who understood the solitude of dreams.

The first time Yuki saw her was on his way home after a long day at the track, dirt and oil streaked across his cheek. YN was on her way to the rink, her skates glittering in her hands, her hair pulled back in a tidy ponytail. She looked ready to take on the world, and he couldn’t help but admire that, even as he ducked his head slightly, embarrassed by his own disheveled state. She’d simply smiled, nodding in that small, knowing way, and gone on her way.

Yuki didn’t know it at the time, but that look—the look of someone fully consumed by a dream—was something he’d come to recognize again and again over the years.

As they grew older, they kept moving in the same direction: toward ambition, toward something beyond Sagamihara. But they’d drifted apart in other ways. Yuki’s weekends became filled with karting, and then, one day, with plans for Europe—his sights set on Formula 1. YN’s weekends were consumed by rink hours, the constant, punishing quest to perfect each routine, each jump, each spin. They still crossed paths, sometimes outside the ice rink or the train station, exchanging those same fleeting nods.

It was strange—Sagamihara wasn’t large, yet somehow, they’d managed to orbit each other like planets, moving along parallel paths that never seemed to converge.

One summer evening, just after dusk, they crossed paths again, older now, YN carrying a gym bag and wearing a jacket from the national team, Yuki carrying a helmet, his clothes scuffed from a day of karting. They stood there, paused on the quiet street, and he couldn’t help but break the usual silence.

“You’re still skating, then?”

She nodded, her eyes warm with a familiar determination. “And you’re still racing.”

“Planning to stop anytime soon?” he teased.

Her smile was small, but it held a kind of fierceness. “Not until I make it.”

“Same here.”

The weight of their dreams hung in the air between them, the invisible wall that had always been there but that they’d learned to accept. There wasn’t any need for explanation, just that shared understanding. They were alike, but separate, and they knew the sacrifices and loneliness that came with chasing something so big.

Years passed like that, each of them watching the other only in passing—Yuki catching glimpses of her in news clips, her routines sharpened with an artistry that almost seemed untouchable, while she’d see photos of him in magazines and on TV, headlines proclaiming his meteoric rise through the ranks of motorsport. Every success felt like a nod to each other, a reminder of the dreams that had been born back in Sagamihara.

One winter, when Yuki was back in Japan for the off-season, he found himself walking through their old neighborhood, a rare moment of quiet for him. Snow had settled on the streets, muffling the sounds of the city and creating that same early-morning hush that he remembered from childhood.

At the ice rink, he spotted her just coming off practice. She noticed him, her eyes widening a bit in surprise, then softening in recognition.

“Yuki,” she said, her voice warm in a way that held their shared history, even if they’d never shared much more than a nod. “You’re here.”

“Just for a bit. Off-season,” he replied, feeling that same familiar ease, as though they’d just picked up an old, comfortable habit.

They didn’t need to say much; that was the thing about two people who’d been chasing dreams their whole lives—they’d run out of words long ago. Instead, they sat side by side on the cold metal bench outside the rink, their breaths visible in the chilly air. For a moment, it felt as if they were kids again, those same two quiet strangers in the early hours of Sagamihara, bound by something unspoken but unmistakable.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Yuki murmured finally, glancing over at her. “How we’ve always been here, but never really…here.”

YN nodded, looking out at the snowy street, her skates resting by her side. “Maybe we’ll always be a little like that. Parallel. Just…passing each other.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Maybe. But I think I’m okay with that.”

And in that moment, they both knew it was true. They’d never really needed each other to understand. Their connection was there, solid but silent, like the hum of the early morning streets of Sagamihara that had once seen them both grow and rise, side by side.

As Yuki settled into his off-season routine, blissfully unaware, an unexpected storm was brewing on the internet. It began when a fan account posted an old, grainy yearbook photo that seemed to have no apparent significance—just two kids from Sagamihara, tucked into a corner of the page. Yuki Tsunoda, grinning with that familiar spark in his eyes even at a young age, and right beside him, YN, with a shy, focused look that hinted at the grace she’d later bring to the rink.

The photo alone might have gone unnoticed. But within hours, more yearbook photos appeared, retweeted and reshared by fans who’d pieced together the fact that these two seemingly unrelated athletes had shared more than just a hometown.

One especially dedicated fan managed to dig up an old article from a Sagamihara newspaper, “The Rising Stars of Sagamihara,” a feature highlighting young, local talents. In it was a tiny column dedicated to a 10-year-old Yuki Tsunoda, “the lightning-fast karting prodigy,” and a paragraph further down, highlighting YN, “the local ice princess.” The two write-ups were paired with side-by-side photos: Yuki in a helmet, hands on his karting wheel with that mischievous grin, and YN in her skating attire, her posture proud and determined even at such a young age.

Fans started to piece it together: the fact that they’d grown up in the same neighborhood, gone to the same schools, and even shared the same early mornings and late nights, each in their own world yet strangely intertwined. And it wasn’t long before the discovery of an old, archived video from a local TV broadcast surfaced online—a brief segment from years ago that fans began to pass around excitedly.

In the clip, the young, wide-eyed Yuki stood outside his local karting track, excitedly describing his dream of one day becoming a Formula 1 driver. The interviewer had asked him, “What’s the best part of racing?” Yuki had grinned, eyes lighting up in a way that was still familiar to his fans today. “Going fast,” he’d said simply. “And getting better each time. I want to be the fastest in the world.”

The video then cut to the local ice rink, where a young YN was carefully lacing up her skates, so focused on the task that she barely noticed the camera. When the interviewer asked her what drove her to skate, she’d answered with quiet conviction, “I just love it. I want to make it to the Olympics someday. It’s…where I need to be.”

The segment was barely two minutes long, but it captured two kids with dreams that stretched far beyond Sagamihara, two kids who, even back then, had an uncanny sense of direction and drive. Fans, both of Yuki and of the Olympic skating world, couldn’t help but feel like they’d uncovered a rare glimpse into a shared story—two kids from the same neighborhood, their paths woven together by dreams, even if only in the way they passed each other.

Social media blew up with fan theories, speculating on how often their lives must have intersected, how many times they might have passed each other on their way to training. Photos surfaced, sent in by locals who had watched them both grow up in Sagamihara—some just vague, fleeting memories: “I remember seeing them both at the train station on winter mornings!” or “I used to watch Yuki at the track and YN at the rink. They were both so intense, so dedicated, even as kids.”

Yuki had been mostly offline during his break, enjoying a rare stretch of quiet, until one of his friends finally texted him about it. Amused, he clicked through the screenshots and articles, surprised by how far fans had gone to piece together these memories. He hadn’t even remembered half of them himself. One of the photos, an old class trip snapshot, brought a small smile to his face—YN and him standing near each other, neither of them smiling for the camera, both distracted, probably thinking about their next practice.

Meanwhile, YN caught wind of it from one of her friends, who sent her a link with a message: “Look! You’re practically trending!”

She’d laughed at first, scrolling through tweets and posts, memories flashing back like scenes from an old movie: her hurried mornings at the train station, those late-night practice sessions when she’d sometimes catch a glimpse of Yuki heading home from the karting track, their nods and polite hellos. She couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic—she hadn’t realized how much those quiet moments had mattered to her, how they’d become part of the story of her dream.

One night, not long after, Yuki texted her.

“Have you seen the whole internet making us childhood rivals or something? Lol”

She smirked, fingers tapping quickly to reply.

“Or ‘childhood sweethearts,’ depending on who you ask.”

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed with his reply:

“They’re not totally wrong. Not the rivals part, anyway.”

She chuckled at that, surprised by the warmth the message brought. There was a comfort in knowing that he remembered those early days too, that those moments of passing each other had meant something, even if it had been unspoken.

“Maybe they’ll call us ‘parallel dreamers’ next,” she replied.

And as she lay back on her couch, scrolling through the old photos and shared memories, she realized something: maybe their paths had been parallel, and maybe they’d drifted apart in pursuit of those dreams, but Sagamihara had left its mark on both of them. It was their shared starting line, the place where they’d both learned to dream and to fight, even if their paths had rarely converged.

A few days later, Yuki was in Tokyo for a media event, and on an impulse, he texted her again.

“Coffee? For old times’ sake?”

When they met at a small, tucked-away café in the city, there was an ease between them, as if the years and distance hadn’t changed a thing. They laughed over the fan theories, traded stories about the yearbook photos and old video clips, and shared some of the strange, wonderful feeling of seeing their quiet little corner of Sagamihara suddenly brought to light.

“I always thought you were so intense back then,” Yuki teased, raising an eyebrow. “Every time I saw you, you looked like you were going into battle.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Formula 1,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. “I’d see you at the track, looking like you were in some kind of racing trance. You know, you used to scare me a little.”

He laughed, a sound that was so warm and familiar. “Guess we were both a little intense. Guess we still are.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, watching the bustling street outside, each of them thinking back to those early mornings and late nights in Sagamihara, to the unspoken connection that had somehow brought them back together, even in the vastness of their separate worlds.

“Do you ever miss it?” she asked quietly, her gaze softening. “Sagamihara, I mean. Those early days?”

He nodded, his expression wistful. “Sometimes. I think I miss the simplicity of it. The way it felt to just…dream.”

She looked at him, and in that moment, she felt the weight of all those years, of all the mornings and nights they’d shared in passing, two strangers who had never truly been strangers at all.

“Me too,” she said softly. And for the first time, it felt like they weren’t just passing by—they were here, in this moment, together.

The whole thing still felt surreal to YN. Figure skating had always been a quiet pursuit, one that seemed to exist in the background of mainstream attention—until the Winter Olympics came around, when suddenly, the whole world seemed to tune in. But this recent surge of attention felt different. It wasn’t just about her skating career anymore; it was as if her whole childhood was being reexamined through this strange, nostalgic lens. Fans couldn’t seem to get enough of the idea that she and Yuki had spent their earliest years unknowingly sharing the same road.

And, somehow, the more the fans uncovered, the more it actually brought her and Yuki together.

They began to message each other regularly, trading stories from their childhood that they hadn’t even realized they shared. YN would find herself laughing as she read Yuki’s late-night messages, recounting moments she’d almost forgotten—like the time they’d both been late for school on the same day because they’d each missed the early train, or the little neighborhood shop where they’d each spent their allowances on sports magazines and energy drinks, practically standing side-by-side without knowing it.

One evening, YN received a message from Yuki that included an old photo she had completely forgotten about. It was a group photo from a school field day, and there they were, standing a few feet apart in their gym uniforms, each of them looking off in different directions, probably already thinking about the next practice, the next goal. The caption he’d written was simple:

“Look at us, already daydreaming.”

She found herself smiling, typing back:

“I think we were both always somewhere else.”

To her surprise, Yuki replied almost immediately.

“Maybe we were just waiting to catch up.”

Something about that made her pause, her heart giving a small, unexpected flutter. She hadn’t expected this sudden closeness—hadn’t expected to find herself confiding in him so naturally, like they were picking up a conversation they’d started years ago but never quite finished.

The fans, meanwhile, were relentless. More photos and old stories kept surfacing, and every new discovery seemed to send the internet into a frenzy. Some old classmates even came forward with their own memories, adding to the charm of it all. One of the most popular was a story from a girl who remembered how Yuki and YN would always be the first ones out the school gates after the last bell, each headed in different directions, both of them racing the clock to get to their practices on time. “They looked like they were in some kind of secret competition,” the girl had written with a laugh. “They never even knew they were competing.”

The two of them found it all endlessly amusing, and they often texted each other late into the night, reminiscing and teasing each other about the memories fans kept unearthing.

Then one night, YN found herself scrolling through her messages with Yuki, reading back through the familiar exchanges that had slowly become part of her days. She felt a pang of nostalgia, and on a whim, she texted him:

“Hey, do you remember that old café near the train station? The one with the melon soda floats?”

He texted back almost instantly.

“The one where I spilled a whole soda on myself? Yeah, I remember. Want to meet up there?”

The next afternoon, they found themselves back in that cozy, faded café, sitting across from each other with melon soda floats, just like they had years ago. She watched as Yuki took a sip, and they both burst into laughter as he wrinkled his nose, clearly not used to the sweetness anymore.

“Wow, it tastes exactly the same,” he said, putting the glass down with a mock grimace. “How did we drink these all the time?”

YN laughed. “Guess we didn’t know any better.”

They sat there, talking easily about their childhood routines, each one of them filling in gaps in the other’s memories. Yuki told her about the hours he’d spent working on his kart at the local track, about the old man who used to stop by and offer him tips, and she found herself captivated, imagining the younger Yuki she’d only ever seen in glimpses.

She told him about the hours at the rink, practicing spins until her legs shook, the evenings when she’d watch the last of the sunlight filter through the windows and think about what it would feel like to one day skate for an audience that stretched far beyond Sagamihara.

As she talked, Yuki looked at her with a softness she hadn’t quite seen before. “I remember,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of awe. “I remember seeing you after practice, with your skates hanging over your shoulder. You always looked…so focused, like you were in a world of your own.”

She smiled, feeling a warmth blossom in her chest. “I always thought you looked like you were ready to take on the world.”

They sat there, a comfortable silence settling between them, and for a moment, it felt as if they were back in Sagamihara, just two kids chasing their dreams, both of them trying to make sense of a feeling they hadn’t quite had words for back then.

But this time, it was different. This time, they were here, and the world wasn’t pulling them in opposite directions.

That night, after they’d said their goodbyes and gone their separate ways, YN found herself thinking about Yuki long after she got home. She scrolled through her messages, re-reading the conversations they’d shared over the past few weeks, the memories they’d uncovered together, the fragments of their shared past that had slowly pulled them closer.

And as she lay in bed, her phone buzzed with one last message from him.

“Thanks for today. It was…good to be back. With you.”

She smiled, her heart warm with a quiet happiness she hadn’t quite felt before. She typed a quick reply:

“Good to be back, too. And hey—don’t forget, I beat you to practice every time back then.”

The next morning, as she headed to practice, she found herself smiling as she passed by familiar streets and old buildings. For the first time in a long time, she felt a kind of peace settle over her, a sense that maybe, just maybe, she’d finally found a piece of home in the most unexpected of places.

And perhaps, she thought with a quiet hope, this time their paths wouldn’t just cross—they might actually find themselves walking side by side, together.

At first, it was subtle, almost like a game of hide-and-seek played by two people who didn’t really want to hide. YN’s posts were usually quiet, focused on her routines, her performances, the ice rink early in the morning or late at night when it was empty and calm. But lately, fans had noticed a difference. There were little hints—a second coffee cup on the table, a shadow beside her in the mirror at the rink, a half-smile that seemed directed at someone just out of view.

And then, there was Yuki. His own fans, well-attuned to his habits, noticed he was a little more active online than usual, sharing bits and pieces of his days that were uncharacteristically… soft. He’d always had a down-to-earth presence, but now there was something more thoughtful to it—a kind of quiet happiness that seemed to radiate from even the simplest posts. A casual photo of him at a cafe would have a book next to his coffee, open to some obscure passage about ambition and the journey to reach it. In another post, he was on a quiet Tokyo street at dusk, the caption a single kanji: “帰” (home).

Most fans brushed it off as coincidence—until the first fan sighting happened. It was a quiet Tuesday, and Yuki and YN had snuck away to a tiny ramen shop tucked into one of the side streets of Tokyo, hoping to escape the city’s usual rush. They were deep in conversation, heads bent close together, laughing at some shared joke as they slurped noodles. Neither noticed the two fans a few tables over, both of whom sat in stunned silence, glancing at each other with wide eyes.

Photos surfaced on social media within hours. The fandom went into an instant, thrilled frenzy as fans dissected every detail—the relaxed way they seemed to sit together, the way Yuki had looked at her while she laughed, the unmistakable ease and familiarity that only came with years of shared history. And as more fans pieced together the clues that had been scattered across their social media, the internet’s interest in “the childhood rivals” reignited in a big way.

Some fans were quick to pull out old screenshots, examining the places YN had been posting about recently, pointing out landmarks that seemed to match up with places Yuki had been seen as well. Others dissected old interviews and clips, spotting the subtle changes in their expressions whenever their respective childhoods in Sagamihara were brought up. It was as if, now that fans knew what to look for, the hints were everywhere, woven quietly through both of their lives.

One day, YN’s manager pulled her aside, gently asking if she’d seen the fan reaction. She had, of course, though she’d tried not to look too closely, letting herself stay in the bubble of their quiet, everyday moments. But curiosity got the better of her, and that night, she found herself scrolling through post after post, watching fans piece together their shared past like some kind of romantic detective story.

There was one thread in particular that made her pause, an almost absurdly thorough breakdown of all the times YN and Yuki had likely crossed paths as kids. It included everything from their school schedules to their practice times, even a speculative timeline of when they might have seen each other at the train station.

One of the fans had written, “I think what I love most about this whole thing is that they were just… there, for each other, all those years. Even if they didn’t realize it. It’s like they were connected without ever needing to say anything.”

As she read, she found herself smiling, remembering those long, quiet mornings, those nods exchanged across empty streets. And when her phone buzzed with a new message from Yuki, she almost laughed at the timing.

“Guess they’re onto us, huh?”

She typed back, fingers moving almost without thinking.

“I think they like it. Us. All those years we kept passing each other.”

A few seconds later, his reply appeared.

“It’s kind of nice, actually. I didn’t know it’d mean this much to people.”

“To me, either,” she replied, pausing, feeling the weight of those words. “But I think they see it now—how we’ve been part of each other’s lives, all this time. Even if it was just little things.”

And that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? She’d grown up knowing his silhouette from across the street, his familiar nod, the way he’d look at her with a small, tired smile after a long day, as if they were acknowledging the quiet cost of their dreams. Those small gestures had added up, building something she hadn’t fully realized until now.

A few weeks later, when the off-season was almost over, Yuki suggested they meet at the old track in Sagamihara. She was surprised—after all, they’d both moved on, their worlds much larger than they’d been as kids, but something about the idea felt perfect.

When she arrived, Yuki was already there, leaning against a guardrail with a nostalgic grin on his face. The track was empty, just as it had been in their childhood, and he waved her over, his smile widening as she approached.

“Welcome back,” he said, his voice soft, filled with a quiet happiness she’d grown to recognize.

They walked around the track, sharing stories from their childhood that felt both old and new. Yuki told her about his first time racing there, how he’d stayed up all night the day before, too excited to sleep. She laughed, admitting she’d once done the same thing before her first competition, spending the entire night pacing around her room, practicing jumps she’d already perfected a hundred times.

They ended up sitting side by side in the stands, looking out at the track, lost in memories. After a while, YN spoke up, her voice barely a whisper.

“Do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we’d actually been friends back then?”

Yuki tilted his head, considering her question. “Maybe we were, in a way. I mean, we were there for each other, right? Even if we didn’t talk much.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “I think we were, too.”

He looked over at her, a gentle warmth in his eyes. “Well, we’ve got all the time in the world to catch up now.”

The simplicity of his words settled over her, filling a space she hadn’t realized was empty. She smiled, reaching out to lightly nudge his shoulder. “Guess we do.”

The fans, of course, noticed the Sagamihara track photo she posted later that night—a wide shot of the track at dusk, golden sunlight pooling over the asphalt. No sign of Yuki in the frame, no hints in her caption, just a simple line: “Sometimes, going back means moving forward.”

But to her, it felt like a quiet declaration—a way of honoring the years they’d spent running toward their dreams, passing each other like strangers on a shared road. And even if the whole world knew about them now, it didn’t change the fact that this was, at its heart, theirs alone: two kids from Sagamihara, two dreams that had always run parallel, finally side by side.

The end of the break came faster than either of them expected, and with it, a quiet sense of loss that lingered as Yuki prepared to leave for Europe. For years, leaving home had been easy, almost routine. But this time, Sagamihara felt different. It was as if his small hometown was charged with a new kind of energy—one that came from having someone there who felt like home in a way he hadn’t fully expected.

But, even though they couldn’t be in the same place, Yuki and YN settled into a rhythm of staying close despite the distance. Texts flew back and forth, little jokes and stories from their days. The hours spent on FaceTime became a kind of ritual, each call bringing with it a familiar warmth and comfort that reminded them both of those shared streets and the quiet dreams of Sagamihara.

One evening, on a call, Yuki mentioned an idea that had been buzzing in his mind for a while.

“You should come to a race,” he said, his voice casual but his eyes bright. “I mean, if you’re interested. It’s not exactly like a skating competition, but… it’s something you’ve got to experience live.”

Her face lit up on the screen. “Are you serious? I mean, I’ve watched some races since we started talking, but I’ve never seen it in person.”

He grinned. “Oh, it’s totally different live. The sound, the atmosphere… it’s like nothing else.” He paused, then added, “Besides, it’d mean we get to see each other again.”

It didn’t take long for her to say yes.

The day of the Grand Prix arrived, and as YN stepped into the bustling paddock, she was hit by a mix of excitement and nerves. She’d seen glimpses of this world through Yuki’s stories and posts, but nothing could have prepared her for the sheer intensity of it—the colors, the noise, the energy crackling through every inch of the place. There was a sense of purpose everywhere, a buzzing energy that felt so different from the serene calm of an ice rink but somehow familiar, too. It was the feeling of athletes chasing something, pouring themselves into every detail, every second, every breath.

And then, there he was. Yuki spotted her from across the paddock, weaving through the crowd with a wide grin, looking more animated than she’d ever seen him. They met with an easy hug, as if no time had passed since they’d last seen each other. She couldn’t help but laugh, taking in his racing suit, his excitement radiating off him in waves.

“It’s even crazier in person,” she said, glancing around, trying to absorb everything at once. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”

He laughed, looking both proud and a little sheepish. “Yeah, it’s… it’s a lot. But you’ll get used to it. I wanted you to see it, though. This is… well, it’s my version of the rink, I guess.”

They walked through the paddock, with Yuki explaining everything from the intense setup behind each car to the team’s relentless preparation. She could see the pride in his eyes, the way he moved around his car with a sense of ownership, a reflection of the countless hours he’d spent on tracks, working toward this dream. And she could feel it—this was where he belonged, where every step and sacrifice from their childhood had led him.

He introduced her to a few members of his team, laughing as they teased him about finally bringing a friend to a race. She watched as he interacted with his team, realizing for the first time just how much responsibility he carried. The boy she remembered from Sagamihara had grown into someone steady and sharp, someone whose determination had molded him into a presence that filled the space around him.

When the race started, she was in awe. The sheer speed, the roar of the engines, the crowd’s cheers—all of it combined into a visceral thrill that went beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She found herself gripping the railing, watching Yuki’s car flash past, feeling every twist and turn like it was happening to her. She hadn’t expected to be so captivated, but here she was, heart pounding as if she were skating a program of her own.

After the race, when things quieted down, Yuki found her in the paddock again. He was exhausted, his face flushed, but his eyes sparkled with the high of it all. She threw her arms around him, feeling a surge of pride she hadn’t expected.

“That was incredible,” she said, still breathless from the excitement. “I didn’t know racing could feel like that.”

He grinned, a little bashful. “It’s different when you’re here, right?”

They spent the rest of the evening wandering through the emptying paddock, the buzz of the race still lingering in the air around them. As they walked, she told him about her own competitions—the nervous energy that would settle over her before she stepped onto the ice, the strange kind of stillness that would take over the rink just before she launched into her first jump.

And for a moment, they were just two kids from Sagamihara again, two dreamers who’d spent their lives working tirelessly toward something that felt bigger than themselves.

She looked over at him, her heart warming at the honesty in his expression. “I get that. I always felt the same way about skating. But I think… I think it makes a difference, knowing someone else understands it.”

They found a quiet spot near the track, sitting on a low wall overlooking the grandstands. The stadium lights cast long shadows over the empty space, and for a while, they just sat there, letting the silence fill the spaces between them. It was a kind of peace they hadn’t realized they’d been looking for.

“You know,” YN said, her voice soft, “when I was younger, I always wondered what it’d be like to actually talk to you. To know you, beyond just passing each other on the way to practice.”

Yuki looked over at her, his gaze steady. “Guess we’re finally getting that chance now.”

They sat in silence again, a comfortable warmth settling between them. And in that moment, with the empty track stretching out before them, they both felt it—the quiet realization that they’d found something here, something that had always been there, waiting for them to finally catch up.

As they sat there, Yuki reached out, a small, tentative movement that spoke volumes. She took his hand without hesitation, their fingers lacing together easily, naturally. It was a small gesture, one that felt both familiar and thrillingly new, like finding home in a place they’d both thought they’d left behind.

And in that quiet, empty paddock, with the echoes of the race still hanging in the air, they found a kind of peace they hadn’t known they were looking for—a sense that, no matter where their paths led, they’d always be able to find each other, side by side.

By now, Yuki and YN were inseparable, no matter how many miles lay between them. It was a connection that felt both effortless and profound, the sort of bond that didn’t need big declarations or elaborate plans to make sense. They’d found something in each other that went beyond their childhood familiarity and beyond the worlds of figure skating and racing—something that was uniquely theirs, a relationship that had grown quietly and steadily, almost as if it had been waiting for them all along.

Anyone who spent time with them could see it. Fans had a field day piecing together every time YN was spotted near a racetrack or every time Yuki happened to be in the audience at one of her competitions. There were moments when fans speculated wildly, building romantic theories out of mere glimpses, but Yuki and YN never fed into it. For them, what they had was too precious to make a spectacle of; this was theirs alone, and they were happy to keep it that way.

Friends and family saw it too, though their reaction was less of a surprise and more of a quiet understanding. For years, everyone who knew them had seen that glimmer of connection, the kind that didn’t fade with distance or time. Their friends laughed about it sometimes, joking that Sagamihara must have woven their destinies together before they even knew it themselves.

Even other drivers, those who saw Yuki at his best and his most vulnerable, couldn’t miss the subtle shift in him. There was a calmness to him now, a steadiness that came from having someone who understood the cost of his world, someone who’d been chasing dreams just as big. In the garage, Yuki would occasionally have a little grin on his face as he read a text, or he’d walk into the paddock with a quiet happiness that his team members hadn’t seen before.

“You’re different these days, you know?” one of the drivers remarked one afternoon, a teasing smile on his face as they sat together after a race. “You’ve got that… settled look. Like someone who finally knows where he’s going.”

Yuki didn’t deny it. Instead, he just shrugged with a slight smile. “Guess I do.”

And then, there were moments when they found themselves together in the same place, and it felt like the whole world disappeared. No matter how loud the roar of the crowd or how many people surrounded them, they had this ability to turn everything else into background noise.

One weekend, after one of Yuki’s races, they found themselves in a quiet corner of the paddock, hidden away from the bustling crowds. They had little moments like these, stolen pockets of time when the rest of the world felt a million miles away. YN leaned against the wall, watching Yuki as he recounted moments from the race, his eyes bright with excitement. She knew she’d never tire of seeing him like this, his passion shining through every word.

“It’s funny,” she said, smiling as he paused to catch his breath. “When we were kids, I’d see you after a long practice, and you’d look just as exhausted but never as happy.”

“Back then, we were both just pushing, you know?” he replied, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. “We were both fighting so hard to get somewhere, to make something of ourselves. I think we both forgot it could be this… good.”

She nodded, understanding completely. There was something different now—a balance, a kind of peace that came from knowing they’d reached the places they’d fought for, and that they had someone to share it with.

He reached out, his fingers finding hers, lacing together in a way that had come to feel so natural. “Do you ever think about how many times we must have passed each other? Back in Sagamihara, at the train station, or even just walking down the street?”

“Yeah,” she replied softly, a smile playing at her lips. “It’s like we were both so focused on our own paths that we didn’t even realize we were following the same one.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying the moment, their hands still intertwined. There was a quiet magic to these moments that no audience could ever see, a depth of understanding that went beyond words. In each other, they’d found a quiet kind of solace, a shared understanding that had blossomed into something more, something as vast and unshakable as the dreams they’d chased all their lives.

When she finally had to return to Tokyo, they shared a hug that lingered a little longer than usual, the unspoken promises between them clear. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, his voice soft but sure.

“Soon,” she echoed, knowing that, wherever they were in the world, they’d always have this unbreakable thread tying them back to each other.

As she walked away, he stood there for a moment, watching her go, a feeling of certainty settling over him. What they had was beyond the limitations of time zones and stadiums. It was something far bigger than Sagamihara, beyond racing circuits and skating rinks. It was something timeless, something that was just theirs, waiting patiently for them all these years.

And as Yuki turned to head back to the track, a quiet smile on his face, he knew that whatever twists and turns lay ahead, he’d always have this piece of home with him—something that had started long ago, on quiet mornings and late nights in Sagamihara, and had grown into something far more beautiful than he’d ever expected.

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succubusyuyu · 2 years ago

Note

I was thinking about y/n riding jh tight but then yt decided to join them 😔 🥺

hii anon i just LOVE IT 😖😖 (i'm just a simp for threesomes gosh)

tags: boyf!yuta x reader x idol!jaehyun, threesome, thigh riding, hand jobs

[22:56]

yuta as a journalist interviewed many famous people, yet when he got face to face with soloist jeong jaehyun he feels like a fanboy, maybe is your influence getting him, but he swear he's trying hard not to blush under jaehyun's moon eyes, and dimple smile when in the end of the interview he asks for a pic and a voice note for you, and ended getting a date, ok, not a date, in jaehyun's words "a dinner"...

"yuta nakamoto, please repeat what you said again."

"he said let's have dinner someday and write me his number," he does air quotes as he repeats exactly what jaehyun said again for the thousandth time, "he said he wants to meet you, I showed your picture, and he said, cute, so I think he liked you." he smiles wide, proud of his achievements, he knows how much you like jaehyun, how you're a fan for a long time, and have all his albums and even collect his photocards, he just wanted it to make you happy.

yet you're exasperated, running your hands through your hair and hiding your face in your hands.

"what's the problem, baby?" he looked evidently worried, you regret your overthinking right after.

you hold his face, "you're not jealous?", you ask.

he smirks, "of course not, kitty, I would love to see that hot men fucking you."

you're worried frown drops, and you slap his arm, "yuta!"

"what baby? he's so hot you have to see it, in live he's even more hot, he's like super hot and his dimples, y/n, ah, ok, I think I should be jealous what if you run away with him?" he pouts.

you laugh, "silly, you know if I run away it would be with you and if he wants, he can come along." you place a kiss on his pout.

yuta smiles, "so can I arrange the date?" he says against your lips.

"yes, you can, baby, but now," you say as you push him further in the couch, "show me why I shouldn't run away with him." you smirks, and he beautifully mirrors your grin.

"with pleasure, princess."

...

so this is how you — yuta — got a date with jeong jaehyun.

you didn't expect to get this further on the first date, you really expect to talk and say how much you love him and that's it, but looks like jaehyun came with another plans, and yuta too.

by the way he bought you a new dress, a midi one, but with two slits showing your legs and a bit of your thighs, because it rides up every time you sit on the couch — important information, your couch, because they decided to just have a casual dinner at yours and yuta's apartment, you should have understood their intentions from the start, but you just get it when yuta's hands start to travel up your thighs while you're chatting, jaehyun sit on the seat across the couch watching everything.

"yuta," you warn, pinching his arm, but he didn't stop, he smirks and looks at jaehyun while his lips leave kisses on your shoulder.

"yeah, baby?" he rumbles on your skin, your eyes found jaehyun still looking at you and yuta.

"yuta!" you warn again because this was making you anxious.

he laughs, "kitty, look" he placed your head between his hands, to make you stop furrow your eyebrows, but you can't, not until he fulled explained how he offered jaehyun to be on bed with you and yuta and he accepted.

"wait? did you ask for a threesome?"

"i did, baby, because we talked a lot about it and i think he's perfect for it, don't you?"

fuck yes, jaehyun is perfect to it, but you not even know what you should do, what jaehyun likes, what he doesn't like-

"don't overthinking, y/n, we don't have to do it." jaehyun's calm voice take you from your reveries.

"nooooo," you whines, "i do want, I just don't know-"

"what about we start with a kiss." yuta proposes, "come here, jae." and jaehyun does sit at your side.

you feel his hand on your knee, then in your face and when you realize he's lips are touching yours after he says, "I'm going to kiss you, y/n" and you melts, it's slow, it's delicious, it's making you weak on the knees.

"sit on his thigh, baby, c'mon have fun, i want to watch you getting flushed." yuta teases, placing his hands on your hips and helping you move. you yelps when you sit on jaehyun's thigh, a little plumper than yuta's, but strong as well for their long days at gym.

flushed, yuta wanted to see you flushed? god you're fucking melting in your pool of horniness, you don't realize yuta changed his side until you feel slim fingers sliding down the strips of your dress, until the said slim fingers started to play with your hard nipples and making you moan against jaehyun's mouth, making you twitch against him and accidentally blush your cunt against his thigh.

"ride it, baby, c'mon make a mess, make him jealous." jaehyun teases, with a smirk on his face, making yuta chuckles, and you shiver. jaehyun didn't know who he was teasing, yuta was menace he could be worst than both he could make jaehyun bed for it tonight, and you're happy to watch it.

you start to move your hips, back and forth, slow, and if you're already wet with just some kisses now you know you're soaking wet, probably staining his pants, but he didn't complain his kissed travel to your neck while yuta's hands play along your body, exposing more naked skin to him to lick and suck.

it was too much, but still you move your hands until it are playing with yuta's slacks, fingers hovering over his bulge and making him gasps.

"jae," you pouts and when he looks up at you, you smiles, "help him, hm?" you ask, placing the palm of your hand against him, making yuta moan under his breath.

"how, baby?" he asks, already moving his hand to yuta's cock, tracing his fingers along the hard length over his pants.

"i don't know, how yu wants it, uh? maybe he likes if we just tease him until he comes on his pants like a teenager." you place your hands harder and yuta holds your wrist, but don't stop you.

you watches him close him eyes and throw his head back, moaning loud, making jaehyun surprise by his shameless manners.

"i think he wants you to suck him off." jaehyun says, smiling, watching yuta open his eyes to smirk.

"oh I do, i never see a kitty so pretty as her while sucking a dick, all sloppy and messy with a dick down her throat, so pretty, right, baby?" he caresses your face, and you try hard not slide down on your knees and suck him off, maybe jaehyun would join, you never took two, and you can try, but before you suggest it, jaehyun already took off yuta from his pants with one hand while with the other he moved your hips.

"he's such a good boy, don't you think, princess?" yuta says, rocking his hips up on jaehyun's fist, "help him too." and who is you to deny a hand to such a pretty boy.

when your fingers start to unbutton his slacks you hear jaehyun gasps, you undo his pants and quickly get his hard length in your hands, you do it just lick you do with yuta even if jaehyun is bigger he fits so well in your hands. you toy with the tip, collecting the amount of precum dripping from the head and brings your dirty thumb to your lips, licking it and humming, never averting jaehyun's gaze and taking a moan from him.

"good? let me taste the pretty boy too." yuta asks, and you collect more of jaehyun's precum to then place your index between his lips.

yuta hums too, rolling his eyes back, making jaehyun moans again, "god, you're crazy, fucking crazy-" god he was loving it, his cock twitching between your fingers, and his hips bucking up, making your body even closer to his, making your wet pussy drag harder against his thigh, you sigh low.

but even affect as him, you tease, "c'mon baby, can't take a little of foreplay?" yuta laughs, you watch his hands sneak between you and hold jaehyun's cheeks between his fingers and squeezing it until his lips are in a cute pout.

"how are you going to take y/n riding your dick this way? uh? you can take it, pretty boy, just cum when you're inside her, ok? deal?" yuta asks with a smirk.

jaehyun closes his eyes and nods slowly, you smile, feeling his big hands tighter around your hips and you're back to move against his thigh, his hand back to jerk yuta off as well yours on jaehyun, and even if you know your orgasm is approaching you also know the night will be long, anyway you can take it, or you hope so.

#succubusyuyu #yuta x reader x jaehyun #yuta x reader #jaehyun x reader #yuta smut #yuta hard hours #jaehyun hard hours #jaehyun smut #nct 127 hard hours #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct hard hours #succubusyuyu requests

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postsofbabel · 9 months ago

Text

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#posts of babel #screenreader unfriendly #HTML posts of babel

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a-z0-9-i-n-gram-completionist · 5 months ago

Text

1: 2 a b c d e f g h i k l m n o p r s t u w x y 23/36 (22/26) (1/10)

2: 2c an at bc be bf cw do dr fo fr gf he hi hm ie if ik im is it ke li ll lo mb me mi mm my nb nc nd ne nt oh ok ol on or ow ra rp sa so th tl to tw up we xd xx xy ya yt 56/1296 (55/676) (1/360)

3: atl don fol his hmm ike imi lik lim llo low mit oll one ont rat thi tli 18/46656 (18/17576)

4: atli dont foll imit like limi llow ollo ratl this tlim 11/1679616 (11/456976)

5: atlim follo limit ollow ratli tlimi 6/60466176 (6/11881376)

6: atlimi follow ratlim tlimit 4/2176782336 (4/308915776)

7: atlimit ratlimi 2/78364164096 (2/8031810176)

8: ratlimit 1/2821109907456 (1/208827064576)

hmm. dont like this one

#max: 8

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networksims · 4 years ago

Text

A Simple Neon Sign Tutorial [TS4]

By Networksims [Twitter / YT / TSR]

You will need:

Sims4Studio

Blender 2.9

Any image editor

1. Open S4S. Under “Object”, select “Create 3D Mesh” then click “Object”

2. Search for “plank” and select the wall light.

3. Under the meshes tab, click export mesh (make sure LOD 0 is selected in the dropdown).

4. Open the exported file in blender.

5. Select “s4studio_mesh_1″ from the top right menu. Then press TAB to go into edit mode, and then press A to select it all.

6. Press X and select “Vertices” in the menu that appears to delete the object. Do not delete the object from the top right menu.

7. Now press TAB again to go into object mode, and add a text object using the bottom left menu.

8. This will add a generic text object to the mesh. Press TAB again to edit it and enter whatever text you’d like.

9. Now press TAB again and select the font menu from the top right menu.

10. Find these options and press the folder icon next to “Regular”.

11. Navigate to your font folder and select the font you’d like to use. (Windows users: open “Font Settings” from your settings and you can preview all your fonts).

12. Now your text should be in your selected font.

13. Press ALT C and select “Mesh from Curve”

14. Press TAB then CTRL + N, and tick the “Inside” box that should appear in the bottom left.

15. Press TAB again and select the modifiers menu from the bottom right. Then click “Add Modifier” and find “Decimate”. Make sure you’re in object mode, not edit mode.

16. Select the “Planar” option and increase the angle limit as much as you can before the text becomes too distorted. 15o is generally your best bet.

17. I’m now adding a border around my text. If you don’t want to do this skip to step 20. In edit mode, add a “Plane” to your mesh. Drag the edges in till it fits around your text and raise it so it lays flat with the text.

18. Press I and drag your mouse towards the centre of the mesh until you get the desired border width.

19. With face select on, select the centre face, press X and select “Faces”.

20. With all the mesh selected, press R and click wherever. In the bottom left menu, enter 90o as the angle and tick the Y and Z boxes under “Constraint Axis”. Drag it around until it’s fairly centred and lines up with the shadow box.

21. In edit mode, press E and drag forward until the desired depth.

22. In the top right menu, click on “Text” and shift-click on “s4studio_mesh_1″, then press CTRL + J.

23. Select “s4studio_mesh_0″ in the top right corner, and, in edit mode, press S and scale it down to 0.

24. In edit mode, make sure all your sign is selected, then click “Image” > “New Image” in the far left corner. Click OK. You should get a weird set of lines and the texture on your mesh should look terrible. This is normal.

*This is UV-mapping. Normally faces are selected one-by-one to create a nice clean texture map which can then be used to create beautiful textures. However since our sign will be flat white with no shading, it doesn’t really matter.

25. Press SHIFT + CTRL + S to save your file.

26. In the top left, delete “s4studio_mesh_0″. Then select “s4studio_mesh_1″, open the “Scene” menu and change “Cut” under “S4Studio CAS Tools” to 0. Repeat step 25 but do not override your other mesh.

27. Open S4S again. Under the meshes tab, for each of the non-shadow LODs, import your first mesh. For the shadow LODs, import your second. You may need to make different LODs depending on your mesh’s complexity.

28. In an image editor, make a 64x64px white png.

29. In the “Textures” tab in S4S, import your white square as the texture.

30. Go into the “Warehouse” tab and find the three images called “DST Image”. Replace the second with this and the third with this.

31. And we’re done! Save in S4S, put the package into your mods folder and enjoy your new light :)

#sims #sims 4 cc #tutorial #cc tutorial

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fenharel · 8 years ago

Text

@mediocreimagines tagged me<3

rules: answer the questions in a new post and tag 5 blogs.

a - age – 22

b - birthplace – germany

c - current time – 9:36pm

d - drink you had last – water

e - easiest person to talk to – my sister

f - favorite song – too many :( every song by bastille & arctic monkeys

g - grossest memory – i’m really not sure? i’m not easily grossed out. i once watched a skyburrial on yt that wasnt cool

h - horror yes or no – yes!!

i - in love? – nope

j - jealous of people? – never (:

k - killed someone? – ;)

l - love at first sight or should i walk past again? – not sure what this means, should you walk past me? of course not come here, MWAH

m - middle name – don’t have one!

n - number of siblings – 2

o - one wish – that one day i’ll wake up and there is like, money everywhere around my bed, nice

p - person i called last – probably my mum

q - question you’re always asked – “do you have two different coloured eyes? :O”

r - reason to smile – eurovision is on saturday!!!!!!!!

s - song you last sang – umbrella because of the tom holland vid i watched yesterday sdjfkjdl

t - time you woke up – around 12pm

u - underwear color – black

v - vacation – barcelona!

w - worst habit – procrastinating or not trusting ppl :////

x - xrays – teeth and my ankle

y - your favorite food – spaghetti ♥♥♥♥♥

z - zodiac sign – aquarius

i tag: @solaspride @petyrbaelish @maharieel @denerim & who ever wants to do it!!

#personal

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wyomingfreereport · 5 years ago

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youtube

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLV2_DXkE4JsyOSWoinR3tNK1N7n9VylzC

http://www.tunesbaby.com/yt/?x=UmeMPQZrnJo

https://cse.google.com/cse?cx=003555290596869000553:l2dgwbwrqcs

https://cse.google.com/cse?cx=017718293001111184089:n6gblylpg14

from https://youtu.be/5BRkOpFy4WY December 22, 2019 at 08:27PM

#https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCmy2jtpG-3ddtGgfS8QOhHg/videos

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rilura · 7 years ago

Text

PHP ile IBAN doğrulama yöntemleri (bütün ülkeler için)

1 Ocak 2010 tarihiyle birlikte bankalar arasında para transferi için IBANkullanmak zorunlu hale getirildi. işlemlerin IBAN isimli bu standart hesap numaraları ile yapılmasının amacı, para transferlerinde karşılaşılan problemlerin üstesinden gelebilmek. Biz işin yazılım kısmına gelirsek; bu IBAN girdilerini doğrulatmak için sizlere 3 farklı yöntemden bahsedeceğim. Bu yöntemleri bütün ülkelerin bütün IBAN girdilerini doğrulatmak için kullanabililirsiniz.

1. Yöntem: “is_iban()” isimli fonksiyonu kullanmak

is_iban.php dosyasını ilgili php sayfanıza include/require ediyorsunuz.

* NOT: * Tüm ülkeler için maksimum IBAN uzunluğu 31 karakter olabilir * TÜRKİYE için maksimum IBAN uzunluğu 26 karakter olabilir * * yazar: Erhan BURHAN * email: eburhan[at]gmail[dot]com * adres: www.eburhan.com */ function is_IBAN($iban = '') // ilk önce formatı kontrol ediyoruz if( ! is_IBAN_format($iban) ) return false; // şimdi de algoritmayla kontrol ediyoruz $iban = substr($iban, 4, 22).substr($iban,0,4); $iban = str_replace( array('A','B','C','D','E','F','G','H','I','J','K','L','M','N','O','P','Q','R','S','T','U','V','W','X','Y','Z'), array(10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20,21,22,23,24,25,26,27,28,29,30,31,32,33,34,35), $iban ); // oluşan sayıyı 5'li basamaklara ayırıyoruz $iban = str_split($iban, 5); $max = count($iban) - 1; // en büyük indis sayısı $i = 0; // 5 parçaya ayırdığımız sayıların tek tek modunu alıyoruz. Yararlandığım kaynak: // http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Bank_Account_Number#Calculating_the_modulus_of_a_large_number while ($i <= $max) $kalan = $iban[$i] % 97; if( ++$i > $max ) break; // önceden arttırmaya dikkat ! $iban[$i] = $kalan.$iban[$i]; return ($kalan === 1); function is_IBAN_format($iban = '') // son RegEx güncellemesi: Ocak 2010 \\ $ibanRegex = array ( /* 01 */ 'AL' => '/^AL\d2\d8[A-Za-z0-9]16$/', /* 02 */ 'AD' => '/^AD\d2\d4\d4[A-Za-z0-9]12$/', /* 03 */ 'AT' => '/^AT\d2\d5\d11$/', /* 04 */ 'BE' => '/^BE\d2\d3\d7\d2$/', /* 05 */ 'BA' => '/^BA\d2\d3\d3\d8\d2$/', /* 06 */ 'BG' => '/^BG\d2[A-Z]4\d4\d2[A-Za-z0-9]8$/', /* 07 */ 'HR' => '/^HR\d2\d7\d10$/', /* 08 */ 'CY' => '/^CY\d2\d3\d5[A-Za-z0-9]16$/', /* 09 */ 'CZ' => '/^CZ\d2\d4\d6\d10$/', /* 10 */ 'DK' => '/^DK\d2\d4\d9\d1$/', /* 10 */ 'FO' => '/^FO\d2\d4\d9\d1$/', /* 10 */ 'GL' => '/^GL\d2\d4\d9\d1$/', /* 11 */ 'EE' => '/^EE\d2\d2\d2\d11\d1$/', /* 12 */ 'FI' => '/^FI\d2\d6\d7\d1$/', /* 13 */ 'FR' => '/^FR\d2\d5\d5[A-Za-z0-9]11\d2$/', /* 13 */ 'PF' => '/^PF\d2\d5\d5[A-Za-z0-9]11\d2$/', /* 13 */ 'TF' => '/^TF\d2\d5\d5[A-Za-z0-9]11\d2$/', /* 13 */ 'YT' => '/^YT\d2\d5\d5[A-Za-z0-9]11\d2$/', /* 13 */ 'NC' => '/^NC\d2\d5\d5[A-Za-z0-9]11\d2$/', /* 13 */ 'PM' => '/^PM\d2\d5\d5[A-Za-z0-9]11\d2$/', /* 13 */ 'WF' => '/^WF\d2\d5\d5[A-Za-z0-9]11\d2$/', /* 14 */ 'DE' => '/^DE\d2\d8\d10$/', /* 15 */ 'GI' => '/^GI\d2[A-Z]4[A-Za-z0-9]15$/', /* 16 */ 'GR' => '/^GR\d2\d3\d4[A-Za-z0-9]16$/', /* 17 */ 'HU' => '/^HU\d2\d3\d4\d1\d15\d1$/', /* 18 */ 'IS' => '/^IS\d2\d4\d2\d6\d10$/', /* 19 */ 'IE' => '/^IE\d2[A-Z]4\d6\d8$/', /* 20 */ 'IL' => '/^IL\d2\d3\d3\d13$/', /* 21 */ 'IT' => '/^IT\d2[A-Z]1\d5\d5[A-Za-z0-9]12$/', /* 22 */ 'LV' => '/^LV\d2[A-Z]4[A-Za-z0-9]13$/', /* 23 */ 'LB' => '/^LB\d2\d4[A-Za-z0-9]20$/', /* 24 */ 'LI' => '/^LI\d2\d5[A-Za-z0-9]12$/', /* 25 */ 'LT' => '/^LT\d2\d5\d11$/', /* 26 */ 'LU' => '/^LU\d2\d3[A-Za-z0-9]13$/', /* 27 */ 'MK' => '/^MK\d2\d3[A-Za-z0-9]10\d2$/', /* 28 */ 'MT' => '/^MT\d2[A-Z]4\d5[A-Za-z0-9]18$/', /* 29 */ 'MU' => '/^MU\d2[A-Z]4\d2\d2\d12\d3[A-Z]3$/', /* 30 */ 'MC' => '/^MC\d2\d5\d5[A-Za-z0-9]11\d2$/', /* 31 */ 'ME' => '/^ME\d2\d3\d13\d2$/', /* 32 */ 'NL' => '/^NL\d2[A-Z]4\d10$/', /* 33 */ 'NO' => '/^NO\d2\d4\d6\d1$/', /* 34 */ 'PL' => '/^PL\d2\d8\d1,16$/', /* 35 */ 'PT' => '/^PT\d2\d4\d4\d11\d2$/', /* 36 */ 'RO' => '/^RO\d2[A-Z]4[A-Za-z0-9]16$/', /* 37 */ 'SM' => '/^SM\d2[A-Z]1\d5\d5[A-Za-z0-9]12$/', /* 38 */ 'SA' => '/^SA\d2\d2[A-Za-z0-9]18$/', /* 39 */ 'RS' => '/^RS\d2\d3\d13\d2$/', /* 40 */ 'SK' => '/^SK\d2\d4\d6\d10$/', /* 41 */ 'SI' => '/^SI\d2\d5\d8\d2$/', /* 42 */ 'ES' => '/^ES\d2\d4\d4\d1\d1\d10$/', /* 43 */ 'SE' => '/^SE\d2\d3\d16\d1$/', /* 44 */ 'CH' => '/^CH\d2\d5[A-Za-z0-9]12$/', /* 45 */ 'TN' => '/^TN59\d2\d3\d13\d2$/', /* 46 */ 'TR' => '/^TR\d2\d5[A-Za-z0-9]1[A-Za-z0-9]16$/', /* 47 */ 'GB' => '/^GB\d2[A-Z]4\d6\d8$/' ); $ulke = substr((string) $iban, 0, 2); if( ! isset($ibanRegex[$ulke]) ) return false; if( preg_match($ibanRegex[$ulke], $iban) === 0 ) return false; return true; ?>

Daha sonra herhangi bir IBAN girdisini aşağıdaki örnekte olduğu gibi doğrulatabilirsiniz.

<?php require 'is_iban.php'; $iban = 'RO49AAAA1B31007593840000'; if( is_IBAN($iban) ) echo 'IBAN geçerli'; else echo 'IBAN geçersiz !'; ?>

2. Yöntem: formDogrula için “iban” eklentisini kullanmak

Eğer IBAN girdisini bir formdan alıp doğruluğunu kontrol ettirecekseniz ve form girdilerini doğrulatmak için benim formDogrula (fdo) sınıfımı kullanıyorsanız bu eklenti tam size. Hemen http://formdogrula.com/eklentiler-gonullu.html sayfasından “iban” eklentisini indirin ve formDogrula (fdo)sınıfının “eklentiler” klasörüne kopyalayın. Artık eklentiyi aşağıdaki gibi kolay bir şekilde kullanabilirsiniz:

<?php // formDogrula sınıfını çağır require '../eb.formDogrula.php'; // formDogrula nesneni oluştur $fdo = new formDogrula('form1', 'post'); // kural ekle $fdo->kural('iban', 'IBAN', 'gerekli|dolu|iban'); // formu doğrulat if( ! $fdo->dogrulat() ) echo 'Lütfen formu kontrol ediniz. Aşağıdaki hatalar oluştu:'; echo '<ul>'; $fdo->yazHatalar('<li>', '</li>', true); echo '</ul>'; else echo "Tebrikler. Form başarıyla doğrulandı."; ?>

3. Yöntem: “Zend_Validate_Iban” sınıfını kullanmak

Eğer Zend Framework kullanarak birşeyler geliştiriyorsanız o zaman ekstra birşeyler indirmenize gerek yok demek, çünkü ZF içerisinde IBAN doğrulama için hazır bir sınıf var. ZF dökümanındaki Standard Validation Classes sayfasından daha fazla bilgi alabileceğiniz bu sınıfı şu şekilde kullanabiliyorsunuz:

<?php $validator = new Zend_Validate_Iban(); $iban = 'AT611904300234573201'; if ($validator->isValid($iban)) echo 'IBAN geçerli'; else echo 'IBAN geçersiz'; ?>

Sonuç

3. yöntem hariç, diğer yöntemlerdeki kodları kendim yazdım. Bunun için ISO13616 IBAN Registrysayfasındaki dökümanlardan ve Özgür Ansiklopedi’deki International Bank Account Number sayfasındaki bilgilerden yararlandım. Ve ayrıca, 1. yöntemdeki fonksiyonu kullanarak örnek bir doğrulama sayfası da hazırladım. IBAN girdilerini bu sayfadan basit, hızlı bir şekilde doğrulatabilirsiniz. Bu sayfada herhangi bir bilgi tutulmamaktadır. Güvenle kullanabilirsiniz

PHP ile IBAN doğrulama yöntemleri (bütün ülkeler için)

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multicohn · 1 month ago

Text

summary: y/n is the only person who can calm yuki down

warnings: cursing? not proofread so spelling errors or missing words might be present

pairing: gn! reader x yuki tsunoda

genre: fluff, comfort, established relationship

author note: “i need to write other drivers” - i say while writing more yuki

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

loud bangs and even louder cursing was easily heard from yuki’s driver room. he had another awful race where his patience became thinner and thinner every lap that passed, but finally broke it was being hit from behind by kevin. yuki knew it was accident, his brakes weren’t working properly and he even checked on him before apologising, but something had been going wrong for the last few races and yuki was very close to just ripping the car apart barehanded.

“fuck this! fuck everything!”

everyone knew to leave yuki alone when he was angry or else he’ll snap at whoever entered.

however, unbeknownst to everyone, there is one person who can calm down quickly.

yuki snatched his phone out of his bag to decline who was calling, but paused at seeing the familiar contact name. he let it ring before taking a deep breath and calling back.

“hi, honey” the sound of their voice made yuki take a deep breath

"hi, y/n"

"wanna talk about it?" yuki leaned against the wall before slowly sliding down

"i'm going to rip that stupid piece of shit apart with my bare hands soon" y/n snorted at this which made a small smile creep onto yuki's face

"be careful when you do and make sure you wear gloves in case they investigate or something like that" yuki chuckled

“don’t worry i will”

then silence.

yuki wanted to keep his relationship private and away from the media, some drivers have asked him when they were certain that there were no mics around if he had a partner, but yuki never gave a straightforward answer which left them wondering.

“how’s ( work / studying )?”

“tiring, but it’ll be over soon and then we can spend the whole break together in peace” yuki let out a sigh, his shoulders shagging at the thought. he loves to race, but he loves doing nothing and spending time with his partner

“i got interviews soon”

“think anyone’s figured it out?” he rolled his eyes

“no. they probably still think i got a talking to or something” y/n laughed loudly which made yuki easily follow along

it soon quieted down and y/n released a sigh.

“i have to go ( my lecture is starting / my break is almost over ). you okay, now?”

“yeah” he breathed out

“thank you”

“don’t mention it. i’ll see you soon”

“i love you”

“i love you too”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

extra scene:

yuki put his phone back, released a sigh, and started tidying up the room. once everything was… somewhat neater than he left it, yuki opened the door to see his manager staring at him with their mouth wide open.

“what?”

“how did you calm down so quickly?” yuki shrugged

“i drank a redbull”

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wethotcrazy · 2 months ago

Text

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 3727

this is loosely based off of sympathy is a knife by charlie xcx, it’s a lot of world building please bear with me i have a vision (-﹏-。) also expect cursing. this is quite a long one (im working on multiple parts), i'll try to post as much as can.

part ii part iii part iv

All children are encouraged to do their best, dream big, and reach for the stars. But let's be honest: how many kids actually achieve that goal? How many adults can say they have been fighting for their place for far longer than they can remember?

Not a lot.

That kind of passion was rare. But perhaps it was more than passion; maybe it was the sick sense of wanting something bigger than yourself. Maybe she was just a workhorse that never learned when to stop.

Growing up karting was where Yn found a love for motorsports, it was her dad that introduced her to it. A part of her felt for the older man; this had been his dream as much as it was hers. Back then, it had always been just a hobby, even though she had already achieved multiple wins. She never thought it would come this far.

At 16, she was picked up by the Red Bull junior team to race in various junior categories, eventually making it into Formula 3 and then Formula 2. Even then scoring points and race wins came easy. Years of hard work and dedication had done her well, with many saying that a Formula 1 career was surely in the cards for her.

And if she was being honest, Yn was hungry for that Formula 1 seat.

Yn’s laptop lit up with an email, enclosed was her contract with VCARB. She was going into Formula 1. Was it arrogant to say she had been expecting this? Could you blame her for asserting it wasn’t a matter of if, but when?

But signing the contract should have felt like a victory, a promise fulfilled, a chance for everything she’d worked toward to pay off. But as the seconds flew by, Yn could already feel the weight settling over her, heavy as a storm cloud. The stakes had never been this high, and the whispers were already there, quietly accusing, scrutinizing. Her entrance into F1 wasn’t just a testament to her skill and ambition; it was a flashpoint, a reason for some to undermine her achievements and question her right to be here.

F1 wasn’t just a men’s world—it was a battleground where “passion” for her felt dangerously close to “obsession,” and her relentless pursuit of victory was both her strength and her vulnerability. Yn knew that she couldn’t just be good; she had to be perfect, ruthless in her pursuit for wins and podiums, and undeterred by every sly remark and skeptic. Sympathy, after all, was nothing but a knife in disguise, and she’d long since learned not to expect it from anyone, even her team.

Her first day at VCARB was a whirlwind of meetings, briefings, and countless faces both excited and skeptical. The engineers studied her, sizing up the girl who was stepping into a seat she’d earned, but one they seemed to question if she could keep. Her jaw tightened with determination—she would prove every one of them wrong, and not out of spite but out of an unyielding hunger to carve her name in F1 history.

Yuki arrived in the afternoon, a familiar face in a sea of unknowns. With an easy grin, he crossed the garage, his demeanor effortlessly lighthearted as he joked with the engineers before catching her eye. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you here so soon,” he teased, a glimmer of pride in his eyes that he knew she’d earned.

She let a small smile slip, and for a moment, the walls she’d erected came down. “Surprised? I thought you’d know better,” she quipped back, crossing her arms.

“Not surprised,” he replied. “Just excited. Maybe I’ll finally have someone here to keep me on my toes.”

But behind their friendly exchange was an edge, a reminder that this was a competition and that teammates or not, they were both vying for survival in the world’s most ruthless racing series. They had both clawed their way here, and no amount of camaraderie could change the fact that every second on the track was a chance to prove they deserved to stay.

Underneath Yuki’s easygoing nature, she knew there was a fierce competitor. She’d seen him race, seen the raw talent that made him as unpredictable as he was quick. Yn knew they’d push each other to the limits, that their friendship would inevitably become a duel of ambition. And she wanted that—it made her hungrier, sharper.

But there was something different about her fight. Being the first female F1 driver in years meant her wins were never just hers; every success and failure became ammunition for those who doubted women in motorsport. There was no room for mistakes, and any slip-up would be amplified, dissected in the press, on social media, even in private conversations she was never meant to hear.

One night, as she stared out at the empty track after hours, she felt Yuki’s presence beside her. “They’re going to be watching everything I do,” she said, voice low, a rare admission of vulnerability.

“They watch all of us,” he replied softly, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “But I know how hard you’ve worked to get here. And… well, if they think they can beat you down, you’re gonna prove them wrong. Just… stay hungry, yeah?” He nudged her shoulder gently.

“Hungry?” she scoffed, steeling herself. “I’m starving.”

Yuki chuckled, but it was laced with respect. “Good. Because that’s what it takes.”

The season had started on fire for Yn. Her first four races saw her consistently in the points, an impressive feat for any rookie, let alone one under as much pressure and scrutiny as she was. Headlines praised her talent, with journalists and fans alike marveling at her ability to keep up with more seasoned drivers. Her team, too, seemed to start letting their guard down, seeing her not as a gamble, but as an asset. But as is often the case in Formula 1, the success didn't last forever.

Her fifth race began with promise, but Yn knew almost from the start that something was off. The car felt different, twitchy around the corners, each lap feeling more and more like she was on a knife’s edge. Halfway through, she could feel her grip on the track slipping, but she pushed harder, unwilling to lose ground.

With just a few laps remaining, the inevitable happened.

The crash was swift and brutal. The car spun out in the third sector, her back tires skidding as she lost control. She hit the barriers hard, the sound of carbon fiber breaking echoing through her helmet. Her vision blurred as the world spun, then finally stopped, leaving her breathless in the cockpit, staring at the wreckage around her.

Her engineer’s voice came through her headset immediately. “Yn, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly, trying to steady herself, adrenaline still pumping as she felt the sting of defeat sink in. “I… I’m sorry. I lost it. The car just—slipped.”

There was a pause on the other end, a moment that felt like judgment even through the crackling radio. “We’re glad you’re okay. We’ll get you back to the garage. We’ll review the data,” her engineer replied, his voice careful.

Yuki’s voice came through on her personal channel moments later, after seeing her crash on his onboard. “Yn? You alright?” His tone was laced with concern, stripped of the usual playfulness.

She swallowed, fighting the frustration building in her chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… pissed off.”

“You’ll be back next race,” he assured her, but she could only respond with silence. The shame of letting her team, her fans, and herself down weighed heavily on her.

In the post-race interview, Yn struggled to find the right words. The cameras focused on her, the flash of lights overwhelming as journalists fired questions, each one cutting a little deeper.

“Yn, it was a tough day. Do you think the pressure got to you out there?”

She clenched her fists, forcing a composed smile. “I don’t think it’s about pressure. Today just… wasn’t my day. The car was giving me some issues, and I did my best to control it. Sometimes, that’s just racing.”

“But after four races in the points, are you worried this is a sign of things to come?”

The question sliced through her like a knife, and she could feel the weight of the implication: that she was fragile, a fluke who’d just been lucky.

“No, I’m not worried,” she replied, her voice steady but tense. “One race doesn’t define my season. I’m here to compete, and I’ll be back even stronger next race.”

When the interviews ended, she caught Yuki’s eye across the paddock. He gave her a nod, a silent show of support that reminded her she wasn’t alone, even if it felt like she was carrying the world’s judgment on her shoulders.

The news coverage the next day was ruthless. Headlines screamed with exaggerated disappointment: “Yn Cracks Under Pressure?” and “First Female F1 Driver in Years Falters After Promising Start.” A few outlets were kinder, chalking up the crash to typical rookie mistakes and downplaying any concerns over her ability to handle the car. But most took the crash as an invitation to dissect her every move, doubting whether she could handle the demands of the sport.

Social media was ablaze, fans and critics alike chiming in, and Yn could barely stand to look. She knew this was part of the game, that everyone in F1 was under scrutiny, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that for her, the stakes were higher. Every failure she faced felt amplified, a reason for the world to question her right to be here.

Yuki called her that night, his voice calm and soothing against the chaos swirling around her.

“I’m just so pissed,” she admitted finally, her frustration cracking through her voice. “I wanted to prove that I belong here, and now… it feels like all anyone sees is this one mistake.”

“You know that’s not true,” he replied, a hint of warmth in his tone. “Everyone makes mistakes, even the greats. They’ve all crashed at some point. Don’t let them take that fire from you. Because once the season’s over, they’ll see what you’re made of.”

She took a shaky breath, comforted by his words. It was strange—she’d started this journey expecting every teammate to be a rival, another barrier to overcome. But in Yuki, she’d found someone who understood the relentless, hungry drive that fueled her, and who respected it.

The next morning, her team’s engineers ran a debrief, analyzing the telemetry and tire data from the crash. They assured her that she’d made the right call in pushing the car, that the twitchiness wasn’t imagined. Yn felt a flicker of relief; maybe she hadn’t just cracked under pressure, maybe it had been an unfortunate mix of circumstances. But no matter the reason, she knew she had to rise from this stronger than before.

It had been a long race, Jeddah was grueling and relentless, yet Yn had been on the verge of a breakthrough. She was fighting tooth and nail for P8, going wheel-to-wheel with Fernando Alonso in the final laps. She’d been holding her own, each move calculated, each corner taken with the precision she’d been honing for years. This was her shot, her chance to show everyone she wasn’t a fluke or a face in the crowd. She was ready to prove herself.

Then it happened.

They clashed in the final sector, both fighting for space. Fernando took the inside line, edging her out, and she, desperate to hold her position, stayed close, too close. Their wheels touched, and in a flash, her car lost stability, skidding and spinning before colliding with the barrier. The jolt left her breathless, her hands gripping the wheel as the rage took over.

Her engineer’s voice cracked through the radio. “Yn, are you okay? What happened?”

She clenched her jaw, trying to control the fury building up inside her. “That fucking guy, Alonso! He squeezed me—left me no room!” Her voice was shaking, frustration and adrenaline spilling over. “I had that position!”

There was a silence on the radio as they processed her words. “Copy, Yn. We saw the incident. Just stay calm.”

Stay calm? She’d given everything, and now, twice in a row, her race had ended in ruin.

After the race, Yn felt the press of cameras and microphones on her as she trudged toward the media pen. She could barely contain the frustration bubbling inside her, a storm barely held back as reporters closed in, questions already on their tongues.

“Yn, this is the second crash in a row. Are you feeling the pressure of Formula 1?”

“What’s your take on the incident with Alonso? Do you blame him?”

Yn took a steadying breath, but the calm she'd usually conjure wasn't there. “Look,” she said, voice tight, trying to keep her tone steady, “I know what happened out there, and Alonso gave me no space. I was holding my line, fighting for position like we all do. I’ll review the footage with the team, but if people think I can’t handle the pressure—they’re wrong.”

The next question felt even more loaded. “Is it challenging to maintain focus, given the scrutiny you’re under as the first female driver in years?”

She forced a smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not here to be a spectacle; I’m here to race. Everyone’s under pressure in this sport. It’s what makes us competitors. The scrutiny just makes me hungrier.”

Her words were pointed, but she could already feel the twisting of her words forming in the reporters’ minds, their pens scratching away, headlines already buzzing to life in their notebooks.

The news the next morning was merciless. Some articles analyzed her crash with Alonso, calling it a “rookie miscalculation,” while others openly questioned whether Yn’s composure was “cracking” under the scrutiny. The worst were the opinion pieces, suggesting she might be better suited to junior categories if she couldn’t handle the rigors of F1.

Yuki found her in the paddock later that evening, her expression set as she packed up her things, clearly wanting to avoid any more eyes on her. He walked over, hands in his pockets, a gentle smile on his face.

“Hey,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “Rough race out there. I saw the footage—Alonso really gave you no room.”

She shot him a look, her expression unreadable. “Thanks, Yuki, but I don’t need anyone to say it wasn’t my fault. I should’ve handled it better.”

“It wasn’t about fault,” he countered softly, unfazed by her edge. “It was a close fight. You held your ground. Besides, you’re doing something none of these people could even dream of.”

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shoving her race gloves into her bag. “Spare me the pep talk. I don’t need anyone’s sympathy. Especially not yours.”

He took a step closer, not backing down. “This isn’t sympathy, Yn. You’re one of the best rookies on the grid. Every one of us has crashed. I know what you’re going through, and I know how much you want this. But maybe don’t let their voices drown out what you already know—you deserve to be here.”

She wanted to tell him to stop, to remind him that it was different for her, that every mistake was fuel for those doubting her existence in this sport. But instead, she looked away, unable to bring herself to speak. She didn’t want to be seen as weak, as someone who needed reassurance.

Yuki sighed, catching the conflicted look in her eyes. “Alright,” he said quietly, his gaze softening. “Just… don’t forget that you’ve got people here who believe in you. No matter what the headlines say.”

She gave him a brief, reluctant nod, her voice a whisper. “Thanks, Yuki. But belief isn’t going to get me P8.” She turned and headed for the exit, leaving him behind as the words hung in the air, heavy with the reminder of just how high the stakes were.

Yuki knew things had changed since those days in the Red Bull junior program. Back then, it was just him and Yn, two kids pushing limits, sharing laughs and late nights studying data, feeling like the world wasn’t so big, like maybe they’d take it on together someday. She’d always been determined, sometimes stubbornly so, but she’d had that spark, that glint in her eye when she talked about F1 like it was the only thing that mattered. But now, standing at the pinnacle they’d dreamed of, Yuki could feel the distance growing between them, a wall she was building with every race, every misstep, every setback.

He tried to remind her of those lighter times, even when the racing got intense. On weekends, he’d linger in the garage with her, cracking jokes, trying to coax a laugh out of her, like they used to do after tough sessions back in Formula 2. But it felt different now. She had this look, as if there was a weight pressing on her that no amount of lightheartedness could lift.

The night after her crash with Alonso, Yuki tried again, catching up to her outside the paddock as she was leaving. “Hey!” he called, jogging to catch up. “Thought maybe we could grab a bite together. There’s this place nearby that serves ridiculous ramen—reminds me of the spot we’d hit after races.”

She hesitated, her gaze distant, before letting out a sigh. “Yuki, I’m tired. I just want to go back to the hotel and review the data. It was a messy race, and I don’t think I have much appetite.”

Yuki’s shoulders dropped, but he shrugged, forcing a smile. “We could just hang out, then. No data. Just us. I mean… it’s been a while since we’ve really relaxed, you know?”

She gave him a weary smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I appreciate it, really. But I need to focus. I can’t afford to mess up again, not with everything they’re saying.”

He could hear the bitterness in her voice, the resentment barely hidden beneath. It killed him to see her like this—so hardened, so guarded. She was always the toughest of the rookies, fearless, but now it seemed like her own passion had turned against her, trapping her in a never-ending battle against herself.

He tried again the next day, lingering by her side during their briefing, sending her a grin every chance he got, trying to bring back that easy dynamic they used to have. But it was like she was somewhere else, somewhere far away where his words couldn’t reach her. She’d nod along, respond, but always with that distracted air, her eyes flicking back to the screen, the telemetry, the data, anything but him.

By the time they were heading out after debrief, Yuki couldn’t hold back anymore. “Yn,” he said, his voice softer, catching her arm as she went to turn away. “I know you’re frustrated, I know it feels like everything’s on the line, but… this isn’t like you. You’re carrying everything on your shoulders alone. Let me be there, like we used to.”

For a moment, her expression softened, a glimpse of the Yn he remembered, the one who used to nudge him in the ribs and joke about who could get pole on the practice track. But it faded just as quickly, replaced by that same stony determination.

“I appreciate it, Yuki. But you don’t understand. It’s different for me.” She pulled her arm back gently, looking away. “Every mistake I make gives people more reasons to think I shouldn’t be here. Every crash, every missed point. Sympathy’s a knife in this sport, and I can’t afford to need anyone’s help. I just… I have to handle it.”

He let her words sink in, feeling the sting behind them, realizing that every race, every session was turning her into someone he barely recognized. But he understood, maybe better than she thought. Yuki knew that in F1, there were those who supported you, but there were also those who’d gladly let you fall, especially if you didn’t fit their mold.

“Maybe it’s different for you,” he said quietly, keeping his voice steady. “But you don’t have to do it alone. We’re teammates. We’re supposed to be here for each other. I’m… I’m supposed to be here for you.”

She looked up at him, and for a second, he thought he’d broken through. But she just shook her head, a faint, sad smile on her lips. “Thanks, Yuki. Really. But I need to be strong enough on my own. If I rely on anyone too much, they’ll use it against me. I have to prove myself, no matter what.”

Yuki watched as she turned away again, shoulders squared, that unyielding resolve back in her posture. He knew there was no convincing her, no getting her to see that it was okay to lean on someone every now and then, that it didn’t make her weak. But as she walked away, he felt the weight of her words settle on him, a sadness mingling with frustration. This wasn’t the Yn he knew—this was someone who felt like she had the world against her, like every race was a fight to justify her existence in F1.

Later that night, Yuki found himself with Pierre, staring at his untouched bowl of ramen, his mind churning. He’d always known Yn was strong, maybe even stronger than him in ways he didn’t fully understand. But it was painful to watch her shoulder that strength like a burden, pushing everyone else away, including him.

He thought about what he could say next time, some way to convince her that she didn’t have to do this alone, that he wasn’t there out of sympathy, but out of respect and genuine friendship. But deep down, he knew that as long as she felt the world’s expectations pressing down on her, she’d keep her guard up. For now, all he could do was be there, waiting, hoping that one day she’d let him in, let him remind her that even in the ruthless world of F1, there was room for someone who’d stand by her side, win or lose.

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multicohn · 2 months ago

Text

summary: y/n seek comfort from their boyfriend after having a nightmare

warnings: none

pairing: gn! reader x yuki tsunoda

genre: drabble, fluff

author note: this is actually inspired by a dream i had 😭

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

y/n’s eyes flew open as they breathed heavily and looked around in fear.

“what was that?” they thought while picturing the nightmare that had just occurred

yuki had fallen asleep quite earlier while y/n stayed awake to catch up on the show they’ve been watching. it had no horror or anything remotely scary, but somehow they ended up in an apocalyptic universe and had to watch her boyfriend get —

they sat up quickly, not wanting to remember what had occupied only moments before. they knew it wasn’t real, but that didn’t slow down their heart rate.

not even bothering to turn off the tv, y/n shuffled towards the shared bedroom where they found yuki curled up in the blankets with his head poking out. y/n took a deep breath and strolled over to the bed before shaking their boyfriend.

“babe, babe. yuki” they hissed out his name and yuki finally responded, though it was more of a noise than anything but it calmed them down slightly

“i had a nightmare” he slowly opened his eyes, their figure a little blurry to him as he shuffled around to try and untangle himself from the blankets

y/n crawled into bed once yuki threw the blankets back for them. they cuddled into his warm body as he let out a large yawn before resting his cheek on her head.

“you okay?” he murmured tiredly

“i am now” yuki hummed in response before growing quiet

the nightmare had been thrown into the back of their mind as y/n slowly closed their eyes, feeling much safer now that they’re in the arms of their boyfriend.

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wethotcrazy · 2 months ago

Text

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE (vii)

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 3715

part 7. WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER RAAAAAAAAHHHH🗣️🦅‼️🇺🇸 we are now in austin baby (and the rest of the americas triple header), anyways more painfully slow progression for these two

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

The weight of expectations felt different now. YN noticed it in the way young girls' eyes followed her through the paddock, in the trembling voices asking for autographs, in the handmade signs declaring "Future F1 Driver" held by tiny hands. The Singapore podium hadn't just been her victory – it had opened a door of possibility for countless others who saw themselves in her.

During the VCARB fan zone event, a mother approached with her two daughters, both wearing miniature versions of YN's race suit. "They haven't missed a single practice session since you joined F1," the mother explained, her voice thick with emotion. "My youngest even asked to change schools so she could go karting more often."

The responsibility of it all hit YN harder than any g-force she'd experienced on track. These weren't just fans anymore – they were dreams in human form, hope wearing replica helmets and carrying notebooks filled with racing lines sketched in crayon.

Yuki found her later, sitting alone in the engineering room, staring at telemetry data without really seeing it. He didn't say anything at first, just placed a familiar convenience store energy drink on the desk – the same brand they'd shared during their junior racing days.

"Remember what you told me in F3?" he asked, pulling up a chair beside her. "After that massive shunt at Silverstone?"

"That failure only sticks if you let it define you," YN recited, the memory bringing a slight smile to her face.

"Exactly." His shoulder brushed against hers as he reached for the laptop, pulling up their comparative sector times. "So stop letting them define you by one podium. You're here because you're fast, not because you're making history."

The VCARB social media team captured them the next day, filming a segment where they had to teach each other their pre-race rituals. YN tried not to laugh as Yuki attempted to replicate her precise steering wheel adjustment sequence, his fingers fumbling over the buttons.

"How do you remember all of these?" he groaned, accidentally activating the radio instead of the brake bias adjustment.

"The same way you remember your weird lucky sock routine," she teased, earning a playful glare.

"They're not weird, they're traditional!"

The camera caught their natural banter, the way they moved in sync without thinking, years of friendship evident in every interaction. Comments flooded in almost immediately: "The chemistry between these two! 🔥" "Name a better duo, I'll wait 😍" "From F3 to F1, what a journey!"

But it was the other comments that kept YN up at night, scrolling through her phone in her hotel room: "My daughter started karting because of you" "Thank you for showing girls they belong in motorsport" "You're changing the sport forever."

The pressure crystallized during the pre-race press conference. A journalist asked about her influence on young female fans, and YN felt every camera focus on her face.

"I race because I love it," she began carefully, feeling Yuki's supportive presence beside her. "If that inspires others to chase their dreams, then that's wonderful. But I'm not here to be a symbol – I'm here to be fast."

Later, as they walked back to the garage, Yuki caught her arm. "You know what makes you a good role model?" he asked, his dark eyes serious. "You never forgot why you started racing in the first place."

The Texas sun beat down on the Circuit of the Americas as YN adjusted her helmet, preparing for final practice. Through the visor, she could see a cluster of young girls pressed against the fence, wearing her team colors. One held a sign that read: "Future World Champion."

The sight would have paralyzed her with pressure a week ago. But now, as she caught Yuki's encouraging nod from across the garage, she felt something else. Those girls weren't just looking up to her – they were looking forward, to their own futures in the sport. She wasn't just carrying their dreams; she was showing them how to chase their own.

As she pulled out of the garage, the roar of the engine drowning out everything else, YN smiled. The weight of being a role model would always be there, but so would the pure joy of racing, the thrill of pushing limits, and the quiet understanding in Yuki's eyes when she needed reminding of who she was beyond the headlines.

In the end, that's what would inspire those young dreamers more than any podium – the truth that she was, first and always, a racer who happened to be making history, not the other way around. And if her heart still fluttered when Yuki grinned at her through the garage window, well, that was just another kind of racing altogether.

The Austin qualifying session played out like a well-choreographed dance, both VCARB cars sliding through to Q3 with methodical precision. YN could feel the electricity in the air as she pulled her car into parc fermé, the satisfaction of another strong qualifying evident in the smiles beneath both their helmets.

"Not bad for someone who needed five takes to lasso a hay bale," she teased Yuki as they walked to the media pen, their race suits damp with Texas sweat.

"Says the one who claimed to have Texas racing in her blood," he shot back, but his eyes crinkled with that smile she'd grown so familiar with over the years. The one that made her forget about the cameras following their every move.

Race day dawned clear and crisp, the kind of autumn morning that made COTA's sweeping turns look even more inviting. During the drivers' parade, YN noticed how Yuki kept glancing her way, checking her pre-race mood as he'd done since their Formula 3 days. Some habits never changed, even under the bright lights of Formula 1.

The race itself was a masterclass in teamwork. Twenty laps in, running P5 and P6, their engineers' voices crackled over the radio with synchronized strategy calls. YN couldn't help but smile inside her helmet as she and Yuki executed their pit stops within a lap of each other, their years of shared experience showing in every synchronized movement.

"Box, box, box this lap," her engineer called.

"Copy," she responded, already knowing Yuki would be in the following lap. They'd discussed this scenario in the strategy meeting, finishing each other's sentences until their race engineer had joked about getting them a joint radio channel.

The final stint saw them running P4 and P5, Yuki just ahead, defending against a charging Ferrari while YN managed the gap to the McLaren behind. Their pace was metronomic, matching each other sector by sector.

"Yuki and YN, maintain position, great job both of you," their team principal's voice came over the radio on the cool-down lap. "Strong points for the team today."

In parc fermé, they found each other immediately, as if drawn by some invisible force. Yuki pulled her into a quick hug, the kind they'd shared countless times in their junior careers but felt different now under the Formula 1 spotlight.

"Just like the old days," he murmured, quiet enough that only she could hear. "Except now we're doing it in F1."

The media obligations blurred together after that – questions about team dynamics, about their history together, about her continued progress in the sport. But one moment stood out, when a reporter asked about their obvious synchronicity on track.

"You and Yuki seem to have an almost telepathic understanding during races. How much does your shared history in junior formulas play into that?"

YN caught Yuki's eye across the media pen, saw that familiar half-smile playing at his lips. "When you've spent as many years as we have pushing each other to be better, you develop a sort of shorthand," she answered. "It's like having a racing dictionary that only we know how to read."

Later, as they sat in the team's hospitality unit reviewing race data, shoulders brushing as they leaned over the same screen, YN felt that familiar warmth in her chest. P4 and P5 might not have the glamour of Singapore's podium, but there was something special about achieving it together, about proving they could be just as strong as teammates as they had been as rivals.

"Your exit speed through turn 19 was insane," Yuki commented, pointing at a particular segment of data. "Always been better than me there."

"Yeah, well, your sector one was textbook perfect," she replied, nudging his shoulder. "Some things never change."

As the Texas sun set over the circuit, casting long shadows across the paddock, YN realized that success in Formula 1 wasn't just measured in podiums and points. Sometimes it was in the synchronized pit stops, the matched sector times, the understood glances across briefing rooms. Sometimes it was in the way Yuki still remembered how she liked her post-race coffee, or how he could read her mood from the way she adjusted her gloves before a session.

The hunger for success was still there, burning as bright as ever, but now it felt shared – a flame they tended together, pushing each other toward greater heights. And if that flame sometimes felt like it could burn down the careful walls between teammates and something more, well, that was just another kind of race they were learning to navigate.

In the team photo later, standing in front of their cars with their race boots still dusty from the COTA track walk, YN felt Yuki's hand brush against hers, a ghost of a touch that sent sparks through her racing gloves. Some victories, she was learning, didn't need podiums to feel just as sweet.

The evening after the race, YN found herself in her hotel room, the adrenaline of the day finally wearing off. Her phone buzzed with a message from Yuki: "Roof? Like old times?"

It was their tradition, started in Formula 3 – finding the highest point they could after a race, away from the cameras and expectations. Back then, it had been trailer roofs and empty grandstands. Now, standing on the hotel's rooftop terrace, Austin's skyline glittered before them like a circuit made of stars.

"Thought I'd find you overthinking everything," Yuki said, appearing beside her with two cups of green tea – another tradition from their junior days. His race suit was replaced with team joggers and a hoodie, but his hair still bore the marks of his helmet, sticking up at odd angles.

"Not overthinking," YN protested, accepting the tea. "Just... processing."

"Liar." His shoulder bumped against hers as he leaned on the railing. "I know that look. Same one you had after your first F3 win. Like you're waiting for someone to say it was all a mistake."

The city lights blurred as she stared into her tea. "It's different now. Every move we make, every point we score... it's not just about us anymore. Did you see how many girls were in the grandstands today? Wearing our team colors, holding signs..."

"I saw." His voice was soft. "I also saw how you fought through sector two like a demon. How you didn't lift once through turn 15. That's what they were cheering for – not what you represent, but what you do."

YN turned to look at him, finding his dark eyes already on her. In the dim light, she could almost pretend they were back in their early racing days, when everything felt simpler. When the weight of inspiration didn't rest quite so heavy on her shoulders.

"Sometimes I miss when it was just us," she admitted quietly. "Just two kids with dreams too big for our budget racing suits."

"It's still us," Yuki said, his hand finding hers on the railing. "The cameras just have better angles now."

That startled a laugh out of her, breaking the tension. "Remember when we used to practice interviews?"

"And you always made me play the journalist asking about tire management," he grinned. "Look how far we've come."

The night air wrapped around them like a comfortable silence, filled with years of shared memories and unspoken understanding. YN felt the familiar flutter in her chest when Yuki's thumb absently traced patterns on her hand, probably not even aware he was doing it.

"Hey," he said suddenly, turning to face her fully. "About what you said in the press conference today – about having a racing dictionary only we know how to read?"

She nodded, remembering the moment.

"Some things don't need translation." His voice was barely above a whisper, but his eyes said everything his words couldn't.

The space between them seemed to shrink, the city lights and pressure and expectations fading until all that remained was the warmth of his hand in hers and the understanding that had grown between them over countless races and shared dreams.

Racing was about timing – knowing exactly when to brake, when to accelerate, when to take the risk that could change everything. As YN looked at Yuki, at the boy who'd become her best friend and the man who'd become so much more, she wondered if some moments were worth the risk of missing the apex altogether.

The Texas night held its breath, waiting for someone to make the first move in this new kind of race – one where the finish line looked suspiciously like the beginning of something else entirely.

The Mexico City paddock hummed with anticipation as teams prepared for the next race weekend. YN found herself spending more time in the VCARB garage even when she wasn't required to be there, drawn by the comfortable rhythm she and Yuki had developed. Their shared success in Austin had only strengthened their partnership, both on and off track.

During technical briefings, they sat closer than necessary, shoulders brushing as they reviewed sector times. Their race engineers had started presenting their data side by side, noting how their driving styles had begun to complement each other. Where YN was bold through the high-speed corners, Yuki was precise in the technical sections. Together, they were pushing VCARB higher in the constructors' championship with each race.

"Your throttle application through turn 4 is getting aggressive," Yuki noted one evening, pointing at her telemetry data. The garage had emptied hours ago, but they remained, bathed in the blue glow of monitors.

"Says the one who's been taking my lines through the chicane," YN replied, unable to hide her smile. The way he studied her data with such intensity made her heart race faster than any qualifying lap.

The pressure of being Formula 1's breakthrough female driver still weighed heavily, but Yuki had a way of making it feel lighter. He'd started joining her for media obligations, his presence a silent support system. When journalists asked about gender barriers, he'd seamlessly redirect the conversation to her racing prowess, her technical feedback, her contribution to the team.

One rainy evening in Mexico City, they found themselves trapped in the engineering office as a tropical storm passed over the circuit. Thunder rattled the windows as they worked through race simulation data.

"Remember Suzuka in F3?" Yuki asked suddenly, looking up from his laptop. "That rain-soaked qualifying?"

"When you insisted on running slicks because the forecast said it would clear?" YN laughed. "And then it poured harder?"

"Hey, you followed me out on slicks too!"

"Because I trusted you," she said softly, the words carrying more weight than intended.

The silence that followed was filled with years of shared risks, mutual trust, and something deeper that had been growing between them since Austin. Yuki's hand found hers across the desk, their fingers intertwining naturally, like two racing lines converging at the perfect apex.

In their world of precise measurements and calculated risks, this thing between them was wonderfully unpredictable. It showed in the lingering hugs after good results, in the way Yuki's eyes sought her out across crowded drivers' briefings, in how their casual touches had become as natural as breathing.

The pressure of being a role model, of carrying the hopes of countless young girls, still kept YN awake some nights. But now, when the weight felt too heavy, she had someone who understood both the burden and the beauty of it. Someone who saw her not as a symbol or a milestone, but as a racer, a friend, and maybe something more.

The thunder rolled on, but in their quiet corner of the paddock, they had found their own kind of peace – one built on shared dreams, mutual understanding, and the exhilarating promise of what lay ahead, both on and off the track.

The Mexico City podium celebration was still echoing through the paddock as YN made her way back to the garage. P3 felt sweeter than Singapore somehow - maybe because this time, Yuki was right there in P4, both of them having fought their way through the field together. As she rounded the corner, Lando Norris fell into step beside her, a knowing grin on his face.

"So," he drawled, "that was quite the defense you two pulled off against the Ferraris. Almost like you could read each other's minds."

"Good team strategy," YN replied diplomatically, but she could feel her cheeks warming.

"Right, 'team strategy,'" Lando air-quoted. "Is that what we're calling those long 'engineering briefings' you two keep having on the hotel roof?"

Before YN could respond, Charles Leclerc joined them, still in his race suit. "Leave them alone, Lando," he said, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I have to say, YN, your racing line through turn 4 is starting to look suspiciously like Yuki's..."

The teasing followed them to Brazil, where the intensity of Interlagos only seemed to strengthen their connection. During the drivers' parade, Alex Albon nudged Yuki. "Remember when you used to complain about sharing data with teammates? Now we can't get you out of the engineering room."

Yuki's face flushed, but he couldn't hide his smile. "The team's progress is important," he muttered.

"The team, or a specific teammate?" Pierre Gasly chimed in from behind them, earning a chorus of laughs.

In the garage, their race engineers had started making jokes about their synchronized feedback. "Let me guess," YN's engineer would say when she reported understeer, "Yuki's about to radio in with the same thing?" He was usually right.

The social media buzz was growing too. Fan accounts dedicated to capturing their moments together multiplied overnight. Every shared laugh, every trackside conversation, every celebratory hug was analyzed and gif'd within minutes. #TeamTsunoda began trending alongside #YNSupremacy.

But it was in the quiet moments between sessions that their bond deepened most. After a particularly challenging practice session in São Paulo, YN found Yuki waiting in their usual spot - a secluded corner of the garage with a perfect view of the timing screens.

"The media's getting worse," she sighed, slumping beside him. The questions had shifted from her racing to her personal life, from her achievements to her relationship status. The weight of being not just a female driver but now half of F1's most speculated-about pair was beginning to wear.

Yuki's hand found hers instinctively. "Then we give them something real to talk about - our racing," he said firmly. "Show them why we're here."

They did exactly that in qualifying, setting the track alight with a synchronized performance that put them P3 and P4. In the cooldown room, Max Verstappen shook his head with amusement. "You two are scary when you're in sync like that."

"They're always in sync," George Russell called out. "Haven't you seen their matching coffee orders?"

The race itself was a masterclass in teamwork. Lap after lap, they defended and attacked as one unit, their cars dancing through Interlagos's sweeping turns like partners in a carefully choreographed ballet. When Yuki's radio crackled with a strategy call, YN was already adjusting her lines to complement his movement.

"Your girlfriend's got your back again, Tsunoda," came Lewis Hamilton's teasing voice over the radio after YN perfectly blocked an overtaking attempt that would have compromised Yuki's position.

In parc fermé, with another double points finish secured, they found each other through the crowd of mechanics and media. The cameras caught their embrace, longer than usual, neither caring about the headlines it would generate.

"Did you see Twitter?" Daniel Ricciardo grinned as they walked to the podium ceremony. "They're calling you two the 'Race Track Romance.'"

"Better than what they used to call me," YN said softly, remembering the early days when every mistake was attributed to her gender.

"They call you a brilliant driver now," Yuki said firmly, his hand brushing against hers. "Everything else is just noise."

Later, in their now-traditional post-race debrief on the hotel roof, the São Paulo sunset painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, YN felt the familiar flutter in her chest as Yuki traced the racing line of turn 1 on her palm.

"The media's right about one thing," he said quietly. "We are better together."

"Because we push each other to be better," YN replied, but they both knew it was more than that.

"Remember in Austin," Yuki began, turning to face her fully, "when you said some things don't need translation?"

YN nodded, her heart racing faster than any qualifying lap.

"Well," he continued, his dark eyes intense, "I think I'm tired of leaving things unspoken."

The Brazilian night air held its breath as the space between them disappeared, years of friendship, rivalry, and unspoken feelings finally converging at the perfect moment. As their lips met, soft and sure, YN realized that while making history as a female F1 driver had opened doors for others, this - finding someone who saw her as both a fierce competitor and a woman who made his heart race - was a different kind of breakthrough altogether.

The paddock's teasing, the media speculation, the fan theories - none of it mattered. What mattered was the way Yuki's hands cupped her face like she was both strong and precious, the way their heartbeats synchronized like perfectly matched sector times, the way everything finally felt right in their high-speed world.

They had always been good at reading each other's moves on track. Now, as they pulled apart just enough to share breathless smiles, they realized they'd been reading each other's hearts all along. Some victories, after all, were worth more than any podium.

here are some of the tags: @floweringanna, @hiraethberry, @holendernik, @oooom4arie, @burnhampeaches, @dying-inside-but-its-classy

let me know if you want to be added to the list :))

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wethotcrazy · 2 months ago

Text

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE (vi)

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 1267

part 6. just something short and sweet for tonight, as i have to finish uni homework. i hope you guys enjoy. also cant wait to watch quali and the race later the anticipation is getting to me. thats all happy race day everyone

part i part ii part iii part iv part v

The first time Yuki saw YN at the Program, she carried herself like she already belonged in Formula 1. While other drivers tried to make themselves bigger with false bravado, she didn't need to – her presence filled the room naturally. Those intense eyes of hers had sized up every driver, every engineer, silently calculating the challenges ahead.

Yuki remembered the exact moment their friendship began. During a particularly dry briefing about fuel management strategies, he'd muttered under his breath, "If we save any more fuel, we might as well push the car ourselves." The room had stayed silent except for one sound – YN's unexpected laughter. It had started as a snort she tried to suppress, then evolved into a full belly laugh that lit up her entire face. The serious facade had cracked, revealing something genuine underneath that matched the passion in her eyes.

They'd gravitated toward each other after that. Long debriefs became more bearable with shared glances and subtle jokes. They'd stay late comparing data, YN explaining corner entry techniques while Yuki shared brake balance insights. Their competitiveness pushed them both to improve – neither wanted to be outdone by the other.

When they became teammates in Formula 3, it felt natural, like pieces clicking into place. They developed a rhythm – YN's analytical approach complementing Yuki's instinctive racing style. Even their engineers joked they could predict each other's feedback before either spoke. After particularly good races, they'd celebrate with convenience store snacks, sitting on the pit wall and dreaming about their future in Formula 1.

The years when they raced in different series had been strange. Yuki would find himself checking YN's race results before his own, watching grainy livestreams of her races whenever he could. She'd send him detailed messages about his performances, always ending with some variation of "You're going to make it to F1 before me, I just know it."

He still remembered every detail of telling her about his AlphaTauri contract. They'd met at their old favorite chip shop in Milton Keynes, and he'd barely gotten the words out before she'd launched herself across the table to hug him. "I knew it," she'd said, her voice thick with emotion. "I knew you'd do it." When she'd pulled back, her eyes had shimmered with unshed tears of joy, filled with such genuine pride it had made his chest ache.

But then came the reality of Formula 1 – different schedules, different countries, different priorities. Their constant communication dwindled to quick messages and reaction emojis to each other's Instagram stories. He'd still wear her team's cap during race weekends he wasn't driving, and she'd defend him fiercely in interviews when journalists tried to stir up drama. But gone were the late-night data sessions and shared dreams on the pit wall.

Sometimes, during particularly lonely nights in far-flung hotel rooms, Yuki would pull up old photos from their junior days. YN in her first Formula 4 car, both of them covered in champagne after their first Formula 3 podium, the grainy selfie they'd taken the night he got his F1 contract. He'd trace the evolution of her smile in each picture, from the intense rookie with something to prove to the confident driver she'd become.

He thought about texting her more times than he could count, wanting to recapture that easy friendship they'd had. But what would he say? "I miss when it was just us against the world"? "Sometimes I catch myself looking for you in the paddock even though I know you're racing halfway across the globe"? Instead, he'd send another emoji, another quick congratulations, and try to ignore the growing distance between them.

The neon lights of Singapore streaked across Yuki's hotel room walls, casting shifting shadows that matched his restless thoughts. His phone screen glowed with notifications – messages congratulating both him and YN on their double points finish, her first podium dominating F1 social media. P3. She'd finally done it.

The champagne had long since dried on his race suit, but he could still see her radiant smile as she'd stood on that podium, trophy held high above her head. The way she'd looked down at him in parc fermé, eyes shining with accomplishment, had stirred something deep in his chest – feelings he'd tried to keep buried under the weight of professionalism and friendship.

Rolling onto his back, Yuki let his mind drift to that pivotal moment in their junior days. They'd been analyzing data after a particularly grueling test session, YN's hair falling to her face as she leaned over the laptop. She'd been so focused, breaking down every apex, every brake point, completely lost in the pursuit of perfection. When she'd finally looked up, catching him staring, she'd given him that soft smile that seemed reserved just for him. That was the moment he knew – knew that what he felt went far beyond admiration for a fellow driver.

He remembered telling her about his F1 contract, how her eyes had lit up with pure joy, how she pulled him into a fierce hug. Even then, chasing her own dreams, she'd been genuinely happy for his success. That was YN – competitive to her core but never letting rivalry poison their friendship.

When she'd finally gotten her own F1 seat, Yuki had watched her try to navigate the pressure with grace. The media scrutinized her every move, questioning whether she deserved to be there, whether she could handle the physical demands. She'd answered them all on track, letting her laptimes speak louder than words. Still, he'd seen the toll it took, caught the moments when her smile would slip in the garage, noticed how she'd grip her steering wheel a little tighter before qualifying.

Now, lying in his hotel room, Yuki's phone buzzed with another notification. It was a photo from their team – YN kneeling beside her car in parc fermé, eyes closed, forehead resting against the nose cone in a moment of pure emotion. His thumb hovered over the screen, tracing the outline of her figure.

He was proud of her – so proud it felt like his chest might burst. Proud of how she'd fought through the day, how she'd defended against more experienced drivers, how she'd proven every doubter wrong. But beyond pride was something deeper, something that had grown from those late nights comparing data, from shared dreams and inside jokes, from years of watching her pour her heart and soul into every lap.

The city lights caught a drop of moisture on his phone screen, and Yuki realized his eyes had welled up. He wanted to tell her everything – how seeing her succeed made his own accomplishments feel brighter, how her determination pushed him to be better, how sometimes he caught himself watching her in team meetings instead of the presentations. How somewhere between shared convenience store meals and podium celebrations, she'd become more than just his teammate or friend.

But tonight wasn't about his feelings. Tonight was about YN's triumph, about years of hard work finally paying off. Tomorrow they'd be back in the garage, professional as ever, pushing each other to go faster, to be better. And he'd keep these feelings locked away, grateful just to be part of her journey.

He pulled up their old photo from their junior days, the one where they're both covered in champagne after their first shared podium. YN's smile in that photo was the same one she'd worn today – pure joy mixed with fierce determination. Some things, he thought with a slight smile, never changed.

here are some of the tags: @floweringanna, @hiraethberry, @holendernik, @oooom4arie, @burnhampeaches, @dying-inside-but-its-classy

let me know if you want to be added to the list :))

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wethotcrazy · 2 months ago

Text

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE (ii)

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 5650

hii so this is part 2, and as a little heads up this might turn into a slow-burn friends to lovers. please bear with me as the story progresses.

part i part iii part iv

The weeks that followed her crash with Alonso were grueling, but Yn fought through each race, clawing her way back into the points. She returned to form with a quiet, relentless focus, each finish in the top ten a reminder to the critics that she was here to stay. Slowly, the headlines turned from doubt to recognition, her name no longer just a novelty but a force.

And, little by little, Yn’s walls began to come down. It was subtle at first—she’d laugh a little longer when Yuki cracked a joke during briefings, her eyes softening, her defenses slipping just enough for him to see the glint of the Yn he’d known before. There were still days she would pull away, retreat into that place where she kept her hunger and drive guarded, but Yuki noticed that she wasn’t so quick to shut him out anymore.

One night, after a successful P6 finish, Yuki found her in the paddock, lingering with a rare look of satisfaction on her face. He came up beside her, hands in his pockets, offering his usual lopsided grin.

“Sixth place,” he said, nudging her gently. “Not bad for a rookie. People are starting to take you seriously now.”

She let out a short laugh, but it was softer than he’d expected. “Guess they don’t have a choice. I’m not giving them one.”

Yuki nodded, noticing the way her eyes flicked to the ground. There was pride there, but also something else—a quiet acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, she was finally allowing herself to believe in her own success. “You don’t have to prove it to anyone but yourself, you know.”

Yn looked up at him, a glimmer of vulnerability breaking through. “It’s hard not to feel like I have to prove it every day, to everyone.”

“Then let me prove something to you,” he replied, his tone lighter. “Come out for dinner tonight. No data, no analysis, just good food and people who actually like you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “People who actually like me? That’s a stretch.”

“Trust me,” he said, grinning, “there are a few of us.”

That night, she found herself at a small, hidden-away restaurant with Yuki, Pierre Gasly, and Lando Norris, who had tagged along after overhearing Yuki’s invitation in the drivers’ lounge. It was strange at first—Yn felt exposed, like she was stepping into unfamiliar territory, still unsure if this was a step too close, a distraction she couldn’t afford. But as the evening went on, she realized that these were the same people she raced against each weekend, the same people who understood exactly what it meant to stand on that grid and bear the weight of expectations.

Pierre, all charm and laughter, quickly got her talking about her first season in Formula 2, and Lando joined in, teasing her about a race they’d both barely finished after a wild lap one collision. She was surprised to find herself laughing, and even more surprised by the ease with which it happened, the tension ebbing away as the stories flowed. It was different from the camaraderie in the junior leagues, but there was a sense of mutual respect here that she hadn’t allowed herself to see before.

Later in the evening, Yuki caught her eye and gave her an encouraging smile. She felt herself relax, realizing that he hadn’t stopped trying to lift her spirits, even when she’d resisted. He’d waited patiently for her to meet him halfway, to let herself enjoy this.

The next race weekend, Yn felt that shift even more. In the drivers’ briefing, Pierre gave her a quick nod, a little smirk that said he hadn’t forgotten the night before, and Lando winked as they settled into their seats, making a quiet comment about "taking it easy on him" this time. Even Fernando Alonso, her nemesis in the notorious clash, gave her a measured glance, his respect clear without needing words. It was unspoken, but the ice had begun to melt.

During the race, Yn battled hard, scraping her way up from a P12 start to a P7 finish, her performance sharp and precise. In the closing laps, Yuki was on her radio, urging her on, and she could hear the pride in his voice when she crossed the line.

Afterward, in the cooldown room, Yuki sidled up to her, an easy grin on his face. “That’s two in a row. Might have to start watching my back soon, huh?”

She chuckled, nudging him. “You’d better. Wouldn’t want you to get too comfortable up there.”

For the first time, the ribbing felt real, like something she could lean into without the fear of letting her guard slip too far. In the post-race interview, she answered questions with a bit more ease, even allowing a genuine smile to show as she spoke about the team’s hard work and how grateful she was to be competing at this level. The harsh scrutiny was still there, of course, but she felt it less sharply, like its blade had dulled, if only slightly.

As they headed back to the garage, Yn lingered for a moment, watching the cars being prepped for the next race, the hum of mechanics and engineers filling the space. Yuki came up beside her, the two standing in companionable silence.

“You know,” he said eventually, keeping his voice low, “you’ve changed since the start of the season.”

She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And how’s that?”

“You don’t look like you’re trying to outrun everyone else’s expectations anymore,” he said, his gaze warm. “Now it looks like you’re actually racing.”

She felt a small smile tugging at her lips. “Guess I finally realized that I don’t have to do it alone. It doesn’t make me weaker to let people in… as long as they know I’m still here to win.”

He laughed, nudging her shoulder. “I’d expect nothing less. And trust me, nobody’s forgetting that anytime soon.”

For the first time in months, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself to breathe. The hunger was still there, burning stronger than ever, but she was learning to balance it, learning that strength wasn’t something she had to carry alone. For the first time, she felt like she was standing alongside her competitors, not against them—and that they weren’t just rivals, but people who understood the fierce love she had for this sport, and the drive that made her who she was.

But the last few races had been a test of her patience and restraint, but Yn felt the spark beginning to wane as her car lagged just behind where she needed it to be. Every race was the same: a battle fought hard, inching closer, yet never quite close enough. She was slipping down the grid, the points slipping further out of reach. It didn’t matter how much she pushed; her car wasn’t holding up to her demands, but she refused to accept that. She refused to be anything less than perfect.

Determined to prove herself, she started taking risks she wouldn’t have before, squeezing her car into spaces with centimeters to spare, braking later, accelerating earlier, trying to shave any possible millisecond off her time. She was more aggressive, forcing her way through corners, even if it meant clipping a wing or bumping wheels. Yuki noticed it, too—how her eyes blazed with that fierce hunger, how she didn’t back down even when it might cost her. He tried talking to her, reminding her to pace herself, but she just brushed him off, insisting she had to push harder. There was no other option in her mind.

But her relentless drive hit a wall in the form of a brutal, unforgiving engine failure. It was a promising race, and she was within reach of a potential top-five finish when the engine sputtered and cut out entirely, leaving her coasting uselessly on the track. It took her a second to register it before the frustration exploded within her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Ah… this fucking car, it’s a fucking joke right?! shit.” Her voice echoed over the radio, laced with a fury she couldn’t contain.

Her engineer’s voice crackled through the earpiece, calm and steady as they tried to soothe her. “Yn, please calm down. Bring it back in. We’ll review the data and see what happened.”

She punched the steering wheel in a rare display of emotion, swearing under her breath as she coasted to the side, finally yanking off her helmet in frustration. She could feel the eyes of her team, her fans, the cameras—all of them watching her as she paced by her car, gesturing angrily before finally slamming her helmet down, the taste of defeat bitter on her tongue. All she’d wanted was one shot, and it had been stolen from her, just like that.

The post-race press had a field day with her outburst. Headlines plastered with her image showed her storming away from the car, her helmet clutched tightly in her hands, her face twisted with frustration. Critics didn’t hold back, with articles condemning her demeanor, calling her “hot-headed,” “reckless,” and “immature.” Pundits questioned her character, her “temper,” insinuating that she was cracking under the pressure. The criticisms were brutal and skewed, with some even suggesting that perhaps she didn’t belong in Formula 1 if she couldn’t handle the competition.

“Her behavior’s unbecoming of an F1 driver,” one commentator noted with a sharpness that made her blood boil. “We’ve seen rookies come through and handle their failures with dignity. She should take a page from some of her peers, learn how to be gracious in defeat.”

The comparisons stung the most. They lauded other drivers for their “calm under pressure,” for their “measured responses,” twisting every emotion she showed as a sign of instability or proof that she wasn’t up to the challenge. It wasn’t just a critique of her as a driver; it was a full-blown assault on her as a woman in a sport still dominated by men. Every failure, every mistake, was amplified, dissected, and weaponized.

Yuki saw the articles too, his jaw clenching as he read through the unfair critiques. He knew how hard Yn worked, knew that her frustration was born from the same unrelenting drive he had seen in himself and so many others on the grid. It was just that when she showed it, it became a spectacle, a flaw they couldn’t wait to tear apart.

That evening, he found her sitting in the garage long after the others had left, staring at the empty spot where her car usually sat. She looked exhausted, the fire in her eyes dimmed to a dull, flickering ember.

“Yn.” He approached carefully, taking a seat next to her on the floor. “I saw what they’re saying.”

She scoffed, her voice laced with bitterness. “Let me guess. That I’m too emotional? That I’m a poor sport for being upset when things don’t go my way?”

Yuki didn’t sugarcoat it. “Yeah. They’re being idiots. It’s unfair, and it’s… it’s total bullshit.”

She looked down, fiddling with a loose thread on her racing suit. “You know, if any other driver on the grid got this frustrated, they’d call it passion. But for me, it’s a ‘temper problem.’ I just want to race, Yuki, but it feels like every mistake I make has a thousand people ready to pounce on it. And no matter how hard I work, no matter how much I push, it’s never enough.”

Yn was right. Every other diver on the grid got to be as frustrated or as angry as they wanted over how the race turned out, yet they had never had their character and demeanor be questioned and critiqued like hers.

Yuki could only nod, understanding how different their situations were.

They sat there for a while longer, just the two of them in the quiet of the garage, the weight of the situation filled the air thick. Yuki could feel Yn slipping back into herself.

It started with a few stray comments in the press, subtle and insidious. Reporters speculating on whether Yn’s recent guarded demeanor meant she was “cracking” under the pressure, her confidence misread as arrogance, her ambition painted as recklessness. The critiques hit harder as the season continued, comparing her to male drivers who had the luxury of aggressive reputations that only added to their mystique.

“Volatile.” That was the word most often splashed across headlines, capturing every moment she showed emotion, every interview where her frustration broke through the calm she worked so hard to maintain. And the comparison game began—who was she trying to emulate? Was she trying to live up to the male-dominated standards in the sport, or worse, was she letting her temper get in the way of real talent?

What stung most was the constant measuring of her against Yuki. Headlines dissected everything from her lap times to her post-race interviews, comparing her every move against her teammate, as if her accomplishments and setbacks couldn’t stand on their own. “Tsunoda Outshines Teammate’s Volatility,” they read. “Tsunoda the Team Anchor; Yn’s Performance Under Scrutiny.” She was no longer Yn, the rookie with promise and fire, but Yn, the volatile woman—impulsive, reckless, something to be managed, contained, tamed.

It was impossible not to feel every accusation like a weight pressing down, each word digging into her sense of self, twisting her love for the sport into something painful. She began to retreat, putting her walls back up, afraid to let herself be seen beyond the helmet and the points she could score.

The next race weekend, Yn fought her way through the practice sessions, chasing the consistency that critics claimed she lacked. When the car didn’t perform to expectations in qualifying, she threw herself into hours of analysis, barely speaking a word to anyone, keeping herself wrapped in that cold determination that left little room for warmth or laughter.

Yuki tried to get her to relax, but she could sense his hesitation, his silent worry each time he glanced her way, like he was walking on eggshells. His usual, easy jokes only drew a tight-lipped smile from her before she returned to her data, her focus unbreakable but brittle. He was trying to help, but every word, every supportive gesture felt like sympathy, a reminder of how far she’d fallen in everyone’s eyes.

By race day, Yn was in her own world, the world she knew best—her focus sharpened to a blade’s edge, her mind locked on the points, the precision, the hunger for a win that drowned out the noise. The lights went out, and she poured herself into every turn, fighting through the grid with a calculated aggression that sent her up the field, position by position, unwilling to let anything hold her back.

The radio crackled in her ear as she took P10, her engineer’s voice breaking through her concentration. “Nice work, Yn. Let’s keep pushing—we’re on for points.”

But she wanted more. She needed more. She pushed herself harder, forcing past competitors with a focus that bordered on ruthless, aiming for P8, then P7, clawing for every inch of track. Every sharp turn, every daring overtake was her way of silencing the voices that questioned her place on the grid.

She was climbing, closing in on P6 when she went into a corner too hot, her tires locking up briefly. She managed to hold her line, but the slight miscalculation dropped her back, just enough for the car behind to take advantage. The frustration flared, her hands tightening on the wheel as she tried to make up the time.

Yuki’s voice came through her radio, calm but steady. “Yn, don’t overdo it. You’re doing great—just keep it smooth and stay in the points.”

But to her, staying in the points wasn’t enough. She needed to break through, to prove every critic wrong with something impossible to ignore. She pushed even harder, desperate to climb those final few places.

When the race ended, she’d managed to hold onto P9. It was a respectable finish, another points finish to her name. But the adrenaline, the aching hunger for more, gnawed at her, leaving her feeling like she’d failed somehow. In the media pen afterward, reporters crowded in, questions buzzing around her, ready to dissect her every move.

“Yn, do you feel that your performance today was enough to prove your critics wrong?”

“Some say you’re too aggressive on the track—do you think that’s true?”

“What’s it like competing against Tsunoda, a more experienced driver, while you’re still finding your footing?”

The questions stung, thinly veiled accusations that she was still falling short, still not living up to the unspoken standards set for her. She kept her responses curt and focused, deflecting where she could, but the tightness in her chest lingered. Even with points, the narrative felt the same, as if she’d always be fighting an uphill battle to simply be seen for who she was.

Later, in the quiet of the paddock, Yuki found her sitting alone, still in her race suit, staring down at her hands. He sat beside her without a word, just letting the silence settle around them before he spoke.

“You know, you were amazing out there today,” he said softly, a warmth in his voice that she hadn’t let herself hear in days. “P9 is no joke, especially after the weekend you had.”

She kept her gaze on her hands, her fingers curling around the fabric of her gloves. “But it’s not enough, Yuki.” Her voice was tight, strained. “It’s like… no matter what I do, it’s never good enough for them. I feel like I’m being torn apart, analyzed for every mistake, every moment I let myself feel anything.”

Yuki’s hand found hers, a small, grounding gesture. “The public can be ruthless,” he admitted. “But they’re not the one in the car, you are.” a reminder from Yuki of how far Yn has gone from karting and now in F1.

Yn let his words sink in, feeling the weight of them like an anchor in the storm of criticism swirling around her. She looked at him, his expression so unguarded, so full of that familiar, unwavering loyalty he’d carried for her since their days in the Red Bull junior team.

“I’m just… tired, Yuki. I’m tired of being everyone’s spectacle.”

He nodded, squeezing her hand gently.

A silence stretched between them, but it was different this time—softer, less heavy. She felt the weight in her chest loosen just slightly, a reminder that maybe she didn’t have to carry it all alone, even if the world wanted her to.

She let herself lean into Yuki’s support, into the reminder that her worth went deeper than the headlines, the criticism, the comparisons. She was here for something bigger, something she was still discovering, but something worth fighting for, not in spite of the world, but because of everything she knew she could be.

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wethotcrazy · 2 months ago

Text

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE (v)

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 3143

part 5. WE ARE IN SINGAPORE. anyways lets be real Yn probably isn't gonna be taking any P1s just yet but this is like next best thing. this is a long one!!

part i part ii part iii part iv

As Yn and Yuki landed in Singapore, a wave of excitement washed over them. The vibrant city sprawled out beneath them, illuminated with shimmering lights and the promise of adventure. They had arrived a bit early, eager to explore before the chaotic energy of race weekend took over. Yn felt a thrill at the thought of wandering through the bustling streets, tasting the local cuisine, and soaking up the atmosphere without the usual pressures of competition hanging over their heads.

Once they checked into their hotel, they headed out, laughing as they navigated the lively streets of Clarke Quay. The sounds of laughter and music enveloped them, and the smell of delicious food wafted through the air, making Yn’s stomach rumble. They stopped at a food stall, trying everything from satay to spicy noodle dishes. Yuki’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he challenged her to eat a particularly spicy chili, his laughter ringing out as she gasped and grabbed for her drink.

Between bites, they chatted about everything from their plans for the race to their favorite things about being in such a lively city. Yuki’s playful banter lightened the weight that often rested on Yn’s shoulders, reminding her that they were more than just drivers—they were friends navigating the same tumultuous world of Formula 1.

They wandered through the bustling streets, marveling at the towering skyscrapers and neon lights that danced against the backdrop of the night sky. Yn loved how alive everything felt—the rhythmic pulse of the city seemed to mirror her own heart, full of anticipation and joy. Indulging in some local street food—Yuki claiming he would conquer the spiciest dish they could find—they set out to explore the famous Gardens by the Bay. The breathtaking scenery enveloped them as they strolled through the Supertree Grove, the towering tree-like structures glowing in brilliant colors as the sun began to set. The atmosphere felt surreal, and they found themselves lost in the beauty of the moment, their worries fading away as they enjoyed the simplicity of being together.

As the night wore on, they ran into a few fans who were quick to approach them, excited but respectful. The fans were polite, asking for selfies and expressing their support. Yn felt a rush of warmth at their kind words; it was a reminder that people saw her for who she was, not just a driver. Yuki, ever the charmer, engaged with them effortlessly, his natural charisma shining through. They posed for photos, and Yn couldn’t help but notice how comfortable and at ease he was, making sure everyone felt included and appreciated.

Online, the moments they shared throughout the day sparked chatter among fans. Videos and pictures circulated, highlighting their genuine laughter and connection, with many commenters buzzing about how close they seemed.

@F1Lovebirds: “Yn and Yuki are seriously the cutest! I love their energy!”

@GridGoddess: “Anyone else think they’d make a great couple? They just vibe so well!”

@RacingRomantics: “I want what they have. I can’t handle how sweet they are!”

Yn scrolled through the comments later that night, her heart swelling at the support and admiration they were receiving. But she also felt a pang of vulnerability—speculation about their relationship made her wonder how much of their friendship would be perceived through the lens of romance. Part of her enjoyed the attention, but another part wished for the freedom to simply be without the added scrutiny.

“Hey, all good?” Yuki asked as they settled down at a cozy café for a late-night snack, the soft glow of fairy lights overhead creating an intimate atmosphere.

“Just thinking about stuff,” Yn admitted, her voice quiet. “I mean… I love that people are excited about us, but sometimes it feels a little overwhelming, you know?”

Yuki leaned back in his chair, considering her words. “I get it. But we’re just having fun. What they think doesn’t change that. They could say whatever they want.”

His words brought a smile to her face. “Yeah, it’s just nice to have this time together, just us.”

They spent the rest of the evening sharing stories, laughter spilling between them like the vibrant city lights outside. Yn realized that moments like these were invaluable—a reminder of why they were both in this sport, why they fought through the pressures, the scrutiny, and the expectations. It wasn’t just about racing; it was about the connections they forged, the support they offered one another, and the joy they found in every shared experience.

As they wrapped up their evening and strolled back toward their hotel, the city humming around them, Yn felt a renewed sense of determination. Here, amidst the wonders of Singapore, she felt freer than she had in a long time. She was carving out her own narrative, one that was as complex and vibrant as the city itself—and Yuki was right there with her, cheering her on every step of the way.

The start of race weekend in Singapore was proving to be more challenging than Yn had anticipated. It was her first time racing on this particular circuit, and the high humidity mixed with the sweltering heat made the already hectic schedule feel even more overwhelming. The relentless sun beat down on her during practice, and she quickly realized just how demanding the conditions would be for both her and the car.

From the moment she stepped into the paddock, it was a whirlwind of activity. Briefings filled with strategy discussions, meetings with her team to go over data from the simulator, media obligations that left little room for downtime—each day blurred into the next. Press conferences were particularly grueling, especially when the questions turned toward her performance as a female driver in a male-dominated sport. While she knew the media was just doing their job, the scrutiny felt like a weight pressing down on her shoulders, a reminder that every misstep would be amplified.

During practice sessions, Yn had been determined to find her rhythm on the track, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that simmered beneath the surface. Each lap was a test of her skill and focus, yet the oppressive heat and humidity started to wear on her. She found herself snapping at her engineers during discussions over telemetry data, the frustration bubbling up unexpectedly. “Can we please just focus on what I need instead of going over every single detail?” she’d said sharply during one debrief, immediately regretting the edge in her tone.

Yuki, who had been observing her during the practices, approached her after one particularly intense session. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle yet concerned. “You seem a bit on edge.”

Yn took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I’m fine, just... it’s a lot, you know? New circuit, media obligations, and this heat. It’s just getting to me.” She brushed her hair back, the damp strands sticking to her forehead, the sweat making her feel sticky and uncomfortable.

Yuki nodded, understanding. “It’s a tough weekend for everyone, but I think you’re doing great. Just remember to breathe. You’ve got this.” His words were a soothing balm, and she felt a flicker of gratitude toward him.

Despite her frustrations, Yn was resolute about performing well in qualifying and race day. She pushed the worries aside and channeled her energy into the upcoming sessions. Each time she sat in the car, she felt a surge of adrenaline wash over her, the familiar thrill of racing reminding her why she loved the sport.

As the weekend progressed, she began to adapt to the unique challenges of the circuit, finding her groove with each passing lap. But with each session, the pressure seemed to mount. She kept replaying the conversations in her head, the constant reminders of the expectations placed upon her, not just from her team but from the world watching. The heat felt stifling, but so did the weight of being a female driver in Formula 1, a spotlight on her every move.

On the evening before qualifying, Yn found a moment of respite on the balcony of her hotel room, gazing out at the shimmering skyline of Singapore. The lights from the buildings twinkled like stars against the night sky, a stark contrast to the turmoil in her mind. She took a deep breath, allowing the cool breeze to refresh her spirit, feeling the adrenaline mix with a flicker of hope.

“Hey,” Yuki’s voice broke her reverie as he joined her on the balcony, holding two glasses of water. “Thought you could use this. Plus, I wanted to check in on you before qualifying tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the glass from him. “I really appreciate it.”

Yuki leaned against the railing beside her, both of them taking in the view. “You know, it’s okay to feel stressed. This place is intense, and it’s your first time here. But just remember that you’re capable of handling it. Focus on what you can control.”

She turned to him, the warmth of his presence easing some of her tension. “I know. I... I just don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You won’t. You’ll do great” he encouraged, and the sincerity in his tone lifted a weight from her chest.

As they talked, Yn felt herself relaxing, the pressures of the day melting away. They reminisced about their earlier adventures in the city, laughing at their stupid jokes and how spicy Yuki had dared to go with his food. In that moment, surrounded by the bright lights and his comforting presence, she felt a renewed sense of determination wash over her.

Qualifying day had set the stage, the pressure mounting in the relentless heat of Singapore. Yn and Yuki had pushed themselves to the limits, battling through the oppressive humidity and the fierce competition. The cars had roared to life, and in the sweltering atmosphere, both drivers managed to secure places in Q3—a promising start that filled them with excitement and anticipation for race day.

Race day, however, proved to be even more intense. Yn felt the sweat trickle down her back as she climbed into her car, her mind honed in on the task ahead. The heat weighed heavily on everyone, and it was evident in the aggressive driving style both she and Yuki adopted. They were in it to win, and every radio communication crackled with urgency and determination.

As the lights went out, Yn launched off the grid, heart pounding in rhythm with the roaring engines around her. The initial laps blurred together in a haze of speed and precision. She navigated the twists and turns of the circuit, feeling the g-forces push her into her seat as she fought to maintain her position. Yuki was right there with her, their racing instincts aligned, pushing each other in a way that felt instinctive and electric.

The race unfolded with its share of challenges—overtakes, near misses, and the constant pressure of the cars behind them. Yn found herself in a fierce battle for points, each lap a test of strategy and skill. As the laps counted down, the heat and humidity intensified, leaving the drivers drenched in sweat and fatigue. Yet, she thrived on it, her hunger for success driving her to dig deeper. Yuki, too, was relentless, each maneuver echoing his fierce determination to prove himself on the world stage.

As the final laps approached, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Yn could feel her heart racing in time with the countdown, the roar of the crowd a distant background to her single-minded focus. When she crossed the finish line, the realization took a moment to sink in.

Her engineer’s voice broke through the adrenaline haze, congratulating her with uncontainable excitement. “Yn, you’ve finished P3! Amazing job!”

Overjoyed, Yn barely registered the rest of the world around her as she climbed out of the car. The buzz of the pit lane enveloped her, her team rushing to congratulate her, their faces beaming with pride. She thanked them, her voice shaky with emotion, but her joy turned to elation when she spotted Yuki.

Without thinking, she ran straight into his arms, and he spun them both around, laughter spilling from their lips. “You did it! I’m so proud of you!” he exclaimed, the joy evident in his eyes.

“I can’t believe it! Thank you for being such a great teammate!” Yn replied, her heart soaring as they embraced. This moment, so filled with raw emotion and camaraderie, was quickly captured by the ever-watchful cameras, fans, and reporters.

As they parted, Yuki beamed at her, his energy infectious. Then giving her a final encouraging pat on the back before she headed toward the cool-down room.

Back in the paddock, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement as footage of their spontaneous celebration spread like wildfire on social media. Fans captured the genuine connection between the two drivers, their laughter echoing through the comments sections.

“#YNYuki: The duo we didn’t know we needed!” one fan tweeted, accompanied by clips of their embrace.

“Can we talk about how supportive Yuki is? This is what we love to see!” another comment read, reflecting the admiration fans felt toward their bond.

As Yn prepared for her first podium appearance, she felt a mix of nerves and elation. The cameras were flashing, and the cheers of the crowd were a sweet symphony. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, reminding herself of the long journey that had led her here—the sacrifices, the struggles, the relentless hunger for success that had driven her forward.

When she stepped onto the podium, the weight of the trophy in her hands felt like the culmination of all her hard work. She stood tall, beaming at the crowd, soaking in the moment as the British national anthem played. Yuki stood in the crowd, his pride radiating, and as the winners lifted their trophies, Yn felt a sense of belonging wash over her.

This was her moment. Not just as a female driver in a male-dominated sport, but as a driver who had proven herself time and time again. The hunger for success had fueled her journey, and with Yuki by her side, she felt ready to face whatever came next. Together, they had carved out a space where they could thrive, and as the crowd cheered, Yn knew this was just the beginning of what they could achieve.

After Yn’s exhilarating P3 finish, the adrenaline from the race still coursed through her veins, but there was little time to bask in the glory. Media obligations awaited, a whirlwind of interviews, press conferences, and flashing cameras that always accompanied a podium finish. As she walked into the media center, her heart raced—not from the pressure of the spotlight, but from the sheer thrill of her achievement.

Surprisingly, the press conferences went smoothly. Journalists were eager to hear from her, and Yn found herself responding with a confidence she hadn’t anticipated. Questions ranged from her race strategy to her thoughts on the heat of Singapore, and each inquiry felt less like an interrogation and more like an opportunity to share her journey.

“Yn, what was going through your mind as you crossed the finish line?” one reporter asked, a genuine smile lighting up her face.

“I honestly couldn’t believe it!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. “I was just focused on giving it my all, and to end up on the podium? It’s a dream come true. I’ve worked so hard for this, and I couldn’t have done it without my amazing team.”

Throughout the press conferences, Yn noticed how the other drivers had rallied around her, offering their congratulations. Max, Lando, and even Charles made a point to praise her performance, their camaraderie palpable. Their kind words felt like validation, a warm reminder that while competition was fierce, the respect among drivers ran deep.

“Great drive out there, Yn!” Lando said, grinning widely as he shook her hand. “You made it look easy!”

“Thanks, Lando! You weren’t too shabby yourself,” she replied, her tone playful.

Afterward, she took a moment to step aside, pulling out her phone to call her parents. As it rang, she felt a wave of excitement wash over her. They had supported her from the very beginning, believing in her even when the world sometimes didn’t.

“Hey, Mom! Dad!” she exclaimed when her mother picked up. “You won’t believe it! I finished P3 in Singapore!”

There was a moment of silence before her mother’s delighted shriek filled the line. “Oh my goodness! Yn, that’s incredible! We are so proud of you!”

Her dad chimed in, “I knew you could do it! You’ve been working so hard, and it’s all paying off!”

The conversation was filled with laughter and tears of joy as Yn recounted the highlights of the race, the adrenaline, and the thrill of standing on the podium. She could picture their proud smiles, imagining her mother jumping up and down in excitement.

After hanging up, a sense of warmth enveloped her. With her family cheering her on from afar, she felt unstoppable. As the media obligations wrapped up, Yn rejoined Yuki and a few of the other drivers for a quiet celebration.

They headed to a local restaurant, the atmosphere buzzing with energy yet providing a cozy escape from the chaos of the race weekend. Yn found herself seated next to Yuki, who was still riding high on the adrenaline of the race.

“You were amazing out there, too,” she told him, raising her glass to toast their achievements. “P5 is no small feat in that heat.”

“Thanks,” Yuki replied, his smile genuine as he clinked his glass against hers. “But honestly, watching you up there on the podium—there’s no one more deserving. You’ve worked so hard, and I’m really proud of you.”

“You too! I couldn’t have asked for a better teammate,” she replied, feeling the bond between them deepen.

As the evening wore on, laughter filled the air. The group shared stories, exchanged playful jabs, and recounted their race strategies. Yn couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so at ease—this was what she had longed for: a chance to celebrate her hard work with friends who understood the pressures of their world.

Social media buzzed with excitement, fans sharing clips and highlights from the day’s events, while hashtags like #YNOnThePodium and #TeamTsunoda trended. There was a sense of unity among the fans, a community that celebrated each driver’s achievements and supported them through the pressures of the sport.

As they settled into the rhythm of the night, Yn realized this was more than just a celebration of her P3 finish; it was a reminder of how far she had come. She had faced doubts and challenges, but with each race, she carved out a place for herself in a world that had often felt overwhelming. In a good way.

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