#Integration by Parts formula

[vavaclasses]

Integration by Parts – Class 12 Mathematics Notes

Introduction:

Integration by Parts is a crucial technique in integral calculus, especially useful when dealing with the integration of the product of two functions. It is derived from the product rule of differentiation and helps solve complex integrals that cannot be integrated directly. Understanding this method thoroughly will aid in solving various problems in CBSE Class 12 board exams and competitive exams like JEE Main.

Formula for Integration by Parts:

If u = f(x) and v = g(x), then:

∫ u·v dx = u ∫v dx - ∫ (du/dx · ∫v dx) dx

Or simply,

∫ u·v dx = uv - ∫ v·(du/dx) dx

Choosing u and v – ILATE Rule:

To select which function to differentiate and which to integrate, use the ILATE rule:

I: Inverse Trigonometric functions L: Logarithmic functions A: Algebraic functions T: Trigonometric functions E: Exponential functions

Solved Examples of Integration by Parts:

Evaluate ∫ x · e^x dx

Let u = x (Algebraic), dv = e^x dx Then, du = dx, and v = ∫ e^x dx = e^x Apply the formula: ∫ x·e^x dx = x·e^x - ∫ e^x dx = x·e^x - e^x + C Answer: ∫ x·e^x dx = e^x(x - 1) + C

Evaluate ∫ ln x dx

Let u = ln x, dv = dx Then, du = (1/x) dx, v = ∫ dx = x Apply the formula: ∫ ln x dx = x·ln x - ∫ x·(1/x) dx = x·ln x - ∫ 1 dx = x·ln x - x + C Answer: ∫ ln x dx = x(ln x - 1) + C

Evaluate ∫ x · sin x dx

Let u = x, dv = sin x dx Then, du = dx, v = ∫ sin x dx = -cos x Apply the formula: ∫ x·sin x dx = -x·cos x + ∫ cos x dx = -x·cos x + sin x + C Answer: ∫ x·sin x dx = -x·cos x + sin x + C

Special Cases and Tips:

Some integrals may require repeated application of the formula. For example: ∫ x^2 e^x dx

Practice Questions

1. ∫ x · cos x dx 2. ∫ x · ln x dx 3. ∫ x^2 · e^x dx 4. ∫ arctan x dx 5. ∫ ln x dx

Conclusion:

Integration by Parts is a powerful technique in calculus, especially when dealing with products of functions. Mastery of the ILATE rule and regular practice of varied problems ensures confidence and accuracy in the exams.

[river-gale]

STOP naming things after euler. i have nothing but respect and admiration for leonhard euler and his contributions to the beautiful field of mathematics but TOO MANY THINGS ARE NAMED AFTER HIM. please. enough. it's getting so confusing

[metanarrates]

I was so tempted to tag you in the princess poll lol I was like does meta know????

Number One Fan Of Weird Reincarnating Princess Goddess Women already on the case good anon

[summersunqueen]

rebloged for the hashtags :)

The Percy Jackson renaissance and The Hunger Games renaissance happening in the same year is something so special to me

[teaboot]

This is gonna sound rather conceited but I feel like it highlights an issue we have in Art.

I'm good at art. I've never had a hard time making art. I started using crayons before I could walk. Painting, Beadwork, sculpture, sketching, stippling, whatever- once I have a feel for the material, it doesn't take long to start doing what I want with it. It's been a common theme my whole life.

(Y contrast I'm awful at things like dancing, performance, sports, etc- in all things there is balance, right?)

Now, I've taught myself to use so many artistic mediums now that I KNOW how to most efficiently integrate them into the brain database. Once you really *understand* a material, it's much like memorizing the layout of your house, or flexing a muscle, or something in-between- it becomes PART of your brain in a way I cant quite articulate. But to get there involves just fucking around for a bit doing nothing in particular.

And I've found, especially in group settings, that nobody seems to be able to see you make something badly and leave you alone. Even if you say you're fine, you don't want help, you're happy, you're having fun, it's fine, they gotta ride your ass and hover.

I was at a class the other day for something I hadn't done before. The medium was one I've never used, so once the instructor told us the basics I started experimenting with weight, gravity, texture, viscosity, saturation, temperature, etc. The instructor had given enough info to know what was dangerous and what was safe, and beyond that I just wanted to absorb what I could about it.

And no insult to the instructor, but they kept checking in. Which was fine the first few times.

But then, without asking me what I was trying to do, started giving tips. That I told them I was grateful for but didn't really need just yet. If I had a question, I'd ask.

But they kept coming over. And touching my shit. And manipulating my project. And touching my hands. And using my tools. Without fucking asking.

And this happens every time. EVERY TIME. And by now I know the best way to get them to fuck off is to make something way beyond their expectations so they know I'm capable, then go back to doing what I want.

So I did. I wanted to keep having fun and learning, but instead I made something beautiful that I really didn't want to make, and wasted my time, and really didn't learn what I wanted to learn at all. I knew the formula to create a beautiful thing, so I followed that formula the same way I have a hundred times before, and didn't get to try anything spontaneous or ugly or exciting, just so I could be left alone.

And I know when I was a kid, I was aware aware people saw me puttering alone on something ugly assumed I had a special issue and treated me like I was stupid because of that. (I was neurodivergent.) And at at time I knew that I could do a neat trick for them like a trained pony and they'd go, "Oh, surely they aren't defective if they can do something like that!" And piss off.

But what if I hadn't known how to do that?

What if I hadn't been talented, or "special"?

What if I'd been just any other average kid trying to learn, and I couldn't pop something pretty out of my ass to get them off my back?

My problem my whole life has been that I haven't been allowed to make anything ugly in peace. I'm capable of beauty, so I have to make beauty, or get stepped on. And once people see what I can do, they get loud about it. "Look at this! Look what they did! We all know who the best is, don't we?". And that used to feel good, but it's tiring.

And how many people like me just wanted to play? Just wanted to have fun and experiment? Who were having fun with no goal in mind, or just took longer to learn, who gave up because of all the obnoxious helpers breathing down their neck with no way to shake them off?

How many of us are made to feel defective because we aren't doing things beautifully?

I have a lovely piece of art I didn't want to make.

I think I'm gonna frame it.*

(*I think I'm gonna burn it in my yard.)

[thefudge]

Advice for writing smut???

gonna do bullet-points of things i tend to live by when it comes to smut (this is just my opinion):

don't switch styles: the way you write the smut has to be consistent with the way you write the rest of the story, so if your story is more comedic or romcom-y in nature, the way you write the smut should have those stylings. i personally find it very jarring when authors decide to break the format for the smut, almost like the story has to stop for the sex intermission; if you're writing a horror story, the smut must be informed and influenced by that genre, and if you are breaking genre for the smut portion, tell us why you're suddenly switching gears (it has to be an aesthetic choice you're making on purpose). likewise, if your style in that story is more lyrical, the smut has to be somewhat lyrical too, or if your story is more cormac mccarthy-esque-cut-and-dry, the smut can't suddenly involve an effluvia of purple, sappy prose. integrating the smut in the story and treating it like any other part of the story is key to me. too often i've seen ppl switch to this anonymous pornified style when they get to the smut

which brings me to specificity. i'll talk about het sex, since that's what i tend to write most: not all men are going to be fingering or eating pussy the same way, not all dicks are big and they shouldn't be, not all women immediately get excited by fingering, not everyone moans the same way or makes the same sounds. you're writing about particular characters so it has to be particular to them. i know this is very old advice, but i think it bears repeating

there isn't an exact formula or sequence you have to follow, there aren't precise steps, you don't have to go "well, first he has to kiss down her neck, then reach the boob area, then play with the nipples, then put the nipple in his mouth, then slowly go down on her, then prepare her for entering her etc. etc. etc." this can get boring and repetitive and you start thinking of your characters as these mechanical dolls who have to fuck for your audience. and that can be a vibe too, if you do it on purpose. but sometimes you can get stuck in a porn routine (and ofc, having only the guy show initiative can also get boring)

in order to break that, insert some character moments. what are the characters thinking during this? sometimes they might be thinking of something completely unrelated on the surface, but which has a thematic relevance that can make the scene hotter. likewise, maybe they're doing smth that seems unsexy on the surface, but which, within the context of the story might be really hot. sex doesn't just involve, well, sex, but so much weirdness and humanity and creativity. two bodies (usually) are trying to do this really awkward thing together and they might have a lot of baggage and history to inform it. there's a lot you can do with that.

don't make it glossy and clean, where everyone smells of strawberry shampoo and there is never anything out of sync. the most boring smut tends to be the kind where no one makes any mistakes and everything is super efficient. i imagine it feels like using an industrial pump to milk various farm animals.

and you know what? you can make that hot too. you CAN write a kind of robotic efficient smut and make it really interesting based on the context. let's say you're writing a 1984 AU fic where ppl are forced into intimacy only to procreate and their sex drive is diminished. you can play with that premise and lean into the dehumanizing industrialization of sex, but you have to mean it, aka your narratorial voice must be conscious of these factors.

if you're writing dubcon, make the dubious part present, make sure you draw out the ambivalence and ambiguity. if you're writing noncon, the character whose consent is being violated has to be transformed by this in some way. it can be forced pleasure, for instance, but not only. it has to be a journey for them too, some kind of spiritual pit, or a form of access to terrible knowledge. i know this is a personal thing, but noncon doesn't work for me if the character being noncon'd is just sort of *there*, suffering passively. i think that sort of dead passivity can be done very well too, but the narratorial voice has to persuade me.

that being said, don't be afraid of fear in consensual sex. terror and vulnerability are a part of consensual sex too, imo, and again, depending on the story and the characters, there's a lot you can explore there

i personally find it really hot when the narratorial voice starts discussing some of the ideas that the story wants to convey during the smut. so like, you can characterize person A and outline their worldview and their plans while they're ramming person B, and the thinking & fucking are thus entwined. idk, i dig that

speaking of which, smut can convey world-building details and social/philosophical ideas, not just emotions and character beats

not all smut has to end with mutual orgasm or even one-sided orgasm, it depends what you want to do or where you want to go. again, you don't have to follow a sequence. plus, it's fun (and hot) to write about frustration and failure too.

if you want to mix up the descriptions, resort to the story & characters. you'll find it's easier to describe someone fondling a boob in a new or at least interesting way if you're thinking about that particular character in that particular story, and not just Man X from planet porn (sorry to be snarky, but mainstream erotica is soooo guilty of this)

screaming & really intense reactions are cool but they have to match the characters and the situations

sometimes, it's hotter if an effect is mild or negated, if the usual outcome doesn't happen; mix up the order of events, toy with the usual reactions. it's not about being original, it's about finding out what works for your characters. writing about sex is, in a way, a performance of it, an attempt to go through the sexual motions, to find out what works and doesn't, to engage with the erotics of text (roland barthes entered the chat)

if you are bored by your own smut, that's a problem. i know we all talk about how hard we find writing smut, and IT IS hard, and sometimes it's not enjoyable, because writing itself is often not enjoyable, but even when it's painful and annoying, it gives you that little intellectual kick like "huh, i'm creating this and making these people do this, and ohh look, i can maybe put this unnamable thing into words". but if you become bored, that's a sign you have to look at the language & characters and figure out what's not working for you

last thing i'll underline: pay attention to your narratorial voice. in this ordeal, you are the seducer. not the characters. you have to seduce us with words and context. your voice matters the most. you can persuade us of anything. but you have to be confident in your weirdness and particularity. this is your bedroom (so to speak), so invite us in.

[pucksandpower]

Clickbait

Toto Wolff x Ferrari team principal!Reader

Summary: in which a reporter learns not to mess with the power couple of Formula 1 … the hard way

Based on this request

The bustling newsroom of BusinessF1 magazine hums with activity as Graham Lowell, a junior reporter with more ambition than scruples, hunches over his laptop. His fingers fly across the keyboard, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he types out what he believes to be the scoop of the century.

Conflict of Interest in the Pit Lane: Ferrari and Mercedes’ Love Affair

Graham leans back, admiring his handiwork. He’s certain this article will catapult him to journalism stardom. Little does he know, he’s about to learn a harsh lesson in the dangers of sensationalism.

As the article goes live, the Formula 1 world erupts into chaos. Social media platforms light up with speculation and outrage. Within hours, the story spreads like wildfire, reaching the very subjects of its scandalous claims.

In the Ferrari motorhome, you stand before a group of wide-eyed team members, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. “I assure you, these allegations are completely false. Our team’s integrity is not, and will never be, compromised.”

Your phone buzzes incessantly in your pocket, but you ignore it. You know who it is, and you know you’ll need to face him soon enough.

Across the paddock, in the sleek confines of the Mercedes garage, Toto Wolff paces like a caged lion. His usually calm demeanor is nowhere to be seen as he barks orders into his phone.

“I want our legal team on this immediately,” he growls. “This is slander, pure and simple. They’ve gone too far this time.”

As the day wears on, the pressure mounts. You find yourself fielding increasingly hostile questions from reporters, their microphones thrust aggressively in your face.

“Is it true that you’ve been passing Ferrari’s secrets to Mercedes?” One shouts.

“How long have you been manipulating race results?” Another demands.

You maintain your composure, but inside, you’re seething. The blatant sexism in their questions is not lost on you. They seem all too eager to believe that a woman in your position must have achieved it through nefarious means.

As you push through the crowd, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos. “That’s enough!” Toto’s commanding tone silences the mob instantly. He strides forward, placing a protective arm around your shoulders.

“My wife and I will be making a statement shortly,” he announces, his steely gaze daring anyone to object. “Until then, I suggest you all refrain from spreading baseless rumors.”

The crowd parts reluctantly, allowing you both to escape to the relative quiet of a nearby hospitality suite. As soon as the door closes behind you, Toto’s fierce expression melts into one of concern.

“Are you alright, liebling?” He asks softly, cupping your face in his hands.

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a moment of vulnerability. “I’m fine, Toto. Just ... frustrated. They’re so quick to believe the worst of me.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “It’s disgraceful. But we’ll fight this, together. I promise you, they won’t get away with it.”

A knock at the door interrupts your moment. Toto’s assistant pokes her head in. “Sir, the lawyers are here.”

What follows is a whirlwind of legal jargon and strategy discussions. You listen intently as your shared legal team outlines the plan of attack.

“We’ll issue cease and desist orders to every outlet that’s republished the story,” the head lawyer explains. “And we’ll be filing a defamation lawsuit against BusinessF1 magazine and the reporter responsible.”

Toto nods approvingly. “Good. I want them to feel the full force of our response. This ends now.”

As the lawyers file out, you turn to Toto, a hint of worry in your eyes. “Do you think this will be enough? The damage to my reputation ...”

Toto takes your hands in his, his gaze intense. “We will rebuild it, stronger than ever. I won’t let them tarnish everything you’ve worked for.”

Meanwhile, back at the BusinessF1 office, Graham Lowell is beginning to realize the gravity of his mistake. His editor storms into the bullpen, face red with fury.

“Lowell!” He bellows. “My office, now!”

Graham follows meekly, his earlier bravado evaporating with each step. As he enters the office, he sees his editor isn’t alone. A grim-faced man in an expensive suit stands by the window.

“Sit down,” the editor growls. Graham complies, his legs feeling like jelly.

The man by the window turns, fixing Graham with a steely glare. “Mr. Lowell, I’m representing Mr. and Mrs. Wolff in this matter. I’m here to inform you that you and this publication are being sued for defamation.”

Graham’s mouth goes dry. “But ... but I had a source! They told me-”

“A source you failed to verify,” his editor cuts in. “Did you even attempt to get a comment from either party before publishing?”

Graham’s silence is damning. The lawyer continues, his voice cold and precise. “The damages we’re seeking are substantial. Your reckless journalism has caused significant harm to my clients’ reputations.”

As the full implications of his actions sink in, Graham slumps in his chair. His dreams of journalistic glory crumble before his eyes, replaced by the stark reality of legal consequences.

Outside, the F1 paddock buzzes with new excitement. Word of the impending lawsuit spreads quickly, and suddenly, those who were so quick to believe the scandal are backpedaling furiously.

You and Toto stand united before a sea of cameras, your hands clasped tightly together. Toto speaks first, his voice resonating with controlled anger.

“The allegations made against my wife and me are not only false but malicious,” he states. “We have always maintained the highest standards of professionalism and integrity in our respective roles.”

You step forward, your head held high. “I’ve worked tirelessly to earn my position as Team Principal at Scuderia Ferrari. To suggest that my success is due to anything other than my own merit is not only insulting to me but to every woman fighting to make her mark in this sport.”

The press conference continues, with you and Toto presenting a united front against the baseless accusations. As you field questions, you can see the tide of public opinion beginning to turn.

Later that evening, in the privacy of your hotel suite, you finally allow yourself to relax. Toto wraps you in a warm embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“You were magnificent today,” he murmurs. “I’m so proud of you.”

You smile up at him, feeling the tension of the day start to melt away. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

Toto chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eye. “The best. Although, I must say, I’m almost disappointed we don’t actually have any juicy secrets to share. It might make things more exciting.”

You playfully swat his arm, laughing despite yourself. “I think we have enough excitement in our lives, thank you very much.”

As you settle into each other’s arms, you know that whatever challenges come your way, you’ll face them together. The storm may rage outside, but in here, in this moment, all is calm.

And somewhere across the continent, in a small, cluttered apartment, Graham Lowell stares at his laptop screen, watching his career and reputation crumble in real-time.

Social media is ablaze with backlash against him and support for you and Toto. As he scrolls through the endless comments condemning his shoddy journalism, one thought echoes in his mind.

“I am so, so screwed.”

[versairic]

Happy Tears | AL12

In which Arthur drives alongside his brother in a Formula 1 car in free practice for the first time and has his whole family there to support him, and his girlfriend y/n in particular is moved to tears by this special moment

pairing — arthur leclerc x reader

words — 3035

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

The sixth of December was a very special day. For many people, especially children, this day was so special because St Nicholas came on this day.

But St Nicholas did not make the sixth of December a special day for the Leclerc family, you, Arthur's family and especially Arthur.

The sixth of December was so special for all of you because Arthur finally got to sit in a Formula 1 car in free practice. And not just in any car, but in the Ferrari next to his brother.

The two brothers would also make history today as they were the first brothers to drive together in a team, even if it was only for free practice today, it was something very special.

The tingling in your stomach had been with you since you got up and was getting more intense by the minute.

Arthur was currently in the bathroom of your hotel room, more or less getting dressed up for the day - including a complete outfit in red.

You had also bought a red dress especially for today, which clung a little tighter around your curves and became a little wider towards the floor. Alex, Charles' girlfriend, had helped you pick out the dress and it had quickly become your favourite dress and you couldn't wait to see what Arthur would say about it.

"Are you going to be long?" you called across the hotel room to the bathroom as you reached for the lighter and waited anxiously for your boyfriend's answer.

Once again, his hair probably didn't want to do what Arthur wanted - that often happened and so your friend spent almost longer in the bathroom than you did.

"I'll be ready in a minute!" he called back and that was your cue.

You carefully opened the beige box from the bakery, which wasn't too far from the hotel.

When Arthur had got into the shower this morning, you had scurried over to the little bakery to pick up the pre-order you had placed a few days ago.

Inside the box was a small chocolate cake, with a candle and icing to decorate it.

When the bathroom door opened, you hurried to quickly light the candle before reaching for the box, which you balanced in your hands and waited for your friend to finally arrive.

Within seconds, he appeared in the hotel room with a puzzled expression, which quickly brightened when he saw the cake in your hand.

The Ferrari logo was painted on the cake with icing and the words 'I'm so proud of you, love'

"Chéri..." he murmured, touched, as you ran towards him to present the cake to him once more, while the candle on the cake slowly burned down and Arthur wouldn't have too much time left to blow out the candle.

"Today is a special day and you know how we start special days, don't you? " you asked with a grin.

In fact, it had become a ritual that Arthur and you always spent special days with a cake.

This tradition was started by Arthur two years ago when he surprised you with a cake that said 'will you be my girlfriend' on one of your dates.

And since then, cakes have been an integral part of such moments.

"That's... that's so wonderful of you," he beamed as he leant forward and then closed his eyes before blowing out the candle and you knew he had made a wish.

"I'm so incredibly proud," you grinned as you leant forward and then carefully placed your lips on his cheek, which was still damp from washing, and gave him a gentle kiss.

"And I'm incredibly nervous," he mumbled and began to scratch the back of his neck, which he did so often when he was nervous.

In fact, he hadn't slept half the night and spent most of his time tossing and turning, which was always the case when Arthur was excited.

Each time he couldn't sleep before a special event, so he usually turned up to these events totally exhausted. Today, however, there didn't seem to be a trace of tiredness, which was probably because all the adrenaline and excitement wore off the tiredness.

"I know, Love. But that's perfectly normal. But you know what? This is going to be amazing! I mean, you've always dreamed about it and today it's finally coming true! " you beamed at him as your hand found its place on his arm, where you slowly stroked it again and again with your thumb to calm him down a little.

"It still feels like a dream," he laughed nervously and glanced at the cake again. " But we'll have to eat it later, won't we? I definitely can't get a slice down now."

Arthur gave you an apologetic look, to which you just shook your head. You were glad that he'd managed to get some scrambled eggs and toast down this morning so that he had a little something in his stomach.

"That's what I thought. And that's all the better, otherwise Lorenzo, your mum and Alex will behead me," you laughed.

Because the three of them had actually told you hundreds of times that they really wanted to eat the cake with Arthur to celebrate Arthur's successful test day at the end of the day.

Arthur joined in with your laughter, which was a good sign because it meant that you had managed to distract him a little from his nervousness.

"We'll just put it in the fridge and we'll all eat it together later when we get back."

You took the cake from Arthur and put it away in the small fridge in your hotel room.

When you turned round again, Arthur was standing at the window looking out between the large white curtains, lost in thought.

From the side, you could see his brow furrowed in thought and he looked rather pensive.

You knew for sure that he was brooding about today - again.

Days ago, he had already told you about his fears and thoughts, which were understandable but unfounded.

He was afraid of making a mistake, wrecking the car or even being the worst.

Of course, it was only a free practice session that Arthur was driving, but for him it was much more than that.

A first step in a direction that could open the door to the Formula 1 world for him completely. He already had one foot in it and the training could open more doors for him.

"Love," your voice rang out softly as you carefully wrapped your arms around his stomach and buried your face against his muscular back.

"Hm?" he merely said, but you could feel his slightly tense back loosen a little and his posture become more relaxed.

"Please stop thinking so much. If your head is so damn full, you can't concentrate on the track and the car and are more likely to make a mistake..."

"And how am I supposed to clear my head, Chéri? Should I meditate?"

You shook your head. "No."

"Then what?"

"You'll see when the time comes. I promise you it will work. And now we have to go, okay?"

You carefully released your arms from him and then reached for your bag, in which you had stowed the most important things.

"Okay, let's go," Arthur agreed after taking another deep breath before grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers and walking out of the room with you towards the lifts.

——

The Ferrari pit was already a hive of activity. Mechanics were scurrying from A to B, making the final preparations for free practice.

Over the last hour and a half, you, Pascale, Charles, Lorenzo, Charlotte - Lorenzo's girlfriend and Alex - Charles' girlfriend, had done a pretty good job of distracting the youngest of the Leclerc family.

But now, as he came to a halt in front of you, Lorenzo, Pascale, Charlotte and Alex in his red Ferrari suit, you could clearly see the nervous expression on his face.

His eyes darted nervously back and forth, while his lips were pressed tightly together and his hands - which must have been wet with sweat - kept running over the fabric of his racing suit.

Arthur's mum, Pascale, gave you a gentle look that suggested you were just the person to reassure her youngest son.

Of course, she would have loved to take on the role herself and reassure her youngest son, but she knew very well that you had a completely different effect on her son than she did.

"Love?" your voice rang out, causing Arthur's restless eyes to focus on you and his gaze to soften a little within a few seconds. "Do you have five minutes? "

He merely nodded.

You carefully grabbed his hand, which was incredibly sweaty and cold, and pulled him with you into the small driver's room that Arthur had at his disposal that day.

There was nothing in the room except a massage table and a small shelf containing two of Arthur's helmets, several racing suits and fireproof underwear.

"You need to relax," were the first words that came out of your mouth after the door closed behind you.

"It's hard, Chéri. I'm so nervous and my head is still so damn full..." he mumbled as he rubbed his forehead.

"Do you remember what I said earlier?"

He nodded.

You carefully removed your hand from his and then placed it on his cheek and gently stroked his warm skin with your thumb.

This movement caused him to slowly begin to relax. It didn't help one hundred per cent, but it helped a little, so that he came down a little.

"I'm proud of you, Arthur. We all are out there. It's such a big leap you've made and I'm sure this will open new doors for you. You are such a talented racer who deserves to have his talent recognised and nurtured," you began, eliciting a small smile from him.

"Please don't worry about it. Because I know for a fact that you're going to rock it out there. You're going to show everyone what you're made of and what a wonderful racer you are, do you hear me? You're one of the best. And you know what? You're my number one. No matter what happens out there."

Carefully, you began to spread feather-light kisses on his face, so that Arthur began to relax under the touch of your lips on his skin.

"I love you, Arthur. And I'm not only incredibly proud but also your biggest fan. And I've got something else for you."

From your little bag, you pulled out a small photo of you and Arthur together.

In the photo, Arthur has his arms wrapped around you while you look up at him, enamoured and overjoyed, while he looks down at you and returns your gaze.

"This is my favourite picture," he almost whispered as he stroked the photo with his thumb and smiled.

In fact, that was exactly why you had chosen the photo, because it was not only Arthur's lock screen, but now also his lucky charm.

"Turn it over," you told him with a smile as Arthur turned the picture around in his hand and began to read the words you had written on it.

Never forget that I am your biggest supporter and will always stand behind you. Forever. Forever you and me.

Light tears began to gather in his eyes, which he bravely began to blink away before he opened his racing suit slightly and let the picture disappear inside.

"Thank you, Chéri," he breathed against your lips before he kissed you tenderly, pouring all his love and gratitude into the kiss.

And at that moment, you could clearly feel how relaxed Arthur was now. And this merit was all yours.

— —

Half the Leclerc family plus girlfriends more or less took over the Ferrari garage, while every single one of them wore headphones to follow everything closely.

Your eyes were fixed on the monitor, on which Arthur was more or less being followed by the camera as he raced round the track.

In the meantime, Pascale had raked in on you and kept giving you a proud smile, which you were only too happy to return.

She was incredibly proud of her two sons, who were racing around the track together as a team. You couldn't even begin to imagine how proud she must be - as you were already threatening to burst with pride.

As the two of them drove side by side towards the end of free practice and Charles drove slowly alongside Arthur and waved to him, tears began to gather in Pascale's eyes and roll down her cheeks shortly afterwards.

It was a truly heart-warming moment, which also caused tears to begin to gather in your eyes.

Today was not only special, but also incredibly touching, so it was a wonder that you hadn't shed a single tear yet.

You gave Pascale a gentle hug as she gave you a grateful smile while tears began to roll down her cheeks.

And suddenly there was a slight crack in the headphones you were wearing and shortly afterwards Arthur's voice rang in your ears.

" Thanks to the whole team for giving me this opportunity. It was so much fun to drive the free practice session! And I also have to thank someone very special. Chéri? I know you're listening. Thank you for being my biggest fan and always finding the right words that I need to hear. I love you. And I am incredibly grateful that I have you by my side. I love you. Forever. Forever you and me. "

And this radio message made it happen for you too. At first, a few tears began to fall from your eyes and roll down your cheeks, until they became more and more and countless tears of joy began to roll down your cheeks.

Pascale stroked your back again and again, while Lorenzo, Charlotte and Alex joined you to pull you into a warm group hug.

The warmth completely enveloped you, while the tears continued to flow down your cheeks and just didn't seem to stop.

Sometimes it was really difficult to stop crying when you were crying with joy.

Your make-up must have been pretty smudged by now, but you didn't care. Because this was a special moment that would probably never come back and that's why you savoured it to the full.

It wasn't long before the cars were pushed back into the garage and the Ferrari garage was once again as busy as before the race, which was a sign for everyone to slowly move away from you.

Longingly, you stood on tiptoe and looked around, searching for your friend.

Charles was the first to enter the garage and was greeted with a smile by his family. You briefly touched the Monegasque on the shoulder and gave him a gentle smile, which he returned with a grateful smile.

Until he suddenly appeared. Arthur.

He held his helmet in his hand while his eyes travelled through the box searching.

He was looking for someone very special. You.

Without hesitation, your legs started to move, past the mechanics and over to Arthur.

When he spotted you, he carelessly placed his helmet on the tyre trolley before spreading his arms.

Your legs sped up and you started to run shortly afterwards, throwing yourself into the sweaty but warm arms of your friend, who wrapped his arms around you tightly and hugged you to him.

He opened his mouth to say something. But you didn't even give him the chance, because your lips pressed firmly against his.

As he returned the kiss, you kept tasting a few drops of sweat running down Arthur's face, but you didn't care.

Your hands found their way into his sweaty hair, where they buried themselves and ran lightly through the thick hair as you put so much love and pride into the kiss that you hoped Arthur would never forget.

"I'm so proud of you," you breathed softly against his lips as you breathlessly broke away from each other a short time later.

You were still in the same place, surrounded by all the mechanics who paid no attention to you and were completely absorbed in their work.

But one or two of the photographers had probably taken a picture of you, so that one or two of your photos would now be circulating on Instagram. But you didn't care.

This moment belonged only to you. And no one would be able to take this moment away from you.

"I love you, Chéri. And I'm so grateful that you were by my side today. That you are always by my side."

Carefully, he let you back onto your feet and then put his hand to your cheek, running his thumb over your red cheek as he gave you the most enamoured look.

"I love you too."

A wide smile crept onto your lips as you leaned in to kiss Arthur one more time. However, your plans were interrupted by a loud clearing of the throat.

Startled, you staggered back a few steps, seeming to lose your balance for a moment, so Arthur carefully pulled you to his chest and put his arms around you protectively.

The Leclerc family stood in front of you, as did the two brothers' girlfriends, who looked at you with a grin.

At the thought that they had been standing there watching you for a long time, your cheeks began to turn a deep shade of red.

"We don't really want to disturb you. But we've heard that there's cake again? And one of your traditions must continue, right? "

[maxlarens]

OP: well, that isn't fucking relevant

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: someone tries to threaten your job, oscar has some choice words for him. (OR: the trials and tribulations of being a woman in a male dominated sport)

word count: 2.7k+

an: i kinda hate the white knight trope but i still wrote this lol, it scratches an itch and i think driver!reader did a sufficient amount of defending of herself beforehand. anyway, this is a one shot that's kind of connected to my smau series just a girl. enjoy!!!!! [also standard disclaimer: this does not reflect the opinions of any real life people/companies/organisations/etc. it is fiction. thank you]

You’re no stranger to sexism in Formula racing— you knew going into this that you’d have to deal with thinly veiled remarks about your gender and purposefully obtuse questions from reporters who think they know more than you about the sport you’ve dedicated your life to. You had to deal with it when you were karting, you had to deal with it during your stint in F2, and you have to deal with it now.

The fact of the matter is that some people do not think you belong here, and therefore are entirely unable to integrate the reality that you are very much here to stay, into their worldview. You’re lucky to have somehow earned Lewis’ loyalty, which had brought the Mercedes contract and the support of Toto simultaneously. Mercedes-AMG aren’t making leaps and bounds into the world of feminism, but you’re grateful for the seat regardless. You’re here and not going anywhere if you can help it.

You try your best to stay off the bad parts of social media, so as not to be subjected to the barrage of hate comments and death threats directed your way. You’re tough— but no one’s that tough. It’s fine for the most part. You focus on the racing, how the car feels, your performance and improving it weekend after weekend. You try at least. You’d love to leave your gender entirely out of the mix, you don’t think it’s relevant frankly. But unfortunately, the reporters do. (And so do some choice individuals working on the grid, who just can’t seem to keep their big fucking mouths shut about you.)

It’s disappointing, sure— but not surprising to sit down at a press conference and get a smattering of questions about your rumoured relationships and extracurricular activities when every other driver gets fifty questions practically thrown at them about their performance, or FIA regulations, or the track conditions. The part that bothers you the most is honestly just the lack of interest. It’s like they don’t think anything you have to say about the sport is valuable so they just don’t ask you the same questions they bother to ask the men. That probably is the actual case too.

So— y’know— you’re not that shocked when a reporter from some sports blog you’ve never heard of straight out asks if you “expect to be switched out with another female driver next year?”

The room goes dead fucking silent in a way that you do actually find satisfying. It’s good to know that most of the reporters in the room do know a tactless question when they hear one, or at least that you inspire enough fear in people that they’re waiting with bated breath to hear your response. Next to you, Oscar tenses, you can feel it where your thighs are touching. You can imagine his face right now without looking, that pinched micro-grimace he does. The barest hint of a crease in the bridge of his nose as he tries not to scowl. You want to put your hand on his knee and squeeze it in thanks.

You don’t. Instead, you frown and cock your head to the side, meeting the eyes of the reporter across the room.

Slowly, measuredly, you repeat, “I’m sorry, do I expect to be replaced with another female driver next year? Is that what you said?”

He nods, bringing the microphone closer to his mouth as if you really couldn’t hear him the first time, “Yes, yeah. That is what I asked.”

You hum, pursing your lips as if you’re sincerely considering his question. You can see a few people in the crowd who are cringing already, some of them have been on the receiving end of your tendency to play with your food before you eat it. Your ego feels pretty good about that.

“Why would Mercedes want to replace me?” you ask in your most polite voice, feigning real curiosity to this man who you doubt has done any research at all on you.

“Um,” he errs, some of his former unflappable confidence leeching out of his tone, “Well, to give more women a chance in Formula One—”

You start to speak over him, done with entertaining his ignorance. You bite, “—there are other teams for that, actually. I don’t think it’s presumptuous to say that I’ve earned my seat at Mercedes, or that I’ve proven that I belong here so far this season. In which, I have not qualified or placed below a P7. And I certainly don’t think it’s fair of you to ask if I am going to voluntarily give up my hard-earned seat to another person because you think I am here because of some women’s inclusion effort by Mercedes. And, okay, who knows, maybe I am. But I am not giving up this seat without a fight, nor do I imagine that Mercedes are in a rush to find someone to replace me right now. You’ll have to ask someone to confirm that though.”

You wind down after that, punctuating your point with a firm nod; some of the fight and the fury seeping out as you start to reckon with the potential consequences of your outburst. Mercedes’ PR rep will have something to say surely, you’re just hoping you haven’t crossed some kind of uncrossable line. Another part of you doesn’t quite care as you watch the reporter gape like a fish out of water, feeling rather satisfied that you’d put him in his place.

Eventually, the room recovers and moves on from you. Checo is getting asked his opinion on tyres while you share a furtive glance with Oscar. He smiles approvingly, mouth closed and the apples of his cheeks pushed up into his eyes. You feel the urge to touch his knee again but resist, instead smiling back as covertly as you possibly can. A warm feeling spreads in your chest and you almost forget about the reporter and his stupid question in favour of watching Oscar’s slow-burn smile.

Mercedes is fine with it, it turns out. Apparently, you’re doing the heavy lifting for them in the feminism department and all they have to do is have Toto or someone come out and say a few words in agreement. It suits them fine, they don’t need to take any hard stances and you get the blame if anything goes horribly wrong. That grates at you, of course it does. But you’ve got a seat, haven’t you? You’re not going to give it up because Mercedes are covering their asses like the multibillion-dollar company that they are.

It means you’ve avoided the all-hands-on-deck PR meeting you thought you’d be stuck in tonight, but it’s left you in too sour a mood for this party. It’s some function, fundraiser, something or other and they’ve invited all the teams, drivers and ‘important’ FIA staff. This means there’s an inordinate amount of people here and you’re really not into it.

But you’re still here. You’ve shoved yourself into a cute, strappy, black top, and a denim mini-skirt and you’ve even added some cute jewellery in a feeble attempt to match whatever over-the-top outfit Lewis has arrived in. It’s at least a step up from your usual team polo and leggings, or the Mercedes hoodie that you pull on over it. You’re comfortable. You’re fine.

You pull a hand out of the pocket of your oversized leather jacket as Oscar comes back over with your beer. You smile at the expression on his face as you take the neck in between your fingers. He’s scowling openly, the corners of his lips curled up in distaste.

“Busy?” you ask, then you hold up the beer in thanks, “Cheers, by the way.”

“Hmm, too crowded,” he affirms, “I lost Lando.”

You shrug, taking a swig of the refreshingly cold beer, “Actually? Or did he run off with someone?”

Oscar snorts, “Yeah, no. He got into a conversation with Max.”

You laugh, “Yeah, in that case, I reckon we’ll see Lando in a few hours.”

“Definitely.”

The two of you share an amused smile before you’re back to looking into the crowd because sometimes, it’s hard for you to look at him— like looking directly into the sun. You’re aware of him in your periphery, standing there and rocking back and forth on his heels, occasionally taking a sip of his drink. He looks away for a moment, and you turn to look at him. Taking in the endearing swoop of his hair, the scattering of freckles and moles on the side of his pale face, the long line of his neck disappearing into the collar of his shirt. You shift your eyes slightly to the right of him, to the patchwork of vents and scaffolding in the ceiling, feigning as if you’d only been casually looking his way.

“That reporter was a piece of work,” Oscar says once he’s drifted his attention back to you.

You roll your eyes on instinct, and groan, “Tell me about it, holy shit, Osc. What an asshole. I don’t know if he was just stupid or legit didn’t know a single thing about me.”

“Mm,” Oscar hums in agreement, “and I like how no one asked you a single question after that. Way to go guys, that’s exactly how you show your support.”

You roll your eyes, still smiling a little at the contented feeling you’ve got in your chest, “I know, right. Trust, they all got on their keyboards afterwards to wax lyrical about how deserving I am of my seat. It’d be fucken’ nice if they acted like it during press conferences.”

“Yeaah,” he sighs, half-laugh, half-exhale, “It’s unfair.”

“Fucken' right,” you gripe, tipping your head back and letting a slip of fizzy beer cascade down your throat— the alcohol, though meagre, leaves you feeling loose, a little reckless, “It sucks Osc. God, I just want to be respected. If I had a dick and balls I’d be fucking killing it, dude. This is my rookie season, I’ve been scoring points every race. Except for the DNF, which was not my fault. But, fuck me, they don’t give a shit.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stave off the angry tears that are sitting behind your eyelids, threatening. When you open them Oscar is staring at you, frowning, his brown eyes huge and sparkling and sympathetic. They’re like a black hole you want to fall into. Your heart squeezes. He’s so— ugh. Quickly, your mind supplies about a hundred answers to that question: sweet, cute, nice, adorable. Something stutters in your chest and you feel your cheeks starting to grow hot. That slow-burn smile of Oscar’s starts on his face, and you watch dimples form on his cheeks.

The moment is quickly ruined by a particularly nasally Italian accent that you vaguely recognise, “You know,” it says, clearly talking to you, “You should make sure to watch your tone. You never know who could be listening.”

Mood thoroughly dampened, you turn to face the interruption. It turns out to be one of the numerous men on the grid who won’t shut up about you, sharing unsolicited opinions left and right. He has his arms crossed against his chest and a smug expression on his face, as if he’s just caught you doing something terrible— instead of simply complaining about the subpar treatment you’re afforded.

He’s not worth your time whatsoever but God you’re angry. Maybe it’s just been too much shit on top of shit today but you cannot deal reasonably with this man right now— and you are not afforded the luxury of not acting reasonably toward someone like this, no matter how much of a dickhead they are. You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. Close it and bite down on your bottom lip so nothing accidentally slips out. You’re trying to fish a semi-civil sentence out of a sea of fuck you fuck you fuck you on repeat and it’s not working.

“Are you threatening her?” Oscar asks, a dangerous lilt to his tone, and somewhere in the pulse of anger, you think this is the happiest you’ve ever been to hear his voice, “Because, I am pretty sure your team principal would not be pleased to hear that you’re going around threatening one of Mercedes’ drivers.”

He scoffs, trying to play it off, but you think you register a little bit of worry somewhere in there— Oscar can be threatening when he wants to be and McLaren are not exactly nobodies in this sport right now, “Please, I am not threatening her. I am just telling her that she needs to watch her mouth.”

“Right,” Oscar nods, mouth pinching, “Sure. Well, it would be our word against yours and I’m fairly sure your team principal would believe two drivers over you right now. Especially with that history, you’ve got, dude.”

A little thrill goes up your spine as his face goes white as a sheet. Oscar’s talking about the nice little list of comments he’s made that you’ve reported to your team and an FIA representative— which you’ve taken to doing every time anyone starts up a pattern of saying things about you or to you. They’re to cover your ass honestly, so you can’t be accused of making things up if push comes to shove. You’re sure they’ve made their way back to him and his boss; you’re glad they’ve made an impact (but perhaps not enough to stop him outright).

He sniffs, a nervous edge to his words, “I am not threatening her.”

“Okay. Apologise.”

“Excuse me?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, “If you’re not threatening her, apologise.”

You bite the inside of your lip and grip the neck of your near-empty beer bottle tighter. Alright, Oscar can be scary. Noted. Very much noted.

“I—” He quickly thinks better of protesting and looks at you, lips pursed in a thin angry line, “I apologise.”

He looks at Oscar, Oscar looks at you. You shrug and nod. Good enough. You don’t need him to grovel, you think he’s been sufficiently humiliated already. Although, before he scampers off into the crowd at Oscar’s approval, you manage a dry, “You think I need to watch my tone now?”

He scowls, but says, “No,” anyway.

Then he stalks off into the throng of people.

You relax more the further that he gets away from the two of you. The tension dissipates into something warm and charged with a different kind of electricity entirely. You ignore the unease that tries to take root in your stomach and instead focus on Oscar at your side.

“That was—” you scrub a hand over your face, starting your sentence again, “Hm.”

Oscar sigh-laughs again, “Yeah, what an asshole.”

“Thank you,” you say meaning it wholeheartedly, “No one’s done something like that for me before.”

Oscar looks down at you, frowning, he shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” you answer, feeling bold as you put a hand on his bicep in an attempt to express how grateful you feel for him, for what he’d done for you, “It’s really not, Osc.”

He’s quiet, staring at you with big brown sparkling eyes for a long long moment. A long moment in which you fantasise about reaching upward and pulling his face down to yours, feeling his lips against your own. They’d be soft, you think— his hair would be too. You don’t think about it and you resolutely ignore the tug low in your gut.

“You deserve it,” he says eventually, loud enough that you can hear it, but not anyone else, “You are killing it, by the way.”

You breathe a laugh, “Yeah, I’d better be.”

You squeeze gently at his bicep, feeling the sinewed muscle underneath his dress shirt. Then you let your hand drop, trailing absently down his arm as you do so. Your fingers brush his hand, and he catches yours before it's out of reach at your side. Purposefully, he threads your fingers with his, squeezing firmly and brushing his thumb tenderly over your knuckle. You feel a little lightheaded when he lets go.

You sigh, masking the out-of-breath quality of your voice, “I need another drink.”

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes, “Me too, I reckon.”

🏎️ title taken from this song :)

[hamilton-here]

Lewis said unless you see him holding hand with someone he's single. And I thought it was silly at first until I realized he actually does do that. No matter how many people he's been seen with he didn't hold hands

So it got me thinking. Dating. Having a great time. Being seen in various places, not hiding, maybe even dancing or looking intimate, but the lack of hand holding in public makes you wonder if it's as serious for him as it is for you

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈 𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒰𝓈

Authors Note: Hi all! Here's another request. I'm trying my best to gets these completed. Enjoy! Lots of love xx

Summary: Love hidden in the shadows finally steps into the light, sealed with an unspoken promise in the grip of his hand.

Warnings: slight angst

Taglist: @hannibeeblog @nebulastarr @cosmichughes @piston-cup

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

There was something endlessly surreal about Monaco, a city built like a dreamscape on the edge of the Mediterranean.

The early afternoon sun lent a shimmering glow to the harbour, where million-dollar yachts floated like jewelled sculptures against the deep blue sea. Every surface seemed to catch the light, from the glossy decks of the boats to the elegant curves of the pastel buildings lining the waterfront.

Even the air was charged with magic; the salt-sweet breeze mingled with the distant hum of revving engines and the gentle clink of champagne glasses, composing a symphony of luxury and hope. In that moment, reality and fantasy danced together in perfect harmony.

Inside the Ferrari hospitality lounge, the atmosphere was equally intoxicating - a carefully curated blend of high octane energy and refined elegance. You stood close to Lewis Hamilton, the thrill of the season and your own hopeful heart converging in a snapshot that felt both timeless and breathtakingly immediate.

His hand, warm and reassuring, grazed the small of your back. That subtle, deliberate touch wasn’t overbearing but instead spoke of silent promises and shared confidences, a reminder that for this rare moment, you were no longer an observer but an integral part of his captivating world.

“Y/N, this is Charles,” Lewis announced with a casual ease that belied the intensity of the day. He gestured toward a well-dressed Ferrari driver whose effortless charm was apparent in every detail from his hair still dripping with hints of summer’s sun, his team polo a faded yet proud testament to a long day of racing.

The lounge around you buzzed with quiet celebration and camaraderie as the interplay of laughter and banter filled the expansive room, its modern design accentuated by sleek furnishings and artful lighting that softened the edges of reality into something like a well-rehearsed dream.

You extended your hand, and Charles’s grip conveyed a warmth that was both professional and friendly. “Big congrats today. P2 at home? You must be proud,” you said. His laughter, the kind that crinkled his eyes with mischief filled the space between you, and for a moment, the usual tension of the racing world seemed to dissolve into mirth.

Charles quickly added, “Merci. But don’t say that too loud he’s already made ten jokes about how I only beat him by half a second.” Lewis’s playful scoff beside you deepened the moment, a banter about fractions and racing margins that was as much a part of the sport as the roar of engines on the track. Every exchanged word carried the weight of years in the high-octane, adrenaline-soaked world of Formula 1.

Even as conversation danced effortlessly from one topic to another, Lewis’s hand remained a constant, grounding presence. It slid knowingly further around your waist, his thumb pressing softly against your hip as if to claim the intimacy of the moment without intrusion.

That touch was not possessive in its intensity more a tender reminder that, in this fleeting constellation of laughter and shared stories, you were cherished and seen. It was a subtle, physical punctuation that underscored everything spoken in whispered jokes and warm smiles.

Soon, Angela arrived, her presence a beacon of calm amid the swirling excitement. With eyes that understood unspoken truths and a smile that spoke of countless shared moments, she greeted you warmly. “So, this is the famous Y/N,” she said, extending a hand that resonated with sincerity.

The gentle teasing that followed “She’s the reason I sleep on flights now,” Lewis added with a roguish grin only deepened the sense of belonging. Angela’s smirk in response, laced with gratitude for the reminder of balanced lives even in the midst of high-speed pressure, made you feel embraced not merely as a guest but as an integral part of this inner circle.

As the afternoon unfolded like a series of sun-dappled snapshots, every detail was etched into memory. Champagne glasses toasted amid the gentle murmurs of journalists buzzing like inquisitive bees, capturing every moment as if it were already part of a legend.

Across the room, Lewis would occasionally cast his gaze in your direction a look so soft and steady that it conveyed a silent conversation beyond words.

Over time, you’d come to know all the layers of his expressions: the public persona, the flash for the cameras and the rare private look reserved exclusively for you. That look carried a quiet devotion that transformed the chaotic symphony of sport and celebrity into something deeply personal and achingly intimate.

Later in the evening, the celebration migrated to a rooftop restaurant high above Monte Carlo. Tucked away from the persistent buzz of crowds, the venue felt like a universe unto itself.

The panoramic view was almost otherworldly: below, the glittering contours of the city curved gracefully around the bay. The sky, an indigo velvet punctuated by the faint shimmer of distant stars, was perfumed with the scent of citrus blossoms and sea breeze.

At the centre of a long, elegantly set table sat Charles, basking in the afterglow of his hard-won triumph. Yet even in this ambiance of collective celebration, Lewis’s attention remained solely on you.

Seated closely, you could feel the heat of his presence with a hand resting lightly on your thigh under the table, his thumb moving with deliberate, comforting circles along the hem of your silk dress. Every tender stroke elicited a cascade of sensations, as if each touch was intricately designed to write new verses onto the canvas of your skin.

When you shifted in your seat, he leaned in with a softness that belied the intensity of his racing life. His lips brushed the delicate shell of your ear, and his voice, husky with the remnants of fine wine and the warmth of the moment, murmured, “You look unreal tonight. I can’t believe I got you to come here with me.” The intimacy of his words was such that each syllable resonated deep within you affirming your place in his chaotic world.

You returned the closeness with a gentle smile and a teasing murmur, “You didn’t get me to. I wanted to.” That playful exchange of desires and compliments was like a private dance, one choreographed by hearts that had long learned the language of whispered promises.

Before long, after dessert had been savoured and the second bottle of wine was nearly an empty relic of the indulgence of the evening, a mellifluous, familiar tune began to waft through the rooftop.

It was a jazzy, modern reinterpretation of a classic perhaps a Sinatra remix or a soulful French cover that seemed to cast a spell over the gathering. With practiced ease, Lewis stood and tugged you away from your seat. “We’re dancing?” you asked with a mixture of surprise and delight, your eyes wide under the gentle glow of fairy lights strung haphazardly yet elegantly overhead.

His response was imbued with effortless charm. “You don’t want to?” he teased, laughter in his tone. Together, you moved into an open space between tables, where the emission of soft, glittering lights resembled falling stars.

As you swayed slowly to the rhythm of the music, his hand settled low on your back a quiet assertion of presence and a delicate interplay of touches began.

One of his fingers lightly toyed with the delicate strap of your dress while his other hand maintained an unbroken connection with yours, creating a silent harmony akin to an unspoken promise.

In between the gentle sways and soft murmurs of the night, you leaned closer, your head resting against his steady chest. “Do you ever get tired of this?” you whispered, voice soft and contemplative. “The cameras, the chaos, the relentless schedule?” His reply was equally hushed; a message meant only for you.

“Sometimes. But then I have nights like this, and I remember why I keep going.” As his warm, soulful eyes met yours, the unspoken question lingered, “Because of me?” He didn’t smile or laugh; instead, his gaze grew more profound a quiet acknowledgment, a secret only shared between your hearts. “Yeah,” he finally said, the single word carrying a universe of meaning. “Because of you.”

In that timeless moment on the rooftop amid the whispered cadence of a familiar song and the soft brilliance of starlight, the chaos of the world seemed to pause. It was more than a fleeting interlude.

It was an affirmation that beyond the glare of the cameras and the roar of engines, there was a hidden world of deep, unspoken connection of a world where dreams and reality blurred so beautifully that every heartbeat, every whispered word, became a shared testament to life’s profound, unfolding romance.

As the night deepened, every detail etched itself into memory: the delicate interplay of light and shadow, the cadence of gentle laughter, and the steady, comforting rhythm of Lewis’s heartbeat as he held you close.

What began as a dream of Monaco had evolved into an exquisite reality one where the magic lay not solely in the shimmering landscapes or the glamour of the race circuit, but in the quiet, transformative moments found in the eyes of someone who saw you, truly saw you.

And as the scene continued to unfold, each unfolding layer promised that this night was just the beginning of an unforgettable journey into a world where passion, destiny, and unyielding devotion intertwined.

Perhaps, deep down, you realised that in every fleeting touch and every shared secret glance, there was the beginning of a story that transcended the dazzling chaos of public life a story that would forever echo like a cherished melody long after the lights had dimmed and the engines had fallen silent.

But even perfect nights have to end.

You stepped out of the restaurant into the soft, humming buzz of Monte Carlo’s nightlife. The city’s pulse quickened in the cool air, its streets shimmering under the glow of scattered city lights.

A small cluster of photographers waited at the curb, their cameras raised in a silent, expectant vigil and present, not aggressive, as if their very existence were woven into the fabric of Monaco’s storied allure.

Lewis, ever alert to the world beyond your shared moment, caught sight of them immediately. His posture straightened ever so slightly, an unspoken signal of caution.

For a brief, measured moment, his hand remained against your lower back a lingering caress that spoke of intimacy and promise just one breath…two…before, as the first flashes ignited the darkness, his touch softly evaporated.

There you were side by side each step measured and deliberate, your shoulders almost, but never quite, brushing in a transient closeness that the cameras eagerly recorded. The flashes stuttered in relentless rhythm, capturing a scene that was both beautiful and bittersweet.

Lewis gave a polite, almost ritualistic nod to one of the photographers before slipping into the backseat of a waiting blacked-out car. Your heels clicked quietly along the pavement as you followed, each step echoing the whisper of an unspoken question lingering in the charged air.

Inside the car, an almost sacred hush enveloped you both. The door closed with a soft finality, sealing you off from the public eyes and intrusive flashes. In that cocoon of soft leather, dim lighting, and whispered secrets of the night, Lewis reached for you.

This time, he resting his hand on your inner thigh a gesture that told a story of private intimacy far removed from the calculated choreography of the public stage. You gazed down at his hand a quiet symbol of unity in the shadowed sanctuary of the car, a solace that felt achingly vital, if only away from the demanding glare of the world.

Back at the hotel, the night's rituals unfolded with an intimacy that had long been reserved for whispered moments behind closed doors. You moved through your private routine shoes shed with relief, a dress unzipped to reveal the warmth of unburdened skin, hair loosely falling around your shoulders all the while a silent transition from public performance to personal vulnerability.

Across the room, Lewis, now relaxed in black sweatpants and a plain white tee, regarded you with a face that was unreadable yet familiar, an enigmatic blend of fatigue and tenderness only the night could temper.

When you finally crawled under the soft, rumpled sheets beside him, a quiet exchange took over. He lifted the covers without a word, inviting you into the haven of his presence. His arm found your waist with a reverence that was both familiar and safe, holding you firmly in a space where the chaos of cameras and public expectations no longer intruded.

Outside, the window stood slightly ajar, allowing a gentle sea breeze to drift in, a reminder that even within these moments of solace, the world outside continued its relentless dance, its lights still sparkling like tiny beacons of endless possibility.

Yet as you lay there in the intimate silence, with your head resting on his steady chest and his fingers tracing a soft line along your hip under the duvet, a quiet disquiet began to pulse in the corners of your mind. A thought, delicate yet persistent, unfurled within you: he never holds your hand in public. Not in the paddock, not at airports, not tonight when the cameras lie in wait even a few feet away.

You tried to dismiss the thought, whispering to yourself that it wasn’t important, that his desire for privacy was a choice born of necessity, a protective measure for both of you in a world that demanded perfection in every public gesture.

And yet, belief and doubt coexisted within you, twinned emotions that tugged at your heart. The truth was, in these rare, measured encounters, you didn’t feel completely hidden but you also didn’t feel entirely claimed. The closeness that should set your heart aflame was tempered by an unyielding wall of calculated reserve, a space where real connection and public expectation clashed.

In your mind’s eye, you saw the photos already being posted online: you beside him, smiling in the ephemeral glow of fame but never truly touching.

That minute gap between your hands was a silent canvas upon which the world would paint its own interpretations and speculations, leaving you to wonder if the unspoken distance was a mark of indifference or simply another facet of his guarded nature.

As sleep began to weave its gentle spell, you noticed his fingers twitch in slumber, curling around your waist as though trying to bridge that elusive gap even in the quiet of the night. You closed your eyes and told yourself it didn’t matter just one fleeting moment in a long night.

But deep in the unvarnished honesty of the dark, you knew that it did. The space between borrowed intimacy and true belonging was etched in every small gesture, a tender paradox that left your heart aching for certainty amidst an otherwise perfect night.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Los Angeles unfolded beneath a blazing sun that transformed the sprawling urban landscape into a living, glittering canvas. The Pacific Ocean below shimmered; its surface scattered with flecks of sunlight like spilled diamonds on boundless, vivid blue.

Every building and avenue sparkled, and you felt as if you were perched on the edge of a secret world, elevated above the relentless energy of the city. The heat in the air carried a hint of salt and promise, echoing the spirit of a place where ambition and beauty collided.

On the rooftop of a sleek hotel your private perch above the city’s relentless pulse, you sat side by side with Lewis. Your legs dangled over the edge, free and unburdened as the expansive mosaic of glass and steel spread out below.

Lewis’s arm draped casually, almost possessively, around your shoulders. His touch was deliberate and warm, inviting you closer until the heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of your dress.

It was as if every gesture carried the weight of tenderness and desire, a silent promise in a public world that so often demanded restraint. In that instant, the boundaries between you blurred, and every glance, every shared smile, became a vow written against the backdrop of the Los Angeles sun.

He cracked one of his trademark dry, effortless jokes, a quip that seemed to float effortlessly in the open air. You laughed, your sound light and genuine, echoing in harmony with the distant city sounds. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the soft lines there hinting at both mischief and affection, and for a fleeting moment, the entire world shrank to just the two of you. Bathed in golden sunlight, every worry dissolved into the warmth of that perfect companionship.

Later, tucked away in a quiet corner of a bustling café, the vibrant cacophony of the city softened to a subdued murmur. The hum of conversations and the clatter of coffee cups created a rhythmic backdrop, while outside, the urban chaos faded into a gentle hum. Here, in this small sanctuary, Lewis’s presence felt even more intimate.

He reached out with unhurried tenderness, his fingers brushed a stray lock of your hair with a featherlight caress, tucking it behind your ear as if to banish any vestige of disorder. His lips soon followed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple that was both grounding and electrifying, a moment of private magic amid the public noise.

But reality beckoned when you stepped back into the crowded streets. The day had transformed into a parade of paparazzi shadows stretching long and imposing along the avenues.

Despite the lingering warmth between you, Lewis’s hand never sought yours. The space between your fingers felt calculated, an unspoken message that even the most authentic connection was subject to the merciless gaze of the public.

The day’s rhythm marched on with back-to-back fashion events, glittering nights where Lewis was celebrated as the undeniable star and you were his elegant, enigmatic companion, the perfect picture of sophistication and grace.

Cameras flashed relentlessly, capturing every artfully composed moment of your poised figures. You both smiled for the lenses, eyes sparkling under the glare of the spotlight. Yet, behind those glamorous images, the tactile intimacy you craved was masked by carefully choreographed gestures, leaving nothing more than the faint memory of the closeness you truly desired.

Then came Paris, an intoxicating interlude bathed in the soft glow of twilight. Nights drenched in gold light, where streetlamps cast long, mysterious shadows on ancient cobblestones and the Seine flowed beneath your balcony like liquid silver. In the cool embrace of a Parisian night, you lay tangled in crisp white sheets, the softness against your skin a pleasing counterpoint to the lingering heat of desire.

Lewis’s lips trailed featherlight kisses along your collarbone as his fingers wove gently through your hair, drawing you closer. In that private universe, he whispered your name like a cherished secret, and for one radiant moment, you believed that the night, and the city, belonged solely to the two of you.

Yet, even on that enchanting balcony, reality reasserted itself. The night air grew sharp and biting, its chill contrasting with the intimate heat inside the room.

There you stood side by side, with the warm glow of the interior casting long shadows, and the cool metal of the balcony railing mere inches away from your fingertips. It was a tantalising proximity, a constant reminder of the longing to bridge the gap between you. Lewis’s breath was warm against your bare shoulder as his fingers traced the curve of your arm with tender reverence, leaving a trail of shivers that sparked an ache deep within you.

When you wanted nothing more than to close that space to intertwine your fingers in a silent promise of belonging the public eye forced a restraint. The unyielding truth was written in the spaces between your hands, the spaces that remained unclaimed and unspoken. And then, as if echoing the silent judgment of the world, the internet began to whisper its own version of the truth.

Beneath the carefully curated photos of your glamorous trips and radiant nights, comments started to pour in, digital whispers that questioned the absence of a simple act of intimacy.

“He’s with her again, but he never holds her hand. What’s the deal?” one comment read.

Others chimed in with doubts: “Cute but must be casual. No PDA.”

“They look perfect, but no hand holding? Suspicious.”

Each comment, intended to dissect and define your relationship, tightened around your chest like an unyielding band. Every scroll through the online gallery stoked the quiet ache of unfulfilled longing, each digital glance accentuating that chasm between what was shown and what was felt.

Videos only deepened the wound. One clip showed you both in a crowded club laughing, breathless from a kiss that was all-consuming. In that fervent moment, his hands tangled in your hair and your fingers pressed fervently against his chest, the heat of his touch promised a bond that transcended all pretence.

And yet, even in those moments of raw passion, the simplistic yet essential act of holding hands never materialised. Another backstage clip, recorded at a concert, captured you leaning in close with quiet smiles. His arm circled your waist protectively, while yours traced the lines of his shoulder. His fingers curled around your wrist in a lingering, tentative gesture but they never, ever clasped firmly or interlocked in the way that whispered a public claim of love.

The unspoken rule was clear: passion was shown in fleeting fragments, but true intimacy, the kind that binds hearts together, was reserved for private moments far from the limelight.

In that silent Parisian moment, Lewis turned to you slowly, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your arm with a reverence that belied the bustling chaos behind you. His lips, soft and deliberate, pressed a tender kiss onto your bare shoulder, sending a shiver of yearning down your spine.

Your heart fluttered uncontrollably, and you found yourself whispering his name, voice fragile and laden with hope. His intense gaze locked with yours, deep and steady - a window into a vulnerability he rarely exposed in public but even then, the words you longed to speak remained caught in your throat.

Later that evening, in the luminous grandeur of a grand cinema lobby that gleamed like a crystal cavern, your emotions found no respite. Walls of polished marble and glittering chandeliers cast fractured rainbows across a sea of tuxedos and sequinned gowns.

Amid the intoxicating blend of expensive perfume and the lingering allure of cologne, you tugged nervously at the delicate strap of your dress, its silky fabric offering little defence against the raw vulnerability simmering inside you. The steady pulse of flashing cameras and whispered conversations created an overwhelming sense of exposure, as if every eye was scrutinising the spaces you dared not fill.

Beside you, Lewis appeared as a figure of impeccable elegance - tailored to perfection in a suit of inky black. His sharp jaw and tight, unreadable lips concealed the inner turmoil that only you sensed.

As you moved through the parted crowd a corridor of eager anticipation lined with velvet ropes and flurries of media chatter - the sting of your unfulfilled longing grew even more acute. You looked over and caught sight of Charles and Alexandra, effortlessly radiant in their public display of affection. Their interlaced fingers and warm, unguarded touches formed a stark contrast to the careful reserve that defined your every shared public moment with Lewis.

In that glittering moment, your eyes stung with the realisation of what was missing. His hand rested on your waist firm yet detached an anchor that bound you physically but left your heart adrift in a sea of unmet desire. With trembling resolve, you reached out, your fingers searching for his in a silent plea. The electric tension in that gesture spoke volumes, echoing your desperate need for the simplest affirmation of connection a declaration that you were, indeed, his.

Yet even as you reached for his hand, the unyielding rules of a life under constant scrutiny held you captive. The tender, unambiguous promise of entwined fingers remained as elusive as a whispered secret.

Outside, in every carefully edited image and every fleeting moment captured by unwelcome lenses, the gap persisted an invisible chasm that echoed with the unspoken truth of your longing. And though passion surmounted the shadows in the quiet intimacy behind the scenes, the public world still demanded complete restraint.

In that charged convergence of glamour, desire, and unyielding restraint, you stood on the precipice of vulnerability. Every touch, every nearly connected hand, deepened your yearning for a simple, honest gesture a silent claim of belonging that would bridge the space between your hearts.

And as the flash of cameras faded into a chorus of whispers and glowing screens, the truth remained: it was the spaces between your fingers that spoke the loudest of unspoken promises, and in their absence, your heart ached with a longing too profound to ever be fully satisfied.

But he didn’t take it.

His hand remained exactly where it had been steady on your waist, a silent promise of protection and intimacy but it never moved to meet your outstretched fingers. Every step he took was resolute and calm, each stride full of a confident purpose that contrasted sharply with the aching uncertainty in your own heart. Your hand hovered in the empty space between you, charged with a desperate need for a simple touch that could bridge the distance, yet it was met only by cool, unsympathetic air.

Your throat tightened, and an icy message of hurt spread like frost through your chest. Each beat of your heart echoed the quiet betrayal of a longing unmet, and you swallowed hard, forcing away the sudden, heavy lump of sorrow that threatened to overwhelm you. Your smile was flawless, a practiced expression painted for the unsuspecting eyes of the world, but beneath its perfect façade, a relentless, quiet storm raged.

Inside the darkened theatre, the colossal screen bathed the room in a soft, hypnotic glow, a sanctuary where time seemed to slow just enough for your senses to catch fleeting moments of solace. The air was redolent with the comforting aroma of buttered popcorn mingled with a delicate hint of expensive cologne; interwoven with that was the faintest trace of your own perfume - a fragile shield that you clung to against an onslaught of emotions.

As the film flickered to life, a thrilling montage of speed, passion, and victory danced before you, the roar of engines and flashes of triumphant celebrations unfolding like a dream that hovered just beyond the edge of your grasp.

Lewis settled beside you, and even in the subdued light, you could feel the warmth of his body brushing against your arm. His presence was unspoken yet palpable, a shield against the encroaching reality outside the theatre’s walls.

He shifted slightly, his shoulder nudging yours in a tentative gesture that was both reassuring and achingly distant at the same time. You leaned in imperceptibly; the soft, cool silk of your dress whispered its secrets against the fabric of his suit as you rested your head gently on his shoulder, seeking comfort in the fleeting intimacy of shared space.

For a precious moment, the world outside faded away. In that delicate pause, you felt the slow exhalation of his breath against your cheek, the steady, reassuring beat of his heart a silent counterpoint to your own troubled pulse. Your fingers twitched instinctively, curling inward as they brushed lightly against his arm, silently pleading for a reassurance that might fill the growing void.

Then, as if orchestrating the next note in an unresolved symphony, Lewis shifted again. His hand slid up, coming to rest possessively on your thigh, a small but deliberate touch that sent a spark of warmth rushing like electricity through your veins.

You dared to meet his gaze in the low light, searching desperately for an unspoken affirmation hidden behind the calm, measured mask he wore. But his eyes flickered away, leaving you suspended in a silent question as you grappled with the stubborn distance between expectation and reality.

All the while, the film continued its relentless play: engines screamed across the screen; racers pushed themselves to the very edge; celebrations erupted in bursts of adrenaline and joy. Yet between each beat of the action, the quiet void between you was heavier than the roar of the depicted cheers. Your heart clenched with a desperate ache.

You longed for the simple act of entwining your fingers, a silent proclamation of togetherness that would shatter the brittle barrier of public restraint. But that touch never came. Instead, you were left reaching out into empty space, where hope and hurt mingled in the shadows, leaving you to wonder if the closeness you so desperately craved was ever truly within reach.

The ride home was swallowed by silence.

You bit your lip until it stung, each sharp bite a small distraction from the weight that pressed relentlessly on your chest. The tears simmered beneath your closed eyes, burning hot and ready to spill yet you pressed your jaw together, battling the swell of pain that threatened to burst forth.

Your hands lay limp in your lap, and you absentmindedly traced restless, uneven patterns along the delicate folds of your dress. Each touch against the soft fabric reminded you of the closeness you craved, a reminder that comfort had slipped through your fingers like sand.

The silence persisted dense, suffocating, and imbued with an intensity that nearly stole your breath away. Finally, as the oppressive quiet clawed at your resolve, you broke it.

“Do you not want people to think we’re serious?” you whispered, your voice low and trembling, as though the simple question carried both your hope and your despair. The words hung in the air between you like a wisp of smoke charged and dangerous, each syllable a bold challenge to the status quo of your encounters.

Lewis stiffened. His fingers tightened around the cool, unyielding armrest, as if that one physical object alone could anchor him against the storm of your words.

He did not meet your gaze immediately. Instead, his silence spoke volumes each stilled muscle, each calculated pause radiated tension beneath his calm exterior. When he finally answered, his voice was slow, measured, and meticulously chosen, as if each word were a precise incision meant to avoid inflicting further wounds.

“I just like keeping some things private,” he said, his tone almost flat, revealing nothing more than a carefully guarded boundary. His words crashed into you like a cold wave, icy and unwelcome. Behind your eyes, the threat of tears flickered into existence, but you swallowed them down, fighting the humiliation and the sting of rejection that cut so deeply.

“So, we’re private,” you murmured, your voice gaining a shaky steadiness even as the ache deepened, “but only when it’s inconvenient? Only when it suits you to hide us away?” Each word was laced with both indignation and vulnerability a plea for recognition that rang hollow in the lingering stillness that followed.

The ensuing quiet was almost tangible; a heavy blanket of unspoken sorrow that pressed down with every shallow breath you drew. The distance between you felt like an endless canyon, a widening chasm you weren’t sure you’d ever know how to cross.

In that charged calm, Lewis’s jaw set tighter still. His silence, now more resounding than any words could ever be, filled the space between you like a presence all its own. The car slowly decelerated as it neared the hotel, the city’s nocturnal pulse dimming in the distance. Every red light and abrupt stop echoed the dissonance in your heart.

Once the car rolled to a stop, the elevator ride up into the hotel felt interminable. Each soft ding marking a floor rose like a reluctant heartbeat within your chest, the sound magnifying the loneliness of the journey. And then, when the elevator doors finally opened into your suite, darkness and quiet swallowed you whole.

Inside the room, the bed once a haven of warmth and safety now seemed vast and empty, a cold expanse that mirrored the void inside you. You curled into yourself on one side, turning away from the door and from him, the coolness of the sheets a stark counterpoint to the burning ache in your heart.

You stared blankly at the ceiling as time crawled by, each slow second stretching into an eternity heavy with longing and unmet desire. In that dim, oppressive silence, every beat of your heart whispered a painful truth the tender touch of belonging, the reassurance of being seen and claimed, was a solace still so far away.

Because love - real and true love should never feel like this. It should not be confined to secret glances or stolen whispers in the dark. Yet even now, as you lay there numb and alone amidst the cold, unyielding silence of your room, you yearned for that simple, undeniable touch.

The touch that says, “You are mine. Here. Now. Always.” But tonight, and every night like it, that touch remained just out of reach a promise suspended in the quiet storm of your own aching solitude.

Time slipped through your fingers like fine sand too fast to hold, yet painfully slow when you tried to grasp it. Days bled into nights, and nights into mornings, with the moments in between becoming a blur of half-remembered conversations and rehearsed smiles. The weeks stretched endlessly, like a film on repeat, scenes played over and over but somehow missing the heart of the story.

You and Lewis still talked. You still spent time together. The rituals remained: shared dinners in quiet corners of restaurants, whispered goodnights over the phone, the casual brush of his hand against yours when you walked side by side.

But the spark, the current of electricity that once crackled between youhad dimmed to a faint flicker, a weak pulse struggling to stay alive beneath the weight of everything else.

At first, you told yourself it was just nerves. The constant glare of the cameras, the endless buzz of public scrutiny, the strain of schedules that pulled him away so often. Maybe you were imagining things, reading too deeply into the silences and the spaces.

That night in the cinema lobby replayed in your mind again and again how you reached for his hand and found only empty air. Maybe you had overreacted. Maybe your heart, fragile and raw, had twisted a simple moment of distraction into something darker.

And yet, the gnawing doubt in the pit of your stomach wouldn’t quiet.

You began to retreat, almost without realising it. The texts you sent became shorter, less frequent. Your laughter sounded hollow, forced, when you spoke to him on the phone. You caught yourself staring at your phone, fingers hovering over the screen for just a moment too long before deciding not to send a message. You wondered did Lewis even notice? Or was the growing space between you something he welcomed, maybe even needed?

The uncertainty became a slow ache, an undercurrent beneath every interaction.

The images flashed across the screen: moments from interviews, race weekends, public events, private glimpses caught by photographers. You saw yourself smiling beside him, leaning in close. His arm draped near your waist, your head resting lightly on his shoulder in one picture. But the closer you looked, the more your breath caught.

There was a pattern you hadn’t noticed before.

In every single photo, your hands hovered near each other but never touched. There was always a gap between your fingers, a deliberate space like an invisible barrier. Palms turned away, fingers poised but never intertwining. You leaned closer, heart pounding, the cold truth laying itself bare before you.

This wasn’t just coincidence. This was distance.

Your chest tightened. A voice you barely recognised whispered from deep within: Am I the only one who ever really wanted to be seen?

The next time you saw Lewis, the air between you felt heavy thick with things left unsaid, with questions you didn’t know how to ask.

He greeted you with his usual calm smile, the one that once made your heart skip. But today, his eyes seemed distant, distracted like part of him was somewhere else entirely.

You took a deep breath, searching for the warmth you longed to find. You reached out instinctively, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear, hoping the small, intimate gesture would crack the cold surface.

He flinched almost imperceptibly, stepping back just enough to keep the gap between you intact. His jaw clenched tightly.

“Hi,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Hey,” he replied, voice low and quiet.

Words caught in your throat like a lump of ice. You swallowed hard, heart pounding in your ears.

“Can we talk?” you whispered.

His gaze flickered away for a long moment, and you thought he might refuse. But then, quietly, he nodded.

You slipped away from the noisy room, seeking the quiet sanctuary of a dimly lit corner where no one could overhear.

“I’ve been feeling…distant,” you admitted, voice trembling despite yourself. “Not just physically. Everything. Like we’re here, but not really together.”

Lewis’s expression darkened for a moment, a flicker of pain crossing his features. Then he softened, his voice careful.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” he said. “I just don’t know how to be any other way right now.”

Your lip trembled as you struggled to hold back tears.

“But you don’t even reach for me anymore,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “You keep your hands on me only just enough to hold the space, not to fill it. And sometimes I wonder if you even notice that I’m pulling away.”

For a long moment, he looked at you really looked at you the way he used to before everything became so complicated. But the vulnerability you hoped for stayed locked behind a calm, guarded facade.

“I notice,” he breathed. “I just don’t know what you want me to do.”

The tears finally spilled over.

“I want to be seen,” you said, voice breaking. “To be claimed. Not just when it’s convenient or private, but always. I want to feel like I matter that I’m not just an accessory or a secret.”

He was silent, the room thick with all the words that neither of you dared say aloud.

But the more you tried, the more elusive the connection became.

In the quiet moments alone, your mind spun with questions you dared not voice.

Is this what love looks like when it’s hidden behind walls?

Is this the price of being with someone like Lewis?

The answers slipped away just when you reached for them.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

You didn’t want to come to Silverstone.

Not really.

The thought twisted your insides like a cold knot tightening, clenched with every memory of what this place meant. The deafening roar of engines that seemed to vibrate through your very bones.

The endless sea of cameras flashing in relentless bursts, like fireflies buzzing too close to your eyes. The throng of fans packed so tightly together you could feel their collective breath and expectation pressing against your skin, suffocating and electric all at once.

This was a battleground you weren’t sure you wanted to enter.

Because beneath the chaos, beneath the cheers and the noise, was the truth you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to face: the distance that had grown between you and Lewis. The conversations left unfinished, words swallowed by silence so heavy it almost broke you. The cautious smiles that no longer reached your eyes, the stolen glances that were quickly averted, the guarded touch that never stayed long enough so many fractured moments chipping away at the fragile bridge you once built between your hearts.

You told yourself you needed space. Time to unravel your tangled thoughts. To shield what little was left of your heart from breaking again. You needed to breathe without the constant question would he reach for you, or look away?

But Angela saw through the walls you built. Always did.

A week ago, she found you alone, pulled you aside. Her eyes steady and unwavering, like a lighthouse cutting through a stormy sea.

“Lewis needs you here,” she said quietly, her voice firm. “More than ever. Your being at Silverstone it means everything to him. To both of you.”

Her certainty was a lifeline, impossible to ignore.

And so, beneath the fear, a fragile thread of hope began to unfurl tentative but real. Maybe this moment, right here, right now, was when things would change. Maybe the space between you would finally collapse.

Now, here you were.

Standing just behind the crowd barrier, the cool British summer breeze teasing the loose strands of your hair back from your face. The smell of freshly cut grass tangled with the sharp, acrid scent of burning rubber and hot motor oil, a cocktail of familiarity that made your chest ache with bittersweet nostalgia.

Your fingers clenched the edge of your jacket, not just to ward off the chill but to steady the wild hammering of your heart, a frantic pounding beneath your ribs.

The engines roared to life.

The sound rippled through the grandstands, thundering into your very core.

The crowd’s roar swelled an unstoppable tidal wave of noise, like a gathering storm, wild and electric and impossible to ignore.

Your gaze flicked back and forth between the cars, a blur of colour, speed and the sea of faces, shouting, cheering, hoping.

Time slowed.

Then—

Lewis crossed the finish line first.

The world erupted.

The crowd exploded into a frenzy, a tidal wave of cheers, whistles, applause so loud it rattled your ribs.

Your breath caught.

Your chest rose and fell with fierce pride so sudden, so intense it almost overwhelmed you.

But beneath that pride, deeper and more unexpected, something stirred.

Relief.

Joy.

A quiet fire you thought had long since burned out.

The team swarmed Lewis like a jubilant army returning from battle, draping him with flags and showering him with champagne that sparkled in the air like shards of victory.

The energy was intoxicating a moment suspended between triumph and noise, where every flash of a camera and every burst of laughter seemed to herald the beginning of something extraordinary. Yet amid all that chaos, as confetti whirled and voices cheered, his eyes found you.

It wasn’t a fleeting glance or the ghost of a smile, it was a look as steady and unyielding as a lighthouse beacon cutting through the wild storm.

His gaze, piercing and raw, filtered through the blinding flashes and the tumult of a roaring crowd. It reached deep into the fragile corners of your heart that had long been shrouded in silence, a part of you that had waited in hope, aching for recognition. In that single, unwavering moment, nothing else existed except the truth of his eyes meeting yours.

Then, defying the expectations of the scripted routine, he stepped away from the safety of the barrier. With measured grace, his racing boots crunched over the scattered gravel, each step echoing like a soft promise of change.

The crowd erupted gasps mingled with a frenzy of camera clicks as if the world had realigned around this singular act. Your heart pounded fiercely; each beat was a mixture of disbelief and yearning, a drumroll that hinted at both the danger and the beauty of breaking free.

You braced yourself for what you’d come to expect: the polite smile, the customary brush of a hand that always felt insufficient, that half-embrace that left you wanting.

But tonight, something was different. As he drew closer, his hand reached out through the space that had always separated you, and then almost as if guided by fate it found yours. His grip was firm and steady, radiating a warmth that melted the distance into nothingness. His fingers interlocked with yours in a way that seemed naturally destined as if they had been waiting for this moment all along.

In that touch, the walls you had built around your heart began to crumble, each barrier dissolving under the gentle insistence of his connection. And the crowd? They noticed immediately. Like a tidal wave breaking the dam of secrecy, the cameras swarmed in rapid succession, fans erupted into cheers that turned into screaming adoration, and whistles shattered the air in celebration.

Phones were raised in unison, capturing this long-awaited, undeniable truth: Lewis Hamilton the enigmatic champion who had always seemed to guard you from the public eye was holding your hand. And he was doing it out in the open, unapologetically, as if no more secrets existed between you.

With a deliberate motion, he lifted your joined hands high between you, as if presenting the sight to the world like a trophy a declaration that this was the moment, that in that very instant you both belonged together. For a heartbeat, the roar of the crowd softened, their noise receding into a distant murmur.

In that crystalline instant, the universe contracted until there was nothing but you and him, standing together in a private sphere fashioned out of raw emotion and unspoken understanding. His touch was like an anchor, steadied by love, grounding you in the midst of an otherwise tumultuous storm.

Then, as if driven by an irresistible compulsion to bridge every gap, Lewis pulled you close. His hand, which had so boldly claimed yours, slipped from its position to gently cup your cheek. You felt his breath, warm and tender, against your skin as his lips brushed lightly against your lips a kiss that carried the weight of promises too profound for words.

In that kiss, there was every unvoiced sentiment: the yearning that had lived in stolen glances, the longing built up over countless nights, and a fierce, raw devotion that set every fibre of your being ablaze. You leaned into him, surrendering to the warmth and safety of that shared, forbidden moment, while the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving only the rhythm of your intertwined hearts.

Later, when the frenzy of cameras and raucous voices had dispersed into the background, you found yourselves in a secluded corner of the paddock bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.

The noise of the day was replaced by a gentle murmur, the light soft and forgiving as it caressed the contours of his face. Lewis’s hands still held yours, his fingers moving with slow, deliberate circles against your skin a quiet, tactile reassurance meant to heal the months of doubt and silence. In that intimate alcove, far from the prying eyes and swirling cameras, you dared to speak.

“Why now?” you whispered, your voice trembling with hope and vulnerability as you searched for an answer in the deep sincerity of his gaze.

For a long moment, his eyes softened, and the defences he had worn for so long began to crumble. “Because” he said slowly, his voice low but unwavering, “I realised I wasn’t protecting us by hiding you. I was only protecting myself from the depth of my own feelings, from the fear of admitting how much I truly cared.” His words were like a warm blanket on a cold night, enveloping you in the comfort you had longed for during endless, lonely hours.

As his admission settled into the quiet space between you, you squeezed his hands tighter, letting your fingers interlace with a silent vow that you would no longer let the barriers of secrecy define your love. “We don’t have to hide anymore,” he murmured, his eyes shining with a fierce determination and the radiant glow of hope.

In that moment, everything shifted. The public spectacle that had once dictated your every move was now secondary to the undeniable truth that spoke directly to your soul.

Outside, the reaction was immediate and explosive. Social media platforms exploded with messages, hashtags, and excited chatter.

“Lewis finally holding her hand at Silverstone 😍 #HamiltonLove,”

“Been waiting months for this moment he’s never looked happier. #Official,”

“#Hamilton’s girl, front and centre. No more hiding, and honestly, about time! 🔥❤️”

Screens lit up with thousands of reactions screenshots, videos, heart emojis transforming timelines into a river of celebration. The world finally bore witness to what had always been true, a revelation that resonated across continents and echoed in the collective joy of millions.

Together, you stepped back into the paddock, hands intertwined and inseparable now no longer a hidden secret, no longer a distance to be bridged. The crowd, the cameras, and the noise of the outside world faded into insignificance beneath the steady, reassuring beat of your connection.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you walked side by side not merely as two individuals caught in fleeting moments of passion, but as two souls who had finally aligned, claiming your love as something indisputable and eternal.

In that final, transformative act of public intimacy, you found everything you had been waiting for: recognition, love, and the power of a touch that said, “You are mine. Here. Now. Always.”

And as the cheers and flashes of cameras blurred into the background of your shared silence, you and Lewis stepped into a future where every whispered doubt would be silenced by the undeniable strength of your united hearts.

[formulakracing]

ii. "think about my offer" - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 2.8k

warnings: cursing, eventual smut, drug & alcohol usage, power imbalances, age gap relationships, flirting, banter, yearning, use of fic tropes, yadayadayada the works

prev. | next.

sypnosis: with the second grand prix of the season well on its way, there is a lot at stake. not only with the race, but other matters as well.

darkness creeps into the motorhome, the lights of the team motorhomes and paddocks illuminating the space. all around you, everything was brushed with a soft white glow. 

his fingers remain under your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact. in the dim light, you can barely make out the glint swimming in his depths. what was it? desperation? anticipation? you weren’t sure. 

toto was a complex man. you were well aware of that. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧˖⁺‧₊˚♡

there were days where you would see him glowering around the mercedes paddock, engaged in heated exchanges with engineers. there were moments where you would watch a glimpse of his radiant grin, dimples and all, as mercedes would successfully place or land a podium. of course you had heard the stories about him and his outbursts. his mood seemed to change in a matter of seconds, especially these days. 

well, could you really blame him? 

mercedes had dominated the world of formula one for so long. with lewis hamilton earning eight world championships, breaking barriers and records along the way, mercedes was the top team. it was a team many drivers dreamed of racing for. when you entered the world of formula one, you could barely get one foot in without hearing the word mercedes or the name lewis hamilton. 

that was until redbull had entered the picture in 2022. 

now, they were struggling to even maintain second place. hell, there were some races where the team would barely make finish without crashing a car. or suffering from a malfunction. 

mercedes was no longer the team. they were on the same level to ferrari and mclaren, fighting tooth and nail for those second and third spots on the podiums. 

additionally, you couldn’t help but face the glaring facts. lewis hamilton was leaving mercedes once the 2024 season was complete. their integral driver, the one who had earned them their reputation, their titles, was making an exit. 

was there something behind that? something more than the speculations and gossip?

however, you squeeze your eyes shut, sucking in a shaky breath. 

“why do you want me on mercedes? these days i feel more like a liability to my team than an asset. i’m sure you just saw the spectacle in the press room.”

“because you’re an inspiration,” the notes in his tone are gentle, “you have inspired so many women to pursue their passions in the world of formula one. not just in terms of racing, but for mechanics, engineers, journalists. you have encouraged so many people to do what they love. you are confident. you know your talents and you utilize them. you have so much fucking potential and it makes me so irrationally angry that james does not see that.”

brows furrowing, your hand grasps toto’s wrist, pulling it away from your face, “does this have something to do with james? it’s common knowledge that you like to hold grudges, toto.”

the principal coughs slightly, “that may have something to do with it.”

“then my answer is no,” venom oozes out of your words, “i’m not some pawn to be used as a ‘fuck you’ to james for leaving mercedes. i’m not taking any part in that. i’m going to need you to leave.”

“that’s fine,” toto nods, responding coolly, “i figured you’d react this way. you are extremely close with james.”

“well no shit,” you mutter, pointing towards the door, “mr. wolff, i am going to ask you kindly once again. please leave.”

“i will,” placing a hand on your shoulder, toto locks eyes with you once more, “think about my deal, little dove. in the meantime, i’ll be waiting.”

“waiting for what?”

“if you’ll accept my deal,” his thumb massages along your collarbone, “you didn’t say yes, but you didn’t say no. i can tell you’re considering it.”

“you’re stubborn,” you retaliate, yet the pressure along your collarbone is relieving, the sore muscles relaxing, “they weren’t wrong about that.”

“i am quite the stubborn man, schatz,” toto can sense your exterior crumbling as his hand glides towards your shoulder blade, massaging gently. 

“i know you’re manipulating me with your extremely good looks and nice hands.”

“and yet,” toto’s voice is low and he leans in, mouth hovering by your ear, “you’re falling for it.”

“are you flirting with me, toto wolff?”

“maybe i am,” his breath fans against your ear as his hand delves lower, fingertips brushing along your ribcage, “it seems to be working. look at you, nearly crumpling to your knees at my touch. how long has it been since a man has touched you like this, schatz?”

it takes everything in you not to let out a groan as his hand rests on the small of your back, “y-you need to leave.”

“i will this time,” he murmurs, “but consider my offer, little dove.”

a vibration on the countertop interrupts the principal. snapping out of your trance, you pluck your phone, the illuminated screen notifying you that you had a couple of missed calls, and numerous text messages. 

one particularly caught your eye. 

it was daniel. 

i’m going to be on my way in five. i hope you’re okay. i know you probably don’t want to talk about the press conference very much, but we can just cuddle or something. 

“oh fuck.”

toto towers over you, eyes scanning over your phone, “i take it that is my cue to leave.”

“your cue to leave was fifteen minutes ago,” your tone is dry, yet he cracks a smile. 

“i hope you know i’m going to keep pestering you until you give me an answer. have a good night, little dove. i’ll see you around, yeah?”

“sure,” you respond. placing two hands on his back, you give him a small push, “you need to go before daniel thinks something weird is going on.” 

“is he your boyfriend or something?” toto obliges to your action, the austrian beginning to stroll towards the door of the motorhome. 

for him, the exit was merely a few strides. but fuck, was he sticking around. daniel was going to be there in a matter of seconds. who knew what would happen if they happened to cross paths. 

similar to toto, daniel was not one to let things go. 

“no!” you snap, “leaaaavveee!”

“fine, fine,” toto huffs, “think about my offer, schatz. i will see you around.”

as the principal slides out of the door, you bring a hand to your temple, massaging it. 

what the actual fuck just happened?

seconds later, a series of knocks breaks the silence. 

“come in!”

daniel peeks his head in, concern painting his features as he notices your state, “why are you still in your suit?”

shrugging you point to your phone, “i was in the middle of an intense phone call when you texted.”

“ah,” he opens the door, a bottle of wine in one hand, a bag in the other, “i brought food, if that’s all right? i figured you would need some after that prick grilled you in the press room.”

“can we talk about something else?” you groan, crossing over to the couch. you flop on it dramatically, earning a laugh from daniel. 

“we could talk about how max adores you. i think kelly has some competition.”

“i wouldn’t say that,” you lift your head up, fighting a smile as daniel pulls a series of parcels from the bag, “what did you get?”

“something i knew the american would like,” he teases, ripping open a few wrappers, “a classic cheeseburger with fries. i hope they’re not soggy. i ordered it plain since i know how you are about condiments.” 

“no shake with that?” you giggle, sitting up. wrapping your arms around daniel, you bury your head into his shoulder, “it’s a been a fucking day, let me tell you.”

“yeah?” he stuffs a fry in his mouth, “tell me about it.”

“well,” you’re tempted to spill every single detail about what just occurred merely minutes ago. however, as daniel’s gaze meets yours, you hesitate, “i’m concerned about my future with williams.”

“why do you say that?” his eyes narrow, brow furrowing, “you’ve never said anything like that till now. did something happen on the way back from the press conference?”

“no, no, no,” you respond a little too quickly, “i just – i don’t know. you of all people know how quickly things change in this environment and–”

“hey,” daniel lays a hand on your thigh, “i think you need some rest. you’ve had a real fucking busy day. we can talk about your future plans in the morning.”

“but what if i want to talk about them now?” 

“you of all people know that i am not one to tell people what to do or how to live their lives,” daniel’s eyes harden, the words stern, “but you need to decompress. take your mind off racing for a minute. your life is not all about racing. you need to take care of yourself too.”

“i know,” you allow him to wrap an arm around your shoulders, bringing you in close, “it’s too much to think about sometimes.”

“tell me about it,” daniel places a peck on your temple as you nestle your head into his collarbone, “how about we eat, and maybe we can talk about it later?”

“sounds like a plan to me,” you nod, “hey, i have a question for you.”

“and that is?” 

reaching for a box of fries, you fiddle with it, “are there speculations that we’re dating?”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧˖⁺‧₊˚♡

“how do you think that went?”

james is to your right, tablet in hand. absentmindedly, you fiddle with the visor on your helmet, “all right.”

“just all right?” james queries, “you have pole position for tomorrow and you think that went just all right?”

“well,” you shrug, “we all know that max is going to overtake me, so i can’t be too hopeful.”

“such a pessimist,” james chuckles, placing a tender hand on your shoulder, “you don’t seem like you’re quite here today. i don’t want to press, but is something on your mind? you know you can tell me, right?”

there was quite a lot on your mind, actually. 

in the days following the bahrain grand prix, it was almost as if your mind was a torrent of anxiety, fear, and numerous emotions. there were too many to decipher, constantly overwhelming you, distracting you from the matter at hand. 

although you felt like you weren’t quite on this planet, you somehow managed to breeze past max in qualifying. it was only by hundredths of seconds, but it was a victory nonetheless. charles leclerc was behind max in the third position on the grid. alex was twelfth, which was not great but not terrible. 

the encounter with toto was ever-present, consuming your thoughts whole. part of you wanted to confess the entire situation to james, but you knew that you had to keep it to yourself. this was no time to stir up any drama or rivalry between the two principals. 

you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hand drifted, how his voice shifted when he spoke to you. it was a far contrast from the way he spoke in interviews or to his drivers. it was rich yet husky, brimming with lust. there were gentle notes inflected in it as well, almost if he was admiring you. it was reminiscent of how one would speak of their favorite piece of artwork, or their most prized possession. 

from his point of view, were you really a prize to be won? were you really that important? or were you the latter?

were you simply a pawn in his game?

the way he looked at you told you a different story. 

there was no calculation. no coldness. there was no trace of the hardened, steely gaze he usually presented to his peers, to journalists, and to the general public. 

there was simply a softness. as if you were one of his weak spots. you could remember him looking at you hungrily, as if he was taking in every single detail of the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

since the encounter in your motorhome, you had only bumped into the principal twice. once was on your entrance to the paddocks with james, where you exchanged formal greetings. the other was after the last practice session, where he congratulated you for your time, wishing you luck in qualifying. 

the most odd aspect of it all was that you could count the number of exchanges you had with the principal on your fingers. most of it was formalities, either with the press lurking around, or when you attended events. there were no personal meetings before. it was all business or related to racing. 

so he truly meant it when he had mentioned he had his eye on you for a while. 

the only thing you could remember was an afterparty after the monaco grand prix in 2023. although max had won the race, both lewis and george had placed fourth and fifth. those were significant placements, especially on a track like monaco. you had placed eleventh, which was pretty monumental at the time. 

around four a.m. at the afterparty, toto approached you. his face was flushed, cheeks tinged nearly crimson from the alcohol. the scent lingered on his breath, his hair was tousled, and a sheen of sweat clung to his skin. yet he was still utterly gorgeous, offering you a brilliant smile. 

“i didn’t think the golden girl of formula one would make an appearance!”

“golden girl?” 

“well of course,” he nodded fervently, the words slurred ever so slightly, “you shine like the sun. so that means you’re a golden girl!”

“mr. wolff,” your laughter was like bells, ringing so beautifully in the principals’ ears, “i think you’re pretty drunk.”

“let’s get a drink or two together. then you can really see that i’m not the big bad wolf.” 

you ended up declining his offer, but he didn’t persist, leaving you to join daniel, lando, and oscar on the dancefloor. your heart was racing, and you were sure it had nothing to do with the pounding bass or alcohol consumption. 

it was due to the fact that you had a tiny crush on the principal. 

ever since you had sat behind the wheel of a race car, you were attracted to the principal. in your teenage years, you had dreamed of racing for mercedes, under the wing of toto. you swooned whenever you logged onto tumblr and read fanfics. you were nearly breathless every time you saw him pop up on your youtube feed. 

fuck, even when you watched drive to survive on netflix, you couldn’t help but catch yourself rewinding back to the interviews with toto. 

so when he offered to buy you a drink or two in monaco, you had to bite your tongue to say yes. when he entered your motorhome and had you pinned against the counter, you were a little weak in the knees. when he used little dove or schatz, it did leave your heart skipping a beat. 

since that moment in monaco, things had been strictly professional. now, that line was starting to blur thanks to the motorhome incident. every time you noticed the principal, you could sense the tension in the air. it clouded nearly everything, thick and electric, sending a shiver down your spine every time the two of you locked eyes. 

there was no doubt that the team principal was breathtaking. yet, he was almost thirty years older than you. additionally, you couldn’t help but think about the way the entire formula one world would react the moment they caught wind of mr. wolff and the american girl. the horrible treatment from the media would only skyrocket. 

there was also the other elephant in the room. 

after you asked daniel whether or not there were speculations the two of you were dating, he distanced himself. although he had said no, you couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted the world to think the two of you were together. 

before, the two of you were almost inseparable. after alex, he was the first driver to welcome you to the world of formula one with open arms, often encouraging you, offering advice, and defending your name tirelessly. he was constantly reposting videos of you all over his social media, captioning them along the lines of, “look at my american girl go!” or “go best friend, that’s my best friend!” 

of course, there were little rumors swirling around on social media that the two of you were an item. fans often made edits of the two of you, saying things like, “they’ll never tell us they’re dating but in my head they’re together” or “that aussie boy loves his american girl <3” 

now, you found yourself distracted. too distracted. between the whole toto debacle, questioning your loyalty to williams,  the benefits of joining mercedes, and daniel leaving you out high and dry, you were a mess. 

 a hot mess, at the very least. 

to make matters worse, tomorrow was the biggest race of your season. if not, the biggest race of your life. 

and god only knew what tomorrow was going to bring.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧˖⁺‧₊˚♡

thank you so much for reading! let me know if you would like to be tagged! <3 this is going to be a multi-chapter series so buckle up y'all. it's about to get juicy!

[crooked-wasteland]

The Sound of Music: How the Hellaverse Doesn’t Get Musicals

Despite two generations being raised on the concepts of musical theatre through the Disney Renaissance, it's only in recent times with Disney’s failure to replicate their own formula that people have been compelled to ask why. Why do some musicals work and others don’t? It’s easy to find someone on YouTube talking about musicals and discussing the “I want”/“I am” song without really understanding what that means for the musical as an overall structure. In order to adequately grasp the importance of understanding how singing works in musicals, one must start at the beginning: Opera.

Like musicals, Opera is also broadly separated into two types of songs: Aria and Recitative. Recitative is the part of opera left behind. During the evolution of musical theatre, the operetta adapted recitative into dialogue, breaking apart the songs throughout the story and leaving only the Aria behind. Aria in opera is what are the large musical numbers that are best remembered. The entire story comes to a crawl as a character stands center stage, looks to the back wall, and starts to sing. The Aria was how theatre go-ers would learn about the characters, their motives, and desires. The recitative was often performed like a sing-song narration that could be more or less musical, but the true depth of the story was found in the Aria.

The reason why the story worked was the structural cohesion of getting to know your character in one grand, memorable way and checking in with them as the narration went along. You would see how they changed based on the songs and their progressions. You’d understand why things would change as the songs were coordinated with dramatic events littered throughout the plot. Something would happen followed by a character singing how that thing affected them. This basic structure inherited from Opera is still the structure of Musical Theatre. The Aria further deconstructed into the “I Am” and “I Want” songs. These songs as a basis help offer a deeper connection between the audience and the characters while also adding a sensation of progression with how the songs interplay between the narrative and world.

With the transition to our modern musical theater, we have tightened up the formula of integrating musical numbers and the pacing of traditional theater. Singing should never result in a stagnation of the story. We should constantly be learning something about the characters, story, or world at all times. Music works best when paired with profound moments in the story. The more emotionally heightened a scene or plot point, the more effective it is to express it in a song.

These are just the broad, unrefined general guides to how musicals work, but I believe these are substantial enough to grasp what makes a “good” musical and what is lacking when someone says a musical is “bad”.

On the surface Happy Day in Hell appears to be a classic “I want” song, heavily inspired by Howard Ashman’s Belle. My argument for this comparison being that Happy Day in Hell touches on all superficially similar points as Belle from the unnamed background chorus, Vaggie following Charlie by jumping along the rooftops similarly to Gaston, and the overall subjects the song incorporates such as the emphasis on setting. My points are focused on the superficial and take in account that the context are not identical, but the purpose was meant to be an imitation in some manner. Whether its a homage to Beauty and the Beast or merely a clumsy ripoff, Hazbin Hotel is very obviously copying notes. Which is why it's easy to identify why this song just doesn’t work.

I will preface this portion by recommending Calxiyn Cares Too Much’s video on Happy Day in Hell. She makes similar points to me and, while we do disagree on some points, overall she has more ethos than I do, being a musical theater performer. She is generally more lenient on the music and story than I am while providing more in depth technical critique in terms of rhyming conventions and lyrical pacing. But while I don’t agree with everything she has to say, I do think her video is worth a listen.

To come out and say it, Happy Day in Hell is a disaster of an “I Want” song due to a lack of coherent wants and this is the result of not knowing how writing and stories work. Even divorced from the structure of a musical, the entire message of the song is fundamentally confused and this is in part a failure of understanding narrative structure and misunderstanding what was going on in Belle.

In Disney’s 1991 animated film, Howard Ashman started the story with a magnificent musical number, masterfully weaving in the setting with the desires of the titular character and her conflict with the rest of the world. She is an outsider, both in her own perspective and that of the town. We see her disinterest in them with her line “There’s the Baker with his tray like always with the same old breads and rolls to sell”, layering the delivery with a hint of melancholy and perhaps even a hint of condescension. The lack of variety in her life is a source of resentment to her, not in that fiery passionate sense, but the frustrated impotence that comes with craving experiences over stability. She isn’t a cruel or rude person, but her attitude towards them is that of how someone would regard an NPC.

This is most clearly seen when she attempts to engage the baker in conversation about her book and he waves her off. The little eye-roll and smile as if to say, “Of course” with a shrug of her shoulders. It’s the purest display of condescension without malice. The movie has comparisons of the Townspeople to Sheep, first having Belle interact with sheep instead of the town before depicting the town as its own kind of herd to later outright having The Mob Song with the lyrics “We don't like/ What we don't understand/ In fact it scares us”. The subliminal messaging of their “sheep mentality” is intentional and multifaceted, not just positioning Belle above them by simply setting her apart but confirming that her perceived superiority should be seen as the truth. Belle is a better person than anyone else in town, she is special, that isn’t being challenged.

This is called world building. Belle’s singing is not just telling us about the town, but her feelings about the town and the town’s relationship to her. It foreshadows the finale and sets all the tracks down to move the story along. Belle wants fantasy and adventure, she doesn’t care that she doesn’t fit in whereas the Town’s musings of her shows that her not conforming is disruptive to them. This additionally explains why Gaston and his quest to marry Belle is so supported by the town at the end of the film. Why would they completely go along with imprisoning her father in the asylum unless Belle agreed to marry Gaston.

The opening number made that kind of escalation so natural to where it makes little sense to question motivations of anyone involved in the story. We have a thorough and intricate roadmap of conflicting wants and needs from three major characters in the cast all through the subliminal use of language and themes. So when Belle is literally singing about the town what she is actually conveying are her motivations for her want. “I want so much more than this provincial life.” The character embodying that provincial life is the Town. The Town is what Belle wants to run away from. Gaston is the force trying to keep Belle from leaving the town and pressure her into something that better adheres to the values of the town.

This song is the thesis of Beauty and the Beast.

Similarly, Happy Day in Hell is the thesis of Hazbin Hotel. But what exactly is that thesis? This is where the wheels fall off the cart. Happy Day in Hell doesn’t set the stage for Charlie’s desires and motivations, but rather loses focus and meaning the second Charlie leaves the hotel.

The straightforward response is that Charlie wants to convince Heaven of something to motivate them to do something about her Hotel.

It is unclear what she expects Heaven to do, let alone what she is going to do to get that outcome. In just discussing this question I have been told what Charlie wants is anything from “Convince Heaven to redeem sinners” (like she appears to be doing in Welcome to Heaven) to “Convince them to stop the genocide” (which seems to make more sense in regards to Adam and Lute), however neither of these aspects actually address the main issue of the song number: Sinners don’t believe in Charlie and her hotel.

This issue is also why the actual structure of the episode is just wrong: the B plot has nothing to do with the A plot. While it isn’t always necessary for that to be the case, it actually holds a story together better when they do overlap. In Rick and Morty season 3 episode titled “Pickle Rick”, the family attends therapy and Rick turns himself into a pickle to get out of it. Beth takes the syringe full of an antidote Rick was going to use to turn back into a human after the family left, showing how she doesn’t trust Rick not to abandon her. Beth’s B plot of attending therapy with the kids thus ties directly back to her fears of abandonment and distrust that kicked off the episode in the first place while juxtaposed with Rick’s A plot that, on the surface, has absolutely nothing to do with therapy. However, Rick entering a top secret base is metaphorical to him infiltrating Beth’s emotional fortress. He never asked to be there, and for all intents and purposes he doesn’t want to be.

As Beth locks down her emotions on Dr. Wang, the facility responds similarly. Even more, it is a father who is sent to kill Rick in order to protect his daughter. A plot point that becomes an even deeper parallel in the season five finale where it is revealed that Rick’s tragic backstory of his Beth being killed in an explosion alongside his wife from season 3 was actually true. So Jaguar having refused to work for the Russians and losing his daughter in the process is a direct and intentional parallel of their motivations. The hardships Rick faces throughout the episode from rebuilding his body to destroying a secret Russian spy base are thematically relevant to the B plot of attending family therapy. This episode also places Beth and Rick in a position to have their relationship evolve through “Froopyland”.

”Pickle Rick” was emotionally and thematically necessary in moving the characters to a place where they could change. And that was masterfully rafted through parallels between the A and B plots. So when it comes back to structuring “Happy Day in Hell”, it makes no sense for Charlie’s plot to focus on convincing Heaven to do anything. It makes more sense for her to be trying to convince Sinners to come to her hotel and attempt redemption. If she is trying to convince Heaven to redeem sinners, she should have sinners who she thinks are ready to be redeemed. If she is seeking a ceasefire from the exterminators, then she should have a hotel with more than one resident to show that there is a desire for redemption within Hell. If anything, the song reaffirms that Charlie’s plight is pointless.

Because of this confusion and lack of focus, Happy Day in Hell is a weak thesis for Hazbin Hotel. It apes on structures it doesn’t understand, telling a story it hasn’t earned, and fails to thematically connect the two plots of the episode despite having both leads in Vaggie and Charlie singing together. Structurally, the song foreshadows the fumbling of the rest of the series’ major plot and world building. It lacks an understanding of why musicals are the way they are and fails on even a surface level to comprehend the important role of musical diagesis And its inherent limitations in storytelling on top of failing to structure the music thematically to the character motivations and overarching plot.

Visual Storytelling is an intricate circus of multiple mediums coordinating together in a delicate balance that can corrupt the entire production by just one mistake in the visuals, pacing, writing, or music. All of these categories have their own completely unique set of rules that only become more complicated when trying to be used in tandem. And to have a director not understand the fundamentals of ¾ of those categories results in a sloppy cacophony of poor choices.

[entername322]

Interesting development

Yuri (Izone) x Male Reader x Minju (Izone)

Length: 13766 words

Previous part

Next part

The second day of high school, it's only the second day and you already feel like a new journey is waiting for you. For one, you're walking to school with both Yuri and Minju in your hands. Inviting many unwanted gazes. "Can you guys let me go?" It's a fool's errand, you already know their answer. In fact, they also know that you know the answer so they didn't bother to answer. That's a funny sentence. 

"It's unfair that you get to be in class with him", Yuri pouted as she let go of your arm as you arrived at her class. "Well, it's unfair that you get to have him hang out around your house all the time", Minju can do that too, she just wants to retort back to Yuri. "Whatever, I'm going to see you at your class later", Minju and you walked away, arriving at your class you saw Doyoung just smirking at you.

"My man, didn't know Brutus got moved", He fistbumped you the moment you got to your seat. "What moves", He tried to tease you, "You move fast huh Brute? Anything funny happens on the first day?", If only he knew. "Nothing weird, we just hang out", This is the moment you realize your new friend is a gossiper. "With Yuri? So you got, the angel and the demon at the same time?"After yesterday you're not really sure which one is which.

"Ehhhh, we're friends", Doyoung laughed at you before glancing at Minju, "Is that true? Miss Angel?", Minju glanced at him coldly before shaking her head. "Aaahhahahaha, oh god, this is too good, way too good. You know Yuri has a lot of admirers and they all hated you. It's obvious you two are gonna get together, thankfully she has enough aura to scare everyone off. Oh, now after having her, you actually managed to get the new girl as well. Hey, respect", He reached out his hand for a fist bump. You answer the call.

"Alright, be ready bro, they might not be as kind as me", Is he kind though? You and Minju are not buying it. "You're not gonna, do something funny?", He was thinking about it for a second before shaking his head. "My girlfriend would be mad, besides, I love a good show. Good luck Brutus", Weird guy, you don't expect to know him much though, it's the second day you met him, well, befriend him.

"Oppa" Minjus whispered just enough to be heard by you, and maybe Doyoung since you saw him grinning as he looked away. You leaned towards Minju so she could whisper to you, "Don't trust him", A useless piece of advice you've already come up with. "I know" You sat back in your chair, Minju is praying so there will be more group projects today as well.

When an angel prays, God will fulfill it. "Alright, today, I need you all to form a group of two and do this assignment to review your knowledge" Maybe having the math and physics teacher as one person is a good reason for that though. Minju is beaming with a smile the moment she sees you turn to her. The clattering of the table and chair filled the class for a moment before it turned into chatters.

"So, I don't understand", Minju fully expected your words, "Which is why, I'm gonna teach you", You did not. "Minju, I think it's pretty clear-", She used her index finger to shut you down, "Don't resist oppa, or I'll shut you down again like yesterday", As enticing as her lips are you don't want to get kissed in the middle of class. She saw your acceptance and happily pulled out her notebooks.

You're stupid, the number just doesn't work in your mind, however, Minju saw some slither of hope seeing you can memorize the formula, just not when to use it. "Okay who invented integrals and why is it a thing?", The frustration you have is simply a cute moment Minju will add to her diary later. "20 more minutes for the assignment", The teacher gave you a glimmer of hope, you only finished like 4 questions out of 10 so Minju will have to rush it down leaving you to doze off. "Alright oppa, let me finish this whole thing so that we can review it later okay?" A false hope, such a cruel thing.

After the assignment the teacher went to review it at the front, Minju ignored him and taught herself. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to mind the somewhat rowdy classroom. "See? It's easy", Minju patted your head, "It's because you told me every step", You almost failed her instructions a few times by the way.

"Hey now, don't use this as a way to play with my hair", She laughed at you before pulling back her hands. "Come on now, there's still two more questions", Maybe being in class with Yuri will be a better time. Looking around you see some people watching you two. Even though Minju doesn't act like she noticed it, she sees it, and she hates it. "You're drawing too much attention to us", You whispered in her ears, "I know, just bear with it oppa, that's the price of dating me", Minju wanted to find a way to escape this spotlight, but she has tried for so long that she knows there's no way out.

The next period is art, you and your class went to the art studio, to find a bunch of junk. "Ehhhmmmm, today, you will, hmmmm, just draw whatever you want", The enthusiasm your teacher let out is contagious. You tried to find a good place at the corner table, "Can I clean this sir?", The teacher looked at you for a second before shrugging. Minju started to realize what you meant yesterday, this school really doesn't care. You moved around a bunch of half-drawn canvas and palates with a bunch of dried paint to the floor. "Here", Minju pulled out a tissue that you used to clean off the fragment of paint dust from the desk.

"Alright, drawing", Now you get to show off, "Can you draw me?", Minju put your confidence down a notch. "I can try", You don't have to try, she would love it anyway. Since you told her that you could draw her while she did her assignment Minju grabbed the paper the teacher had distributed and started drawing some grass landscapes. A side view of her is breathtaking, however you are passionate about drawing, so you don't let it distract you to make a portrait of her.

To this day, hands are still a tricky problem for you, so you just draw her from the chest up. A few colored pencils, a focused and concentrated mind, and years of experience have helped you capture her beauty. While you are focusing on your work Minju is focusing on you. The determined eyes are so hot, your hand and exposed forearm seem to gain a newfound muscle making it very attractive. There is nothing hotter than a hardworking man, that's the principle she has on men, and you managed to prove it right.

"Got it", Minju immediately leaned to you so she could see your artwork. "Wow", indeed wow, it was beautiful. The picture of her side profile and the background were changed to your bedroom. A window off the screen gives off a beautiful highlight for her foreground. The details of the window frame making shadows on her cheek definitely show your craftsmanship. The Minju in the portrait has a slight smile, her eyes are focusing on someone off the canvas. If the canvas is a photo, then she's definitely looking at you.

Minju grabbed your hand while her face was filled with pride and joy. "Min, don't do what I think you're gonna do", She shook her head, "Do you know how hard it is to not kiss you right now?" Using every ounce of her will, she stopped herself from jumping you like a hungry cat. "Calm down Min", She growled seeing you moved away for a second. "Okay, I won't move, if you promise you won't move"

She broke the agreement, although technically she doesn't agree to it so it's not like she lied to you. Grabbing your arm she dragged you outside grabbing many eyes on the way. “Min, we can't just leave” It's pretty hard to argue with Minju when she uses her smile, you just blush at her making her laugh victoriously. “Perfect” She dragged you to the secluded corner of the school. Pressing up against you, Minju's hands start feeling up your chest before she makes out with you. Now listen, you're not a pervert, right? It's not like the rush from the idea of being caught will arouse you. Right? Of course, your cock is only getting hard because it's a natural reaction from Minju's soft breast pressing up against you. You don't have any imagination about fucking her right her right now.

“Hehehehe, so hard for me babe? Thank you” With how close both of your bodies are it's no wonder that Minju took notice of the reaction she got for her actions. “Let's go back to class okay”, Both of you really don't want to, but an ignorant idiot is not what you both are. Coming back to class Minju was glowing while she was holding your arm. Everyone took notice of this, well, hope you know the rumor gonna spread by lunch.

Minju won't give back the drawing you made for her so you are forced to draw some random flower pot in the room and hand it to your teacher as your assignment. “This looks rushed” Your teacher looks like he needs some sleep, and some care in teaching. “Well, I'm not that good-” He sighed loudly, “I saw the one you have for your girlfriend, show it, and I'll grade it and return it to her” Nervously you turned to Minju who was frowning. Minju takes it out while your teacher stands there silently watching it. For the record, he spent less than 5 seconds checking the others' drawings.

“The hair needs some work”, Minju pouted, “Also the shirt is too clean, you need to put some crease and shadows over it”, Oh, your teacher does care, for you at least, he only cares for the ones who have potential. “I think it looks nice”, Your teacher glanced at her, “It's a B+”, Minju frowned even deeper. “It's an A”, Unfortunately for her, the teacher already walked away. “You'll get an A when you have an A-level work”, You like him, he seems to be a good tutor. “What a prick”, Minju doesn't, “Relax Min, he's right”, Minju shakes her head, “This is perfect, okay, and I don't care what he says, this is an A+ for me”, She hugged the portrait while looking at you. “Thank you Min”, She carefully slips the drawings into her bag before grabbing your head and starting to play with your hair.

The bell then rang, deciding to not piss Yuri off by not being at the class when she visited, you pulled Minju out of the art studio. “Where were you?” Yuri was already sitting on your chair when you walked in. “Art class, look what he made me”, Yuri frowned even deeper, “You never made me one”, Ah shit, their competitiveness is still there. “You never let me”, It's because she's scared she will fall for you at the time, reminding her of this only made her even angrier. “Well now I want to, draw it”,  Yuri moved to share the seat with Minju, giving you some space. You spend your break drawing her, after all, you can't give her subpar work after giving Minju a B+ art.

“He's so hot when he's concentrating like this”, Yuri nodded in agreement, you've never taken anything seriously unless it's about drawing and writing. “I could've had thousands of these drawings”, The past is in the past, at least Yuri still has you now. “Poor Yuri, it's okay cutie, I won't take more than my fair share of him”, Although Minju is enjoying the sight of your hard work and Yuri's presence, she despises the attention you three are getting.

Countless eyes are looking at you with envy and jealousy, grabbing not one, but two of the most beautiful girls in the school all for yourself? Doyoung is watching the pot, brewing with anger and malicious intent, he wants nothing more but to have a front-row seat to the shitshow. 

“Done”, a beautiful piece, Yuri sitting on a chair sideways, leaning to the backrest to her left. Her hand is covered with a rolled-up jacket, her face is painted with her cute pout, and the window shadow is covering her smooth white legs. “Perfect, good job oppa”, Minju hugged you, and you glanced at Yuri who was staring at her drawing in a daze. She then put it on the table before hugging you as well. “Girls, I need to pee”, The two didn't let go, “Please? The class is starting soon”, just like before, it's a fool's errand.

The bell rang in your class making Yuri let out a frustrated groan. “Hahaha, it's okay Yuri, we can have fun later, at lunch, and after school as well”, Minju patted Yuri's head, “I'm coming here again at lunch, don't go without me okay oppa? You two Minju”, Reluctantly Yuri left the class with her drawings. Looking around you finally noticed the glare your male classmates are giving you. “Ignore them oppa, just focus on me”, Minju grabbed your hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. “We're having biology next, so work hard oppa, I'll help tutor you, later”, The tone of her voice is so seductive you might just grab her and run back home.

Biology is boring, in fact, classes are boring, so who cares about them? When the bell rang you immediately felt a sigh of relief. Minju smiled, wrapped her arms around yours and pulled you outside. Yuri came soon after and without saying a word she wrapped her arms around your other one. Unfortunately, the cafeteria is already full, which is expected since you had to wait for Yuri. Minju doesn't want to eat anything but she doesn't want to let you go and you have to wait in line with the two girls hugging you.

When you were ordering someone suddenly pushed you from behind. “Hey”, Yuri turned around, you glanced to see a bunch of guys sending you some nasty glare. “Sorry, it's crowded in here”, The lack of remorse in his tone tells you he probably doesn't mean it. “Try it again dumbass I'll kick your ass later”, You pulled Yuri back to make sure nothing escalated further. “Fuck off shortie”, Oh shit, your reaction was too slow to stop Yuri. In one swift move, she turned around and sent a kick aiming at the guy's nuts. Only, he caught it with his knee, “Yeah, yeah, you're not as scary as you think you are”, He sneered at Yuri making her even madder.

“Yuri come on”, You grabbed her hand and forcefully pulled her back. Getting your orders the three of you walked to find a good corner to eat in. Yuri was fuming with anger, and Minju's cold aura clashed with Yuri's again. This time they're not aimed at each other, yet being caught up in the middle you're still uncomfortable with it. “I'll kill them”, Yuri said under her breath as she ate. “They're trying to bait you, Yuri, just let them be”, God the headache of having two girlfriends also came from outside influences, are you ready for it? “It's not fine, he hurt you and tried to embarrass Yuri. He had to be dealt with”, Minju sent Yuri an acknowledging gaze before the two of them nodded.

“Girls, please, don't make a scene”, You are non confrontational by default, some because you're weak and timid, some because you've read enough Chinese Novels that you can't even take the ‘young masters’ seriously anymore. “It's okay oppa, we got these”, A storm is brewing. “Where's Jin by the way? Haven't seen him at all today”, You had an idea for your question, but you hoped that it was wrong. “He's fucking jealous about Minju, that idiot really thinks he had the dibs on her or something”, Minju just snorted and dropped her head on your shoulder. “I don't even remember his face, he's so forgettable”, Minju and her occasional roast.

“He is an idiot”, Yuri scoffed, “Listen, don't be so rude to him, he's still my friend you know”, Poor you, so blind, so innocent. “Oppa, the only reason he's friends with you is because he wants to flirt with me, you know that right?” You don't, in fact, you never realized it. “What?” The two girls looked at you with concern, “Oh oppa, I'm sorry”, Yuri patted your head. “It's fine”, So blind, so clueless, you wrote all those fanfics and original stories with twists and turns, yet you failed to see one in front of your own eyes. “It's okay oppa, you have us now”, Minju played around with your hair.

The three of you sit quietly, you, because you're pissed at yourself for not seeing it sooner. The two girls, because they're plotting something. They don't like how people look down on you, you're their boyfriend now, so they will have to understand that no one can mess with you. Countless sinister thoughts went through their mind, and one by one they were filtered, from the most gruesome one possible. Not because they don't think it's too much, they just think you won't be happy with it. The best possible option for them was, injuring him permanently. Yuri knows he's on the basketball team, she's not a shutoff loner like you. Minju is a hawk, from the moment you three are in the line she hears everything they have to say, so she knows he plays basketball for the school. A permanent leg injury would be quite unfortunate, wouldn't it?

“Let's go back to class”, The two decided to let you have some quiet time, they didn't want you to lose your cool. The last period went by like a breeze, you slept, the high school teacher is less caring about sleeping students in their class than the middle school teachers. Minju ran her finger through your hair occasionally, she did this last night when you were asleep and she loves it. When the school bell rang you woke up and picked up your bag, you already packed it since Biology class.

“Come on oppa, let's get Yuri”, You and Minju walked to Yuri's class to find her arguing with the guy from before. “Fuck you shithead”, It's amazing how this is happening while the teachers are walking past you in the hallway. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it? Gonna cry to your retarded boyfriend?” Oh, he's done it. You watched Yuri send a punch to him, making him move to the side before pushing her to the wall. You can hear the loud slam as her head hits the wall. You can see the pained expression she had, you can feel your body fly forward.

You are absurdly quick, the guy didn't even get to see you before your hand stabbed his neck. You're getting suspended on the second day of school, aren't you? “What the fuck retard”, His friends send a punch to your face almost knocking you out instantly. The cliche of the body moving by itself is etched into your brain from the countless stories you've read, yet today, you had the firsthand experience. You were fighting like an angry raccoon, clawing, biting, sending useless punches. Eyes, neck, nose, ears, liver, toes, you aimed for them. The weak and scrawny body of yours can't keep up with your instinct but your relentlessness helped you push through.

One of them grabbed your hand, and the other one then grabbed your other hand. The guy who hurt Yuri came and punched you in the stomach. With one punch you puke out your lunch, was that a rhyme? It should be a rhyme. “Guys enough, if you get suspended I'm kicking your ass out of the team”, You see Doyoung was looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “He started it”, the guy who punched you said, “And I'll end your career here if you don't shut up, and get out”, You got back to your feet, since when did your head start to bleed?

The group that beat you up glared at you, there were 4 of them. “Watch your fucking back idiot”, You're ready for round two, well your body is not, but you do. “Enough, all four of you follow me to the principal office”, Wow, a teacher came and actually did something? “He started it”, It seems like you have fucked up his throat and he can only say that from now. “Oppa, are you okay?” Either from the adrenaline or concussion, you didn't realize that Minju and Yuri had come to hold you up. “I'm fine, let's go home”, You are definitely not fine. “Let's get you to the nursery office”, They carry you away, “How come he gets to leave”, was the last thing you heard from the goons.

“Haaaa, a fight on the second day of school?” The nurse saw you and helped you get on the bed. Both of your girlfriends don’t like seeing you being touched by other women, but for now, there are other pressing matters to deal with. “Hmmm, let's see”, no concussion thankfully, well no signs of it. A broken nose, and bleeding in your temple, don't need any stitches. A lot of bruises that would hurt in the morning. A few cuts on your face as well due to the friction of their fist while they were pounding you. No signs of bone fracture but it might be because of the adrenaline.

“Stay in here, for now, rascal, wait an hour or two, if you feel fine afterward you can go home, if not then I'll have to bring you to the ambulance”, You nodded and just relaxed on the bed, it's a shitty bed. The nurse left you three to go somewhere else, Yuri and Minju immediately hugged you. “You shouldn't do that, what were you thinking, oppa?” Yuri's face is stained with tears. “How can you do this oppa, look at you, I thought I was gonna lose you” Minju is also sobbing. They felt warm and comforting.

“I told you Yuri, don't cause any trouble”, Your hand starts to play with their hair. “You still shouldn't have jumped in like that”, Yuri let out a sobbed scream, “This, this is what's gonna happen to me if you cause trouble from now on. I'm not sitting by seeing you get attacked like that. Listen Yuri we're in high school right now, you were scary back then because you were an early bloomer. Now everyone is on the same level, and those guys actually do sport. They are athletes. You can't win against them”, Oh, it felt painful to yell, physically.

“And you can handle them? Oppa you can't do this kind of thing, you're gonna get hurt”, Minju sobbed, “This is better than having any of you getting slammed to the wall like that. Listen, you two won't listen to me when I say let it go earlier so I have to do this. As your boyfriend it's my job to protect you, remember that I will always jump in for you, no matter what”, The two girls squeezed you making you let out a yelp for them to ease it down. “Oppaaaa”, They just whimpered as they cried in your embrace. “Listen, I'm sorry that you felt worried about me, and I hope these things don't happen again okay?” They nodded as they raised their heads to see you. “Okay, good, I'm sleepy, I'll see you later”, You let out a sigh, “Oppa”, Minju screamed, “It's okay Min, oppa just has nap time he needs to do”, Minju nodded before the two of them continue resting on your chest.

I will kill him, no, I will make them all suffer and beg for death. My oppa was hurt, look at him, he looks so pitiful. Don't worry oppa, I will make sure they will never hurt you. My oppaaaaaa…..

Fucking sons of bitches, I will break their bones and cut them up to a million pieces. I swear they will never get to see the light of day anymore. I'm sorry oppa, I can't protect you, I'm sorry, I'll do better, and there will never be a next time.

The two locked eyes, acknowledging the animosity the others have. They can't talk for now, you're still somewhat awake. So they wait, patiently, monitoring your breath and heartbeat, surely. Their hearts break every time you struggle to take a deep breath. Their stomach turns when you let out a cough. Their skins crawl when you wince in pain every time their hands explore your body. It's not that bad, you're just not used to pain, but for them, you are on the brink of death. They are hurting as much as you are, silently they tried to hold their sobs and cries, tears still streamed down to their face but they made sure to not let out a single sound.

Slowly your breath got slow and steady, your heartbeat dropped a little, and that's when they knew you were asleep. “I will kill them”, Minju nodded agreeing with Yuri, “But we can't let oppa know”, Yuri initially wanted to protest, but she knew your character. You will be displeased, you always hated seeing Yuri fight someone for you. “What do we do then?” Minju sighed and opened her phone. “I will call someone to take care of them”, This caused Yuri to feel even worse. “You can't do that, I have to do something, I caused this, I have to fix this”, Minju looked at her contemplatively. “We will ruin their lives first, and their parents, how could they raise a bunch of demons”, Yuri agreed with that.

“We will sue them, get them expelled, and get their parents fired from their job”, Yuri doesn't like that, for one particular reason, “You mean you will do it, I don't get to do anything”, She hates how powerless she feels right now. “It's okay Yuri, after that, we can hunt them down, I will make sure they suffer with my own hand”, Yuri is still scowling. “Listen, Yuri, for now, we can't do anything, we need to calm oppa down. So until he got back to his feet again we have to focus on him”, Yuri looked at your face, the bruise started to show on your cheeks, the few cuts you had are open, it's not deep enough to cause any excess bleeding but they still showed some scars.

“I wanted to have a date this week”, Yuri winced, remembering the plans she made. “Me too Yuri, I guess we have to take care of him for now”, As much as Minju hates the fact that you can't go out on a date, she actually feels excited with the prospect of taking care of you. “Does this mean we get to bathe him and dress him up?” Yuri smiled realizing it might not be so bad. “We can feed him, brush his hair, we will take care of all his needs”, Minju starts playing with his hair.

“Where did you by the way, when he was being….. you know”, The fresh memory was too painful for them to remember. “I got the principal, he knows who I am, who my dad is, So I threatened him that if oppa gets hurt I will sue this place down. I will talk to him after this, those 4 trash needs to be kicked out of the school”, Yuri reached up and played with your hair as well. “Can you get me to move to your class?” Yuri feels hope rising in her heart. “Maybe, for a price”, Yuri immediately knows the price is. “No, I have known him longer than you, I get to take his virginity”, Minju just shrugged and continued playing with your hair.

“If you want to be in his class, then you'll have to accept it”, Yuri did the math, “It's only one year, taking his virginity will last forever”, Minju just smiled and kissed your cheek. “I'll get to play with his hair every day, watch him smile, hold his hands, and all those things in class. Oooh, I can make sure me and him will always be in the same class until we graduate, so, good luck Yuri”, Yuri's mind went into turmoil. “Fine, but we ask him first, you can't change your mind if he wants to give it to me first”, Minju won't talk you out of it, but she can persuade you with other methods. “Deal?” The two shake their hand, sealing your fate. The two stayed quiet as they watched over you for a while.

“Yuri, and, who are you?”, The two girls turned to see a very concerned and confused girl. “Oh hello unnie, this is Minju, she's…..”, Yuri doesn't want to say that Minju is just a friend, but she also doesn't want to do the explanation. “I'm oppa's girlfriend, nice to meet you”, Your sister’s face contorted, “What? I thought you and him went out”, Yuri just gave a weird smile. “Well, yesterday…….”

Your sister is both confused, furious, and kinda proud that you went out of your shell. Of course, the anger and confusion overpower the pride. “Okay then let's leave that for now. How did this happen to him?” The sight of your unconscious body concerned her the most. “Earlier today something happened”

Now, it's not that your sister condemned what you did, she's happy you did that after hearing why you did it. It's just that, you're weak, and she expects you to be smarter instead of charging into 4 big goons ready to break your bones with a flick of a wrist. “So he's okay then?” The two girls nodded, “Alright, then explain to me, how you two became his harem. What the fuck did that idiot do?” The two tried to explain to her what and why they wanted to share you.

As that happens you start waking up, and the first thing you notice is the glaring pain from your whole body. The groan that was about to leave your lips was stopped by the sound of a familiar voice. “So, let me get this straight, my brother doesn't want to choose yet, so instead of waiting, you two want to just share him?” Maybe it's better to stay asleep. “I'm not taking any chances that he might choose her over me”, Yuri said, “How is that even possible, he has known you for his whole life”, You don't need an open eyes to see that Minju is pouting right now. “We are meant to be together”, You felt her hand grab yours. “Listen, I know you're probably crushing on him-”, The hand squeezed you, “I love him, and he feels it too. If he doesn't, why would he consider me even though I just met him”, Minju roared.

“She's right unnie, he's definitely thinking about her. I have known him my whole life okay, He was seriously considering it”, Well now you feel guilty about Yuri, was it your fault though? Well kinda. “And you two are totally cool with it?” The two girls didn't say anything but you heard your sister sigh. “Okay, Minju right? Why do you want to date him?” You felt Minju let go of your hand and started caressing him. “I love him, he's perfect for me”, Your sister is not convinced. “Okay, let me just ask something else then. Do you really think it's worth spending your high school life with a guy who's also dating his childhood friend? You know her parents already considered him as their son-in-law, right? There are so many other guys and you want to spend it with him”, You didn't hear anything, so you didn't see Minju's smile that's filled with happiness and determination that deters your sister's doubts.

“And you Yuri? You didn't want to fight to get him? After all those years of you together”, Yuri had some uncertainty in her heart, but, feeling your warm hand holding her, and seeing Minju's encouraging eyes, she wouldn't let those feelings get the best of her. “Yes, I made a mistake, all those years ago of not letting him stay with me. Today I did it too by not protecting him. All that matters now is he's happy, and I'm here by his side, nothing gonna keep us apart from now on”, Minju reached out to hug Yuri. This whole thing is so confusing for your sister that she almost forgot you're here because you got into a fight.

“Fuck I still need to get to the principal office, I'll be back”, You hear your sister say, “Okay unnie, good luck”, Yuri said, Minju stayed quiet for a while. “You can call me unnie too Minju, it's no big deal”, Minju smiled happily hearing that. “Okay unnie, I don't think I get your name though unnie”, “Eunbi, Kwon Eunbi, I'll be back soon okay? Take care of my stupid brother”, You hear her steps slowly fading away.

“Fuck”, The two girls immediately turn around, “Can you two, help me run away from here?” You groaned as you tried to sit up straight. “Oppa, stay down, you need to rest”, Yuri gently pushed you back, “That's right oppa, just lay down for now”, Minju teamed up with her. “Eunbi gonna kill me”, Defeated you choose to lie down realizing that they won't let you move. “It's okay oppa, unnie will understand”, Yuri kissed your cheek, “And we will hear oppa” Minju kissed your other cheek.

“God, I need some ice”, The two girls pout hearing that. “Are you okay oppa”, Yuri is about to cry out again, “I'm fine, it's just a bit painful”, You patted her head, “Then you're not fine, do I need to call the nurse again oppa?” Minju is also about to cry. “It's fine, just, oh fuck, I'm hungry”, You see they started looking around. “Is the cafeteria closed already?” Minju turned to Yuri, “Probably, fuck I don't think mom is cooking already”, Minju then opened her phone. “Let's order some takeout, what do you want oppa?” Some aspirin and painkillers would be nice, but if you ask them they would panic.

“Just, some, I don't want some takeout actually. Can we get some instant noodles from the store, and eggs, and some rice?” Ah yes, two packs of instant noodles with 3 eggs and a plate of rice. The classic luxury food for your less-than-wealthy family. “That's unhealthy”, Sounds rich coming from someone who fed you chocolate brownies and a vanilla milkshake before dinner yesterday. “It's good, can we buy it on the way home?” Minju pouted but nodded anyway, Yuri is busy hugging you. 

“Are you okay Yuri?” You play with her hair, “I'm sorry oppa”, Her weak voice is on the brink of tears again. You felt Minju drop her head to your shoulder, cramming her face into your neck. “It's okay Yuri, just, don't do that again okay?” Yuri started sobbing, followed by Minju. “Alright, come on, let it out”, You keep reassuring them that you're fine while caressing their head. You were so preoccupied by then that you didn't realize that your sister had returned. Immediately her burning eyes penetrated through your skull, and for a moment you felt like fighting those 4 dudes was easier.

“Having fun?” Your two girlfriends got up immediately, embarrassed. “Hey Noona, I was just-”, She walk towards you and pulled you by the collar. “Come here”, The two girls tried to hold you but you reassure them it's okay. Eunbi dragged you out of the room and pushed you to the wall. “Alright, you better have a good explanation young man”, You don't, “About, them? Or about, the fight?” You cringed for even considering it a fight. “Both, you went to high school for one day, ONE DAY, and you came home with two girlfriends”, Well, technically, “I mean, we only agreed to this after dinner so…..”, Don't sass your angry sister.

“Idiot”, Her fist felt more painful than what those guys did to you. “What were you thinking? Playing around with their feelings like that”, Eunbi grabbed her forehead as she felt a headache coming. “I feel like we need a little clarification here Noona. I am on board with this because I don't want to break their heart and cause some drama”, That sounds like a desperate justification for what you did, try better. “So you just made them accept that they will share you?” Eunbi slapped your head, “Did they tell you that they came up with it first?” You rubbed your temple. “Because you didn't want to choose”, How do you shift the blame. “I did because it's day one. I just met Minju and I like that she and I seem to have a lot of similar interests. Yuri and I have been together forever but you know as much as I do that there's been a bit of distance between us for a while. She never saw me as a guy, and I never saw her as a girl, were friends. I don't know which of them would have better chemistry with me when I start going out with them. I just need time, a month at least, but they don't want the wait and jump in on this. I'm sorry that I didn't have the guts to jump into a relationship after day one”

Well, that does shut your sister up, “Listen Noona, I know I'm on thin ice right now, but I really, don't want to make anyone hurt. I'll go through with this relationship, and trust me, the moment I see things falling apart I'll take full responsibility and end it”, the door immediately opened and your girlfriends swarmed you. “You can't do that, you can't just end it because some minor problems come up”, Minju said angrily, “Oppa, we won't let that happen, we're not letting you go, and whatever happens, we can go through it, together”, Yuri said anxiously.

Eunbi looked at you with the, ‘see?’ eyes. “Girls, I know you like him, I really do, but you can't just be so blind with everything. There's many guys out the-”, Eunbi tried to put some sense into them, you're not really sure you want her to do that. “I'm gonna stop you right there Unnie, me and Yuri picked him. My family has brought me to countless parties where I always get swarmed by horny boys, I've seen so many men that I know oppa is a one in a million”, Minju said hugging me. “And I on the other hand have known oppa for all my life already, I don't need anyone else, we are inseparable”, Yuri hugged me as well.

Eunbi looked at the three of us with a contemplative gaze, “Fine, but if anything bad happens don't say that I didn't warn you”, the three of you nodded at the same time. “Fine then, your principal said that the four guys are expelled”, Like thunder, fear strikes you thinking that you will also be expelled. “So you're lucky, that you only get 3 days suspension”, The dots are connected, and your mind understands what happened. Turning to Minju she just smiled innocently. “Did you?”, Why did you even bother asking, “Of course, they hurt you oppa, I will not let them get off without repercussions”, Her tone is so cold that you realize that she wants to do more.

“What do you mean you did it? Are you the principal’s daughter or something?” Eunbi said looking at Minju, “Hehehe, my parents are very rich”, Eunbi raised her eyebrow while looking at you with questioning eyes. “Let's talk later, or tomorrow, I need to eat first Noona”, With a frown she nodded, “Come on, let's get home”, Your two girls ran in and grabbed their bags along with yours.

“Minju, where is your house?” Eunbi said as we left the school gate. The place is empty already, it's only the second day so nobody has good reasons to stick around an hour or two after school. “That one, oppa can rest at my place for today, Yuri can you grab his clothes?” Yuri squinted her eyes, “That's your house?” Eunbi said surprised. “Yeah, it's empty, my parents don't live here”, Eunbi looked at you with a frown.

How the fuck did this kid get a sugar mama. I'm losing my mind with him. I need a long bath.

“Come on then, we need to buy some food for oppa”, Minju said, “We can't let oppa walk for too long, you should buy them yourself while I go grab him some changes”, Minju frowned hearing Yuri's suggestions. “Fine”, They held me as we walked to Minju's place, “Don't do anything more stupid today, come on Yuri”, Eunbi left you with Minju while taking Yuri.

“Min?” Minju refused to move after you got to the couch. “Oppa, I'm scared, promise me you won't do that again”, She glanced at your lap feeling nothing else but her wish to sit on it. “Come here”, You saw right through her, she shook her head but her body just limped onto you as you pulled her to sit on you. “I'm sorry for making you worry, okay? I really wasn't sure what I was thinking, but just know, that if it comes down to it, I will do it again, without any hesitation, for you and Yuri”, Minju knows it but she still doesn't like seeing you get hurt. “Promise me, you won't die on me”, Okay that was a big escalation, “I won't”, At least you don't plan to.

She still needs some making out to calm her down and of course a little cuddle. “Are you seriously sitting on him? You know he's injured right?” Yuri came in with a thunderous roar. “I'll go buy your order oppa, maybe they will have some strawberries left”, Minju kissed your cheek before getting off. Passing by the fuming Yuri, “Yuri come here”, second round. “Oppa”, Yuri's face is ridden with guilt and sorrow, “Yuri I'm fine okay? Like I said earlier, my only regret for doing that is making you two worried, I'll never let anyone hurt you”, Your soft touch to wipe her tears only made the tear gate burst. She leaped onto your embrace as you tried to calm her down again.

“Are you seriously sitting on him? You know he's injured right?” Minju said with a mocking tone once she got back. Yuri didn't say anything and just sobbed trying to calm her emotions. “Yuri, I need to take a shower”, Her face suddenly smiled, “Let's go together oppa”, She wiped her tears before jumping off of you. “Girls, I don't need any assistance in bathing”, Clearly, they didn't get the memo, and if they do, they don't care. “Come on oppa, we can use the one in my bedroom, we can wash you”, Minju dropped her shopping bags at the kitchen counter before she teamed up with Yuri to drag you to her bedroom.

“Whoa, this place is big”, Indeed it is, Minju's bedroom was almost as big as all three bedrooms in your house combined. “Thank you, come on drop off your clothes, I'll get some extra towels”, You see Minju walk to one of the doors that revealed a walk-in closet. “She's so rich oppa, I can't even imagine living in a place like this”, Yuri sighed before grabbing your shirt. “Yuri I really don't need help in there”, She clearly doesn't care because she unbuttoned your outfits in one swift motion.

“You are so hard to talk to sometimes”, Maybe the fight from before boosts up your confidence. You grabbed Yuri by the waist and threw her to the bed making her yelp. “Oppa”, She moaned as you climbed on top of her, “Shut up”, You're not really sure where you're going with these, but you'll just follow the flow. You unbuttoned her shirt revealing her cute white bra. Taking it off you dived in to kiss and bite them, drowning yourself in it. “Yeah oppa, bite it, mark me”, She screamed as you bit her nipple hard. You can feel her body squirm under you as you leave a circular bite mark around her nipples.

“Oppa, are you horny already?” Glancing to your side you see Minju is lying next to you head down while watching you two. “Wait for your turn”, Alright, you're definitely getting some new confidence, or just very horny. “Oppa”, Yuri grabbed your attention again, you looked down at her topless body, and without waiting for a moment longer you pulled down her skirt alongside her panties. “Oppa, please”, Her whimper sends a rush to your body. You squat down at the edge of the bed, grabbing her thighs and dragging her until her pussy is just close enough to your face.

“Opppaaaa, don't tease me”, Yuri whimpered as you kissed her thighs, slowly your kiss moved from one thigh to another, making its way to her wet pussy. Then, you kissed her exposed clit making her body shake, god it felt good making her scream and moan like that. Your tongue licked around the entrance, then to her g spot making her scream in ecstasy. Both of your hands grabbed her thighs and dropped them over your shoulder, then your hand held on to her waist to keep her in place. Time to mess her up.

“Oppa, oppa, oppa,....” Yuri can't say anything other than that as your tongue is exploring her cave, giving her the ride of her life, so far. “Oppa I'm cumming”, Yuri screamed so high you might go deaf if not for her soft thighs hugging your head acting as an earmuff. You can feel her body shaking, the waist that you're holding is jolting up and down and her earmuff thighs help you hear her loud heartbeat that keeps rising.

Her orgasm lasted a minute long and you didn't stop licking, you are trying to see how long you can make her cum. Then slowly her energy drained away, and her thighs dropped down lifelessly on your shoulder. You're enjoying this, it reminds you of old memories with your ex. Best to keep those memories out of your mind, wouldn't want your girlfriends to find out that you're thinking about some other girls when you're with them.

“My turn oppaaaa~~” Minju said in a seductive voice, You get Yuri to a more comfortable position to lay in before turning to Minju. She already took off her uniform, now laying bare naked for you to use. Crawling to Minju you see her bite her lips in anticipation, her pussy is already oozing with excitement. “Aahhh, oppa”, she giggled as you turned her around on her stomach, her back was so alluring, that you gave her a kiss to her male making her squirm in anticipation. Kissing down her spine you send jolts of energy through her body. Your hand grabbed a handful of her ass and slap it. Watching it jiggle and sending ripples through her soft thighs made you feel aroused.

For Minju, being an object of arousal by you is nothing but pure ecstasy. Your fingers explored her dripping pussy, rubbing it slowly as you leaned forward to kiss her neck. “Opppaaaaa, your fingers, they're so good”, She moaned, using one hand you started fingering her, you see her body move around as if you were controlling her with a joystick. “Oppa, mark me, pleaseeee”, As a good boyfriend, you can't let her beg for too long. As your teeth sank to her neck you felt her body shake wildly. Like trying to keep your control of a horse, your teeth dig even deeper into her neck while your finger gets even more aggressive facilitating her long orgasm.

Once it passed she dropped down on the bed trying to catch her breath. You lay next to her trying to do the same, but Yuri won't let you. “Oppa, you need to mark me more. I'm yours, right? We need to show that to everyone”, Straddling your lap she pulled you back up. “Please?” It seems Yuri has learned how to do puppy eyes from you, and just like her, you can't resist it.

Yuri has grown so much, she used a lot of baggy clothes so you're thoroughly surprised yesterday seeing how her chest has grown to a decent size. You looked at her right nipple that was being caged by your bite mark. Moving to her right tits, right around the upper part of her cleavage you kissed your next marking spot. Your hand reached down to grab her ass as your teeth sank into her tits. “Opppaaa”, Her naked pussy is grinding against your cock through your pants. Her hands pushed your head deeper into her as you left your second bite mark.

“Haaaa, Haaaa, Haaa”, Watching her out of breath you know you can't stop yet. Your mouth wandered off to her collarbone kissing it and making her shiver. The third mark is too much for her as she slumped on you lifelessly as you finished your artwork. Gently, you lay her down in bed before bracing yourself for the eager Minju. “Me next, me next”, She is jumping on your lap, without saying a word you gave her 4 more marks before she got tired. One on her upper shoulder, one on her neck, one on her left tits, and one on her hand. 

You think you are done, but you glance at Yuri who's begging for more with her eyes. You're far from done. In the end, they are riddled with hickeys and bite marks. On their neck, hands, thighs, tits, ass, and shoulders, they asked for their face too but you refused it. 

“That was wild oppa, thank you”, The two of them wrapped their limbs around you. “I think, we are forgetting something”, Minju laughed, “Yeah, we're supposed to get a bath”, You know that's not the answer they're looking for. “No, we haven't repaid the favor yet”, As much as you want to get jacked off, you're really tapped out, you just want to get a warm shower and a warm meal before going to sleep.

“I really don't need to girls, I'm tired, I need a hot bath and some food, okay? You can repay me tomorrow”, The two girls are obviously not happy with it. “Oppa, if you were really tired then you should've said something”, Yuri said, “Yeah, we wouldn't be so demanding”, Minju agreed. “How could I say no, you two were so cute when you begged me”, You laughed making them smile happily. “Fine, but next time you have to say something if you're tired”, Minju said, “Okay then, let's get clean, you two especially”

The shower didn't start off well, “Oh my god oppa”, Looking down, you see numerous bruises around your body. Most notably is on your stomach, the place where you were last punched. “Huh, I guess they did rough me up”, Looking back up, you see the girls are on the verge of tears again, well, round three.

After calming them down you get your long-awaited shower. The girls scrubbed every inch of your body making sure not a single speck of dirt remains. The hair wash took a little longer since the two were busy playing with your hair. Once you're cleaned you help clean them next. Yuri and Minju had a silent agreement to enjoy this individually. So when you were cleaning Minju, Yuri just stayed under the shower, and the same when you cleaned Yuri. The bathroom is big, and the overhead shower could rain down for the three of you without having to squeeze together. Minju is definitely a royalty.

Feeling fresh from the shower you got a quick lesson on how to help the girls dry it off and style it up. “You're so good at this oppa”, Minju said surprised at your skills, “Noona teaches me a lot, and so does Yuri”, Yuri who was waiting for her turn smiled and gave you a kiss. “Stop making me jealous”, You laughed at Minju before pulling her head back and leaned down to kiss her as well.

Finally, for dinner, you cook up the ramyun for everyone, despite their protest. Not wanting to cook multiple times you just get a medium-sized pot and cook like 6 Ramyun packets and 8 eggs. The girls said they might not eat a lot but you're starving so you could finish the leftovers by yourself. Minju also bought 3 microwave rice packs. 

“Ahhhhh, perfect”, the three of you sat around the coffee table, the two girls wanted to cuddle with you and you preferred sitting on the ground. You didn't bother dividing the ramyun up so all of you are eating straight from the pot with the little rice plate that comes with the packs. “I want to feed you oppa”, Minju said, and you can't really say no so you finish eating while being fed by them. Once done the three of you chill around on the couch. Occasionally make out, mostly just cuddling. The night went uneventful, unlike everything else in the day so far.

“Ahhhhh, I don't want to leave, I want to stay here for the whole day”, Yuri pouted once she got woken up by Minju's alarm. “Me too”, Minju never wanted to skip class, she was a model student until she met you. “Girls, please, just go to school, I'll go home”, The two won't let you do that. “Come on, Yuri I will tell your parents if you skipped class, and Minju, didn't you want to be my personal tutor? How can you do that if you skipped class”, It takes some more convincing, mostly with your kiss, but the three of them reluctantly let go of you and leave the bed.

“Do not go anywhere until we get back home okay?” After a while they all get ready, Yuri goes to her place to get a shower and returns to say farewell to you. “Okay, I'll see you later”, The two held each other's hands before leaving for school. “Alright, first, Noona'', You locked up Minju's place before going to meet Eunbi, who was eating breakfast.

“Sit down”, She served you some bacon and eggs before she sat back watching you. “Listen Noona, I know you're still not convinced, but, can you just give me a chance? I promise you nothing bad gonna happen”, She shakes her head in frustration. “They are hopeless, and you did this to them”, How exactly did you do that again? “Noona you know even I don't know how these things happen”, Eunbi doesn't want to continue this argument, she really thinks it's a stupid idea, but she's willing to give you a chance.

“Then Minju, what's her deal? Is she rich? Are you her sugar baby now?” No, right? You're not right? “I don't know”, Do you want to be her sugar baby? “How rich is she?”You actually just realized, you haven't really asked much about Minju's wealth. “I don't know, she always said their family is in a comfortable position”, Eunbi frowned, her experience in college led her to meet a very rich girl, and she also claims that her family is simply, comfortable.

“You know how rich people work right? If they find out, you're gonna get in trouble”, Well, both of you are living paycheck to paycheck with your parent’s limited inheritance, what do you know of the upper society? “I know, I'll take care of myself”, Not really sure how, but at least you have the right intention. “Good, I'll be gone till night, don't do anything stupid for today, and rest. You look like an abuse victim”, You winced at her before nodding silently. As she left you went to your bedroom, opening your laptop to start finding some stories you've been working on. “Well, guess I have nothing better to do for today”

You love writing, it's a daily thing for you as an escape from your boring life. Sometimes you'll spend hours and hours writing pages of a book you're working on without noticing. Yet today, you can't even come up with more than just a paragraph. Your finger is jittery, your eyes are darting around the room, and your brain simply can't come up with anything to write.

You just assume it's a writer's block, so you pull out your phone and check in on the girls. Even though they should be in the first period right now, they still immediately answered, saying they missed you already. Giggling at their childish behavior you scroll up to find all the pictures you've taken together last night. One particularly took your attention, a selfie of you, smiling while they both kissed your cheek. You look happy, but this can't be right? It's only the second day, how can things escalate this fast? But it is, you are happy, you liked them, no, that's not quite right.

Whoa what? Did I just suggest that I might be in love with them? Okay calm down now, take a deep breath. I call them mad for proclaiming their love to me. Okay calm down now, maybe I'm a hypocrite but just calm down for a second. I need to find something to do as a distraction. FUCK, I'm not distracted from my writing by them, the writing is distracting me from them. Alright fuck, what do I do? Right, drawing, let's just start drawing. Fuck this place let's get to Minju's place again, she has some brownies left over.

The school finally ended, and the two girls immediately ran off to meet you. Throughout the whole day, they kept getting some unwanted eyes due to the bandaids they had on their neck and hands. Doyoung even asked about you to make sure you were okay before teasing Minju for the bitemark she had on her hand. “Of course, I had to reward him for being so brave”, Which made him laugh hysterically while all the other guys could do nothing but pray for your demise.

““We’re home””, they yelled, you are sitting on the floor again, back resting on the sofa while you're just drawing on the coffee table. The two girls are in a trance, your reading glasses just fit so perfectly to your already flawless face. It took them a while to get out of it, you didn't bother acknowledging their existence and continue drawing.

“Opppaaaaa, this looks so cool”, The two of them move to you and start checking all the other drawings you have finished. It was a dozen pictures of them each, some with you in it, and then there were a dozen more pictures of them together, and another dozen of pictures of all three of you. The one you're working on right now was a picture of all three of you holding each other arms while wearing your school uniform.

Took you an extra 5 minutes to finish it, the girl went quiet and just watched you work. “Done”, It was beautiful. “Thank you oppa”, Your lips didn't even stand a chance. Thankfully they didn't get aroused until they started stripping you there and then. But they still dragged you to the bed again. “Let's talk about our date”, You said, “Really?” Minju said excitedly, “Yaaaa, you said we're not getting any this week because you want oppa to rest”, Yuri said angrily.

“Girls, I'm fine, so who's getting the first turn?” The two send each other meaningful glances. “We agreed that Yuri will give up the right to your virginity so that she can move into our classes, and so the three of us can stay together throughout high school, however it's up to you if you want to give it to her or not”, Well, the conversation is coming up one way or another. “Girls, listen, I have a….. confession to make”, The girls look petrified already.

No, no way, my oppa, he didn't lose it to some bitch, right? Oh my god he did, look at his face. When was it, oh god oppa was it when I drew some distance with you. Oppaaaaaa

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Who was it, who's the whore who took my oppa’s virginity. I will find her and mutilate her body and feed them to the dogs. WHO WAS IT?

“Who was it?” Minju's face turned cold, “Well, you wouldn't know her”, Don't evade the question buddy. “Oppa who, which girls in school take it”, Yuri grabbed your hand while she clenched her teeth. “It was, Yuna'', You see Yuri's face contorted even more while Minju's face seems to be freezing the air around it. “Who?” Minju wants to know her full name, but you know that will just cause trouble. “Shin Yuna, a fucking whore of the school, why would you give it to her, oppa, did she drug you? She has to be, you would never fall for that bitch otherwise”, Yuri started mumbling to herself.

“No, listen, Minju you weren't there, but in our last year of middle school, we had a summer drama festival. I was pointed out as one of the actors, Brutus. Yuna was referred to as my wife-, Acting wife”, You hurriedly fix your words seeing the two of them doesn't like you calling her a wife. “So, one day, after a long rehearsal she took me out to get some dinner, and it was my birthday too. I don't know how but she ended up taking me to her place and…. Well, we had sex as her gift for my birthday”, You can't even comprehend how angry they are right now.

“Is that it?” Minju's cold tone sliced up your heart, “Well, we went out a bit more after that, but she wanted something casual and I was catching feelings”, Your bravery to tell them the truth is aspiring. “You, catch feelings?” Yuri gripped your hand tightly, “It was nothing special, I just started feeling something more for her so I asked her and we agreed it will only hurt more if we continued so we stop”, Minju grabbed your other hand with her nail digging to your skin.

“I hated her, Shin Yuna, right? I'll remember that name”, Poor Yuna, she was so young too. “Girls, really it was nothing, I had like a month fling with her-”, A month is a month too long for them. “Listen oppa, I hate her, I thought you were just being nice to her but you were cheating on me?” Another set of hands start clawing you. “Girls, please, let's just forget about her, she's a nobody to me now”, You plead. “We will have this conversation later, you're lucky I love the drawing oppa”, Thankfully they agreed and let you go.

“Alrighty, the date, who goes first?” Distract them with the future plans, “I'll go”, Minju said, Yuri frowned while nodding. “Are you okay with that Yuri?” She dropped her head to your chest so you can't see her face, but she nodded again. “Thank you Yuri, I promise I'll pay for your date later”, Minju patted Yuri's head. “Then, where do you want to go?” Minju smiled happily to you, “You'll see, this Friday, I'll buy you some nice outfits”

When she said some nice outfits, you did not expect her to give you a three-piece suit that fit perfectly to you. How she got your measurements, you have no idea. Minju and Yuri have actually measured your body while you were asleep and bought a suit that matches your body and got it tailored slightly to match your body.

As you walk out you see Minju waiting for you there, you see her outfit when she picked you up earlier yet she still managed to daze you again. “Heheheh, ready oppa?” Minju was beaming with smiles seeing you walk out of the fitting room. “I think so?” You and her are currently in a bespoke shop, just looking around you can already tell you can't afford this place unless you sell your house. “Good, you look great oppa”, She kissed you before helping you fix your tie. “Thanks babe”, Oh my, are you trying to arouse her at the start of your date?

“Call me that again”, You can't help but smile seeing her starstrucked eyes, “Baby, where are we going”, Her body trembled. “Come on now, let's not waste anymore time”, You kiss her cheek before your mouth moves to her ear. “Don’t you want to go home with me quickly?” She grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the place. 

She took you out to a restaurant, a very fancy one. “I feel out of place”, Minju smiled and just pulled you to your seat. “Babe, I can't even understand what they have on the menu here”,  She giggled and just moved to sit next to you. “Let me handle everything babe, I got this okay?” There is no room for compromise, Minju wants to spoil you and she will. “Hmmm, do you like the place babe?” It is nice, the city lights look so pretty from where you are. “I think, the city lights can't keep up with your reflection on the glass”, Smooth, at least you think you are. “Okay babe, you better stop doing that or I'll rip your shirt apart right here right now”

The first menu came, you enjoyed it, then the second one, same feelings. Around the sixth one you just can't hold it anymore. Your hand reached down to grab her thighs, “Babe?” Minju said, “Are you wearing panties?” You can almost hear her heartbeat that just jumped. “What are you doing? We're in public spaces”, Yet she doesn't do anything as you pull up her loose dress. The moment your hand touched her bare thighs she let out a yelp and immediately closed her hand.

Your finger walked to her pussy, “What a slut, you're not wearing any this whole time?” Minju is panicking. She lives the excitement but this restaurant is her family's favorite place. They won't kick her out or make a scene but they will definitely report it to her parents. During her turmoil your finger reached into her pussy and started rubbing it. “Baby”, She let out a shaky squeal before digging into your shoulder. “Don't ruin the suit baby, you paid for it not me remember?” You laughed seeing her struggles to stay quiet.

“Baby, please…” You look at her teary eyes as both of her hands are holding to your arm desperately. “Say ah baby, you don't want to let this food get cold”,  She frowned as you tried to feed her. “Ahhhhh”, she let out a moan as your finger started rubbing her clit. “Oh baby, you need to keep your mouth steady, how can I feed you if you are flaunting your head everywhere”, Your finger got even more aggressive and started penetrating her. 

“Evening ma'am, sir, our next course is ready to be served, should I bring it out”, Minju felt her heart stop seeing a waitress come up to both of you. To her horror she felt your finger start fucking her even faster. “Yes please, my girlfriend here is a bit under the weather so we're sorry that she can't finish her food”, You gloat on her suffering. The waitress came closer to bring up your food. The fear she's feeling along with the finger move you're using sends her over the edge. She immediately wrapped her thighs around your hand and her arm hugged yours pulling it to her breast.

“I'm sorry to hear that Miss, I hope you're doing well soon”, The waitress sent a meaningful smile before leaving. Minju's heavy and tired breath is clashing against your neck making you feel sorry, just for a moment. “That was fun”, You tried to pull your hand, her thighs let go but not her hands. “That was my favorite meal here, the roasted duck breast here is the best in Korea”, You laughed at her making her even more frustrated. “I'm sure you can always come here anytime and get served the same food”

She tried to protest again but you raised your hand. It's all stained in her juice now, and you immediately bring it to your mouth and start licking on it. 

I will fuck you, I will fuck you until you beg me to stop baby. I hope you're ready to deal with Yuri's wrath, because you're not gonna be able to stand up tomorrow.

Minju is way too aroused to focus on the food. All of them taste bland as she only craves one taste, you. The moment you finished the last meal she immediately stood up and dragged you to the cashier. “So impatient”, She glared at you in response.

When you two are leaving the restaurant someone stopped her. “Minju-ah? Oh my god it's so nice to meet you”, A plumpy guy around your age immediately walked up to her. “Who are you?” He frowned hearing you talk but focused on Minju, “It's nice to see you again Minju-ah, I was wondering where you went, nobody saw you during the last two weeks of highschool. I guess you must be on vacation?” Minju frowned on him before grabbing your hands and stepping to the side, trying to get as far away as possible. “Do you know him babe?” He grimaced hearing you refer to her as babe. “I don't know, come on babe let's go home, I want to get this dress off and cuddle with you”, She tiptoed and kissed you before pulling you to her car.

The guy was fuming, of course, he's irrelevant. Although there is someone watching this, the waitress that interrupted, well, almost interrupted your finger fucking session. “Mister Jiwon will be happy to hear this”

“Baby calm down”, Minju is practically tearing your suit apart as she dragged you to her bed. “Shut up, you can't just keep making me so horny and think I won't let you go that easily”, Minju is no longer Minju that you know, in fact even she will be surprised at how aggressive she is. She threw you to the bed before taking off her dress showing that she didn't wear any underwear tonight.

“Look at you, you think you can make me cum in the middle of my favorite restaurant and get away with it?” You laughed as you took off your suits. When you wanted to open your pants her hand reached out and did it for you. Pushing you on the bed she climbed up on you, aligning her wet entrance with your erect cock. “No foreplay?” You smirked, “I'm done with foreplay, you, and your fucking flawless smirk”, She sits on your dick, and start rubbing her pussy with it. “And your fucking godly hands”, She leaped in and start kissing you aggressively while her hips keeps moving, giving continuous stimulation for both of you. “And your fucking….”, She raised your cock before plunging it into her.

“Big cock”, She started riding you like an animal. “Are you cumming already babe?” Her walls are tightening already 5 minutes into her ride. “Shut up, just let me fuck you”, Both of her hand is using your stomach as support, carefully not touching the bruises you have on it. “Ohhhh, oppa”, She slammed her head to your chest as her orgasm came. “It's okay baby, I can help you”, Holding her waist you start picking up her slacks.

“Ahhhh, baby, slow- ahhh fuck faster baby”, Your hip start moving by itself as you pound her from below. “Oppppaaaaaa”, Her moan is shaky as you are rocking her whole body, “I'm cumming baby”, She nodded as she continue moaning. “Aghhhhh, fuck” you thrusted deeper into her as you delivered her your load.

“Oh fuck, you're bleeding”, You laughed as she get off you, “I know, I think I need some time”, She gasp for air. “No, come on, turn around, get on all four”, As aroused as she was earlier, you've been holding on for the last few days for your two hungry girlfriends. Seeing your excited face Minju can't say no so she gets in position. “Slowly oppa, I'm still sensitive”, Fuck no you're not going slow, you immediately start thrusting to her from behind making her moan.

“Ahhhh, don't bite me there”, Her bale is so sensitive that even a kiss could make her body shiver. “Have I ever told you how sexy your back is?” Your finger ran through her spine sending a tickling sensation to her body that leads to another orgasm. “Aaaahhhhhh, fuck me oppa, harder, ahhh fuck it's so big”, Getting that compliment seems to be your sensitive spot. “Fuck, I'm cumming”, You groaned as you leaned down to bite her shoulder. “Ohhhh babyyy, fill me up again, oh godddd”, As both of your orgasm passed you stood back up catching your breath for your next round.

Minju turned around to look at your face. Her face is decorated with a beautiful smile, it's perfect. Even with her hairs sticking to her forehead because of the sweat. Even with her lipstick smudge across her cheek. Even, no, especially because of the tears that's running down her face. “I love you Minju”, Her hands reached out, you smiled and leaned closer allowing her to pull your head to an intimate kiss. “I love you too baby”, and that was the last thing you two said for the whole night. Well, anything that's coherent enough to be considered a sentence anyway.

“This is our date?” Compared to the luxurious dinner Minju brought you to, Yuri just brought you to her house. “I have something special for us”, She smiled and bring you to her bedroom. “Oh my god, when was the last one we had these”, A tent, god you two used to had the tent every weekends and pretend you were camping.

“I think we're too big for this”, That didn't stop you from climbing inside. “We can fit” Yuri said, climbing inside as well. Both of your legs are dangling out of the tent as you two lay next to each other. “I miss this so much oppa, I wanted to take you out on a date somewhere but I just keep remembering about these moments with us” You embraced each other as you watched all the drawing you made inside the tent.

“Remember this one? God that rollercoaster was so fun”

“Didn't you cried when we got off of it”

“Which why it's fun, and this carousel? I can't believe our parents just let us take it alone”

“Hahahaha, yeah, I used to hug you from behind because you're scared you might fall off”

“Now that I'm taller than you I can do the hugging part”

“You wish, hahahah, oh this one, remember that new year?”

“Was it the one where we tried to roast some worm?”

“Yeah, unnie actually tried to eat it”

“God I forgot Eunbi used to be dumber than us. Life changes quickly huh”

“It does….. remember this one? What was that film again?”

“Paranormal activity, and you had to hug me to sleep that night”

“Okay oppa, you were the one who cried and begged me to sleep with you”

“And at night you cried and hugged me tighter”

“Maybe I did, why didn't you cry anymore when you watch those horrors movie, I want to see my cute oppa asking me for comfort”

“Horror movie suck, you know what's a good movie this StarWars movie”

“Hahahaha, yeah, we broke mom's favorite bowl when we played with our lightsaber”

“Oh this one, your cousin actually bullied you till you cry, can't believe that little devil is a future idol now”

“He was never mean, I don't remember why he made me cry back then”

“Because he keeps saying that I'm your boyfriend and you cried saying I'm not”

“Well, turns out he was right after all”

Your eyes locked with each other, at that moment, all those memories you had rushing through you. All the laughs, the pranks, the cries, the fight, the heartwarming moments, the night talks, it all hits your heart like a truck.

You see tears start running down Yuri's face, you open your mouth to tease her only to hear your voice break. You realized, you're also crying. “Oppa”, Leaping in you kissed her, making up for the last 2 years of distance you two have grown together.

Holding her you felt your cries only pour out even harder. You don't want to let her go, ever again. This whole time Yuri has been blaming herself all the time she lost from you. Deep down, you were also blaming yourself. Being weak, scared of ruining your friendship. Scared, of getting rejected. Now the two of you are together, you don't want to let her go, never again.

It took both of you sometime to calm down, the rush of emotions and nostalgia was too much as you two started crying in each other’s embrace. “When is your parent coming back babe”, You whispered, “They are staying at grandma's place”, Yuri immediately took off her sweater revealing her naked breast. 

“Good”, You turned her around and climbed on top of her. “Did you like it oppa? They've grown quite big, maybe one day they'll outgrow unnie's” You frowned. “Don't bring up my sister when we're about to fuck”, The two of you laughed. Then your mouth starts to get busy, biting, licking and sucking her tits.

“Oppa, I'm so wet already”, She moaned, “Yeah babe,do you want to do it here or should we climb to your bed?” She shook her head, “I don't want to move”, the two of you quickly undressed inside the small tent.

You guide your cock to her pussy, gently rubbing the entrance making her moans. One of your hand reached down next to her face and the other right under her arm to support your body. “Oppa, I'm ready, put it in please”, She moaned. Gently, you pushed your cock in, first the tip, which made her body shudder.

Yuri is tighter than Minju, probably because she's smaller than her. As you pushed deeper you see she raised chest up like she just had an orgasm. You waited until she calmed her breath down. “Ready baby”, You pulled up your hand that's resting from beneath hers. She grabbed your hand and intertwined your finger together. Then her other hands grab on to the one that's supporting you near her head. She turned her head and kissed it before looking at you with teary eyes. “My oppa”, “My Yuri”, “I loved you”, “I loved you too”, Then you pushed in. All the length of your cock digs into her breaking any last barrier between your love, mentally and physically.

Your thrust started slow and steady, you used Yuri's grip strength to check if you're going too fast. Your sex was slow, and intimate, it was the cumulation of years and years of denying your feelings together. You both let it go, slowly, and intimately together.

“Baby I'm cumming”, You groaned, “Inside babe, I want you cum inside, fill me up, let me have a piece of you inside me”, Your cock throbbed letting her know that you're cumming. The anticipation she had of being filled up also made her cum as you felt her walls constrict around your cock. ““I’m cumming””

The orgasm felt like years, and once it passed you slumped down to her chest. Her hand reached up to play with your hair. “I'm glad to have you in my life Yuri”, Your voice cracked at the end but who even noticed it or cared. “I'm also happy, that I have you oppa, you made me the happiest woman in the world”

The day was heartwarming, with a few cockwarming moments from her. You were so much gentler than when you were with Minju. At the end of the day, you two snuggled up together at her bed, snuggling together as you waited for a new day.

“You had sex with her 8 times? Oppa what if you were too tired to fuck me after that”, You're not ready for the new day. “You didn't cry when you fuck me”, Yep, totally not ready. “Yuri, I will always be ready for you, always. Besides, I already prepared myself for a long session with both of you. You know I'm not stupid enough to ruin our first date. Minju, I'm sorry, okay? Yuri and I just had too much nostalgia together, it was too emotional. Don't worry babe, we will have our own memories from now on. I promise I that I love you as much as I love her”

The two girls calmed down convinced, by your smile, your words meant jackshit to them. “Fine, but I want to have a night long fuck session with oppa”, Yuri said before unbuttoning your shirt, “And I want to have an emotional cuddling day with oppa”, Minju helped her stripping your shirt.

“Girls, I'm too tired for a threesome”, They sighed, disappointed, but they already knew this, there's just a hope that if they excite you enough you might find a second wind. “It's okay oppa, we just want to take our turn to mark you”, Minju did refrain herself from making any hickey on you in your animalistic ritual. “Yeah, you're our oppa now, and we need the world to see it”, Yuri also keeps eyeing your neck like a hungry vampire.

“Yeah, go ahead, ruin me”

[dilfgp]

The latest part of holy ground verse makes me think about the public finding out.

If the drivers found out relatively fast, surely someone at some point would notice max and ellie. If they spend time together in public.

I would imagine it became a whole SCANDAL. And knowing sky sports I think they would be ON IT. Crofty going up to ask gp how he can “work with someone who betrayed him like this” only as a professional sport reporter of course. For the integrity of the sport they need to know.

This made me giggle, I had this image in my head:

And then I thought about it on the drive home, and:

Max announcing he's retiring in '28, at the end of his contract. The press start to ask what he's got planned and he says; "just some time at home with my partners,"

They all hear the partners and try to ask for clarification, but Max has disappeared inside hospitality.

Max starts to be seen in public with GP and Ellie, nothing is thought of it. Ellie comes out to Monaco and they're papped while out on a yacht, Max and Eloisa making out. It's the newest scandal in the world of Formula 1 (it's a very dry news week), Max is the enemy, slated by every outlet.

Redline joke about it on stream, alluding to a scandal but nothing more. Max walks into the paddock in The Netherlands with GP, laughing and joking. First question in the press pen is a hard hitter from a Sky dickhead, asking about his morals and compromising situations. Another Red Bull cheating scandal, will he have a different Race Engineer this weekend given their situation.

Max plays dumb, "what situation?", waiting for them to spell it out.

All the other drivers, especially Max's teammate, are asked about it. What do they think? Would it cause trouble in their team?

Suspiciously, they all refuse to answer, not even George; "private life is separate to F1,".

Questions about Max's romantic life are put on the blacklist, some are brave enough to ask about whether Max's partners are excited for him to have more free time. If he's in a good mood, he'll entertain their questions but never give much detail.

Max and GP are fine, of course, and continue as normal.

It gets to Abu Dhabi, Max's final race, and before he gets in the car he's given a kiss from Eloisa on the grid. She kisses GP also, and both are caught on camera.

When he wins, she's waiting for him at the barrier, holding him through his emotions. A second set of arms wrap around them both. When Max takes his helmet off, he gets a kiss from GP, and paddock breathes a collective 'oh' of realisation.

It's announced that GP will commence his gardening leave immediately. The next time we see them is in Portugal, walking into Portimao to run a test for Verstappen Racing. GP is Chief of Engineering, and Ellie is the new Head of Marketing & Communications for them.

We don't get to see much of their private lives, but every so often when Sophie visits Max there will be a photo of the trio posted to instagram.

Max looks happier than ever.

[pucksandpower]

This is gonna sound really weird, but is it alright if you give us (or me realistically) a crash course in ice hockey? I want to start watching it but idk where to start

Is it alright? I would love nothing more than to introduce everyone to one of my favorite sports. I find that fans of Formula 1 tend to really enjoy ice hockey as well because it has a similar feeling of speed and adrenaline, so there tends to be a lot of overlap between fans of the two.

The first thing you need to know is that the NHL (National Hockey League) is the highest level of hockey in the world. There are plenty of other high-level leagues around the globe with entertaining hockey and incredibly passionate fans, but the best of the best players can be found in the NHL.

The second thing you need to know is that, despite what the name may imply, the NHL actually spans two countries — the United States and Canada. There are 32 teams in the league, with 7 of those located in Canada.

Now, the answer to the question I’m sure most new ice hockey fans want to know is how do you choose what team to support? I can’t speak from experience because I was brought up a fan of my favorite team from a young age, but a lot of my friends have had success in joining hockey spaces on social media and finding what team’s fanbase they most vibe with. Some are crazier than others. Some are more laid back. Some are more traditional and conservative. Some are more progressive. This is a great way to get a feel for your fellow fans and see where you can imagine yourself belonging.

On that note, every team in the league is going to be in a different stage of an inevitable cycle. Some teams are contenders — those that have a realistic chance of winning the Stanley Cup. Some teams are in the midfield — they might make the playoffs, they might not. Some teams are in a rebuild, which means that they are playing some, uh, not so great hockey at the moment and giving up “present” assets for “future” assets like young prospects and draft picks.

And one of the most important things every new fan needs to know about (men’s) ice hockey is that fighting is an integral part of the game. Is it legal? No. Is anyone really going to break up a fight? You’ll be hard pressed to find a referee about to do that. Hockey is an incredibly physical game. Fighting acts as 1) a deterrent 2) a form of self-policing 3) a way to make sure what happens on the ice, stays on the ice so grudges aren’t carried over. In addition to fighting, there is an abundance of checking and plenty of hits.

To end this, I leave you with the single most important rule of hockey: never touch the goalie.

[trainsinanime]

It says a lot about the might of the US that they were able to accomplish so many things, like building the internet or sending people to the moon, while hampered by the insane imperial measurement units. The country dominates technology and culture to a degree that means in an international context, Americans are always (often unknowingly) playing on easy mode even compared to other "developed western" countries, but this is a little thing where they go out of their way to make things harder for themselves, and still, they succeed. It's impressive, like someone unicycling to work every day.

But part of me also wonders what it could be without. Every US achievement was held back just a tiny bit, maybe a fraction of a percent, because all their formulas are weird. In the rest of the world, any formula is "multiply these things together, divide by those". You sometimes get a 1/2 factor if it's the result of integrating something linear, or a π or 2π if there's a circle involved, but that's it. Americans, though? Every formula is "multiply these things together, divide by those, and multiply by this arbitrary constant because otherwise our stupid units won't line up." It's not a lot of effort, but it compounds over time. I'm sure if you do the averages, the equivalent of at least two or three engineers on the Apollo program only did averages.

Imagine what if they didn't have to do that. What if they could do actual science, instead of remembering that a pound force is one foot pound divided by second squared… times a useless random factor of a little over 32.

For example, imagine if they spent their time improving computers, making them like a tenth of a percent better every year. This effect compounds, because the computers have to do ever so slightly less work; not just the multiplication but also just keeping track of what units to use in the first place. Imagine if all the people who argue that "Fahrenheit makes more sense because it's degrees hot, and to me normal means 70% on every scale" instead did something useful with their time. Imagine if I did something useful with my time instead of writing this.

I know it's not a lot in absolute figures, but even just three minutes per day compounds to a lot people hours and even more computer hours if we consider it on the scale of decades. For example, if we put all this additional computing capacity into actual research, then by now, instead of adding an extra finger to every plagiarised drawing, AI might already be able to add two.