#( &&. PROMO; there's more and more to look forward to.❜ )

[starlostjisung]

hi! can i request stray kids 9th member au, where the reader has been feeling down and the boys plot to make her feel better?

hiiii!!!

i loved this idea, thanks for sending it and i hope you like this 🩷

- learning to breathe again

PAIRING: skz x 9th!member (platonic)

GENRE: angst, comfort

WC: 2.1k

CW: reader is overworked

SUMMARY: with a new comeback just around the corner, you felt everything: the pressure, the chaos, the anxiety. you pushed yourself through it but you needed the guys to help you breathe again

you had known from the start that being in a co-ed group would be difficult, especially when that group would consist of 8 boys and just 1 girl. this had never happened before.

however, you had known the boys for a long time, after being a trainee for almost as long as chan. that’s why when chan told you that he was choosing the members for a group and he wanted you in it, you agreed. immediately. there was no doubt in your mind that you could do this with the boys, and that you wanted to do it.

fast forward to almost a decade later, you had it all. or at least a lot of things you had dreamed about when you started. you had debuted, released a lot of albums, won awards and went on tours many times. you still had a lot of things that you wanted to achieve as a group, but there was also a lot of pride in all of the things you had achieved already.

it was thanks to the love and support of fans, family and friends. you knew that of course. but it was also thanks to the hard work that all 9 of you put. because you worked. a lot.

you loved your job, you would never change it for anything nor would you take it for granted. but there were times when it could be suffocating. when instead of motivating you to go on, it would only push you to the ground and make you think this wasn’t meant for you. that you didn’t fit in this world. especially when you felt like the world was demanding more of you just because you were a girl in a group full of boys.

the good thing about being in a group is that whenever one of you was feeling down, when that person felt the weight of the world on their shoulders, there would be 8 other people taking that pressure from their shoulders and grabbing their hands to walk the same path together, not leaving anyone behind.

and that was the case for you at the moment.

you were working on your next comeback, which was coming very soon. this is always an exciting time but it’s also really stressful and tiring.

comebacks meant recording sessions, dance practices, shooting music videos, photo sessions for the album, interviews, promo, travels… and right now, you were not feeling it.

you had been in the studio all evening recording with bang chan and changbin. the three of you were recording some parts that were missing in a couple of songs. you were all exhausted but you had to do it.

“okay, y/n, you ready?” chan asked you as you went inside the booth to record

“yeah, ready”

he played the track and you got ready to sing your lines. the first time you did it you came in late, so you started all over again. the second time, you were early. the third time, was good but you felt you could do better.

this went on for some time until you finally hit it right, “okay, this is perfect, we got it”, chan said

however, you were not completely sure, “you sure chan? i think i could do better with another try”

“i-i mean, it was perfect y/n, but if you’re not happy and want to do it again, it’s fine, there’s no problem”, changbin said

you looked at them and saw how exhausted they were, not because of you, but because of all of the work you had been doing these last few weeks or months, you didn’t even know at this point

“well if you’re both happy with this take we’ll leave this one, yeah, let’s go with this one”, you told them and left the recording booth

“right, so we have to mix the harmonies of this part and then add the chorus, and this one would be done” you heard changbin and chan talking with the producer so you took that as your cue to leave

“guys, if you don’t need me anymore, i’m going to go home, if that’s okay”

the boys shared a look because this wasn’t normal, you would always stay with them and watch them work on the songs once you were finished recording your parts. it was like a tradition you had with 3racha

“mmm, yeah, if that’s what you wanna do you can go home y/n” chan said

with that, you said your goodbyes and left the studio, leaving the boys a bit worried about you

“okay let’s go from the top, ready? 5, 6, 5, 6, 7, 8” the choreographer said

the music started and you all got into positions. you were practicing the choreo for the title track of the comeback. you were going to shoot the video for it next week, so now you were all immersed in learning the choreo and different movements and positions you would have to do throughout the video.

your choreos are always demanding and need a lot of energy, but you had never had any problems remembering or learning them.

of course you would slip here and there, but that was expected, you were human. but your brain was not cooperating with you today. at all.

you saw the moves, you tried to learn them and do them, and you did. but you felt like you weren’t doing them right. that you were late with the music. that you moved the wrong way. that you went to positions that weren’t yours.

the boys could see that. they could see that even though you were giving your all today - just like any other day- something was wrong with you, and had been for a while, ever since chan and changbin first realised it that day in the studio.

the song finished and you felt like you were going to collapse, “okay, let’s rest for a bit, we’ll be back in 5”, the choreographer said

as soon as he left the practice room, a bottle of water was firmly placed in your hand

“drink it, you look like you’re going to faint”, it was lee know, always looking out for you

“i feel like i’m going to”

“are you okay? you look a bit out of it today”

“i don’t know, i feel like even though i’m trying, i just don’t get there. i’m late with the movements, i mix the places where i have to be, i’m confused with everything”

“y/n, it’s normal, we’re still learning the choreo, this is new”

“but this has never happened before minho”, you were getting really frustrated now

“not every choreo is the same, nor do we learn everything easily y/n, you should know this by now”

“i know but it’s just-“

“just nothing, y/n, don’t beat yourself up for this. we still have time before we shoot the video. take it easy, don’t push yourself too much”, and with that he left to get ready to start practice again

“okay, everybody ready? let’s start the track”, as soon as the choreographer was back, you all got into position and started again. you tried to remember what lee know had told you, but you just couldn’t do it. you had never had this type of problems, you had always been perfect, so why weren’t you perfect now?

this went on for a couple of weeks and all of the boys noticed this. they noticed the mistakes during dance practices, the many takes you wanted to do each time you recorded, the early morning and late nights you would spend at the company practicing alone, whether it was the choreos or the lines you would have to record that day.

they knew they had to do something before you broke down completely.

that’s why they decided to spend the day off with you, trying to cheer you up and make you forget everything that was pushing you down. hopefully their plan would work out.

they decided you would all have a lazy and quiet day at home, you were all exhausted and that’s what you all needed. they knew you weren’t going to wake up early - you were definitely not an early bird - so all of the guys went to the dorm you were sharing with seungmin and felix and started to get everything ready.

they were going to cook some cupcakes because they knew they were your favourite - well chan and lee know were going to cook, seungmin and felix weren’t allowed anywhere close the kitchen even though it was their dorm.

the rest of the boys were in charge of the living room. they had to prepare the sofas, blankets, snacks, tv ready with your favourite show. everything you would need for a day when you didn’t have to leave the couch, unless it was to go to the bathroom.

surprisingly, they were able to prepare everything on time, cupcakes included, so when you finally woke up and went to the living room you were surprised to say the least.

“wh-what’s all this?”, you looked around, surprised to see not only felix and seungmin, but all of the guys there, and your living room turned into a… well you didn’t know what it was but there were blankets and pillows everywhere. and snacks. and cupcakes.

“we’re having a day off all together!”, han told you

“yeah, just like we did just after we debuted”, hyunjin continued

it’s true, whenever you had a day off after you debuted - a rare occurrence to be honest - you would just lay around in your shared dorm and do absolutely nothing. just being together and talking and joking was enough. you were happy with that and you missed it.

“but why? why did you do all this?”, you asked them while pointing at the food, the living room, everything

felix grabbed your hand and guided you to sit down next to him, “y/n, we know you have been feeling down for a bit, you know you can always come to any of us and we will always help you, we are a family, and we will always be there for each other”

you looked him in the eyes and felt yours watering, “i know it’s just… i don’t know what’s wrong with me, i’m usually not like this. comebacks are always stressful for all of us but i never have any problems with them but this time around… i don’t know, i feel like i can’t do it and i just didn’t want to put more in your plates, so i thought that i would just push through it and it would go away but i can’t do it anymore”

and that’s when you broke. you let it all out. the stress. the fear. the exhaustion. you knew you were in a safe place to fall, the boys were there to pick you up. but you just needed to let it all out. you needed to breathe.

“hey, y/n, look at me, it’s okay, we got you, we’re here”, it was chan’s now, who was sat on your other side. he pulled you to him and hugged you, “it’s completely normal to go through difficult times, but please, let us know when this is happening. you’re always there for us, and we want to be there for you the same way, okay?”

you nodded against his chest

“pinky promise?”, you saw changbin placing his pinky right in front of your face

you laughed at his antics, “pinky promise”, you told him while lacing your fingers together

“you’re one of the strongest people i know, you’re gonna get through this, i’m sure of it”, it was han this time

you saw all the boys agreeing with him, and felt chan hugging you a bit tighter

“okay, it’s time for breakfast now, come on everybody let’s eat those cupcakes and don’t worry y/n, seungmin and felix didn’t cook any of this so there’s no risk of suffering indigestion or something like that” i.n told you and you saw seungmin getting up to hit him, “ouch”, he said while rubbing his arm

“you deserved it”, seungmin told him

you laughed at the two maknaes of the group and felt truly happy for the first time in a long time.

you looked around the room and saw all of the boys eating, joking and playing with each other, and that’s when you knew everything was going to be fine.

you could finally breathe again

[lyxchen]

For your request prompt—

I’d love to see a sketch of Junho storming into the VIP room with his machine gun! (Around the 0:53 mark in the teaser)

:3c thank you! Looking forward to seeing more of your lovely art!

- 016

Hello, thanks for the request, here it is :> this took me about 2 hours, I really liked doing the lighting and making it look kinda foggy

Send me S3 promo art requests <3

[re-freaks]

✧▨▨: EPISODE ONE — “welcome to the den”

🎬 | one villa. eight canine contestants. and only one chance to claw their way to the top.

the producers are already fighting on the lawn when you arrive.

of course they are.

the sun is high, and the lake glitters like bait. a sprawling estate looms behind you, wrapped in pine trees and tension. the camera crew has barely finished setting up, and some of the staff are arguing over angles very loudly.

you clutch your cardigan tighter around yourself. your suitcase rolls unevenly on the gravel path.

you’ve seen the promos. one pair wins it all—territory, pack leadership, mating claim. the rest of you have to make yourselves unforgettable, or risk public humiliation. it spikes your heart rate.

there are scents mingling in the air already—aloe. rain. pine.

three girls are already out front. one lounges like royalty. one bounces on the balls of her feet. and the third, the one with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed, watches you like she's trying to assess a threat. or a liability.

that must be syrra.

her scent is all discipline and tension. she's tall, lean, and dressed like she came here less to flirt and more to make war.

she sizes you up before you've even opened your mouth.

“oh,” she says flatly. “they brought a pet.”

“i think she’s cute,” cam announces from behind her, already halfway to you with open arms and too much enthusiasm. “she smells like pie!”

before you can blink, cam scoops you up into a hug that lifts your feet off the ground. she smells like roses and lake water and sunlight. she doesn’t let go.

“you wanna share a room?” she chirps, nose in your hair.

“i—sure?”

“great!” she pulls back just enough to sniff again. “i hope you’re okay with cuddling.”

isolde watches from a lounge chair, legs crossed, sunglasses on. “excitement like hers is often a symptom of delusion,” she murmurs.

you smile anyway. soft. practiced. and address all of them. “hi. i’m really happy to be here.”

syrra snorts. “we’ll see how long that lasts.”

────── ˙✧˖[◉"]⋆

🎤 | CONFESSIONAL — syrra

she sits in her sports bra, unamused. “i don’t like isolde. cam scares me. and.. ugh, apple girl? she’s sweet, and soft, and she’s going to get eaten alive. or mated out of pity. either way, she’s not winning."

🎬 | END LOG

────── ˙✧˖[◉"]⋆

you’re all gathered by the firepit when the guys arrive—throwing their duffels into a heap with the rest of the luggage, the camera crew barely keeping up. the smell of testosterone hits first.

the first guy to step through the treeline is vasily. he moves like winter: slow, cold, deliberate. he smiles far too kindly for how his eyes sweep over your figure.

behind him comes kaito. you’ve heard about him—the golden boy. blue-eyed. everything about him says polished alpha: perfect fangs, clean shirt, the practiced warmth of a particularly charismatic politician’s campaign smile.

cam launches at him.

“ohmygod you’re real.”

he catches her like she’s weightless, laughing as she wraps her legs around his waist. “i get that a lot.”

cam tries to kiss his cheek. he dodges—barely.

then caspian enters, like he’s walking onto a stage. smirking and somehow already shirtless, stretching like he’s getting ready to spar. or fuck. or both. he winks at a camera. licks his teeth.

last is dante. dark hair. a smirk that looks carved. he glances at each of you like he’s solving some sort of puzzle in his head, and you’re all variations of a test he’s already passed.

“welcome to the den,” your host says. “let the games begin.”

────── ˙✧˖[◉"]⋆

introductions happen on camera. in heat-ripe sunlight.

“the first activity,” the host calls it. each contestant steps forward one by one, framed by drone footage and the rising hum of suspenseful music.

syrra is first. “i lead a group of omegas.. my girls are watching. i’m here for that mating claim we were promised.”

right. the promise of a mated couple winning control over the entire pack.

she doesn’t share a fun fact. no one makes her.

isolde tosses her curls. “no current pack. i’m here because a camera crew asked me to be. fun fact: i once got suspended from boarding school for threatening a senator’s son with a letter opener.”

cam claps enthusiastically, then flexes for the drone. “no pack, no plan, but i’ll kick your ass for a kiss! and i can crush a beer bottle between my boobs, too.”

one of the guys—caspian, you think—hums appreciatively.

then it’s you.

“hi. um. i don’t have a pack. and i came because i believe in fated mates.” you hesitate before smiling sweetly. “and i crochet. mostly scarves. but, um.. mittens too.”

silence falls.

kaito blinks like he can’t believe he heard you right.

vasily’s smile twitches.

caspian snorts like you’ve told a joke, even though you didn’t.

dante mouths something to the camera that looks suspiciously like “she’s prey.”

the host claps. “wonderful. next—!”

you sit back down. cam pats your thigh.

“i think crocheting is hot.”

────── ˙✧˖[◉"]⋆

the first minigame is a trust fall.

the crew sets up a wide platform over the lake. a test of instincts, they say. everyone gets blindfolded, spun, and must fall backward off a ledge—trusting one of the male contestants to catch them.

“no scent-checking allowed,” a producer shouts. “let the body speak!”

cam volunteers to go first. she bounces on her heels, then yells in excitement all the way down, slamming into kaito’s arms. when he catches her, careful to be respectful, she wraps herself around him like a koala.

“you smell expensive,” she sighs.

he winces.

────── ˙✧˖[◉"]⋆

🎤 | CONFESSIONAL — kaito

he sits restless, smile concerned, adjusting his collar like it's suddenly too tight. "i mean.. the whole thing is a circus. i thought it'd be.. sizing up to be best fit for the pack. instead i got cam trying to hump my leg."

🎬 | END LOG

────── ˙✧˖[◉"]⋆

syrra comes next. stiff and reluctant, but she falls like she’s taking a bullet. vasily catches her with practiced ease. no fanfare. they both step back immediately.

isolde floats off the platform like a bored swan. dante catches her like it’s a formality, then leans in to murmur something. she smirks. there’s a strange, still heat between them.

then it’s your turn.

you step forward, blindfold in place. the lake wind chills your thighs. you shake like a leaf, scent curdling from cider to sour apple.

you wrap your arms around yourself and think about how stupid you must look. how soft. how easy to forget.

you let go. and fall.

there’s a second where the world is endless wind and fear—

and then it’s hands. arms. flesh. hot and strong and wrapped around your waist.

but.. not steady.

you don’t land. you’re hauled, chest to chest.

one large palm cups your back. the other slides—lingers—over your ribs. down. then up. a firm squeeze catches the soft weight of your breast, fingers spreading deliberately over the swell. his thumb brushes against your nipple through your bathing suit like it’s an accident.

it’s not.

you suck in a breath.

“mm,” caspian hums against your ear. “soft.”

he’s not letting go.

the cameras are still rolling. you can hear the crew shifting, trying to get a better angle. your body’s hot with shame—no, heat. real, sudden heat, spiraling up from where his thumb rubs. he does it lazily, like he’s not even thinking about it.

like you belong to his hands.

and, for some reason, it feels right. good. even if your face flushes in embarrassment.

“easy,” he purrs. “you’re shaking. first time falling for someone?”

his finger does a particularly cruel circle around your nipple, and you let out a whine. quiet enough that your mic doesn’t catch it—but he does.

caspian’s ministrations pause, and you hear him take a sharp inhale.

he finally sets you down, fingers dragging against your waist like he’s reluctant to let go.

you don’t meet his eyes.

but he watches you the entire walk back, head tilted. like he’s wondering how far you’ll let him go.

or maybe he's past that, and he's wondering much you’ll beg when he gets there.

────── ˙✧˖[◉"]⋆

you sit around the firepit.

the other girls are talking.

“that one,” syrra mutters, jerking her chin toward caspian, “needs a muzzle.”

“he’s good for ratings,” isolde says, licking marshmallow off her thumb.

“and hot,” cam chirps. “i mean, like, really hot. like, if he was humping me, i wouldn’t complain.”

“he wasn’t humping me,” you say quietly. not defensively—just to clarify. you stare into the flames, and they cast a gold flicker on your skin. “he just.. caught me weird.”

syrra snorts. “he caught you like he was checking your ripeness, baby.”

isolde rolls her eyes and speaks without looking at any of you. “he’s doing it because he knows the producers won’t cut it.”

cam tilts her head. “what’s the problem? you’re ripe, right?”

────── ˙✧˖[◉"]⋆

🎤 | CONFESSIONAL — kaito

he rubs the bridge of his nose. closes his eyes. “i don’t like what caspian did. that kind of thing—on camera? that’s..”

he exhales through his nose, his brow furrowing.

“she didn’t stop him. maybe she couldn’t.”

his jaw flexes, and his voice lowers. “i hate to say this, but.. she’s not fit to run a pack."

🎬 | END LOG

────── ˙✧˖[◉"]⋆

“i think i’m going to go to bed,” you say instead of answering.

you stand, blanket still draped around your shoulder. then go back into the villa.

caspian is still sitting by the dock. shirtless. laughing at something dante said.

but when you rise, his eyes flick to you. like a hook. like a tether.

you don’t notice. but the camera does.

────── ˙✧˖[◉"]⋆

🎤 | CONFESSIONAL — caspian

his shirt is off, legs spread. he smirks directly into the lens.

“she landed in my arms like prey. you heard her, right? that noise?”

he leans in, whispering to the camera. “she’ll make prettier noises when she's begging.”

🎬 | END LOG

────── ˙✧˖[◉"]⋆

🎤 | CONFESSIONAL — you

your fingers twist the blanket in your lap, voice soft. unsure.

“i’m not here to fight. i’m not strong like syrra, or smart like isolde, or bright like cam, i just..”

you pause and glance off-camera. somewhere distant.

“i believe in fated mates. i think that even if the whole world thinks i’m nothing, someone will see me and know i’m theirs.”

a longer pause. then you smile sweetly. “no matter what happens here, i believe that.”

🎬 | END LOG

[miasiegert]

So glad you had a great time! I’m really hoping for video but nothing received yet! I might have to text marketing and be like, “hey! About the equity archive…” lol

With licensing, there can be no replicas (generally for choreo and costumes, which is why we get hired since we take that shit way more seriously than anyone else)) but it *absolutely can be set in a Junkyard.* The change was made the day after we were hired. Cowboys was the producer’s idea.

Costume-wise, we did a rental and the day before opening at midnight sent a wig-styling tutorial since it seems there was some confusion so thank you for kindness there. We had nothing to do with the cowboy gear pulled and sent our full rental set, which had alterations made, so we don’t know if anything was actually used. Possibly Gumbie—grizz’s faux fur stole was ours so many will recognize that. Grizz’s wig was not ours—we sent one of our faves with ears styled in and earrings but they elected not to use it.

We found out from social media that we were credited for costume, hair/wig, and make up design at least through stage management. I have no clue what’s in the program. I think a friend is sending me an extra.

It’s super common for costumes to change from promo to opening. Not surprised at all there.

Skimble used David’s Admetus/Rumpus, which originally was a Carbucketty design I made influenced by an old Australian production. I think maybe Plato confusion if that was Skimble was because at the Fulton, Plato is in an orange color palette.

Tumble’s costume was my favorite in the Casa lot—we almost never get to use it so with the theme and sunset colors, we went for it. Love how bright it is. Our Mungo/Rumple were very standard by our designs—they will always have a Mohawk and braids.

Most of Deut’s costume was custom but right before I went to make a new unitard, David reminded me of Katie Gray’s Grizzabella from Interlakes 2022, which was used only 2 weeks plus tech. It literally looked like it was made for him. I’m a bit bummed he didn’t get to use the custom coat I made him but I understand their fear with the Macavity trick. Still kind of a bummer since that was 44 hrs of work on his coat and with the deadlines it was tough. My hands are pretty destroyed now.

Korie and Henry are absolutely sweet as can be, Jackson too. I didn’t meet the whole cast, but they stand out a lot (I always notice when I get thank you notes). Korie’s dream role was Deut and he never had the chance to meet Ken so I was able to tell him genuinely that Ken would have been so proud of him. Because he would have. It was also Korie’s first show back from a horrific injury.

I couldn’t have done this show without the help of @cryptidvoidwritings who stepped in graciously when I was about ready to jump out a window with my hands and some things that happened. She took directions and feedback like a champ, and her Macavity warmers are now at the Fulton should Sammy go on u/s Macavity because she earned it. I’m looking forward to this fall—another show TBA.

Thank you so much for your show report!! You had a dynamite cast that was pretty stacked and some newcomers! Wish I could have been there but The Fulton! :)

I’m so glad you enjoyed the show and also liked the costumes!! :) thank you for sharing!!!!! That means a lot!

Casa Mañana CATS Show Notes

I am seriously so glad I got to see this amazing show in person! I have all of my detailed song-by-song recollections under the cut, but up top I just want to shout out @miasiegert's AMAZING costume and wig work, it was such a pleasure to see the bright colors for myself (and the wigs are just so poofy y'all wouldn't believe). Congrats to the whole cast and crew for making this show come to life, it was really something special.

Before I start, I feel like I need to preface this whole thing by saying that this was my first time seeing Cats live, period, and I also only saw this show once, so if I remember something wrong it's because half the time I was desperately trying to get any actor to make eye contact with me lmao. Also if I don't mention something you're curious about, feel free to drop me an ask or just reply with whatever your question is and I'll try to answer as best as I can! I also still haven't seen all the show footage online, so IDK what's common knowledge or not. I'll put a heading for each section so you can skip around if you want.

Jellicle Songs through Invitation

Sadly, the overture had nothing special going on :(

Jellicle Songs opened with a human worker at the stockyards being watched by the cats as they came onstage one by one, before she "turned off" the lights and left

The singing only started once she left and the lights turned back on after "can you see in the dark," which I thought was a really novel and fun interpretation of the lyrics

Since the cast was limited, Jellylorum sang all of Cassandra's lines, and Jerrie and Teazer picked up the twins' as expected. (They have Jelly listed as "Jellylorum/Cassandra" in the program but it's not a split track or anything, she's just normal Jelly singing Cass' lines)

The "flying trapeze" was replaced by some sort of leather harness(?) on a rope that the actors would stick one foot in and swing on (I have no clue what it actually is but Misto uses it during his song as well. Maybe a stirrup to cat-scale?)

The boot drop was replaced with the railroad crossing light going off, which I was hoping for ever since I saw it before the show

They made the "mystical divinity" section a bit of a national anthem analog, with the actors putting hand over heart and the two big US and Texas flags coming out

Naming went pretty much as expected. I'm not really a fan of when productions overemphasize pointing out who is who and I didn't notice it here, so that was appreciated (although I did think Skimble was Plato for most of the show, so maybe I need it more than I think lol)

Jelly and Gus had a cute moment during "some for the gentlemen, some for the dames" where they did a little bow/curtsy to each other

Victoria's solo was split up among all the girls one by one, starting with her doing an abridged White Cat with a pink cowboy hat

The hat was quickly stolen by Teazer, and they had a little fight over it which Jenny had to break up (loved the bratty vibes of this moment, which was their only big interaction I noticed)

Eventually it got passed along to Demeter, who seemed hesitant to take it, but was urged on by the other girls.

Going into the invitation/Munk's monologue, Raphe played him as serious and dramatic as ever (minus the accent), which was a departure from the other actors who tended to play a bit looser and more relaxed. (Not a slight against anyone of course, it was just interesting to observe.)

Gumbie Cat

Before the song started, Munk got a little distracted with a big spool of rope he was playing with 🥺

The same thing happened with Jenny and one of the hanging string lights on the walkway at the back of the stage during his first verse, which got a big audience laugh

As the trio were getting set up, there was a little (staged) moment where Deme fell over and had to quickly sit back up, which added to the idea that she was supposed to be a new member of the tribe and a little unsure of herself

Jenny's tap costume was SO cute, and she kept the US boots on for the rest of the show, which is a good way to identify her

I was definitely surprised that the cast soft-shoeing in their boots (instead of using tap shoes) was audible from the audience, but it worked like a charm!

Munk and Jenny had a little duet at the end (not quite a tap-off like it used to be, but from what I've seen of the recent Oasis prods Munk doesn't get to tap at all :( so it was nice to have him involved)

The song ended with Jenny going "thanks, y'all!" which I am formally requesting become the button for all non-British versions of the show from now on

The Rum Tum Tugger

The staging and setup of this song was pretty much as normal, but as with all good Tugger stagings, the real gems are from the rest of the cast's reactions

Demeter was very into it and leaned over to tease Misto a couple of times, who was very flustered and kept throwing his hands over his eyes — he delivered the "terrible bore" line like he had something to prove. (I didn't know about the cast headcanon until after the show, but from what I saw, you could read his actions as romantic or "ew Dad, gross" equally easily depending on your preferences.)

Deme almost got a moment with Tugger before Bomba cut in on her

At some point Jenny snuck back onstage to "nap" through the rest of the song

Surprisingly, they didn't go with the overexcited kitten gag — I thought it would've fit great with the setting, but I'm sure they had a good reason to cut it out

Grizabella

Rumpleteazer was the last one of the kittens to approach Grizabella (she was a little more timid, I think she was meant to be one of the youngest) and Griz delivered the first verse of her song directly to her as she was shivering in fear on the ground in front of her. Afterwards, she ran over to hide with her brother — I also saw Jenny huddled over Misto and Victoria

Old Deut made a surprise appearance to lead Griz out with a handkerchief over his hand (which I thought was about the "no touching" thing but he also did it at the end, so I'm a little puzzled about that)

Bomba put her hand on Deme's shoulder for comfort as she was leaving

Bustopher Jones

This song was literally so funny, y'all. They made up for the lack of lyric changes (none of the place names were changed) with a bunch of physical humor and gags that were pitch-perfect to the Texas vibe

Everybody was split up into little groups that each wanted to give Bustopher their food (or at least Jerrie and Teazer, who had the corn dogs, really did)

The first thing he picked up was a Whataburger cup from Munkustrap — for those not in the know, Whataburger has basically the same cultural relevance in Texas as In-n-Out has in California, except you can only get it in-state

I'm so sad I got spoiled about the Real Corn Dogs, because watching him take a bite out of them onstage(!!!) was a thrilling experience

Mungojerrie & Rumpleteazer

The song started started with them coming out from behind the cat wanted posters on either side of the stage and sneaking towards the middle (including a moment where Jerrie stuck only his leg out from behind a post which was a great image)

Their solo costumes (raggedy overalls with a bunch of mismatched patches) were so cute

Behind the low wall at about mid-stage were a couple of trampolines which the actors used to do fun tricks and bounce in time to the music. I get the feeling the actors weren't as acrobatic (or the cowboy costumes/boots didn't allow that) so this was a great way to introduce some big energy to the number in a different way

After getting off the trampoline, they did a bit sitting on the edge of the wall where they stacked their legs threaded over each other (I'm bad at describing it but it's like when you and a friend try to stack your fists/hands alternating between each other)

At the end they pulled out a barrel and laid it on its side — both my sister and I thought they were going to walk around on top of it, but instead they made a seesaw with it which was also fun

The barrel ended up having some kind of illusion from which they pulled two big foam cowboy hats (in Texas colors of course). Honestly I'm still not sure how they pulled it off

Surprisingly, there were no loot bags (I think they were supposed to be more like rascals or kids goofing off and trespassing than actual thieves), so they skipped the playoff entirely

I think this was one of my favorite songs of the whole show. I really like this song when the actors are doing something every beat, and I honestly don't mind big props/gimmicks like these as long as they don't take up the whole song. This version threaded that needle really well and it was a great time!

Old Deuteronomy through the Jellicle Ball

Not much to say about Old Deut's song. I did notice a lyric change to "married nine wives" but I think that seems to be par for new shows post-2019?

After the pre-ball Macavity scare, Misto and Vic were huddled together downstage right and Sillabub downstage left to segue into the Song of the Jellicles

Tugger got the line "Jellicle cats are rather small" because there was no Alonzo, but otherwise I didn't make notes on who got which line

The ball had a lot more partner dancing than usual (no lifts unfortunately), which fit the theme really well! I don't know much square dancing lingo but I definitely saw them do a grand left and right at one point, I'm sure there was a lot more but I was too awed to really be picking things apart lol

They did pantomime tipping cowboy hats (which I hate a lot less than the weird crown pantomime Andy came up with, mostly because it's already a thing in Western dancing)

I think at one brief pause there was a small Skimble/Victoria moment? (This may have contributed a lot to the Plato mixup lmao)

There was a whole section where Old D stepped down and everyone was trying to reach for his handkerchief as he waved it around (and yeah, still don't know what was happening with that whole thing, sorry y'all 😅)

At the end of the ball (I think at the "Ecstasy" cue if you're familiar with Gillian's choreo names) the lights swept up over the audience like a field of stars and it was honestly the most magical moment ever

Memory (first time) through Moments of Happiness

For some reason in my program they have "Grizabella: The Glamour Cat" listed as "Entry of Grizabella" and Glamour Cat moved down to where this first Memory iteration goes, which gave me false hope that they were going to do the Jelly reprise. Very mean >:(

Before Griz came out, Old Deut almost presented Victoria with the pink cowboy hat from the white cat solo (which I think means she was about to be the Choice), but then she saw Griz coming and everyone got scared away

I feel like there was an extra 8 or 16 counts of dancing music for Griz before the song started, during which she did part of the partner dance choreo from the ball by herself :(

They used "silence" instead of "midnight" which I'm so mad about (ALW I'm gonna get my revenge one day just you wait old man)

Korie is such a beautiful singer, like he really fits the role to a T. Very old-school brassy bari/bass voice, a lot like Ken Page

Since there were no twins, Sillabub just got up and sang on her own, but it wasn't that jarring

At the end of the song, Rumpleteazer got a little sad and slid over to snuggle up at Old D's feet

Gus the Theatre Cat

Before you ask, yes, I did cry a little at this song (knowing that Michael had played Gus before back during the first Broadway run made me tear up, ok?)

Before the song started, Jelly gathered all of the kittens in front of her (unfortunately with the way the blocking ended up Gus was right between us and her for a lot of the song, but he had a much bigger stage presence than replica Guses so it wasn't a big loss)

As Jelly was beginning the first verse, Gus came onstage with a guitar, which he fake-played throughout his verses

Munk got to be Gus' friend at the pub, and they had real beer bottle props which was literally the cutest thing ever

During Gus' verses Michael sang with a much more lyrical tone than normal (as in he was really singing, not talk-singing), and the country accent really fit well with his song

At the Firefrorefiddle part Munk came back and handed Gus an actual fiddle, and how has NOBODY done this before??? It was literally so perfect y'all (I don't think the instrumentation was even changed but it just felt like the exact right thing)

I remembered to check back in on the kittens during their little moment, Rumpleteazer was aptly offended/embarrassed

One of the best lyric changes was definitely "in the days when Hank Williams reigned," I have a feeling if they could have changed more they would but alas

Between the end of the normal song and the lead-in to P&P, Gus ate up the applause (there was a lot!) and sang the next verse like it was an encore

Pekes and Pollicles

Not sure if this is as expected, but Gus sang "the awesome battle" instead of awful (and there was the "heathen" to "foreign" change that I've discussed elsewhere)

Before getting into full Rumpus Cat gear, Gus was dressed as a football referee (complete with real working whistle that he used a couple of times). He also did a coin flip during one of the early verses to decide which cornhole team would throw first

Yes, the actors were really playing cornhole onstage, and they were quite good at it too! I assume a lot of practice was involved lol

During the first barking sequence, Rumpleteazer was on her hands and knees playing one of the dogs and literally jumping off the ground barking, it was so silly-looking

Jenny played the police dog, complete with beer bottle. I think she was off to one corner fake-drinking for most of the song

I think the whole Little Tom Pollicle section was cut, including the bagpipes section

When the Rumpus Cat came out, the "dogs" flipped up the cornhole boards to hide behind. I also spotted Jenny as the police dog with a white-knuckle grip on her beer lmao

All in all, it was a very fun version of the song and I didn't even mind so much that it was moved out of its original spot in the show because it was SO goofy silly

Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat

This staging was a little less dynamic than the normal, they made the fake train very early on in the song and then just basically stayed there the whole time. Skimble was bouncing around as normal though

The train's "smokestack" spouted real steam at one point, which was really cool

Misto and Jelly were the card-players, complete with real oversized cards. At one point Skimble stopped to look at both of their hands and swapped some of their cards to complete the game, which I think is just *chef's kiss* perfect characterization for him

Instead of the fake train falling apart at "Skimbleshanks would help them to get out," there was a gag where Jelly was almost falling over and Skimble had to rush over and help her catch her balance

Macavity (scare, song, and fight)

Macavity used a literal lasso to kidnap Old D

This was totally just a personal thing, but I was definitely thrown off at first by the hard-T American pronunciation of Macavity

I can't remember if this happened here or somewhere else, but I feel like I should mention that at one point Bomba slid into a split so smoothly that I didn't even process it was happening until she was all the way down in it 😅

The fight was much different than normal — everyone got in on fighting Mac. I remember Bomba got a big moment getting him in the stomach before he got away

Instead of the jumper cables, Mac swiped at the "Cattlemen" sign and took out all of the lights except the ones that said "Cat"

After the fight, Deme and Bomba took a beat to clean each other off with some casual acrobatics

Magical Mister Mistoffelees

One change I thought was really sweet was at the beginning of the song, the rest of the cast were really disbelieving of Tugger and rolling their eyes at his claims, which I think pairs well with the cast headcanon

For our performance, Misto was not wearing the brown jacket he had in the promo videos — he may have had a black vest on or just his normal chorus outfit, but he still had his sheriff star :)

They had a couple of cans for Misto to knock over as part of his sharpshooting bit, but no squibs or anything onstage

During the "curled up" line, Misto went and cuddled with Vic for a second

There was a moment post-conjuring turns where the actor did a one-handed cartwheel with the toy gun still in his hand and I was just the tiniest bit afraid for his life (he pulled it off though!!!)

Instead of having a volunteer, they just had two people hold an old blanket that they used to cover Old D from one of the wings back to center stage

Misto looked away like he does sometimes after the Old D trick, but sadly they didn't get to hug after :(

During the final chorus Rumpleteazer got back on the trampoline and was bouncing along to the music

Rather than slowly making the spotlight disappear like in some productions, Misto shot it out before making his exit which was a cute touch

Memory (Reprise)

After Munk's monologue, Old D was ready to make Gus the choice, which this time was represented by a spotlight casting a circle on the ground. I was ready to be disappointed about the whole "wrong cat died" situation, but I was pleasantly surprised when Gus stepped back and invited Griz into the spotlight to make her case, it felt like a really good resolution to the issue some people have with that point

Right after Gus gave up the spotlight, he and Jenny had a little mimed conversation where she seemed a little upset/confused at what he did

Jackie did great as Grizabella — you could definitely tell she had played Elphaba in the past too lol

Interestingly, there were a couple of moments where it almost seemed like Skimble would be the first cat to touch Griz after her song, but he ended up backing off so that Vic could give her the pink cowboy hat :)

Journey through Ad-dressing

My sister and I were speculating before the show started where Griz was going to leave the stage (there wasn't a lot of infrastructure up above the stage itself so we were curious), and it ended up being the piece of scaffolding with "Mule Alley" written on it! Totally unexpected

I wish I had caught more of the cast interactions during this song, but I did definitely notice Bomba and Gus arm in arm

Old D was much more lively and light-hearted during The Addressing of Cats than normal (again, really reminding me of Ken Page's Deuteronomy, but even more jovial. I think there's footage of this so if you haven't gone to check it out definitely do!)

Not quite a lyric change, but the address in question was changed to something pronounced more like "aw, cat"

And that's about it for the show! Like I said at the top, feel free to send me asks if there's any part of the show you'd like to know more about! I tried not to assign romantic/platonic designations to any of the pairs throughout the show because it went by much too fast to tell one from the other (which is basically my way of saying go wild with it, y'all — the cast certainly sure have!).

[accio-victuuri]

wang yibo for lacoste 🤍🤍🤍

[thisfuckingdork]

Drinkable Sandals

[orcelito]

yes im going to shameless self promo i have more followers here than i have kudos on ITNL and i think that's a damn shame

ITNL is much more put together than i ever am on here lmao

[rhalgrsrightfist]

ᴛᴀɢ ᴅᴜᴍᴘ 𝟏

☀⊱••• ⸺ dys an sohm in，rohs an kyn ala na! ⧼ ooc ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ bow down，overdweller! ⧼ submission ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ (hear) answer (look) answer (think) answer together. ⧼ answered asks ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ children of the land，answer this: ⧼ ask prompt ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ gobbies gonna rise up，boom like thunder! ⧼ promo ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ broken，faded，how long have i waited. ⧼ queue ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ come and play，for the night is bright and you can sleep when you're DEAD! ⧼ dash games ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ we are the dreamers. ⧼ dash commentary ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ pa-paya，paya pa-paya paya pa-paya! ⧼ crack ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ rise with me，rise with me，rise with me (RISE UP!) ⧼ self-promo ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ i'll be your idol，your only one. ⧼ video ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ o wide open midnight sky，please carry my voice aloft. ⧼ my art ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ oh i have awaited you patiently all this time; past every fate. ⧼ closed starter ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ foward and back and then forward and back and then go forward and back，then put one foot forward! ⧼ thread ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ for this journey's end is but one step forward to tomorrow. ⧼ thread end ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ flee from what you do not see. ⧼ dni ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ our song of hope，she dances on the wind higher，oh higher! ⧼ music ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ one brings shadow，one brings light; one more chapter we've yet to write. ⧼ wip ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ in monochrome melodies，our tears are painted in red. ⧼ art ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ come play with me，darling; you'll bе surprised! ⧼ open starter ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ deep inside we're nothing more than scions and sinners. ⧼ introspection ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ authors of our fates orchestrate our fall from grace. ⧼ one-shot ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ thou must live，die，and know. ⧼ psa ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ well come and well met，my brave little spark. ⧼ pinned ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ good king moogle mog，good king mog! ⧼ meme ⧽ ☀⊱••• ⸺ silent steel breathing，breathing. memory writing，reading. ⧼ saved ⧽

[minjv]

i’m soo excited for crazy

[felixandresims]

Hello Everyone :),

I can't believe it's already the fourth part of Shop The Look. As mentioned in my previous post, I created the Zara Home Editions Collections. I'm already apologizing. I love the items and the Editorial, but it was impossible for me to recreate an image with the Sims, so my Promo Shot is a homage, but the items are the same as the original collection :). Shop the Look Part for is a 15 items Set and includes:

a Three Seater

a Two Seater

a Dining Table

a Chess Table

a Decorative Barcard

a Coffee table

a Side Table

a Jute Rug

an Embroidered Rug

a Clothing Rack

two Blankets

Candles

a Magazine Stand

a Mirror

I hope you will enjoy using these items. I was pretty tense starting this set, but making the objects was quite fun; I think I will have to shop the look months more frequently from now on, and I think they don't need to be all contemporary. I have an extensive library of images already that need recreation :)

I'm looking forward to the items for the next month. I was blown away when I saw the windows and doors from the New EP. I think I'm going to make something in that continental European turn of the Century vibe, but more on that later :)

This Set is on Early Access, and you can find it here

Have a Lovely Day, and Lots of Love,

Felix xxx

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hiiii!! I hope you’re doing amazing! I’m sorry you’re having a bit of writers block at the moment as I know how difficult that can be!! I saw you opened your requests to see if that would help so I figured I would request something!

Maybe Rhea x Reader, where Reader is also a wrestler and her aesthetic is super girly and cute and bubbly (kinda like Tiffany Stratton) and something about it just draws Rhea in. Like she tried to act like she hates it and doesn’t like Reader, but eventually she just can’t and caves to how adorable Reader is and it brings out Rhea’s sweet side! 🩷

rhea ripley x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️nothing major, rhea’s sexual thoughts tho…a lot of fluff and sweet moments, reader being a tease (let’s pretend rhea is still champion here) ‼️

heartbeat

rhea hated when someone tried to take her title away. but she hated even more when you became her main opponent for a title run.

you and the dark haired woman were completely the opposite. you were a face, she was a heel. you wore pink, she wore black. you were kind and loved backstage, she was a menace with anyone who dared to even look into her eyes.

she hated the idea of having to fight with you. she already handled a liv morgan, a tiffany stratton and now she had to face you.

she absolutely despised having you as her main opponent and no matter how many times she tried to resonate with adam, he said that you deserved that title run more than anyone. and she knew it too. she observed you. you were good, you were smart, you worked more on psychological fights than physical fights and for the first time, rhea was afraid.

you and her never really talked outside of the company. she wasn’t in your group and you weren’t in hers.

so the first time you got to share a few words was when you two had a promo and even if rhea looked so intimidating, you were ready for a challenge and you showed her who you really were.

“so you think you can take my title?” she shouted into the mic, staring at you. she looked for something that could have scared you away but she find nothing.

you simply laughed, taking a few steps forward her “i’m damn sure i can” you stated making the crowd cheer.

she was ready to reply back. she was so ready to put you in place but having you so close to her made her freeze. your vanilla scent intoxicating her. your challenging eyes never leaving her face. something about you made her even more interested into this feud. you made her heart beat fast and she couldn’t understand why.

“cat got your tongue, mami?” you teased her, hearing even more chants from the crowd.

“stay out of my way” she said coldly before dropping the mic to the ground and leaving the ring.

as days passed, rhea moved cautiously around you. observing you at the gym, observing the way your body moved inside the ring as you trained. she couldn’t help the filthy thoughts running in her head when she saw the sweat dripping down your body.

watching you fight other opponents and she hated admitting it but she found you extremely attractive. she never imagined herself being attracted by some barbie doll prototype but here she was.

you, flaunting your pink gear, your perfect make up and curled hair, ready to fight liv morgan - once again.

you knew it was going to be an easy match. you fought liv multiple times and you always won but somehow it didn’t go exactly as you planned. sure, you got your win but liv managed to injury you.

rhea watched all the match behind the scenes and a lump form in her throat.

how the heck did liv manage to injury you? she was supposed to keep you safe inside the ring just like you did with her and instead she fucked up and probably costed you a title run.

she should be happy that you weren’t her opponent any longer but she was actually looking for a chance to fight you.

you struggled walking back, helped by some trainers, they let you sit comfortably in the medical area as a doctor checked upon on you.

sprained ankle.

a couple of weeks of no fighting, no training at the gym and no title run opportunity. this was definitely not what you were expecting.

as you slowly walked back to the locker room, you were stopped by the infamous rhea ripley.

“hey…” she greeted you, making you look at her with a confused expression.

“i’m out of your way now, are you happy?” you sarcastically asked her but you saw how serious she was.

“no, not really…i was really looking forward to fight you, can’t believe im stuck again with that mid morgan girl” she said, clearly mad.

her words made you laugh “it won’t be for too long, give me a month to recover and then i’ll happily pin you down the floor” you teased, seeing her blush.

her strong facade fell when you talked dirty to her. she felt her cheeks burn but she tried to keep up with you “i can’t wait for that moment to come then…”

you were absolutely in for whatever rhea was trying to do with you “challenge accepted then, see you in a month” you winked but as soon as you tried to walk again, a sharp pain rang through your foot, making you flinch a little.

“hey, you okay?” rhea immediately asked when she saw the pain expression in your eyes.

“i have to get used to walk with just one foot” you laughed.

“here, let me help you…” her hand softly moved around your hip, helping you back to the locker room so you could gather your belongings and then go straight to the hotel. she walked slowly, never forcing you or your body.

“i didn’t know rhea was a kind one” you joked, making her laugh.

“i’m not. i never liked you y/n…this bubbly energetic person you are, i always hated it…too much pink, too much kindness” she whispered.

“why is it in the past?”

“because somehow your annoying personality caught my attention” she confessed, making you look at her with a teasing face.

“that’s good to keep in mind next time i’m facing you in the ring…” you said making her roll her eyes.

once you got to the locker room, rhea packed all of your stuff. your make up, your clothes, your perfume - the vanilla perfume - and she took the bag over her shoulder.

“do you need a ride to the hotel?” she offered and you couldn’t turn her offer down so you agreed.

as you were settled in her car, you found her to be a comforting presence. maybe she really wasn’t the mean one everyone talked about.

before you could speak, metal songs blasted through the speakers and it took you a couple of minutes to realise that you and rhea couldn’t be more different “do you really listen to that?” you asked, a little confused.

“yeah…it’s amazing” she happily said as she drove.

“it’s giving me a headache” you complained, making her roll her eyes for the second time that night.

“what do you listen uh? let me guess? taylor swift?” she said almost too annoyed.

“hey! she’s a good artist! and no, i listen other people too! i listen to people who actually make music and not scream into a microphone for three minutes straight” oh you were so in for a tease right now and seeing how she scrunched her nose made you feel like you were hitting the right buttons.

“let’s not start or i’ll drop you here in the middle of the road” she joked, clearly amused by the whole situation. you ended up sitting there and watching her driving fast around town.

she helped you with the bags and only left your hotel room once she made sure that you were okay. she even left you her phone number so you could call her in case something happened - as she said.

a week has passed and you couldn’t even lie to yourself - you were actually enjoying texting rhea and having random conversations in the middle of the night with her. you remember texting her once you got home and asked her if she wanted to come over as you were bored and reluctantly she accepted.

she would be lying to herself but you attracted her. you were like a magnet and she couldn’t get enough of you. she would help you any time you asked her.

randomly going through your tiktok, you heard the bell ringing and without thinking twice, you slowly got up and opened the door, finding an adorable rhea ripley with junk food in one hand and a pink fluffy blanket in the other.

you looked at her for a second, too stunned to speak.

“you letting me in or are we going to stare at each other all day long?” she asked, her usual sarcastic tone lingering with some sneaky jokes too.

“oh sorry, yeah, come in…i wasn’t expecting you with food and a pink blanket…i actually wasn’t expecting you at all” you joked, trying to ease the tension a little bit because you had no idea why was rhea in your living room now.

“i was at the supermarket and i had my day off, i saw the blanket and i thought you would like it…here” she handed you the blanket almost as she was annoyed by it, trying to maintain her dark and mean side but deep down you knew that she was a softie.

you gladly accepted the gift and invited her to sit on the couch with you “what about the food?” you teased her, seeing her rolling her eyes at any remark you made was now a habit.

“i was hungry and i thought you would like some food too…” she tried so hard not to go soft with you but your smile and bubbly personality were making it hard for her.

“rhea ripley thought of me? i feel honoured” you laughed making her giggle.

“shut up and eat while i pick a movie…” she stated as she started swiping movies catalogue on netflix.

she chose something fun, something romantic, knowing that it was your favourite genre of film.

“i’m pretty sure you’re studying me so in two weeks you know how to make me lose against you for the title run” you joked, making her laugh.

“honey, there’s no way you’re gonna beat my ass during that run, that’s my title and my title only but i’ll happily pin you down” she turned her face to you, a sneaky smirk on her face as her mind fantasised about the idea of having to pin you down, under her body.

“you so sure about that ripley?” you tested her “what if i am the one to pin you down?

rhea wouldn’t mind having you over her to be honest. in any other situation she would have let you being in charge but not when there was her title on the line.

“we will see in a couple of weeks” she winked “now watch the movie before i put some freaky horror on” she teased you knowing how much you hated horror movies.

“okay mami” you whispered making her roll her eyes - again. you displayed the pink blanket over your body and over rhea’s body too “before you say anything, it’s cold outside and i don’t wanna hear you complain for the next two hours” but rhea definitely wasn’t going to complain. she never had you so close, your body was like a magnet and was so close to hers that it was enough to keep her warm. your head softly laid over her shoulder and even if you couldn’t see her, you felt her body relax against you.

maybe she was going to pin you in the ring but you knew who was really in charge outside of the company and seeing her so calm and relaxed in your presence made you feel something different about your friendship, as if there was something more but you couldn’t really point it out.

spending the rest of the night in each other’s company, joking and laughing about the smallest things.

as the second movie of the night ended, you really needed to stretch yourself out as you grew a little uncomfortable sitting for almost four hours in the same position. she helped you standing up and you slowly tested the water, instead of putting your hands around her shoulders as you always did, you put them around her waist.

the height difference between you two was pretty obvious but that didn’t stop you to have your way with her “i have a feeling you feel something for me” you teased her watching her in her eyes.

“i don’t know what you are talking about…” she tried so hard to maintain her composure but she was struggling, especially when she had you so close.

“so what if i asked you to kiss me? would you back up?” you always been a tease but this was something else even for you.

“no…” she whispered, her eyes softly looking down at you.

before she could make any move, you kissed her. your lips meeting her soft ones, a smile pressed on her face as you kept kissing her “i’m definitely gonna pin you rhea” you whispered, making her chuckle.

“keep dreaming barbie” as she grew more comfortable, her hand moved behind your back and pressed you against her body “remember, it’s always monday night mami…” her devious look was back as if you helped her gain her confidence back around you.

“you know…i’m always in for a challenge…”

yeah, maybe she was the rhea ripley but you knew how good you were and being able to tease her and make her so flustered around you was definitely a weapon in your sleeve.

“we will see pretty girl…” falling in love with the enemy wasn’t definitely her plan but somehow you managed to make her heart beat faster anytime you were close and now she felt like she couldn’t get enough of you.

————————————-

i’m receiving a few requests and i’m trying to overcome my writer block 🤞🏼🩷 thank you for your patience and kind words 🩷🩷

[5sospenguinqueen]

Bedtime Stories | Daniel Ricciardo x Author! Reader

Summary: For the past six years, you've been dreaming of a future with Daniel. Until one silly little interview shatters every illusion.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Baby fever. End of a relationship. Daniel bashing.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Takes place in the 2022 season.

Main Masterlist

next.

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user2 no, it's not an announcement. her best friend is currently pregnant and she was gushing about looking forward to aunty duties

user3 omg her and daniel would make the cutest babies though

→ user4 i bet she can't wait until they have their own mini-me

user5 imagine our rom-com queen going from writing the cutest but filthiest fiction imaginable to writing about why you should eat your carrots

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22•05•22

user6 i can't believe this man was talking about being in the height of his career when he's been nothing but a flop since leaving red bull

user7 the way he's been stringing this poor woman along for 6 years, knowing how badly she wants children, to then decide in a random interview that he's never going to have kids because they would be a 'distraction'

user8 fans spotted y/n running from the pits once she saw that daniel was safely done with racing

user9 i fear we may be witnessing the downfall of something we once held sacred

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16•06•22

fallontonight just posted

liked by YourUserName, kellypiquet and others

fallontonight did you know @/YourUser Name was once chased by a kangaroo? find out how in tonight's episode of the tonight show 📚🦘

4,477 comments

YourUserName thanks for having me! ✨

user11 excuse me, ma’am, reassess what

user12 daniel has been absent from her last 3 posts

→ user1 not even in the likes or comments

→ user2 and he didn't even congratulate her on the recent book launch

→ user3 ya’ll are reaching. he's busy racing. she's busy doing book promo. they still follow each other

user4 anyone notice she didn't look as happy as she usually does

→ user5 yes! and i swear she got teary when talking about her life plans 🥺

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YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, mclaren and others

YourUserName my happy place 🌊🐚🦀 aug '22

4,990 comments

user6 does this mean a new book is coming soon

→ user7 girl, we’ve just had one. let the woman rest

→ YourUserName sorry, my lovelies but i don’t think i'm in the right headspace to be writing a romance novel at this time

→ user6 confirmation??!?!

→ user7 we’re children of divorce

→ user8 honestly fuck those two because i couldn’t have cared less about vroom vroom boys until mother started dating one and now i'm crying in class ‘cause they’re over

landonorris get that bread, queen 🍞

→ YourUserName who let you out of daycare

→ user9 not y/n and lando interacting like she didn’t break his teammates heart

→ user10 more like his teammate broke y/n’s heart. let's not make daniel out to be the victim here

kellypiquet p said get writing those children’s books so she can brag about aunty y/n to her friends

→ YourUserName my sweet girl. i saw the cutest dress the other day for her so I’ll pop round soon x

→ user11 i love their friendship

→ user12 get this woman a child. She’s too sweet to be stuck in cool aunt mode forever

user13 anyone notice she didn't do her annual birthday post for daniel?

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04•09•22

user14 no because the interviewer was so real for that. checo has a few children and he’s currently 2nd best. max is nowhere to be seen on the grid he's that far ahead and he makes sure p is his priority when she’s there so???

→ user15 and the way he stormed out. i bet PR are sooo happy with him

user16 nah because mclaren recently announced that they’re not extending his contract so he currently doesn't have his seat and doesn't have his y/n, all because he thought he was better than that

YourUserName posted a new story danielricciardo posted a new story

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danielricciardo just posted

liked by landonorris, estebanocon and others

danielricciardo yesterday was something. p17 wasn't the result we were expecting, and the media were a challenge but it's always a delight to be in suzuka. moving on to the americas

5,509 comments

user1maybe if y/n was there, you wouldn't have done so badly

user2 maybe if he had a baby waiting in the paddock he would’ve had more incentive to do better

mclaren we’ll get them next time 💪

user3 letting mclaren and lando down

→ user4 the real reason he and y/n broke up is because he has no wins. she should move onto lando or something

→ user5 he’s way too young for her

→ user4 they'd make a good looking couple tho

(comments have been disabled for this post)

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19•10•22

YourUserName just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, bloomsburypublishing and others

YourUserName thirty, flirty and thriving. please enjoy a small snippet of my 30th birthday, organised by my favourite girl. these are the nice moments before she plies me full of cocktails and i become the sloppiest person in monaco tagged: kellypiquet

kellypiquet any chance to celebrate you 🤍🤍

→ kellypiquet and an even better chance to drink the entire bar and force max to carry us home

→ maxverstappen1 i'm just glad i was able to pull you both out of the sea before you drowned

landonorris can't believe you tried (and failed) to stop us from gatecrashing

→ YourUserName it was an exclusive event, we don't let randos in

→ landonorris i know you're joking but it still hurts my feelings

maxverstappen1 happy birthday, sloppy. you don't look a day over 40

→ YourUserName i'm gonna let that slide but only because i love the bag that kelly told you to buy

user7 happy birthday to the best author

user8 happy birthday queen

carlossainz55 happy birthday, y/n 💐

liked by YourUserName

danielricciardo happy birthday x

user5 kelly and y/n look like the funnest people to hang out with

→ user6 literally need to know how to become part of their duo

lewishamilton happy birthday, y/n. have a lovely night 💕

liked by YourUserName

mclaren happy birthday to papaya's favourite author (we're still waiting for a racing rom-com that is quite clearly about your favourite f1 team and their super sexy admin) 🥳🥳

liked by YourUserName

Request are open!

Baby Fever Angst Series

[spectralreplica]

It's the (past couple) year(s) of the magical girl!!!!! So happy that we've gotten so many new magical girl properties that aren't just remakes, Madoka-likes, and Precure (DISCLAIMER: I love most of those too!!! I just crave variety...)

Just me talking about these series under the cut:

I LOVE Magilumiere's framing of magical girls as a profession including the nitty gritty details of job searching and corporate events. I buy all the manga volumes as they come out and can't wait for season 2! (Manga spoilers: the OG Magilumi uniform is cute, but I LOVE the V2!!!)

Acro Trip is very endearing and the VAs give 110% even though the actual animation is a little limited... I'd love season 2, but I very much doubt it'll happen... I'll probably pick up the untranslated manga since it's only 5 vols.

Magical Girl Dandelion is SO PRETTY!!!! Love the dynamic of Tanpopo and Shade, esp. since I think the author confirmed it will NOT be romantic? Always interested to see more non-romance-centric shojo. The horror vibe is fun! Love when mg stuff can get a little dark without going full edgelord and losing the soul of the original concept of the genre... Waiting to see if there'll be a physical release since it's about at a volume's length now.

Princession Orchestra looks cool so far, although I have no idea what kind of tone they'll shoot for. There's kids toys, so maybe more Precure than Symphogear, but who knows? I was wondering how the unique shading style of the promo art would be translated to the actual show, and it turns out the answer is..... it's not!!! The actual designs (still very sharp imo!) are just kind of a normal anime style.

And finally, Pretty Pretty Please I Don’t Want to be a Magical Girl by @kianamaiart! The concept of using magical girlhood to look at burnout and the pressure to keep at something due to "talent" is interesting to me. Maybe a little bit of a Shattered Starlight vibe?? Anyway. The artstyle is REALLY cute, and even just from what's been posted so far I love the character dynamics! Looking forward to the pilot and whatever may come after!

[maxlarens]

53) holding the other’s jaw + logan

this is to make up for what i wrote last night viv hope u like ittt 😋🫢😌 @coff33andb00ks

You meet Logan “oh, I drive race cars” Sargeant in a dive bar in Austin, Texas and you don’t know if you have the heart to tell him that you’re in Austin specifically for the Grand Prix.

It’s cute that he assumes you don’t recognise him, it’s even cuter that he tells you he drives race cars and then assumes you still don’t know he’s an F1 driver. It’s a little sad maybe— especially when Oscar Piastri and Jack Doohan are sitting in a booth across the room, trying and failing to take surreptitious glances at the two of you. But you’re trying not to think about that, probably as much as Logan also is right now.

You’re leaning with your back up against the bar drinking a vodka whatever, he’s standing in front of you. Ostensibly in line to get a drink, but he hasn’t stopped talking to you since you almost bowled him over trying to get back to your friends. There’s no drink in his hand that’s for sure, just an empty beer glass that he’s bringing back. You think that’s unbearably sweet— well, no, actually you think that’s hot.

You’re not the kind of person who’s into Formula One for the drivers. You’re into it because instead of watching football games like every other all-American family did, your dad used to sit in front of the TV every weekend to watch twenty men drive around a track. You’d grown up on the sport; the roar of the cars before they hybridised them, old-school turn names, fiery crashes ending in tragedy, the blood sweat and tears of teammate rivalry. Your dad complains that the sport has changed too much— but still he puts the races on every weekend.

You try to watch the sport for the cars, for the racing, but at the end of the day, you’re not immune to a cute guy. You follow most of them on Instagram (except the drivers you hate), find yourself smiling at promo videos and liking pictures that have nothing to do with the sport. Your dad is annoying about it, but you don’t care.

You especially don’t care when Logan Sargeant is smiling something crooked at you as he tells you he’s here with his friends. You nod, looking where he’s pointing, where you’ve already seen Oscar Piastri and Jack Doohan, you laugh a little, giggle really, and you lean toward him.

Deliberately.

“Yeah,” you take a sip through your straw, maintaining eye contact, “I know who you are, Logan.”

He goes red immediately. Pale cheeks turning a very pleasant colour. You lick your lips, lean back against the bar. He blinks his sparkling wet eyes at you, mouth gaping like a fish out of water for a moment before he snaps it shut and scrubs a hand across his stubbly beard.

“Oh— I—”

You wave his shock off, barrelling on to avoid anything awkward for him, “Sorry, should’ve told you.”

“No,” he shakes his head, apparently desperate to make it fine, to make it okay, “You’re good. I just— I didn’t expect someone so—”

He trails off, trying to start the sentence again. But you’re intrigued, very intrigued.

You cut him off, not rude, just insistent, leaning forward into his space, “What was that? Finish your sentence.”

His eyebrows go up in a flash. The blush on his cheeks grows a little more prominent. He’s biting down a little on a smile, on something.

“I—”, he flounders for words for a minute, you give him that minute in silence but you’re staring at him, a little fiery, a little intense, “I didn’t expect someone so,” he stops, whines something a little desperate, quiet enough that you’re not supposed to hear it, “cute, I guess. To know who I was.”

“You guess?”

He nods, slowly. Getting braver as he leans past you, deliberately getting in your space to put his empty glass on the bar behind you. You’re trying not to smile, you’re biting down on the inside of your lip so the biggest grin you’ve probably ever grinned can’t split across your face.

“Yeah, I guess.”

This is how you end up in a dark corner booth with Logan “oh, I drive race cars” Sargeant. This is how you end up making out with Formula One driver Logan Sargeant. You’re halfway in his lap, your legs a weird tangle as you try to fit yourselves into the space. But you’re hardly thinking about his knee digging into you or how you’re slipping off the seat every five seconds because Logan’s got a hand buried deep in your hair and another on your waist. His hand splayed against your back, a few fingers touching the bare skin at your hip.

He tastes like beer and ketchup and he kisses you like he’s starving. It’s slow, it’s deliberate but the slip of tongue and the way your mouths slide against each other is intoxicating. Makes your head feel fuzzy.

You’ve got a hand on the side of his jaw, the crook of your thumb hooked on his ear, fingertips pressing into his neck, the base of his skull. He tries to pull away from you— ostensibly to breathe, to say something. But you’re a little desperate, chasing his mouth and bringing your other hand up to his jaw to drag him back.

You feel him laugh a little into your mouth.

“What?”, you mutter, eyes closed, still kissing him, "Finish your sentence."

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, you feel his mouth move against yours as he speaks, hot breath fanning across your jaw, “Just. Do you maybe wanna get out of here?”

And this is how you end up in Formula One driver Logan Sargeant’s hotel room.

this is probably the most bordering on nsfw content that i will venture to in my writing just a heads up for people:)

[littlelamy]

drew starkey x victoria’ssecret!model!reader

you’d been waiting all week for this delivery. victoria’s secret had sent out the official box for your tiktok promo, the angel wings and lingerie, and you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about it.

being part of the victoria’s secret family was still a surreal feeling, even after a few shows and campaigns. the wings—they always made you feel like you were stepping into a different world, like some ethereal being just floating through life.

the oversized box had been sitting on the entryway table for a few hours now, untouched. you were waiting for the right moment to open it, savoring the anticipation. drew was supposed to come over later, and part of you wanted to share the moment with him. the way his eyes lit up whenever he saw you in anything remotely sexy? yeah, you were definitely looking forward to that.

when the door clicks open and drew walks in, his eyes find the box immediately, a smirk spreading across his lips. “finally came, huh?” he teases, dropping his keys on the counter before making his way over to you. he’s in one of those casual moods, still dressed in a white t-shirt and dark jeans, but there’s this glint in his eye—one that makes you bite back a smile.

“you want to see what’s inside?” you ask, brushing past him on your way to the box, fingers trailing lightly across his arm as you go.

“you know i do,” he murmurs, following close behind, his hand gently resting on your waist.

you carefully lift the lid, pulling out the tissue paper, and there it is—the lingerie, delicate lace, satin ribbons, and soft mesh in a soft blush color. the angel wings are folded beneath the fabric, shimmering lightly under the living room light, and the sight of them makes your heart skip a beat.

“holy shit,” drew whispers, his hand now gripping your waist a little tighter. his eyes are glued to the set, his breathing just a touch heavier than before.

“like it?” you tease, pulling the lingerie out of the box and holding it up to your body, the sheer material barely covering anything.

he licks his lips, his gaze dark and heavy. “put it on.”

there’s something in his voice that makes your stomach flip, a hunger that you know all too well.

you nod, taking the lingerie and wings into the bedroom. your hands are trembling just slightly as you slip into the delicate fabric, the lace cool against your skin. it fits like a second skin, hugging your curves in all the right places. the wings, once you attach them, feel light and ethereal on your shoulders, giving you that iconic angel look.

taking a deep breath, you step out of the bedroom, and the moment drew lays eyes on you, you feel the intensity of his gaze wash over you.

his eyes roam over your body, taking in every inch of you from the lace that barely covers your breasts to the delicate ribbons that rest on your hips. he leans back against the couch, his eyes darkening as they lock onto yours.

“you look unreal,” he breathes, his voice low and rough, like it’s taking everything in him to hold himself back.

you smile, feeling a surge of confidence under his gaze. “thanks, babe. i’m supposed to film a tiktok for them in this.”

“forget tiktok for a second,” he says, his voice deeper now, more demanding. “walk for me.”

you blink, caught off guard by the request. “walk for you?”

“yeah,” he nods, sitting up straighter, his eyes never leaving you. “like you’re on the runway. i want to see you.”

there’s a playful smile on your lips as you step back, giving yourself some room. his eyes track your every move, the air in the room growing heavier with tension.

you start walking, slow and deliberate, your hips swaying just like they would on the runway. every step feels charged, every movement precise. his eyes burn into you, watching the way the lingerie clings to your body, the way the wings catch the light with each turn.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, shifting slightly on the couch. “come here.”

you obey, walking toward him, but the moment you’re close enough, his hands are on you, pulling you down onto his lap. his fingers grip your hips tightly as he looks up at you, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he growls, his hands slipping under the lace of the lingerie, fingers teasing the bare skin of your thighs.

you can’t help but smile, leaning down to brush your lips against his. “oh, i think i have some idea.”

he kisses you then, hard and demanding, his hands roaming over your body like he can’t get enough. his fingers slip under the straps of your lingerie, pulling them down your shoulders as his mouth moves to your neck, kissing and biting his way down.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. “i can’t believe you’re mine.”

“i’m all yours,” you whisper back, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging gently as his lips find your collarbone.

he groans at your words, his hands gripping your hips tighter, pulling you down harder against him. you can feel how hard he is through his jeans, the pressure between your legs already building with every movement.

“take this off,” he demands, his fingers tugging at the delicate lace of your lingerie.

you comply, reaching behind to unclasp it, letting the fabric fall away, leaving you completely bare except for the wings still attached to your back.

drew pulls back slightly to take you in, his eyes dark and filled with raw desire. “you look like a fucking angel,” he whispers, his voice rough and filled with awe.

before you can respond, he’s pulling you closer, his lips crashing against yours again as his hands roam over every inch of your exposed skin. his touch is possessive, like he’s claiming you, marking you as his.

you gasp as his hands find your breasts, teasing your nipples until they’re hard and sensitive. his lips follow, kissing and sucking at the soft skin, drawing moans from your lips that only seem to spur him on more.

“drew, please,” you whisper, your hips grinding against him, desperate for more.

he groans, his hands moving to undo his jeans, pushing them down just enough to free himself. he’s hard and ready, and the sight of him makes your mouth water.

“come here,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips as he positions you over him.

you don’t need any more encouragement. you sink down onto him slowly, both of you groaning at the sensation. he fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, and you have to take a moment to catch your breath.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he mutters, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to move.

you start riding him slowly, your hands on his shoulders as you find a rhythm, your hips moving in slow, deliberate circles. the pleasure builds quickly, the friction between your bodies driving you both closer to the edge with each movement.

drew’s hands roam over your body, one hand slipping between your legs to tease your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his hips bucking up into you, making you gasp.

“drew, i’m so close,” you pant, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ride him harder, faster, chasing your release.

“come for me, baby,” he growls, his voice rough and demanding. “let go for me.”

that’s all it takes. the coil of pleasure snaps inside you, and you come undone with a cry, your body trembling as waves of ecstasy crash over you. drew’s hands grip your hips tightly as he thrusts up into you, his own release following soon after.

you collapse against him, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies still tangled together as the aftershocks of your orgasms pulse through you.

drew presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you as you both come down from the high.

“you’re gonna kill me one day,” he murmurs, his voice still breathless but filled with affection.

you smile, nuzzling into his neck. “maybe. but at least you’ll die happy.”

he chuckles, his hands running up and down your back, gently tracing the outline of the wings still attached to you.

“i can’t believe i get to keep you,” he whispers, his voice soft and full of awe.

you lift your head to meet his gaze, your heart swelling at the love and admiration you see in his eyes. “i’m not going anywhere,” you whisper back, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“good,” he murmurs, pulling you closer. “because i’m never letting you go.”

[ijustwannabecool]

White Flag - PT. 2

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Driver!Reader

Summary... Two exes on the same team. They broke up before the season started. Now they’re forced to work together through 23 races, 5 continents, and one very awkward off-season.

A/N: I'm sorry it took so long to post part 2. I just got really into it and I wanted to keep writing on here but I reached my Tumblr limit, so I might have to post a part 3 soon lol... but here you guys goooo.. I hope you guys enjoy it and part 3 will be post soon.

Part 1 - Read before you read this part :)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Ferrari’s media team knew a goldmine when they saw one.

Two top-tier drivers. Former lovers. Now teammates.

It wasn’t just a headline—it was content. It was clicks. It was drama wrapped in designer race suits.

“From lovers to rivals: Leclerc and Y/L/N gear up for 2025.” “Scuderia's Spiciest Season Yet: Can Ferrari's new duo keep it professional?” “Breakups and Burnouts: How tension off track might fuel fire on it.”

Charles wanted to strangle someone every time he saw one of those headlines. But the PR team only leaned in harder.

The official campaign slogan?

"Two hearts. One team. One goal."

It made him sick.

They paired them for every promo shoot. Every sponsorship feature. Every “day in the life” segment.

You would smile like it meant nothing. Laugh politely when the hosts made jabs about “familiarity.” Maintain a neutral distance.

Meanwhile, Charles was unraveling.

They wouldn’t even let you use separate PR handlers.

“Unity,” they said. “Cohesion,” they insisted. “It sells,” they didn’t say—but didn’t have to.

One day, they were forced to film a bit where they stood back-to-back, arms crossed, smirking.

Charles hadn’t realized how intimate standing back-to-back could feel until you shifted slightly, your shoulder brushing his just barely, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

You didn’t react. Like it didn’t mean anything. Like it hadn’t meant everything once.

------

Australia

Melbourne was warm. Too warm for a black polo, but the Ferrari dress code didn’t care about comfort.

Charles adjusted his collar and checked his reflection in the mirror one last time before stepping into the media room.

Youwas already there.

Of course you was.

Hair pulled back. Aviators on. Red polo perfectly tucked. Smiling as you leaned over a table to sign posters for the fan zone.

He hated how effortlessly cool you looked. How unbothered.

The moment the press spotted you together, the room buzzed.

Click click click. Leclerc. Y/L/N. Ferrari’s power pairing. Exes on the grid. Tension or teamwork?

Charles forced a smile as you were called forward.

“Let’s get a joint shot for the socials,” the team rep chirped.

You stood next to him, closer than you’d been since that night in Monaco.

“Hi,” you said under your breath, not looking at him.

He swallowed. “Hi.”

Click.

Click.

“Closer,” someone said.

Charles didn’t move. You didn’t either.

More clicks.

“Tell us,” a reporter grinned, “what’s it like sharing a garage with someone you used to share—”

You cut in, voice honey-sweet but razor sharp. “We share a team, not a past. And the only thing we’re focused on is winning.”

That shut them up. But the damage was done.

The soundbite was already being clipped, posted, quoted.

Back in the Ferrari hospitality tent, Charles found you alone by the espresso machine.

“I hate this,” he said quietly.

You turned, eyebrow raised. “The coffee?”

“This circus,” he gestured to the media tent. “The narrative. Us being—this.”

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have walked away.”

It wasn’t cruel. Just honest.

And it landed like a gut punch.

Before he could say anything else, the comms manager appeared.

“You two are up next for the Sky Sports segment. Smile, yeah?”

You walked off without another word.

Charles followed, knowing that for the next ten minutes, they’d have to pretend it didn’t still hurt.

------

The garage smelled like burnt rubber and nerves.

It always did on Saturdays, but this time it wasn’t just the usual pre-quali tension. It was you, three meters away, head bowed as a race engineer adjusted your headset, lips moving into the comms.

Charles wasn’t looking.

Except he was.

He always was.

“P2 and P3 look tight this weekend,” Fred Vasseur said, walking in with his clipboard. “If we want front row, we’ll need clean laps and clean heads.”

He looked directly at both of you when he said it.

Neither responded.

-

Q1 went smooth. Q2 went tense. Q3… was war.

Charles radioed in first. “Tell her not to back me into dirty air.”

His engineer’s voice crackled. “You’re two seconds behind her. You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, and last week I was ‘fine’ and I hit traffic.”

“We’ll relay it.”

A beat later: “She says tell him to stay out of her mirrors and focus on his own damn lap.”

Charles snorted inside his helmet. “Copy.”

-

Back in the garage post-Q3, the timing screens lit up.

P2 – Y/L/N P3 – Leclerc

Silence.

A few claps. A few murmured congratulations.

You walked past him to grab a towel. “Nice lap.”

He grabbed his own. “Yeah. Yours was better.”

“Guess I still know how to deliver under pressure.”

There it was.

He turned, a bit too fast. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

You looked at him finally. Really looked.

Helmet off. Hair damp with sweat. Eyes fierce.

“You tell me, Charles.”

-

They finished P4 and P5.

Missed the podium by a few seconds.

Not a bad result, but not what Ferrari needed. Not what they needed.

The debrief room was cold, sterile. Screens flickered with sector data, lap comparisons, tire degradation stats.

Fred stood at the front, running through post-race notes.

Charles sat across from you.

You hadn’t spoken since the grid.

“Turn 11. Charles, you lost time on Lap 39. What happened?”

He shrugged, eyes flicking to you. “Dirty air. Wasn’t willing to risk taking her out.”

Your jaw tightened. “I gave space.”

He laughed under his breath. “Sure.”

“Okay,” Fred cut in quickly. “Let’s keep it constructive.”

Silence again.

Until you spoke, clear and direct. “We need a cleaner release strategy. And if he wants space, tell him to earn it next time.”

Charles’s head snapped up.

Fred sighed.

“Got it,” the strategist muttered. “We’ll review.”

The debrief ended five minutes later.

Charles stood.

So did you.

Your eyes met again, tired, sharp, something dangerously close to familiar.

But you walked out first.

Again.

-----

Bahrain

The room was packed.

Media day in Bahrain always felt intense, but this year? It was a feeding frenzy.

Two Ferrari drivers. One very public breakup.

The FIA insisted you sit together. "Transparency," they said.

Charles on the far left. You beside him. Lando, Carlos, and Oscar completed the row—but all eyes were on red.

“So,” a reporter grinned. “Ferrari’s newest pairing—how’s the vibe in the garage? Awkward breakfasts? Shared playlists?”

Lando laughed into his mic. “They sit further apart than the hard and soft compounds.”

You smiled politely. “It’s been professional. We’re both here to drive, not to relive 2023.”

Charles nodded. “We communicate what we need to. That’s what matters.”

A second reporter jumped in. “Y/N, any lingering tension after qualifying in front of Charles last week?”

Your eyes flicked to Charles, then back to the mic. “Only the competitive kind.”

Someone in the back raised a hand. “What’s your biggest strength as a driver?”

“Focus,” yousaid quickly.

“Control,” Charles added.

Lando snorted. “That didn’t age well.”

Y/N cracked a small smile. “Didn’t know you were a relationship therapist now, Norris.”

Charles almost laughed.

Almost.

-

After the panel, they filed out in silence.

Until Charles caught up to you near the paddock entrance.

“You handled that well,” he said quietly.

You kept walking. “Didn’t stab anyone with a mic, so I’d say yes.”

He glanced at you. “Look, I know we’re not… whatever we were. But if you ever want to talk—really talk—”

“I’ll let you know,” you replied, then turned into the Ferrari hospitality tent.

But your steps slowed just slightly, like part of you wanted to look back.

Charles didn’t follow.

Not yet.

-----

The floodlights buzzed overhead, casting the Bahrain circuit in an artificial glow. The air was dry. The engines roared.

Ferrari lined up P3 and P4. Charles ahead. Y/N behind.

“Smooth launch,” the engineer said. “Respect the plan. Strategy window opens Lap 11.”

You both confirm over radio.

And for the first ten laps, it was calm.

Until the tire degradation started to hit.

“Box, box,” said your race engineer.

You dove into the pits first, fresh mediums. Charles stayed out, covering the undercut.

Lap 12, he came in. Rejoining nose to tail.

Lap 16. The chaos began.

You had better grip. Charles was still defending.

The paddock held its breath as you launched down the inside into Turn 4.

Too late. Too hot. Too close.

“Whoa! Y/N just dove on Leclerc—”

“Contact?”

“Nearly!”

Charles had seconds to react, jerking the wheel just enough to give you space without going off.

You held the line. You didn’t touch. Barely.

Over team radio, silence.

Then Charles’s voice: “Tell her next time, commit or back off. No half-measures.”

One lap later: “Tell him thank you for not wrecking us both.”

Ferrari pit wall didn’t breathe again until Lap 57.

Crossing the line in P4 and Charles P5.

Clean. Barely.

But something had changed.

-----

The debrief room was tense.

Fred stood at the front with his tablet. “Let’s talk about Lap 16.”

Neither spoke.

Fred looked at you. “Too aggressive.”

He looked at Charles. “Too stubborn.”

“I gave her space,” Charles said flatly.

“Barely,” you muttered.

Fred exhaled. “Look, I don’t care what happened last year. Right now, we need points. Not pride.”

More silence.

Until Charles glanced at you. “That move… it was good.”

You blinked. “You sure? I thought I nearly ruined your race.”

“You didn’t. I adjusted. Trusted you would finish it clean.”

Tilting your head. “You trusted me?”

He nodded once. “Didn’t want to. But I did.”

Something soft flickering inside.

Fred cleared his throat. “Great. Now bottle that energy for Saudi.”

-----

Saudi Arabia

Jeddah at night was pure adrenaline.

Fast. Narrow. Dangerous.

You had qualified P5, Charles in P3. Both knew this track didn’t forgive mistakes. But neither expected what happened on Lap 22.

Yellow flag. Then red.

Oscar Piastri had gone into the wall. Marshals flooded the track. Everyone filed into the pit lane.

And just like that, the race paused mid-chaos.

Yanking your helmet off, pacing near your car.

Charles was sitting on the halo of his own, elbows on knees, gloves still on.

Fred walked over with the strategy lead. “We’re flipping it. You two are going hard tire to the end. But we need to control the restart.”

With a raised a brow. “As in… team orders?”

“No,” Fred said. “As in teamwork. You box first. Charles follows. You go aggressive. Charles defends.”

Charles finally spoke. “That’s risky.”

Fred stared at you both. “Only if you don’t trust each other.”

A pause.

Charles looked at you. “You okay with that?”

You held his gaze. “Can you handle being rear guard?”

His mouth twitched. “Can you handle being first out?”

You smirked. “Try and keep up, Leclerc.”

They fist-bumped. Small. Wordless.

But it meant something.

-

Race restart. Lap 25.

You launched. Clean getaway. Charles slotted in behind you perfectly.

The next 15 laps were chaos.

McLarens attacking. Mercedes on alternate strategy. George on softs, trying to divebomb.

But Charles covered you like a shield. Blocked every move. Clean. Aggressive. Masterful.

And when you crossed the line P2, Charles P3—it felt like more than just a podium.

It felt like healing.

----

The media pen was buzzing.

Carlos was talking to Sky Sports. Lando had already thrown his cap into the crowd.

You slipped into the corner of the garage, helmet still in hand, flushed cheeks cooling off under the LED lights.

Charles found you there. Silent, soft-footed, holding two water bottles.

He passed you one without a word.

You took it. “Thanks.”

He sat beside you, not too close. Just enough.

“You raced beautifully,” he said after a beat.

You looked at him. “You covered for me. Better than anyone else could’ve.”

He smiled. “We were a good team today.”

You tilted your head. “Today?”

He met your eyes, quiet. “Let’s start with today.”

For once, you didn’t push.

Just nodded, capped your water, and whispered, “Okay.”

----

Japan

Charles hated qualifying at Suzuka.

He used to love it. The rhythm. The corners. The history. But today, nothing clicked.

His rear snapped loose in Sector 1 twice. Oversteer in the Esses. Lock-up into Degner 2.

Q2: Eliminated. P11.

He didn’t even wait for the interview. Just pulled off his helmet and stormed into the back of the Ferrari garage.

You managed P3. But you didn’t celebrate.

You saw him disappear, saw the stiffness in his shoulders, the way he didn’t even speak to his engineer.

So you followed.

You found him in the corner, still suited, gloves off, jaw clenched.

-

“You don’t have to say anything,” he mutters without looking up.

But you step closer anyway.

“I’m not here to lecture you,” you say gently. “I’m here because I’ve had days like this too.”

His head turns, but his eyes don’t meet yours yet. “It was the car. It was me. It was—everything.”

You sit beside him, close but not touching.

“Look at me,” you say.

He does. Slowly. Hesitantly.

“You’re not done. This was just Q2. You still have tomorrow. We’re a team, remember?”

He doesn’t say anything for a second. Then quietly: “We are now.”

You nod once. “Then let me help. Whatever you need.”

He exhales, like something in him unclenches for the first time all day.

“I’ll need a miracle start.”

You smirk. “Good thing I’m not using mine.”

He laughs, just barely.

But it’s real.

--

Charles made up four places in the first ten laps.

Another two by Lap 38.

Finished P5. You held onto P4 despite tire drop-off and a late push from Hamilton.

Not their strongest weekend. But they walked away with points.

In the post-race cooldown room, you nudged his elbow lightly.

“You still think you needed a miracle?”

Charles gave a tired grin. “Might’ve had one.”

You raised an eyebrow. “From who?”

He didn’t answer.

But he didn’t have to.

------

It started as a joke.

Some Sky Sports producer thought it would be hilarious: "Charles and Y/N, do a mock argument for a TikTok—act like you're squabbling over setup or who's the favorite child at Ferrari.”

You both agreed. Begrudgingly.

They set up two chairs. One mic. A ridiculous prompt: “Pretend you’re in a team meeting and the other person won’t stop interrupting.”

The cameras rolled.

-

You fold your arms and cock your head at him. “If you’d actually listen to the data for once—”

He cuts you off. “If you didn’t divebomb every corner like it owes you money—”

“Oh please,” you laugh, playing it up. “Just admit you hate being second best.”

“Only to Verstappen,” he fires back smoothly.

The crew laughs.

You don’t.

Not really.

You lean in slightly, voice lower now. “That supposed to be a dig?”

He doesn’t break character—but something shifts in his eyes.

“You tell me,” he says. Still smiling. But not really.

You glance at the producer. “You got what you needed?”

“Yeah, that was gold.”

You stand. Walk off.

He follows, slower.

Outside the garage, just far enough from the cameras, you spin on your heel.

“What the hell was that?”

He shrugs. “It was a joke.”

“No, that was you throwing a jab while we’re still smiling for the world.”

He frowns, crosses his arms. “You said play it up.”

“I didn’t say twist the knife.”

Silence.

You hate this part. The stillness after anger. The too-honest parts neither of you mean to say.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You nod, jaw tight. “I know.”

You don’t talk the rest of the night.

But the next morning, there’s coffee on your table with your name scribbled on the cup.

And one word underneath it.

“Sorry.”

-

The race was messy.

Two safety cars. A virtual. DRS trains for half the grid. But somehow, you both came out of it ahead.

P3 for him. P4 for you.

Twenty-seven points for Ferrari.

In the hospitality tent after media rounds, you find him standing at the espresso bar, towel around his neck, half-buttoned race suit still clinging to his waist.

He turns when he hears your footsteps.

“You always drink coffee after a race?” you ask, grabbing a water.

He grins. “It’s tradition.”

“You qualified tenth and still made the podium. That deserves something stronger.”

He lifts his cup. “Double shot.”

You roll your eyes but smile. “WDC standings?”

He shrugs. “I’m third. You’re fourth. Two points between us.”

You raise your brows. “Still can’t believe I let you overcut me.”

“Let?” he repeats.

“I was being generous.”

He smirks. “Call it generosity when I’m leading after Austria.”

“You wish.”

Lando walks by and hears the tail end.

“Oh my God,” he mutters, dramatic. “Just snog already. The tension is exhausting.”

Carlos snorts behind him. “They’ve been like this for months.”

You and Charles glance at each other. Then look away.

You sip your water. He drinks his espresso.

Neither of you says what you're thinking.

But it's loud in the silence.

----

Miami

Miami was madness.

Neon everything. Celebs everywhere. Race suits clinging in the humidity. Cameras flashing like it was the Met Gala instead of a Grand Prix.

You’d qualified P4, Charles in P6 after a rough Q3. Grid penalties had bumped you both up a row.

Ferrari was flying under the radar. No drama this week. Just quiet consistency.

But the paddock? Loud.

“You know there’s a TikTok calling us ‘the parents of the grid’?” you ask, sliding into your seat for the drivers’ parade.

Charles adjusts his cap, smirks. “We’re barely speaking some weeks.”

You grin. “Exactly. Divorced parents.”

“Who share custody of Fred.”

You laugh, full and real, and it makes him pause for half a second. Just watch you.

“I like when you do that,” he says quietly.

You blink. “What?”

“Laugh like you don’t hate me.”

“I never hated you.”

He nods slowly. “I know. I just made it easy to pretend.”

The truck jolts forward. You look ahead again.

But your smile doesn’t fade.

-

The race was brutal.

Hot track temps. Double-stacked pit stop. A late safety car.

Y/N crossed the line P2 after a perfectly timed overtake on Checo. Charles held off George for P4. Nearly lost it on the final lap.

Back in the paddock, the post-race buzz is everywhere.

Champagne. Sunglasses. Music thumping somewhere from a sponsor tent.

Carlos walks over holding two beers. Tosses one to you, hands the other to Charles.

“To the newlyweds,” he jokes. “Still pretending you don’t like each other. Cute.”

You clink bottles with Charles without even thinking. “We’re just co-parenting Ferrari, remember?”

Charles grins. “The healthiest toxic duo on the grid.”

Lando, passing by, yells, “Divorced but still sleeping together vibes!”

You almost choke on your beer.

Charles? Just smirks and takes a sip.

----

They barely talked in Imola. Just strategy meetings and quiet nods between corners. No drama. No fireworks. Just a solid P3 for Charles, P5 for Y/N. Business as usual.

But Monaco?

Monaco was different.

The tension in the air was tighter. The roads narrower. The stakes—personal.

It wasn’t just another race for Charles. It was his race. His home. His curse.

Everyone knew it.

-

Race Weekend – Saturday Quali

You watched from the monitors in the Ferrari garage, suited up but still, hands clenched at your sides.

Charles had gone purple in Sector 1.

“Come on,” you murmured under your breath. “Come on, Charles…”

The team radio crackled as he crossed the line.

P1.

Pole position.

He’d done it.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

When he came back into the garage, helmet off, jaw tight but eyes bright, you were one of the first to meet him.

“You did it,” you say, the corners of your mouth lifting before you can stop it. “Finally.”

He grins—really grins—and for once, doesn’t guard it.

“I did.”

You nod. “Go win the damn thing.”

He looks at you then—really looks—and says quietly, “I’ll try. But either way, thanks.”

You shrug, but your heart stumbles.

“Don’t thank me yet. It’s still Monaco.”

--

Sunday – Race Day

He leads from lights to flag.

No technical failure. No strategy blunder. No crash.

Charles Leclerc wins the Monaco Grand Prix.

The grandstands explode. The team jumps the pit wall. Red flags wave in the sea of blue.

He pulls into parc fermé and slams both fists on the halo of the car.

He’s yelling something, words swallowed by noise, but it’s pure release.

You watch it all unfold from the pit wall, tears stinging behind your visor.

-

Later, when he comes back to the garage, hair damp from champagne, cheeks still red from adrenaline, he finds you waiting with a towel in your hand.

“I knew this one meant everything to you,” you say, holding out the towel.

He takes it, breathless. “You cried?”

“I didn’t cry.”

“You definitely cried.”

You glance away. “It’s allergies.”

“Bullshit,” he says, laughing. Then quieter: “Thank you. Again.”

You tilt your head. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did,” he says. “You believed in me.”

You don’t answer that. You don’t have to.

Because it’s written all over your face.

-

Later That Night – Ferrari Hospitality

The party is in full swing. Champagne, laughter, blurry sponsor reps trying to dance.

You sit off to the side with your engineer, nerves humming low in your gut.

“You ready for Spain?” he asks.

You force a smile. “Sure. First home GP with Ferrari? No pressure.”

“Cameras will love it. Fans too.”

“Yeah. Just hope I don’t crash it into Turn 5 and cry on national TV.”

He laughs, but you don’t.

That’s when Charles walks by. Slows down when he catches the look on your face.

He waits until your engineer steps away, then slides into the seat beside you.

“You nervous?” he asks.

You nod. “Terrified.”

He sips from his drink. “Good. That means you care.”

You let out a breath. “This is the first time I’m going back to Barcelona and not just racing, but representing Ferrari. It’s not just about me anymore.”

He leans back. “You know how many times I’ve tried to win Monaco? How many times I choked on it?”

You nod slowly.

“This year, I stopped racing it for everyone else. I drove it for myself.”

You look at him.

“You should do the same,” he says. “You don’t owe anyone perfection. Just honesty.”

You blink. “What if I mess it up anyway?”

He shrugs. “Then you mess it up. But it’s yours to mess up. You don’t have to earn your seat. You already did.”

You smile. Really smile this time.

“Was that… support?” you tease.

He grins. “Don’t get used to it.”

You clink your plastic cup against his glass bottle.

“To not crashing.”

“To not crashing.”

-----

Barcelona

Barcelona was hot.

Not just the weather, but the noise, the chaos, the sheer pressure of it. The home crowd roared every time Y/N’s face flashed on a screen. Every time she passed pit lane. Every time she stepped into frame beside a red car with her name printed on it.

It was her first Spanish Grand Prix as a Ferrari driver.

And everyone expected magic.

Quali – Saturday

P1: Y/N P2: Charles P3: Lando

You’d nailed it. Sector after sector, perfect lines, clean exit out of Turn 10, a final push in Sector 3 that put you on provisional pole.

Then the radio crackled: “P1, Y/N. That’s P1. You’re on pole.”

The team cheered.

Charles clapped from parc fermé. Genuinely. Unreservedly.

“You good?” he asks later, bumping your shoulder lightly in the garage.

You shake your head. “No. I’m gonna puke.”

He laughs. “That’s how you know you’re about to win.”

You glance sideways. “So you’re rooting for me?”

He leans closer, voice low and calm. “I’ve always rooted for you.”

You freeze just a second too long. But he doesn’t push.

Just walks away, leaving you with your heart in your throat and butterflies in your stomach.

Sunday – Race Day

The stands were a blur of red and yellow. Spanish flags waved alongside Ferrari ones. Your name echoed down every straight.

Charles held P2 the entire race. Defended like hell when Checo threatened. Managed tires. Covered DRS zones.

But the focus was on you.

Lap after lap, you pulled ahead. Clean. Precise. Brilliant.

And when you crossed the finish line...

P1. Home race. Home win.

The crowd erupted.

You screamed into your radio. Your engineer cried. The Ferrari garage lost its mind.

And somewhere just behind you, Charles smiled the way only someone truly proud could.

-

The room is ice cold. But your skin is still burning.

You’ve barely sat down when the water bottle is shoved into your hand and the towel lands in your lap.

Charles is the one who passed them to you. He’s standing across the room now, sipping his own water like it’s no big deal, like he didn’t just defend for half the race so you could run free.

“I can’t feel my legs,” you mumble, still breathless.

He leans against the wall. “I’m pretty sure the Spanish anthem gave me goosebumps.”

You laugh softly. “My parents were in the grandstand.”

“I saw them on the big screen,” he says. “Your mum looked like she was crying.”

“She probably was,” you reply, squeezing the towel. “She always said if I won in Barcelona, she’d throw a shoe at someone out of joy.”

He chuckles. “Tell her to aim for Zak Brown next time.”

You snort. Then pause. Then say, quieter now, real. “Thanks. For racing clean. For not pushing too hard.”

His gaze softens.

“You earned it,” he says. “I just stayed out of your way.”

You look at him, and for once it doesn’t hurt. It just feels right.

Like you’re finally starting again. Not as what you were, but something new. Something steadier.

The door opens. A staff member calls you both out to the podium room.

He offers you a hand to stand.

You take it without hesitation.

-

In parc fermé, after the cooldown room, after the media, you found each other again.

“I didn’t puke,” you tell him, dazed, half-laughing.

He steps forward, curls messy under his cap, cheeks still pink from the sun and emotion.

“You won.”

“I won.”

His arms open without a word. And you fall into them.

For a second, the noise fades. The cameras disappear. It’s just him. Just you.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers, so quiet no one else could hear it.

You squeeze him tighter. “Thank you.”

Then you pull away, wipe your eyes, and grin. “Next up: Austria. You better keep up.”

He smirks. “I’ll try. La Reine rouge.” (The red queen)

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “You’ll get it translated later.”

-----

Austria

Austria was supposed to be serious.

Sprint weekend. Short, brutal track. No room for error.

But somewhere between the mountain air, the pasta night in the Ferrari motorhome, and Charles finally wearing that stupid team polo with one too many buttons undone…

Things started to feel fun again.

-

Driver Dinner – Friday Night

It’s the kind of night that doesn’t feel like work.

The sun’s dipping behind the mountains. The restaurants terrace is strung with soft lights and red napkins folded into fancy shapes none of you can pronounce. Someone from the kitchen is overcooking garlic bread. Carlos is already on his second glass of wine. And you?

You’re trying to act normal.

Trying really hard not to notice how Charles looks across the table with his sleeves pushed up and that laugh that used to be yours echoing across the space like it never stopped.

“So,” Carlos says, swirling his glass like he’s in a telenovela. “Be honest. Which one of you is better at keeping secrets?”

You blink. “Why?”

He gestures between you and Charles with a dramatic flair. “Because there is clearly something going on here, and I refuse to be the last to know.”

You raise a brow. “Carlos.”

He leans forward. “Y/N.”

Across the table, Charles is fighting a smile. “Maybe we just communicate better now.”

Lando chimes in, grinning. “Yeah, like when you told her over radio today to stay off your rear wing?”

You toss a piece of bread at him.

“I was racing,” you say. “It’s called banter. Learn it.”

Carlos winks. “Banter is foreplay.”

You nearly snort water through your nose.

Charles? Doesn’t deny it.

He just shrugs, relaxed in a way he hasn’t been all season.

“And besides,” he adds casually, “If we were secretly back together, you’d think we’d be dumb enough to flirt in front of you lot?”

Silence.

Then Giuliano: “Honestly, yes.”

The entire table erupts.

You laugh so hard you actually slap Charles’s shoulder.

He looks at you with that damn twinkle in his eye.

And for a second.

Just a second,

It feels like it used to. Like before Monaco. Before the silence. Before the pretending.

You’re quiet again by dessert.

Carlos is now deep in a debate with an engineer about which gelato flavor is elite. The others are trading sim rig horror stories.

You sip your drink and feel someone watching you.

When you glance up, Charles is already looking away.

But you caught it.

And that smile you’ve been holding back?

It finally escapes.

-

Sprint – Saturday

Short, sweet, chaotic. Charles finishes P3, you take P5 after getting squeezed wide by Oscar.

But it’s Sunday that really sets the paddock buzzing.

-

Race Day – Sunday

Lap 18. Team radio.

Engineer: “Charles, pace is good. Y/N behind on same strategy.”

Charles: “Tell her to stay off my rear wing. It’s not a date.”

A beat of silence.

Y/N (radio): “Could’ve fooled me, Leclerc. You’re blushing.”

The Ferrari garage loses it.

PR rep facepalms. Fred mutters something about needing holy water.

Post-race: P2 (Charles), P4 (Y/N).

Lando tweets: “Y/N and Charles flirting over radio like it’s Love Island.” Carlos reposts with: “Soft launch confirmed? I need mom and dad back together..."

-

Later That Night – Back at the Hotel

You get a message.

Charles: “Nice overtake today. Also, you’re the one who was blushing.”

You reply: “Shut up. Go to sleep.”

But you smile the entire time you type it.

---

Silverstone

Silverstone was grey. Not raining. Not sunny. Just stuck in that British limbo where the air feels like it might cry at any moment.

You arrived early. Charles didn’t.

And that -that- was unusual.

He was always early. Always first in the sim room. First at track walk. First in the debrief seat with his notebook and highlighter like some overachieving student.

But this weekend, he was quieter.

And you noticed.

-

Thursday – Media Day

The questions were more pointed than usual. You’d placed P1 in FP1. Charles, P6.

You kept getting asked about “momentum,” “confidence,” “beating your teammate.”

He kept getting asked about pressure.

And still, you sat side by side for the press conference.

“You good?” you whisper before it starts.

He shrugs. “I’m fine.”

You nudge his knee under the table. “That’s not an answer.”

He looks at you. Really looks.

And that’s when you realize how tired he is.

Not physically. Emotionally.

You nudge again, gentler. “Hey.”

He exhales. “I’m okay. Just… not here yet.”

“Then where are you?”

He doesn’t say it right away.

Then he murmurs, “August. In a quiet place. Without cameras.”

You blink.

“Summer break?” you ask.

He nods.

You pause. “Where?”

“Southern Italy. Friend’s place near the coast.”

Your stomach dips.

“…You’re kidding.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“I-” you bite your lip. “Booked an Airbnb ten minutes from there. Like. Two days ago.”

You stare at each other.

Then he chuckles. “Of course you did.”

“Pure coincidence,” you insist, suddenly hot in your race suit.

“Sure.”

You glare. “I didn’t even know where you were going.”

“I never said you did,” he says, that stupid smug grin appearing.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t make this a thing.”

“Too late,” Carlos says from three seats over.

--

Saturday – Quali Day

It’s wet. Classic Silverstone.

Charles struggles in Q2, nearly bins it at Stowe. You hold pole for a heartbeat before George snatches it in the dying seconds.

You’ll start P2. Charles, P6.

Back in the garage, he rips off his gloves a little too sharply.

You wait.

And then...

“You’re allowed to be frustrated,” you say, stepping in quietly.

“I’m not frustrated,” he mutters.

“Charles.”

He looks up. Wet curls flattened to his forehead, eyes sharp and tired.

You lower your voice. “It’s not a weakness to feel disappointed.”

He laughs, short and bitter. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you’re hard on yourself,” you say. “I think you punish yourself for things the car can’t even control.”

You step closer.

“And I think I hate seeing you like this.”

That stops him cold.

You watch him swallow hard, jaw clenching like he wants to say something but won’t let himself.

“Thanks,” he says softly. “For… whatever that was.”

“Support,” you say.

“Feels dangerous coming from you.”

You smile. “Only if you let it be.”

-

Sunday – Race Day

The track dried up. The race was electric.

George retired early. You led for half the race. Charles clawed back place after place, hungry like he hadn’t been since Monaco.

Lap 48: You were running P1. He was P3, chasing Lando.

Lap 51: He took P2.

Final lap: Both Ferraris on the podium.

P1: Y/N. P2: Charles. P3: Max.

Ferrari drowned in red smoke and champagne.

-

Post-Race – Cooldown Room

“You’re two for two,” he says, walking in still half out of breath.

You blink up at him from the bench. “And you’re creeping up on me in points.”

He tosses you a towel. “Scared?”

“Not of you.”

You grin. He does too.

You take a sip of water. “That thing you said the other day.”

“What thing?”

“About August. About being somewhere quiet.”

He nods.

“You still want that?”

He tilts his head. “You offering company?”

You pretend to think about it.

Then shrug. “Pure coincidence, remember?”

He grins. “Sure.”

----

Hungary

Hungary was a slow burner.

Tight corners. Technical turns. Strategy-focused. No chaos unless the weather invited it.

And the weather?

Was knocking.

The forecast kept flipping. Every five minutes a new update. Cloud cover, yes. Rain? Maybe. Thunder? Possible.

You were P3. Charles, P4. Both cars strong. Steady. Waiting for the right storm.

-

Saturday – Night Before the Race

Dinner was quiet. Everyone focused. No wine this time. No Carlos antics. Just calm.

You sat beside Charles by accident.

Or maybe not.

You didn’t speak much. But your knees brushed under the table.

And this time?

Neither of you moved.

-

Race Day – Sunday

Lap 28.

The rain hit.

Just as soft as it started, it threw the whole race into chaos.

Slippery pit entries. Unplanned stops. Everyone scrambling.

You both pitted perfectly.

And for fifteen laps—you led.

Charles ran P2. Again. Right behind you. Shadowing you. Protecting you.

Team radio stayed mostly silent.

Because neither of you needed words anymore.

Final Result: P1 – Y/N. P2 – Charles. Ferrari 1-2.

Three in a row for you.

And for the first time all season, it felt like you could breathe.

-

Post-Race – The Rain Comes Back

The cooldown room was a blur.

Then the podium.

Then the interviews.

Then the chaos.

And finally, finally, you were alone.

Or at least, you thought you were.

You step outside the back of the hospitality tent, just for a minute. The air is wet. The rain’s light but steady, misting your hair, cooling your face.

You close your eyes.

“You always do this?” a voice says behind you.

You open them. He’s there. Leaning on the wall. Drenched.

You exhale. “Needed a minute.”

He walks over. No umbrella. No jacket. Just him.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod slowly. “I think I am.”

He looks at you like he doesn’t believe it.

But he wants to.

You pull in a breath. “Feels like everything’s moving so fast. Like one minute I’m terrified and the next I’m winning. Again. And people keep looking at me like I’ve already become the person I’m supposed to be and I’m just—”

You stop.

He steps closer.

“You don’t have to be her all the time,” he says softly.

You blink.

“You can just be you. With me.”

The silence after that stretches. Soft. Real.

Then you say, “You ever think about us?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Every day.”

You’re not sure who moves first.

Maybe him. Maybe you.

But suddenly, his forehead is pressed to yours, the rain dripping from his lashes, and it’s like the entire world slows down.

No cameras. No team. No finish line.

Just you and him and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you never stopped being something.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

He closes his eyes.

“I never stopped.”

And that?

That’s the moment.

Not dramatic. Not loud.

Just true.

--

Summer Break Begins

The coast of Southern Italy was slow. Lazy waves. Salty air. Golden light. The kind of place where the world paused and no one expected anything from you.

You both booked different villas.

Ten minutes apart.

You told the team it was coincidence. You told yourselves it was, too.

But the second night, you were at his place. And neither of you left much after that.

-

Day 1

The sand is cool beneath your feet as the sun dips low on the horizon. The sky’s turning pink. He’s walking beside you, barefoot, jeans rolled, one hand swinging lazily between you like he wants to reach for you but won’t unless you do.

“I hated seeing you win,” he says, so suddenly you stop.

You look at him.

“Not because you don’t deserve it,” he adds. “But because I wasn’t beside you when you got there. Not really.”

Your throat tightens. “That was your choice.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “And I’ve regretted it every day since.”

You walk in silence for a while.

Then he says, “I missed you. As a person. As my person.”

You don’t answer with words.

You just take his hand.

And this time?

He doesn’t let go.

-

Day 3

He says he has a plan. You say you don’t do boats. He says you’ll survive.

You show up in a linen dress and sunglasses. He’s already shirtless, smirking.

The water is impossibly blue. The sky cloudless. It’s just the two of you, a bottle of wine, and playlists you didn’t know he still remembered.

He drops anchor somewhere secluded, switches the engine off, and the only sound left is the sea.

You both lie on the sunpad, close but not touching.

Until he shifts.

And suddenly he’s above you, eyes searching yours, hand gently pushing your hair back.

“You’re staring,” you whisper.

“I’m allowed,” he says. “I used to wake up next to you.”

You reach up. Let your fingers graze his jaw.

“What are we doing?” you ask.

He swallows. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to stop.”

When his mouth finds yours—it’s slow. Familiar. Desperate in a quiet way. Like both of you are afraid you’ll vanish again if you rush it.

You don’t sleep with him that day.

But you fall asleep beside him on the boat, curled under a towel, head on his chest.

And when you wake up, his hand is still in yours.

-

Day 5

It’s after dinner. Wine-soaked. Candle-lit. You’re sitting on the terrace of your villa, legs in his lap, playlist humming low in the background.

He hasn’t kissed you yet today.

Not because he doesn’t want to.

But because he needs to say it first.

“I want this,” he says. “You. Us.”

You stop playing with the hem of his sleeve.

“But I want it right,” he adds. “No hiding. No fear. No thinking you’ll disappear again.”

You nod slowly. “I want that too.”

“But not yet?” he guesses.

“Not yet,” you whisper. “Let’s keep this just ours a little longer.”

He leans in. “You’re already mine.”

You pull him into a kiss before you can cry.

And when he carries you inside that night, it’s not hurried. It’s reverent.

You undress each other like unwrapping something fragile.

When he finally sinks into you, it’s not lust. It’s homecoming.

Slow. Deep. Whispered names. Fingers tangled. Lips pressed to shoulders.

You don’t speak much.

You don’t have to.

You’ve already said everything.

-

Day 8

You come back from the beach to find fairy lights strung across your villa’s patio.

A record player spinning something French. A small table set for two.

He walks out from the kitchen barefoot with a dish he clearly didn’t cook.

“Let’s pretend we’re normal for one night,” he says.

You laugh. “We’re not even pretending we’re not dating.”

He grins. “No cameras. No PR. Just you. And me.”

Dinner turns into dancing.

Dancing turns into kissing.

Kissing turns into bodies pressed against the wall, then the bed, then every surface you can reach.

He makes you come twice before the words even leave his mouth.

“I love you.”

It’s breathless. Honest. Like he’s been holding it for months.

You look at him, sweaty, wrecked, completely yours and say it back.

“I love you too.”

---

When the break ends, you pack separate bags.

Fly separate flights.

Walk into the paddock for Race 12 side by side but not touching.

Just friends.

But at night?

You take the long way back to your motorhome.

And sometimes, when you knock?

He’s already opening the door.

------

Netherlands

The sky over Zandvoort is cloudy. The ocean breeze rolls in from the dunes. The grandstands are orange. Loud. Buzzing. Everyone’s talking about Max.

But the paddock?

The paddock is talking about you.

You arrive with sunglasses on, hoodie up, hair slightly wind-swept from the private car ride you didn’t take with Charles. Definitely not. You walked in separately. Your PR manager made sure of it.

But your lips are a little too pink. Your smile a little too soft.

And when Charles walks in ten minutes later with the same sunglasses, same wind-swept hair, and that ridiculous barely-there smirk?

Yeah.

People notice.

“You think they know?” you murmur beside him as you both wait at the Pirelli media wall.

“I think they’ve always known,” he replies. “We just stopped giving them a reason to guess.”

You lean closer. “You remember the rules?”

He recites, low: “No lingering touches. No inside jokes. No heart-eyes.”

You grin. “And?”

He shrugs. “No fucking in the simulator room.”

You elbow him so hard he coughs.

-

Free Practice – FP2

He follows you out of the garage. Your helmets tap as you pass in the pit lane. Subtle. Routine.

Except he looks at you just before you pull away, and the cameras catch it.

Reddit explodes: "That was not a 'just friends' glance."

-

Quali – Saturday

You’re faster. He knows it.

Your engineer radios in, tells you your Sector 2 is purple.

Charles’s voice cracks through your earpiece: “Beautiful lap. Go get pole.”

You do.

And later, when he finds you in the back of the motorhome, towel slung around his neck, hair still damp, he doesn’t touch you. Just smiles.

“You’re glowing,” he murmurs.

“So are you,” you say back, even though he didn’t win a thing.

-

Race Day – Sunday

It’s wet. Again. Light drizzle, slick tires.

You start P1. Charles P3.

Lap 28, you're both leading a Ferrari 1-2.

No drama. No fighting. Just clean, perfect coordination.

P1: Y/N. P2: Charles.

Three wins in a row. Four total. The championship is no longer a dream...it’s real.

-

Post-Race – Press Room

“So,” a journalist starts, “what’s it like racing alongside your friend Charles Leclerc, week after week?”

You smile.

He smiles.

You glance at him, just for a second too long.

And when you answer-

“He’s… steady,” you say. “He’s where I look when I’m overwhelmed. And when I cross the line first, the only person I want to see waiting is him.”

He turns his head. Slowly.

His eyes are soft.

His voice even softer.

“I feel the same.”

Your PR rep nearly faints.

Back in the motorhome

You shut the door behind you.

His hands are in your hair before you even breathe.

Lips locked. Breathless.

He breaks the kiss to whisper:

“Friends don’t do this.”

You grin against his mouth.

“They do now.”

-----

Monza

Monza isn’t just a race.

It’s home.

Not your home. But his. And by now, it feels like yours, too.

The Tifosi line the track like a sea of worship. Flags wave from balconies. Flares smoke up the sky. Every face wears red.

The pressure? It’s unbearable.

The love? Unmatched.

-

Friday – Media Day

The questions are nonstop.

“Can Ferrari win at home?”

“Can Y/N hold her WDC lead?”

“Can Charles challenge for a win without team drama?”

No one asks about your friendship. Not directly.

But when a Sky Sports reporter jokes that you and Charles are "dangerously in sync lately," Charles just smirks.

You?

You sip your water and smile.

The same smile you gave him this morning in bed.

-

Saturday – Quali

Pole goes to Max. You qualify P2. Charles nails P3.

But the radio moment during Q3?

That’s what stirs the internet.

“Let him know I’m pushing,” you tell the team.

A beat.

Then his voice: “You’re always pushing. That’s what I love about you.”

Silence.

Then a clumsy, “I mean. On track.”

You say nothing.

But you’re laughing inside your helmet.

And so is he.

Reddit is on fire within five minutes.

“That’s what I love about you”? HELLO? TELL ME THEY’RE NOT DATING AGAIN I DARE YOU

-

Sunday – Race Day

It’s chaos. DRS trains. Tire degradation. Early pit stops.

But somehow, it’s still a Ferrari 2-3.

P2: Y/N. P3: Charles.

Max wins. Again.

But the crowd doesn’t care.

Because Ferrari is on the podium.

Because you’re on the podium.

Because when the national anthem plays, and Charles looks at you, not like a teammate, not like an ex, but like everything. The whole world sees it.

-

Post-Race – Parc Fermé

You throw your arms around him before anyone else can.

You don’t kiss him. Not quite.

But your face is so close that the cameraman actually gasps.

His lips brush your cheek. His hands grip your waist. And when you pull back, flushed and breathless, he whispers:

“A couple more races.”

You nod.

“Then we stop pretending.”

-

Garage – 45 minutes later

Carlos finds you both tucked in a back corner.

“You two are so bad at hiding things,” he mutters, peeling a banana.

“We’re not hiding anything,” you say.

Charles nods, deadpan. “We’re just teammates.”

Carlos raises a brow. “Teammates don’t leave lipstick on each other’s necks.”

You slap Charles with a towel.

He just smiles.

-----

Azerbaijan

The streets of Baku are slick with heat. Everything’s close here. No space to breathe. No space to run.

You’ve been riding high for weeks.

Wins. Points. Glances in motorhome hallways. His hand on your lower back when no one’s watching. The kind of soft love you’d forgotten how to feel.

So maybe you’re not prepared when it happens.

-

Friday – Paddock Arrival

You spot her before he does.

Tall. Blonde. Sharp sunglasses. One of those PR-model hybrids who floats between teams and beds with the same trained smile.

You know her name. Everyone does.

Élodie.

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