#best places to visit in Singapore

[events-happenings-in-singapore]

Singapore's Pasar Malam: Authentic Night Market Experience

This bootleg Pasar Malam aka night market is a collaboration between creative practice Studio29 and local street brand SKIN+BONE, conceived by a mutual love for all things nostalgia with a healthy garnish of humour.

[flamingotransworldpvtltd]

5 best things to do in Singapore with Family

Today when we move around we heard a lot of people discussing spending vacations in South-East Asian countries and when we start exploring different nations we end up with the fact that most countries are offers natural habitats which consist of clean beaches, diverse wildlife, and cozy stays which makes most of them romantic.

But what if you are someone with a family who wants to thrill around an urban lifestyle instead of romantic destinations?

Don't worry we have got a solution for you. Yes we agree that 70% of South-East Asian destinations are romantic but it does consist of destinations like Singapore where you can relax with a pinch of thrill and fun but a bunch of things to do in Singapore.

Here are some destinations in Singapore that you can visit with your family.

1.      Universal Studios - Famed around the world this attraction is located in between a world of resorts. Universal studios are one of few theme parks which don’t require any introduction, as per its name it is a universe of its own divided into 7 theme parks and 28 diverse rides to enjoy. it is advisable not to visit it during national holidays otherwise you will end up in a long queue. It is one of the perfect places to visit around with family and thrill. 

2.      Chinatown - A bustling Neighbourhood of China that is included in almost every Singapore tour package. It is a culturally vibrant place where you could easily find a mixture of Indian and Chinese culture and great street food to enjoy, which could make a great to enjoy with Family in the evening. 

3.      Garden By the Bay - Another famed iconic Family attraction of Singapore spread over almost 101 acres with a perfect mixture of Modern architecture and nature, with plenty of sections to explore around. 

4.      Underworld Aquarium at sea world- An unmissable spot in Singapore with a diversity of Aquamarine life preserved in the most unique way you will ever find which will make your tour more memorable.

5.      Singapore zoo - Stretched over 26 hectares of land Singapore zoo is a family attraction that can make your trip more exciting with over 3000 species of wildlife to explore around.

[abroadwebinfo]

Explore everything about Singapore in our comprehensive guide. Discover the vibrant culture, world-class attractions, delicious cuisine, and rich history of this bustling city-state.

From top travel tips and must-visit destinations to insider insights on local customs and traditions, our guide covers all you need to know to make the most of your Singapore experience.

Whether you're planning a trip or simply curious about this fascinating country, dive into our extensive resources and uncover the best of what Singapore has to offer.

[worldtimetv]

Singapore Travel Guide: Everything You Need to Know

[kaustubh-wankhede]

Embark on a journey through the enchanting Lion City with our curated list of the "31 Best Places To Visit In Singapore." Discover hidden gems, iconic landmarks, and cultural wonders that define this vibrant metropolis. From the futuristic skyline of Marina Bay to the lush greenery of Gardens by the Bay, each destination offers a unique experience. Immerse yourself in the rich tapestry of Singapore's diverse attractions, blending tradition and modernity. Uncover the secrets of this dynamic city-state with our guide, ensuring an unforgettable adventure. Keywords: Singapore, travel, destinations, landmarks, culture, exploration, Lion City, attractions, hidden gems.

[travelaro]

Singapore is known for its infrastructure, honeymoon, and cruise. Plan your trip to singapore by learning about the best places to visit in Singapore, best time to visit singapore, singapore currency, things to do in singapore

[disneyprincemuke]

the great war * mv1

a look into the fight that led to the painstaking breakup

pairings: max verstappen x reader

warnings: a lot of cursing, toxic max, toxic you, mentions of cheating

notes: this is part of midnights!! i've had this fight mapped out in my head for so long that i KNEW i had to include it... take a shot every single time i write “three” or use “what” in dialogue (spoiler alert: you’ll get wasted!!!)

fun fact: i wrote the first half of that night i came home from the club

(series masterlist)

you twirl a piece of your hair on your finger, eyes stuck to the screen hanging above you. the headphones sit on your ears comfortably as you bite down on your lip.

in front of you is max’s car being dragged back into the garage by his engineers.

knocked out in p2 for the first time this season, on a track he’s never had much luck with in his career — you can kind of understand why he’d be annoyed. especially when their partner team has made it further than him.

normally, it would have been okay. but this is max’s season as he claims it.

you nod to yourself, and gently take off the headphones. you turn towards the door that leads to the paddocks. there are a few interview panels that max has to go through with the unexpected result.

with all that transpired, max wouldn’t be in the best mood. you’re just trying to make sure that it doesn’t get to his head and doesn’t project it to your conversations later.

your presence in the garage is no longer necessary since max would not bother passing by.

you’re stopped by lily in the paddocks, making some small talk about the restaurant her and alex tried when they arrived a few days ago. you share a laugh about not really knowing how to approach singaporean dishes.

but you agree to try out some local food for breakfast with max if you have the time. immediately, you briskly walk back to max’s driver’s room to make him some coffee.

the jetlag you both get arriving in singapore is never easy, no matter how many times you come back. the visit is always too short to make adjusting your body clock easy.

surprisingly, it doesn’t take him long to make it back.

you can’t decipher what made the process so quick: did he kimi raikkonen his way through it, or have the journalists finally learned their lesson when max has had a bad time on the track?

the frustration on max is obvious. he doesn’t greet you when he comes in, just locks the door behind him and makes a sharp turn for the table to his left.

you were seated on the couch to the right.

you wait to see if max would acknowledge your presence, or at least give some attention to the coffee in the mug on the table. but seconds pass as max organises his items, shoving articles of clothing and fan gifts into his bag without a word.

without even turning to drink the coffee that slowly cools from its hot temperatures.

“i made you coffee,” you mutter, finally standing from your comfortable spot on the couch. you walk towards him and stop in the centre of the room when he sharply turns his head to the mug. “just how you like it.”

“oh, thank you.” he can barely make out a firm sentence, his tone faltering and hands shaking as he reaches out for the mug. “i hadn’t noticed, darling. i’m sorry.”

you nod, whispering a reassuring phrase. something about you understand how he feels. “i’m sorry about qualifying.”

instead of a verbal response, like you’d prefer, he simply shrugs. he turns around to finally face you, hands carefully gripping the hot mug as he blows into it.

you smile slightly and shove your hands into your back pockets. “you know, if you’ve got nothing past 11, i was thinking we go to this place lily told me about. she went with alex a few days ago; i heard the local dishes they serve is really good.”

he shakes his head. “i’m really tired. not tonight, darling, i’m sorry.”

for the first time since he left his race car that night, he finally lifts his blue eyes from his blank stare at the ground to look at you. “maybe we can go on monday before we fly off to japan?”

you jaw hangs low, nodding slowly as you retract back to the couch behind you.

max notes this and finally pushes himself off the table he’s leaning on. “let’s order some food to the hotel after this? they’ve got good options for delivery.”

“sure,” you nod slowly.

you move your gaze away from him, now mimicking the blank stare he had on the ground.

you haven’t been seeing eye to eye lately, even having fought right before flying to singapore. it was about something you can’t even remember now; for all you know, it could’ve been something about the toilet seat being left up.

which, now that you think of it, is what you fought about.

“(y/n).” the mention of your name makes you lift your head up, tilting it to the side to urge him to continue. “you made my coffee with two sugars?”

“what?” your eyebrows furrow very slightly. max has always been particular with the way he drinks his coffee. so you’re very sure that you mixed three sugars in instead of two, a mistake you made earlier in your relationship. “of course, i made it with three. that’s how you like your coffee.”

you watch him take another sip, tongue running over his lips as he deciphers the drink in his mouth. he doesn’t say anything else, but he does put the mug down on the table.

you narrow your eyes into a glare. how different can black coffee be in singapore that the three sugars you put inside make such a difference?

a difference big enough for him to mistake it for two sugars?

you sink into the couch, following max’s every move in the small room. seriously, how different can the coffee be here? and why is it such a big deal that it tastes a little odd?

why couldn’t he have just secretly put in another packet of sugar when you weren’t looking like he used to? does he now enjoy the luxury of pointing out your mistakes because of how long you’ve been together?

“what,” max halts halfway across the room and turns to you, “the fuck are you staring at?”

“i don’t know, the ghost in the corner of the room,” your words drip with sarcasm, noticing the way this changes max’s expression. “obviously you.”

“what is it now?” he sighs impatiently, hands resting on his hips as he leans his weight on one leg.

“what the fuck do you mean?”

“you’re giving me that stupid glare again. when you’re annoyed, you glare at me like that,” he points at you knowingly, “so please. enlighten me as to how i’ve managed that tonight.”

you raise your eyebrow. your heart starts to pound in your chest as you tilt your head in disbelief. “why are you talking like i don’t have a reason to be annoyed at you right now?”

he hums as his eyebrow raises. “you're the one who made my coffee wrong.”

“i made it how you like it.”

“this is not three sugars, (y/n).”

“but it is. i made it, max.”

“i’m sure you did. but this doesn’t taste like three.”

“okay. whatever. i made it with three, though.”

“you know what? fuck you. this isn’t three sugars — i don’t know why you keep trying to defend yourself.”

“and why’d you have to point it out? will it kill you to literally just reach a little to your right in the drawers to add sugar in?” you push yourself off the couch now, hands on your hips as you stare at him. “it’s really not that serious, max.”

he scoffs. “i’ve had a long day, (y/n). seriously, all you had to make was one cup of coffee. it shouldn’t be that hard.”

your eyes widen at his words. you take a daunting step forward and fold your arms over your chest. “i didn’t have to make you that cup of coffee — it was out of courtesy. the least you could have done was say thank you.”

his stare softens, shoulders slumping ever so slightly. as if realisation had dawned on him, “thank you.” he pauses to sigh and the cold demeanour makes its comeback. “for nothing because you didn’t even make it right.”

“what the fuck is wrong with you, max? you’re so fucking dense, you can’t even say thank you anymore?”

“and what for? you’ve become unattentive, (y/n)! you’ve gotten lazy with our relationship!”

“lazy would have been just staying home instead of flying out here with you when i have a big presentation this week! i made the effort to come out here and support you.”

“i told you that you didn’t have to come if it’s too much! you insisted!”

“because i’m your girlfriend! i want to be there for you and make time. but if you don’t appreciate that, then fine. i won’t do it again.”

“that’s not even what i fucking said. come on.”

“but it is what you said. if having me around is more trouble than it’s worth, this will be the last race i’ll be at.”

“this isn’t even about you making time to be here? it’s about how you made my coffee wrong!”

“make your own coffee, then! or maybe you’d prefer if kelly did it for you?”

max closes his mouth as he finds the reply at the tip of his tongue sucked out. he looks at you in disbelief, hands now on his hips as he chews on the inside of his cheek. “what?” he shouts.

it’s been nothing less of a toxic cycle. you fight, you say things you don’t mean, you hurt each other, you cry, and then you make up.

but there’s a feeling you can’t shrug off in your stomach as you exchange strings of frustrated screams in his tiny driver’s room. neither of you notice the figure walking by the window before it briefly turns away when your screams come into range.

not even the fact that there is a group of your friends waiting outside at the rendezvous point in the paddocks, awaiting your arrival to invite you both for dinner.

they’ve just started making their way out after a distraught liam simply shrugs when they ask about your attendance at the gathering. the young driver simply shrugs and tells them that he doubts both of you will make it out tonight.

then they all just turn and make their way out to explore the city.

now, you're across the massage table in max's driver's room. the mention of kelly and your issue with the woman's association with your boyfriend sparked up a bigger fight.

you're no longer fighting about the coffee: now it's about who can hit who the hardest and come out triumphant from this fight.

it's now you versus max.

you lean forward propped up by your palms flat on the table as he stands at the other side waiting impatiently.

"what about that time you went to that party when i was away for a race? i told you not to go, (y/n)! you disappeared on me for hours!" max spits at you, hands thrown in the air as he gets into the fight.

"yeah, cause god forbid i have a life while you're out doing your own thing," you laugh dryly with an eye roll. "can't deal with the fact that my world doesn't revolve around you anymore, max?"

"totally not the point of my argument. you disappeared on me while you were out drunk - think of what could've happened to you. i was so worried."

"worried for my well-being or worried that i was out cheating on you?"

the room falls to silence, max dropping his hands to his side. you purse your lips together as you stare at him, your arms now folded over your chest. "what's wrong, max? hit too close to home?"

"and so what if i thought you were out cheating? it's valid if my girlfriend disappears on me on a night out."

you roll your eyes and wave off his concern. "so you admit - you thought i cheated on you that night. is this why you're always like this? the looming question in your head if i was, in fact, unloyal that night?"

he sighs, shaking his head. he turns away from you as he rubs his forehead in frustration. "what is the point of us having this conversation? this is not what we're fighting about at first."

"look at me and tell me you don't trust me anymore." your voice is tired, now multitudes softer than a few seconds ago. "what is the point of us now that this is what we've come to?"

a small part of you realise that this was the feeling you couldn't shake off when this fight had started. it's the inevitable thought of breaking up that would ease everything between you. after all of this fighting, all these misunderstandings and miscommunication, there's only one way to make it all go away.

your eyes sting as tears fill your eyes. you watch as max drops himself on the couch, leaning into the armrest as he rests his hand in his hands. you trudge over to where he is, head hanging low as you feel a sob shake your chest.

you shake your head and look down, avoiding his eyes as he turns to you when you slowly bring yourself down to the couch. "i can't do this anymore, max."

he doesn't answer immediately. you hear a shakey sigh pass his lips, melting into his couch more. "i'm tired."

your breath hitches with a sob. your head starts to feel light as you cry harder. you still don't look at him. "i think we need to break up."

minutes pass without a response from max. he doesn't even move an inch, his loud breaths and your muffled sobs are the only sounds that surround you.

you don't even notice all the scrambling outside from the team, packing up from their meeting to go back to the hotel.

you lift your head and turn to max. he's angled away from you, his fingers picking at his bottom lip with his tear-filled eyes. his breathing is steady as he stares at the blank dark blue walls.

you remind yourself: no answer is an answer.

so you do what you think is a favour to both of you. you get up and grab your purse from the ground, walking towards the door. the most painful part isn't all that he said to you that night, it's the fact that he just let you walk out without another utter of a word.

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12 @barelytolerabled @vellicora

[mrs-lockley]

Reach for the Moon | II. The Falling

PAIRINGS: (Slow Burn, Romantic) Jake Lockley x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, (Platonic) Steven Grant x Southeast Asian!Fem Reader, (Unrequited) Marc Spector x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, no use of Y/N, no physical description of the reader but coded to be very feminine

WARNINGS: Unrequited love (Reader is in love with Marc, Marc is oblivious but means well), mentions and discussions of food (cooking and baking), italics in dialogue indicates Reader and her parents speaking a foreign language (unspecified), brief mention of middle school and high school, so much yearning and fluff that you might get a toothache

WORD COUNT: 7.3k

Inspired by the 1954 film & 1995 remake of Sabrina, No Moon Knight AU. 

SERIES MASTERLIST | PART I. THE BREAKING

CHAPTER SUMMARY: The wall begins to crumble, revealing the White Knight waiting on the other side. You soon learn there is more to the man beneath the armor, and see the heart that lies within. 

TAGLIST: @soft-girl-musings, @venting402, @musing-magpie, @writefightandflightclub, @kezibear, @silverklaus, @badbishsblog, @marc-spectorr, @myhohastuff, @grumpyahjumma, @h4untedsp3ctor, @harv3sting

See end for author's notes

THE FALLING

The next couple of weeks were quiet, but eventful as the days grew shorter into the start of autumn. As the leaves changed from green to red and the air grew colder, you found solace in the change of seasons. A new season brought new beginnings, and life had a way of bringing you into unexpected places. 

Since the success of your cousin’s bakery (the Mochi Flower Bakery and Café, as you and your cousin affectionately named it) in Singapore, your family considered expanding the business to New York. You exchanged ideas and recipes over video calls with your cousin, aunt, and uncle as your parents researched possible places to open up shop. It was all new and exciting, and in hindsight, distracted you from the heartache of being left at the market that summer night. There was no better distraction than trying to perfect the recipe for the most delicious lemon ricotta cake. 

Marc texted you a few days later with an apology. He left you a voicemail as well (you were running errands when he called), and as you listened to his apology, you still could not find it in yourself to be upset with him for leaving you. How could you be angry with him when you still harbored an unrequited crush on him almost three years later? 

When he offered to meet with you to make amends, you politely declined with an excuse that you were visiting an old college friend from out of town, but in reality, you did not know if you could face him again. 

After that night, you carefully discarded the daffodils he had given you when he picked you up from the airport. Your heart was numb as you stared at the dried petals in the wastebasket, your eyes puffy and swollen for the next few nights. Could you truly mourn a loss if he was never yours?

You never told your parents or Steven the truth of the date, and you wondered if they knew. If they did, your parents never said anything, but your best friend —ever the perceptive man— seemed to know the truth, even when you tried to hide it from him. 

It was a Sunday night when Steven was with you in the kitchen. While your parents were watching a drama in the living room, you and Steven wore matching aprons as he helped you bake a vegan blueberry cake.

“In the middle of my tour, I was talking about the Egyptian mummification process when one of the girls interrupted me and asked if I knew what it was like to be rejected from the Field of Reeds,” Steven told you as you frosted the cake. “Honestly, middle school girls can be vicious, especially when some of her friends laughed with her.”

You looked over at him, your eyes soft as you placed a gentle hand over his. “Kids can be brutal, but they’re just kids. I was a middle school girl once, and we aren’t all bad. People change.”

Steven smiled softly with a sigh as you finished frosting the cake. You wanted to replicate a vintage cake with different shades of blue and ivory cream, and you hoped that you were not putting too much buttercream. As pretty as vintage cakes looked, you did not like wasting the cream when you knew most people do not eat all of it. You were more accustomed to your desserts being on the lighter side of the sweetness scale, and ever since your return from Singapore, you had a hard time stomaching American pastries.

“You’re right about that love,” Steven agreed. Once you set the piping bag aside, he moved to start decorating the top with blueberries. “They’re just kids, but they’ll change and grow. But I admit, I was feeling a little sassy too.”

You lowered your hands and looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” You narrowed your eyes at him, lightly swatting his hand as he sneakily tried to eat a few blueberries. “I just told her that the souls in the duat would try to claim anyone who fell in the sand, and that she better hope that if I was rejected, I wouldn’t be the first one to eat her.”

“Steven Grant!”

Your best friend chuckled as you scolded him, narrowly dodging your wooden spoon. “She was being rather nasty throughout the tour, so I had to give her a reality check.”

You let out a dejected sigh as he grabbed another handful of blueberries from the basket. You did not have the heart to tell him to stop since you already finished decorating the cake.

For as long as you have known Steven, he was quite a character. Smart and quick-witted, he always fired back in the most eloquent manner.

“Okay, maybe she deserved it,” you told him, trying not to roll your eyes as he grinned mischievously beside you. “But I’m not condoning it.”

You moved over to the stove to pour yourself, Steven, and your parents a cup of tea. Throughout your life, your parents always liked a cup of tea with their dessert, and through the years, you got Steven into that habit as well. 

Your best friend hummed quietly as he helped set the cups on the counter, his fingers lightly tracing the small teacup. It was one of your favorite sets, white with a dark blue floral design painted across the ceramic with a matching saucer and golden teaspoon. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen this set before,” Steven mused as you placed the kettle back onto the stove. “When did you get this?”

Heat licked at your cheeks, your heart pounding as you looked down at the cup. The warmth of the tea burned your fingers slightly as you held the teacup in your hands, and if you pulled away, you wondered if the flowers burned onto your skin like a brand that would never heal.

“Marc got it for me for my birthday before I went to Singapore,” you answered quietly, your voice low. “I don’t remember where he got it, but he said he knew someone who knew where to find tea sets.”

A dull ache grew in the depths of your chest as you remembered your last birthday before you left for Singapore. Your parents took you out of town to celebrate the Friday before your birthday, and that weekend, your mother cooked your favorite noodles (“for long life,” she would always say) and your father commissioned one of his coworkers to bake a special cake for you. You celebrated one day with your family, and another with your old childhood and college friends. It was a wonderful sendoff before your departure, but you could not help but feel nostalgic at the memory. 

One day, you lamented to Marc how much you wanted a matching tea set. A few times you traveled with your parents as a teenager to the Lion City where you admired your aunt’s tea sets that she displayed in their china cabinet. You remembered how much your mother pestered your father to buy any matching dinnerware whenever there was a sale at her favorite department store, especially when there were tea sets. While your family did not have much when they immigrated to the United States, your mother would tell you that her parents collected china and other sets as family heirlooms. She wished she could have taken it with her to New York, and you wanted to help her create a collection here. 

A few days before your birthday, Marc dropped by your place with a gift box wrapped beautifully with a navy blue bow on top. Your parents were in the kitchen eavesdropping as you opened the gift on the living room floor with Marc at your side. 

“Marc, it’s beautiful,” you told him. You held the ceramic delicately in your hands, sighing in awe as you turned it over. The dark blue floral design was nostalgic and intricate. “They look just like the ones that my aunt and uncle have back home.”

He smiled gently at you, his arms warm as you hugged him. “I’m glad you liked it. Happy birthday, kid.”

You placed your teacup down on the saucer and sighed. Out of all the tea sets you owned, you rarely used the blue one that Marc had given you. It was your favorite, and as much as your mother wanted to take it down from the china cabinet to use, you always told her that you wanted to save it for special occasions. 

But since that night, you brought it down from the cabinet. Your mother didn’t say anything when she watched you wash the set in the sink, and you wondered if she knew the real reason you brought it down.

He was quiet as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Did Marc hurt you?”

You felt his eyes on you as you rolled the golden teaspoon between your fingers. You did not know if you had the courage to look at him.

Instead of answering, you shook your head. Steven sighed beside you, and you knew he did not believe you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Tears pricked your eyes, and you quickly brushed them away with the back of your hand. 

“There’s nothing to talk about. He still loves her, and I have to move on,” you answered as you turned to him with a weak smile. “I have to grow up and be a big girl now.”

His brown eyes softened, but full of worry as he looked at you. 

“Don’t blame yourself, love,” he comforted you. “He still cares about you.”

You knew that Marc still cared for you as a friend, but deep down, you knew he would never love you the way you loved him. 

“I know,” you whispered. You wiped at your eyes again and sighed, trying to get your mind off it. “Let’s cut the cake and bring the tea in the living room for my parents. They’re too engrossed in their drama to get off the couch.”

He chuckled softly, and you were grateful he did not bring it up again for the rest of the night. For the rest of the evening, you and Steven sat with your parents in the living room drinking tea and eating cake as they explained the romantic drama they were watching. It was a show that you remembered watching with your cousin in Singapore, and you could not help but smile as you saw how engrossed Steve became with the plot and characters. 

At the end of the night, you packed a few slices of the cake (with extra blueberries, per Steven’s request) for Steven to take home for Marc and Jake. As you walked him to the bus stop at the end of your street, he turned to you and pulled you into his arms, his voice soft and gentle. 

“I am always here for you, love,” he whispered, “whenever you need me.”

Your heart ached as he comforted you, and you pulled him tighter into your embrace. 

“Thank you.”

You sit in the kitchen with ink stained on your fingers as you look over the drawings of cakes, cupcakes, and different pastries in your sketchbook. Jake texted you earlier that afternoon if you wanted to join him in surprising his neighbor for her birthday. Taweret lived alone with the rest of her family back in Cairo, and she only had a couple friends with her in New York. There were a few times you encountered her whenever you visited his apartment (mainly to cook and exchange recipes with Steven), you became acquainted with the elderly lady. Whenever she saw you, she always requested to try whatever baked goods that you brought with you. Because of her, you always packed extra sweets, knowing how much she adored you and you, her.

Your parents were not too familiar with Jake, but they knew enough that he was quite old-fashioned and polite (and “reminiscent of the gentlemen of my youth,” your mother remarked to your father’s chagrin). You wondered if they were relieved that it was not Marc at the door when Jake dropped you off after your “date.” 

True to his word, he was around much more than before and met with you often. In the times that you two met, they were casual outings where you would grab a bite to eat or a drink at the local coffee shop. Other times, you asked him to tag along with you as you ran a few errands around town. It was during those times he offered to drive you, especially when you were grocery shopping for ingredients to try new recipes to add to a possible menu. He never accepted gas money from you (despite all the sneaky ways you tried to bribe him), but you compromised and treated him —and Steven and Marc— to any baked goods you created. 

Once you are satisfied with your revisions, you tuck your journal into your bag and take a seat at the kitchen island, your eyes locked on the oven window. While you are in charge of the cake, Jake is in charge of dinner, explaining he was going to try to make a traditional Egyptian dish. As he was already at the supermarket to pick up some groceries, he told you that he would pick you up since he would pass by your place on the way back. 

Different ingredients scatter the counter between the two of you as you organize your supplies. While you have your powdered sugar and tray on one side, Jake has his supplies and containers on the other, including a tupperware of cooked elbow macaroni, tomato sauce, and a bag of store-bought fried onions.

Jake stands at the stove with his back turned to you. Even on a casual Thursday night, he is dressed in his usual white button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing his warm tan skin. The only difference between his house clothes and outside clothes was the lack of his flat cap and tie, and his dress pants swapped with jeans and a plain apron to cover himself. 

Curiously, you stand beside him and watch as he stirs the lentils and rice together in a pot. The smell of coriander and pepper welcomes you, and your tummy grumbles at the smell and sight.

“What are you making?” 

“Koshari, I remember Taweret mentioning how much she misses eating it from back home. I watched a few tutorials and researched the recipe, and I hope I got it down,” he answers with a small smile. 

Then, he leans over to the side and pulls out a spoon from the drawer to hand to you. 

“Give it a try and let me know how it is, or if I’m missing anything. Once this is done, I just need to combine everything together.”

You grin as you dip the spoon into the pot. The tangy and spicy flavor fills your mouth in heat, but not too much that it would burn your tongue. It was enough spice to give the kick it needed. 

“It’s a little spicy, but not too spicy. It’s delicious,” you tell him with an encouraging smile. “I’ve always been curious to try your cooking. Steven says you’re the best cook between the three of you.”

He pauses slightly as he turns to you. His face is slightly flushed, his brown eyes wide in surprise at your words. “He said that?”

You smile with a nod of your head. “He did. When I visited him at the Smithsonian last week for lunch, he told me you made vegan shakshuka for him and he loved it. He said it was better than the shakshuka he normally makes.”

You remember sitting on the steps outside of the museum last week when you stopped by to see him during his lunch break. It was a beautiful autumn day where the museum was not too busy on a Tuesday afternoon, and his boss was kind enough to give him an extended break after doing several grade school tours that week. 

“I experimented and made some bagels last night, and I made a couple vegan ones for you,” you told him as you unwrapped the bagels on your lap. Your best friend smiled and thanked you as you handed it over to him. “I hope you like it, it’s my first time making bagels.”

“I know it’ll be great. Jake made a batch of vegan shakshuka for me and I think this would be a good match.” Steven opened his lunch and dipped the bread in his tupperware, even offering you a piece as you followed his instructions to dip your piece into the stew. “I don’t know how he did it, but he mastered it. I’ve been trying to make a decent version for months, and his version tastes better than all of my previous attempts. He’s the best cook out of all of us.”

As you look over at Jake, you are stunned to see his surprise. While you met Steven first and became friends with Marc second, it seemed that there were more layers to Jake than you realize. You knew that he was a private person who kept to himself, and you once believed he was an aloof individual who often kept people at arm’s length in the backseat of his car to keep his privacy. In the past, you only conversed with him from time to time, but over the past few months, you see that he is more sentimental than he appears to be. 

A knowing smile kisses your lips as he tries to hide his smile from you. You give him the privacy to cherish the moment as you turn back to the oven to watch the cake slowly rise.

“Can I say something?” You ask.

He hums slightly and nods as he turns off the stove. 

Wanting to help him, you reach for the bowl of chickpeas and heat them in the microwave. “You remind me of a tiramisu.”

He pauses for a moment with a soft chuckle, amused. “A tiramisu?”

You nod with a small smile. “Yes, a tiramisu. Before I got to know you, I used to think you were a bit detached with how private you are. I didn’t know much about you except from what Steven and Marc told me, and we only met a few times before I left for Singapore.”

At the beep of the microwave, Jake hands you the oven mitts to take the chickpeas out. You move closer to him as the two of you prepare to mix the lentils, rice, tomato sauce, pasta, and chickpeas together. 

“What changed your mind?” He asks quietly.

You think about his words as you plate the rice and lentils. “Spending time with you,” you answer. “The more time I spend with you, whether it’s you taking me to the bodega or the Asian supermarket, or even moments like these, you’ve shown me there’s more to you than people think. You’re private, but you’re also very kind.”

Jake steps closer to you to place the pasta and chickpeas on top. You could not read his expression. Did he find you weird and strange? Was he upset or offended?

As you move to hand him the tomato sauce, his hands reach for yours, helping you and quietly telling you to be careful since the bowl was still warm from when he cooked it earlier. 

His brown eyes flicker with amusement and curiosity as he glances up at you. 

“I still do not see how this pertains to me reminding you of tiramisu, conejita.”

You laugh softly as you look down at the koshari on the plate. 

“Tiramisu is like this dish,” you explain as he mixes everything together. “You may look a bit off-putting at first with how reserved and quiet you are, but that’s not a bad thing. The closer you look, there are different layers. They seem strange when they are all separated, but once you dig through the layers, you are very sweet like a tiramisu.”

Your eyes glance over at him, and you notice how his movements seem to slow as he waits for your next words.

“You made Steven shakshuka and you cooked Taweret’s favorite dish to surprise her for her birthday so she won’t be alone. You take care of people in a quiet way,” your voice grows softer as you speak, your heart aching slightly at the memories. “Twice, you found me crying and alone, and you were the one to bring me back home.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you, and for a moment, you are brought back to that summer evening when Marc left you at the night market. You still remembered the heartbroken look on his face, the pain in his eyes, and the fear in his voice when he left. He was in so much pain, and even with your heart breaking in front of him, you wished you could take his pain away from him. 

Since that night, Marc left you a voicemail with his apology and wished to meet with you again, and as much as it hurt you, you kept your distance. It pained you how quick you were able to think of another reason why you could not see him. Perhaps with each text, you could finally cut those heartstrings, be a big girl, and move on.

Yet, the ache remained. It splintered deep inside of you like a tree taking deep roots in your chest, leaving a scar that you feared would never heal. 

“How is he doing, by the way?” You ask quietly as your lips begin to quiver. “Is he alright?”

He does not say anything for a moment as his gaze washes over you, and you wonder if he knew about your feelings for Marc. If he did, he never showed it.

His voice is gentle as he speaks, his eyes soft. 

“Marc is doing just fine,” he answers. “Steven and I are looking after him.”

You want to believe him, but a part of you hesitates. While you did not know the relationship between the three men, you did know one thing. Marc was perceptive, and he would worry. The last thing you wanted him to think was that he hurt you— you knew he would never forgive himself if he believed it. 

To your surprise, Jake leans forward and moves closer to you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You blink in surprise and take a step back at his sudden movement.

“You have flour on your face,” he whispers. “Hold on.”

Suddenly, you feel the world stop around you as his hand softly caresses your face. You hold still, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as his thumb brushes the flour off your cheek. His touch is gentle and light, and he holds you as if you are a delicate thing. This was the first time Jake touched you like this and for a reason you could not explain, it was electrifying. It is as if he lit a flame and you are melting like candle wax under his touch.

Your head is still spinning when he pulls away. Your throat constricts as he looks at you, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. 

You do not know what has come over you. As his gaze meets yours, the two of you are quiet with the only sound of your flustered breath filling the silence. While he shared the same face as Marc and Steven, it is the first time you see him up close. 

His eyes are just as brown, but there is a different softness to them in the kitchen light. A certain warmth fills his gaze—although intense—there is a sense of safety and familiarity as the corners of his eyes crinkle into a whisper of a comforting smile. A dark stray curl rests on his forehead, and if you look close enough, you catch slivers of starlight dusting at his temples. 

You always believed Jake to be a handsome man, and in the past couple of months that you have gotten to know him, you see him differently. He is the kind of handsome that you read in your romance novels, the quiet gentleman who was always by the heroine’s side, and in that moment, you understand why people have always gravitated towards him.

You have looked at him many times before, but your heart begins to ache in your chest. He wiped away your tears before and has comforted you in your most heartbroken and vulnerable moments, so why would brushing flour away cause you to feel like you are sixteen again?

The sound of the timer interrupts your thoughts. You gasp softly and quickly turn away to grab the oven mitts, welcoming the distraction from your heated cheeks and your beating heart. 

As you pull the cake out of the oven, you hear Jake pull away from you and the sound of a utensil scraping against the bottom of the pan. You set the cake onto the counter and are grateful for this moment—you are not sure if you had the courage to look at him yet.

With a deep breath, you glance down at the cake. The cake baked into a beautiful summer yellow with the edges a golden brown. It was perfect and exactly how you envisioned it. 

His voice breaks your thoughts, and it takes everything in you to not look at him. 

“What kind of cake did you make?”

“Lemon ricotta,” you answer softly. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for the strainer and powdered sugar from across the counter. You feel his eyes on you, and as much as you try to hide it, you still feel nervous in front of him. “I made a lemon ricotta cake once a few months ago and Taweret said she loved it, so I wanted to make it for her again.”

Taking a deep breath, you ignore the way your hands tremble and begin to sift the flour and powder the cake with a light dusting of sugar for decoration. The two of you quietly work on completing your dishes with only the sound of a soft ballad playing from his vinyl record player in the living room. 

Once you are finished, you set your tools aside and look down at the cake. Lemon ricotta was not your specialty as you only baked it a couple times, and you worried about how it looked. Would she even like the cake with how simple and plain it looked?

“I want it to be perfect for her,” you whisper softly. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

His footsteps echo behind you. As he stands beside you, your head begins to spin. The warmth of his body radiates off him, and even as he stands a few inches beside you, the heat of his touch lingers on your skin. 

“That woman loves everything about you and adores you,” Jake assures you. “She’ll love it. I know she will.”

Warmth kisses your cheeks at his encouraging words. You never doubted your skills as a pastry chef, but hearing such praise from Jake strikes a chord in you. There were no words to describe your feelings at the moment. A foreign feeling tugged at your heart, reminiscent of butterflies that once fluttered in your tummy. 

“Go ahead and set the table,” he instructs as he gathers your supplies. “I’ll clean up. I already texted Taweret and she’ll be here in a few minutes.”

He smiles encouragingly at you, and you move to set the table. As you arrange the plates and utensils, you spare another look at Jake and watch him set the pots and pans in the dishwasher. You have spent countless days and afternoons in the kitchen with Steven and Marc in the past, but this is your first time to be in the kitchen with Jake. 

A few months ago when you returned from Singapore, you never would have thought that you would be baking by his side in the kitchen where you shared so many memories with his brothers. It was strange since you were not used to seeing Jake in such a domestic way, but it brings an odd comfort and warmth to you as he whistles in the kitchen. 

You smile to yourself as you look down at the golden cake sitting at the edge of the table. In the past, you baked mochi for your family, lemon ricotta cake for Taweret, blueberry cake for Steven, and rocky road for Marc. There were so many layers to who he is, and you hope one day, you could bake Jake a sweet tiramisu.

The moon was high in the sky by the time Jake opened the passenger door for you to take you home. Not a single cloud was in sight, and the stars twinkled like pearls of light above you. 

It truly was a beautiful evening. When Taweret arrived, her face lit up like the rising dawn. Without a second thought, she pulled you and Jake into her embrace. Your eyes began to mist when you felt a few drops of her tears fall onto your blouse, but you smiled warmly at her as Jake kissed her forehead and told her how much he loved her. You have only known Taweret for a short amount of time, but you were already fond of her and looked up to her as a mother figure.

Smiles, laughter, and memories were shared over dinner. As the three of you finished his koshari, Taweret spoke about her favorite childhood memories. You listened intently as she recalled not only her childhood, but her “wild youth” from running around with her girlfriends in Cairo and arguing with the university boys and rival sorority sisters. The three of you laughed until your ribs ached, your cheeks sore from smiling, and your tummy full from the warmth and love poured into the food that was shared. 

And to your surprise, Taweret loved the lemon ricotta birthday cake. She patted your cheek affectionately as you served her the first slice with a gentle and warm smile on her face. 

“Thank you, darling,” she beamed, “you always make the sweetest cakes.”

As you are about to thank her, Jake leaned in beside her, a knowing smile and wink as he sung the highest praises for you. 

“She baked everything with love,” he told her, and your cheeks instantly heated at his kind words. “That’s her secret ingredient.”

Jake only smiled at you as you looked down at the yellow cake on your plate, hoping to find some solace on the finely dusted sugar sitting on top of your masterpiece. You barely heard them speak over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears and the warmth kissing at your soft cheeks. This was not the first time Jake complimented your strengths, so why are you suddenly shy and bashful like a schoolgirl?

You vaguely recalled the last time you felt like this. Before you left for Singapore, you remembered sitting at a picnic bench with Marc as his way of bidding you bon voyage. He carried the picnic basket over to the bench and helped you arrange the pieces on the table. 

“Since I’m also helping out with their social media and marketing, I might as well start practicing how to take the best pictures and videos for advertising,” you remarked as you finished taking pictures of the set-up. You had a blanket draped over the table with minimal cutlery and accessories. “Don’t you think?”

Marc chuckled beside you as you put your phone in your bag. You would edit the photos when you get home and send them to your cousin later for her to critique. “I thought your generation was tech savvy and grew up on the internet?”

“I’m on the cusp and was fortunate that the internet was still starting out. It wasn’t as crazy as it is now. Besides, I don’t have many social media handles for a reason,” you answered, “I don’t want people from high school finding me.” 

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Why not?”

“I closed that chapter in my life. When I go to my high school reunion years from now, I want everyone to be surprised to see how much I’ve matured and grown up,” you sighed wistfully, imagining a romantic moment in your future reunion. “If they have any difficulty in recognizing their classmate, then I shall be the most sophisticated woman in the high school gymnasium.”

Your high school days were not the worst, but they were not the greatest, either. Your teenage days were not that far behind you, but you still had so much to look forward to in the years to come. 

An amused smile shined on your friend’s face as he leaned forward and patted a piece of your hair. 

“You are already a beautiful, intelligent, and sophisticated young woman,” he complimented you with a playful tap on your nose. “You will be the belle of the ball.”

But the days and nights you spent with Marc were long gone. Deep down, you grieved the chapter of your life where you were by his side. You convinced yourself into thinking the two of you were fated to be together for the rest of your lives, but life had its own way of cutting that invisible string you deluded yourself was tied between your fingers. The dried daffodils in your wastebasket was the evidence to the end of your fantasies.

Yet, the universe had a strange way of bringing things full circle. As you bury the thoughts of Marc aside, a sense of déjà vu washes over you with your heart feeling as hopeful as that night when Jake first found you on the steps outside of his apartment. It was odd to think that in the two years you spent away from home, Jake rarely passed your mind. 

Now, your thoughts gravitated towards him. The ghost of his touch lingered from when he brushed away the flour on your cheek, and his praise echoed in your ears like a distant lullaby. It was as if your heart would burst from your chest with each moment you replayed in your mind and you wondered if you could trust yourself to open up again. 

Before you could entertain that thought, the sound of his voice breaks the silence. 

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Jake glances over at you with a small smile, one gloved hand on the steering wheel, the other adjusting the rear view mirror. “I know it was a short notice.”

You smile reassuringly at him from the passenger side. “It was no problem, thank you for inviting me. I’m happy that we were able to celebrate her special day.”

You do not see Taweret often, but after tonight, you promise yourself that you would reach out to her more. She was such a character, and you make a note to give her extra delicacies you create in the future, especially if it involves lemon ricotta.

Jake grins at you as he stops at the stoplight, his voice light and airy. 

“She adores you and talks about you like you hung the moon.” He spares you a glance with a gentle smile. “And she loved every bit of your cake.”

“Oh—” your cheeks grow warm at his words. The thought of Taweret talking about you so sweetly made your heart swell, especially when you were so worried that her birthday cake was plain. 

He chuckles softly. “If it’s okay to ask, when did you start baking?”

You think for a moment as the two of you watch a few college students cross the street. “I’ve always had a sweet tooth, but growing up, I did not like American candy as much. It was always too sweet, and sometimes I felt like throwing up when I had cake. Nothing tasted like the snacks and sweets I would get from the Asian supermarket.”

You smile fondly as you remember your childhood. Growing up, there was not an Asian supermarket near your neighborhood. Most weekends, you dragged behind your parents as they bought their groceries at big retailers, and the only times you grew excited were when they either brought you to the local bodegas so you could pet the owner’s guard dogs (who were surprisingly gentle with children), or the Asian markets that were out of town. It was only until high school when they established one a few blocks away and within walking distance, and you were finally able to grab your favorite Meiji snacks. 

“I often had too much time on my hands during the summer breaks, so I experimented in the kitchen. My mom never liked baking, but I saved up to buy some supplies, watched tutorials on YouTube, and even chatted with my cousin for ideas,” you laugh lightly. “It started when I was in middle school when we had a bake sale for fundraising, and I fell in love with it since.”

The light turns green, and Jake nods as he follows along.

“What would you say is your favorite to bake? Or, what would you say is your specialty?”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his question. It is not often someone asks about your favorites, let alone your specialty. You are so used to taking requests and baking for others based on their favorites, but rarely did someone ask about yours. 

“Strawberry cake,” you answer, thinking about the colorful pink hue of the cakes you made in the past. “Especially with buttercream.”

“Like strawberry shortcake?”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s easy to confuse the two based on their names, but strawberry shortcake is different since that’s shortbread with strawberries on top. Strawberry cake—”

“I know,” he laughs with a slight shake of his head. “I meant the character.”

Oh. Oh!

Heat envelopes your face at the thought. You adored Strawberry Shortcake as a little girl and collected the books, plushies, stickers, almost anything with your favorite freckled heroine. Even though she is in the arms of another child, you remember your Strawberry Shortcake doll  that you used to carry with you everywhere with her apron smelling just like freshly cut strawberries. 

When you did not respond, Jake immediately tried to correct himself. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you—”

“No, not at all,” you laugh. “She was one of my favorites as a child. Being compared to her makes me happy, so thank you.”

From the corner of your eye, you notice him smile in relief. You look down at the plastic bag full of tupperwares on your lap. As you cleaned the dinner table, you did not realize that Jake prepared extra koshari for you to take home to your family in extra tupperwares. 

“And thank you for the food, too. I’ll have this for lunch tomorrow.”

He smiles at you, his voice soft. “You’re welcome.”

Life had a strange way of bringing things full circle. Filled with warmth, a sense of déjà vu washes over you with your heart feeling as light as that night when he first found you on the steps outside of his apartment. Not once, but twice he found you heartbroken, but since you returned to New York, your nights were spent with him where you would watch him from the passenger side. The wall that separated you two had begun to crumble, revealing the man dressed in white knight armor. 

The fluttering of your heart confuses you when he parks in the driveway. Your pulse echoes in your ears as he opens your door with a gloved hand outstretched towards you, and your legs begin to shake with each step you take towards your front door. Why does the warmth of his glove burn your skin? Why does he suddenly make you skittish like a frightened deer?

It must be because he touched my face, you reason with yourself when you step inside. Your parents greet him with friendly smiles, and for unknown reasons, you feel a tug on your heartstrings when he lifts his hat at you. 

As he walks away, you are left standing in the kitchen with a cold tupperware of koshari in your hands. Your parents kiss your cheek before walking up the stairs, and with each kiss, you imagine what it would feel like if Jake’s lips kissed your cheeks goodnight.

The early afternoon sunlight streams through your curtains when you wake that morning. Downstairs, you hear your father playing his favorite old songs on his speaker, the foreign language bringing you comfort and a sense of nostalgia. It was finally the weekend.

With a yawn, you force yourself out of bed and walk down the stairs. The love ballads grow louder, and you find your mother seated at the kitchen table with breakfast leftovers covered with a napkin. 

“Good morning, baby,” she greets you as you smile sleepily at her. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod and rub your eyes while taking a seat in front of her. Last night, you spent a few hours on Messenger talking to your cousin about the newest addition they added to the Mochi Flower Bakery and Cafe. While the Mochi Flower was best known for matcha mochi cake, your cousin wanted to expand the menu to keep up with their local competitors. She shared with you the different designs that were shared with the class that included floral prints and a few beloved childhood characters like Hello Kitty. A couple months ago, she took a class from a masterclass baker on how to add such delicate designs to a sponge cake, and she’s been in love with it ever since. 

Before you realized it, you were on Messenger for almost three hours. It was nearly three in the morning when you ended the call, your mind reeling from the designs she showed you. Both of your families considered opening a sister bakery in New York, and with each call you had with her over the spotty internet, the idea no longer felt like a dream, but a possibility. 

“I did,” you answer, looking at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. You did not realize it was past noon. “I haven’t slept in like this since my last semester of college.”

Your mother laughs, and you laugh along with her. The twelve hour time difference was tough, and you were honestly surprised her internet lasted that long with minimal interruptions. 

At that moment, your father walks in and greets you good morning with a soft kiss to the top of your head as he places a bowl of cut strawberries in front of you. 

Your eyes widen slightly at the vibrant hue. “Papa, did you go to the grocery store this morning? When did we have strawberries?”

Your father shakes his head. “I didn’t buy them. Your driver friend dropped them off this morning.”

Driver friend? You wonder, knowing your father often forgets the names of your friends. Did he mean Jake? You have not talked to him in a couple weeks, not since Taweret’s birthday.

“The gentleman with the hat,” your mother clarifies. “He came by this morning and dropped off a box of strawberries that he got at the farmer’s market. He said it was for you.” 

Your heart skips a beat as she hands you a yellow post-it note. Across the page, you memorize the straight lines of Jake’s handwriting, softly tilted in black ink.

For your strawberry cake - J

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you so much for your support! The idea of Conejita and White Knight!Jake has been floating around in my head for about a year, and with time, they finally came to fruition. Special thanks to @soft-girl-musings for listening to my ideas and late night texts on Discord. My laptop has been out of commission as of late, so I was unfortunately unable to post this sooner, but it's finally here!

To be honest, this series started when I was quarantined with COVID (part 1 was written when I had it the first time, part 2 the second time I had COVID, go figure lol). It makes me so happy to see that you have grown fond of conejita as well. I am a slow writer, and I want to thank everyone of you for your patience and support.

Originally it was going to be a trilogy, but since I am notorious for writing long fics, this series will most likely be four parts instead! I have a couple more characters I want to introduce. If you want to continue being on the taglist, please let me know. Stay tuned for updates and any future fics! I have a few more I want to put out this summer 🤍

Love, Celeste

[vanilasky]

Okay, I just saw a tiktok with a really great take on what is recently going on with Carlos and Rebecca's' relationship and I feel like sharing this here.

In my opinion it's pretty obvious this is a classic PR relationship. She may have not been the best choice considering her being an escort and generally very questionable person, but she was certainly in the right place at the right time to be the best possible choice. She did the Ferrari commercial and fans already noticed that Carlos and Isa were growing apart. Could there be a better way to sell cars than pairing one of your drivers with a "model" who appeared in the commercial?

Apart from that, during Carlos and Isa's relationship we barely saw these two together. Carlos kept saying he protects love and he isn't an affectionate man. And suddenly, just after he announced he broke up with her, we were inundated with pictures of him and Rebecca holding hands, hugging etc. In a spare of two months there were already more pictures of these two together than with him and Isa. What happened to the "I protect love" agenda? And to the people saying that "omg he's finally in love so he can show how happy he is". Nobody can force a twenty-something, rich, childless man to be trapped in a loveless relationship. Especially when your work allows him to travel all around the world and you don't have any commitments.

The weird thing about these photos is that they are always staged and forced. Or leaked to the gossip pages by Rebecca's friend who decided to go public for 10 minutes. There is always at least one photo or one video when Carlos looks directly into the camera and poses cause he knows he's being filmed. He's holding her hand, hugging her or so. But when he doesn't know there's a camera on him, suddenly Rebecca disappears. He's totally ignoring her which is easy to see on some of Singapore's videos from the party. She's basically pushed back from his circles into the crowd.

And now we are coming to the photo posted on "accident" by Pierre. That's the take from tiktok so it's not mine but I feel like sharing it. Pierre posted that photo because the gossip accounts weren't enough. Not many people visit those types of accounts regularly since not all of them are interested in sportsmen's love life. But there's a 99,9% chance that people invested in sport will follow a sportsperson. Therefore, more people will see the photo and start searching. "Leaking" the photos to the gossip account by unknown sources wasn't enough for them. After the Singapore party there were already many people who started digging into Rebecca's past. They found out she is an escort and so they figured out she's only there to escort him to parties. A photo was used as proof that she's not only an escort (look, he took her on a date with his team) and to make this stunt feel more real because it came from Pierre. And obviously Pierre is kinda known in the F1 community as a creator of chaos. There were lots of people saying he made this as revenge on Carlos for calling him "pobrectio".

Last but not least, it's obvious she's (or all of them) are reading what people are saying. When she was at the paddock on Friday people were saying she always looks sloppy, dresses badly and always has her hair up. On Saturday she was wearing a dress, high heels and had her hair down. But sadly, no one cared cause even the gossip accounts didn't notice she was there in the first place. They were writing about Alexa (Charles' girlfriend) being there, but no one mentioned Rebecca, who was standing just a few meters away from Alexa. They posted about her only when another "unknown source" sent them the video of her being in the Ferrari's hospitality.

Honestly I don't know why Carlos' agreed on this. Seems like a very poor move from his team cause the only people who believe it's a true love are twelve years old or bots accounts. He will now be seen either as a person who hangs out with escorts, or as a man who is easy to manipulate and cannot stay single for three minutes. And for her, this whole stunt will backfire at some point. Not only was she not able to erase her past from the internet but people are already finding more questionable stuff about her. If there's at least one smart person involved in this, it's time to stop this.

[kbagraces]

Curious Time - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Singer!reader

Multiple part series where their friendship was easy, their feelings were confusing and the distance was the hardest <3

(Third person perspective)

!!explicit content warning: 18+!!

PART 5 -

CONVINCED ME

“You convinced me that I can't know if I never try. Love me like you do, you make me feel so new.”

Lando knew she wasn't for him. He was sick of being alone, almost the entire paddock had girlfriends, people who didn't doubt their relationship, someone who'd fight for him like he would do for her.

Lacy was passing time and that time had passed. After the call with Pippa he was inconsolable, no tears left his eyes, that wasn't how he dealt with things. But he was almost mute, only answering yes or no to any questions asked. He left Saskia in his bed no goodbye or anything and got on his flight to Singapore. Arguably the hardest race of the season, the weather was draining when you were out of the car, the sickness he felt within the car was unmatched. Until now. This loneliness looming over him couldn't be topped he felt.

Press day looming, he wasn't in any state to speak to anyone, act with his teammate or interact with fans. He wanted none of it. He wanted to do the race. Then fly to y/n. His flight was booked, no one knew he couldn't risk them telling her and her running away or attempting to convince her otherwise. He needed her in anyway, he just needed her.

She was aware of how he was feeling, she over heard max and him on the phone when she was visiting P. She couldn't pull herself away from the conversation. She ruined her chance with him and now she's destroyed his relationship with Lacy. She felt awful.

She planned before the album dropped to have a break from social appearances and interviews as once November 4th hit they'd be non stop. But her time was consumed with worry, about her future, about his, about everything. Her needed rest was anything but that.

She kept updated with Lando at the Singapore Grand Prix with his performance last year ending up second, all eyes were on McLaren.

Qualifying was here, Lando was in the zone flying in Q1 and Q2. She hoped he was channeling everything to keep him going. Q3 wasn't awful ending up 6th place, not the best place to start on the street circuit but similarly not the worst.

One thing she loved about Lando was his ability to let go as soon as his helmet was on, she's glad that was a trait he could still channel following the recent turmoil she'd caused for him.

She believed she'd blown all chance. Contact was less the minimum, his name didn't even grace her instagram likes anymore. Total radio silence. And she was struggling, the girls would take her out, introduce her to their friends. But the same rule applied, they weren't him. And although she couldn't have him, she certainly didn't want anyone else.

P2! Again Lando finished P2 in the race of his life it looked like. She cheered, reaching for her phone, only to put it down right away. It's not your place anymore she told herself.

Lando was ecstatic, the first positive emotion he'd felt in weeks. Although he wanted to celebrate with the team, he wanted to get to her more. Rushing out of the paddock jumping in his car, not before throwing his hat to a group of young boys waiting for him, watching them fight over it in his rear view as he drove away.

He rested for a few hours once he got to London, hoping no pictures of him had reached her timeline. A few hours of sleep he caught up on, before heading to her. He prayed she was in, it'd be just his luck if she wasn't.

It was 8pm, she's ready for an early night. Make up removed, hair falling slightly messily over her shoulders and matching pyjamas set covering her figure.

Making a cup of tea before bed, she pottered in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boiled when a knock made her jump out of her skin as it echoed through her apartment.

The face appearing before her was the last person on earth she expected.

"Lando? What? Um, hi. What?" So startled sentence ran through her head but failed to reach her lips. She stepped aside for him to come in not saying anything else.

He looked tired but gorgeous as always, he too didn't say a word he just looked at her. She couldn't read his expression, maybe due to it being so long since she's seen him or because he wasn't sure what he was feeling himself.

!!!

He finally spoke, "don't say a word." He demanded, grabbing both sides of her face and pushing his body against hers so her back hit the door behind her. He kissed her softly but only for a second before it intensified. She was lost in the moment, her hands lifting up to get lost in his curls, pulling on them as he leaves her lips abandoned before he continues kissing and biting down her neck to her collarbones.

Her mind catches up with her, her voice small and out of breath from the kiss, "Lando. Lando! Wait." He stopped immediately, worried he'd taken it too far.

"Are you sure you want this? Are you just going to leave me tomorrow? You have every right to be angry but I don't want either if us to regret this." She's right, it'll be their first time sleeping together, hell that was their first time kissing each other more than just a peck.

He knew he wouldn't regret it, he was still upset. But he wouldn't regret it, he's wanted this for the last 2 years, he's needed this for the past 6 months.

"Y/n/n, it feels right doesnt it? Don't worry about tomorrow, do you want this now?" God she does her legs are already weak from the kiss, doing there best to relive some tension rubbing together.

No words necessary she attached her lips back to his all the confirmation he needed.

His hands slipped below her bare legs hoisting her up, she instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, moaning softly into his mouth as she feels him, hard, rubbing against her. He wanders straight into her bedroom, she praises herself for doing some decluttering earlier that day.

He rests her down on the bed, taking her in hair splayed out, "candles, huh? Were you expecting me?" He jokes. Humour right now is not appreciated by her as she leans up grabbing his hoodie pulling him on top of her.

He rest between her legs once more, arms beside her holding his weight above her. He pulls back from her kisses once more to which she groans in frustration.

"I don't think you're in the position to be demanding anything from me baby."

Baby

She's desperate for him and he's taking his sweet time. "Lando please." She whimpers trying to pull him down again, missing his lips against hers.

"Fuck say it again baby. Beg for me. Show me that you deserve it."

"Please. Please. I'll be good. Touch me, kiss me anything. Please"

He dives back down lips attacking her neck straight away, kissing, biting, marks being made down to her collarbones.

"Can I take this off?" He slides the strap off of her shoulder signalling he wants her naked infront of him.

She nods staring at him almost bewildered, she can't believe this is happening. She's hidden her feeling for so long and here he is undressing her after she believed she wouldn't see him again.

He pulls off her top shorts leaving her completely vulnerable in front of him.  Her nipples hard point at him, he's staring think, God she's beautiful. Not a single imperfection in his eyes. Her skin smooth to the touch, freckles delicately scattered over her body, her lips puffy, cheek flushed and marks from him littering her neck.

She notices him analysing her and instinctively goes to attempting to cover her bare body before him. Her arms wrap themselves around her chest, wondering if he likes what he sees or if he's changed his mind.

He grabs her wrists, holding them about her head with one of his large hands. "Don't." He says.

"Please don't hide yourself from me. You're perfect. You're mine and you're perfect." He kisses her once more wrists still pinned, she tries to fight it desperately wanting to touch him, get him out of his clothes and inside her. The more she resists the more he tightens.

"Lando. Do something please I'm begging you." She's throbbing at this point begging for his touch, desperate for it.

"Whatever you want, baby."

He removes his hoodie, she gapes at his body one she'd seen hundreds of times before but never it hovering over her, fuck.

He kisses from her neck down her chest, flicking her nipples with his tongue earning another moan from her. Taking them in her mouth biting and sucking gently as his hand travels down her stomach and between her legs. He'd never felt someone this desperate for him before. His slender fingers toy with her clit as her back arches from the contact, he inserts one finger, followed by another, his thumb now concentrating on her clit. She's moaning and writing at his touch.

He shuffles down her bed lips now attaching her clit, tongue swirling in circles whilst his fingers dance inside her.

"Lando. I'm so- don't- don't stop." Her body quivering beneath him his unoccupied arm laying across or stomach now to try and limit some movement.

Her body shakes as she reaches her highs, chanting his name louder and louder.

"Fuck." She exclaims.

"We're not done yet baby. You going to let me take care of you again?" His fingers finding the drawstring of his joggers pulling them off completely.

"Let me do something for you Lan, please" she looks at him through hooded eyes, looking exhausted already.

"No baby it's all about you right now." He removes the cloth of his boxers, setting her knees up beside him as she lays on her back.

"You ready baby? Can you take it?"

"I need it. Please I need to feel you." She cries out, he taps his tip on her now extremely sensitive clit before allowing himself to sink into her.

"Fuck" he whispers, she's gripped around him in a perfect fit. She was perfect for him.

Thrusting deeper and deeper, as she chants his name gripping onto any part she can. His arms are tattooed with the marks of her nails raking down them as she reaches her second high of the night, it hitting her hard.

Lando slows the rhythm as she begs him to be gentle clearing becoming overwhelmed and overstimulated. "You going to let me cum inside you baby? Can I fill you up?"

"Daddy please. Please"

Daddy. That finished it for him, hoping he could go a bit longer but once that word left her lips he was done for. He swears that's the most intense it's felt.

He gently removes himself from her, entering her en suite, grabbing the first towel he sees. Re entering her room she's propped herself up on her elbows, looking for him as if he's disappeared, slightly delirious. He wipes off what's leaked from her. Urging her to move up under the covers.

"Thank you for coming Lan." She sighs, wrapped in his arms, she's deeply missed being his little spoon. "I don't know what changed your mind. But thank you for being here."

"I'm glad I'm here but I don't want to talk about that right now. Just want to enjoy you and that great sex we had." He smirks into her shoulder, avoiding the dressing topic they'd both have to face at some point.

"Hmm I'd give it a 3/10." She mocks, knowing that's a complete lie.

"That's why you were screaming daddy at me right, baby? Where did that come from?" His smile getting wider and cockier at the minute.

"Please don't. It's your fault anyway.”

If that's his fault, he'd love to be to blame all day everyday. She's finally back in his arms and for now he's enjoying this ignorant bliss.

Masterlist

[abroadwebinfo]

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[accio-victuuri]

part ii of the hat cpn. 👒inspired by the washing done, i decided to share other stuff that i’ve missed from the initial post. tho i think that the first post is more than enough to make a case. i think that if you are a cpf who don’t find this plausible from the first, a second one will do very little to sway your decision. but since this cpn is becoming a popular one, it’s only fitting that it gets more than one discussion post. ✌🏼

one that i forgot to add is how much YBO, across all platforms have posted material from gq moty which includes that hat. even if they probably know the conversation going around it. fans are interpreting this as him showing off, kinda like how he did it with the panther.

just going by the frequency on YBO weibo account. GQ = 9 iqiyi scream night = 5 redmi conference = 2 GRA = 5 Chanel Shenzhen= 2. WYB’s Paris trip has 11 but that’s understandable cause an overseas event like that warrants lots of posts. so for GQ which is a usual event in WYB’s standards, the amount of content is more than usual. we don’t know if this is because they shot a lot of material or he has some sort of requirement from them on how many posts to share. tho i doubt they could require that of him and his team.

cpn or not, we do appreciate all the content YBO has blessed us. 🙏🏼

another thing is when this first came out, people were likening it to Nanyang style of fashion which includes the hat. even people at the event noticed. this kind of style is tied to SG. and who was recently there? if you had a hat shop located in a prominent hotel singapore that also has cultural significance, wouldn’t it be best to have that kind of piece on hand? i’m also thinking about how thoughtful xz is in giving gifts. in this case, he knew wyb’s preference and at the same time it has something to do with the place he visited.

the use of card point 18:55 by YBO on posts related to gq moty and the hat. 18 is of course YIBO. 55 on the other hand was explained before in TTXS by feng ge. Tho his explanation is kinda sus because it’s about two people interlocking their hands like couples do. this episode was in 2018, and we think it made an impression on WYB.

this other one is also a coincidence, years ago 12/10 on 18:55 XZ posted the below message and it’s so fitting to whatever is going on right now. the same is true with them. tho they cannot be as vocal because of their status as celebrities — i’d like to think that sometimes they let things slip. they can’t help it. they are just living their life to the fullest and chose each other cause it is what makes them happy. i hope that it’s the same for us. that our loyalty remains with them and their love 💛

-END.

[preet-01]

For Valentine’s Day, here is a quick ficlet I had written a couple of days after the Lewis to Ferrari news.

Sebastian Vettel/Lewis Hamilton

His Thursday begins as it usually does these days, now that he doesn’t have to prepare for media day or other sponsor obligations before a race weekend – a late start.

A warm cup of tea as he sits outside, watching over his animals and garden. There’s a few pieces of toast with samplings of butter and jam on the side. It’s peaceful, more peaceful than he’s known since before he started karting.

Though it doesn’t last very long.

His peaceful Thursday is disturbed with his phone buzzing. He really should turn that thing off, go completely off the grid and ignore the world. But that’s a thought for another time, right now, Sebastian is still beholden to the social aspect of having a cell phone.

There’s a few messages already waiting for him with more pouring in and a missed call from Jenson. One thing stands out, a message from Jenson saying: Lewis to Ferrari?????

If he spits out his tea in shock at the message, then that’s no one’s business but his.

He had heard rumblings of Lewis going to Ferrari during the previous year, and had even talked to Lewis about it during his brief visit to Monaco. Lewis hadn’t made any indication of seriously considering it, so loyal to Mercedes and getting back to the top step with the team he’d given his blood, sweat, and tears to; with the engine supplier that had been the backbone of his entire career since he was just 13 years old.

But that had been before Singapore, before Qatar, before COTA, before Brazil. It had been before Lewis had been left alone on the podium with only Ferrari and McLaren to congratulate him. It had been before crashing with George and taking the blame for the crash despite being put on soft tyres while George was on medium tyres – the strategy should have been obvious. It had been before he’d gotten disqualified due to the plank and losing a podium position that could have been essential in him getting P2 in the WDC. It had been before the hellish race he had in Brazil, a place that he loved more than anything and considered a second home.

After all of that, maybe Sebastian does understand why Lewis would go to Ferrari. Why he would take a risk somewhere else. Sebastian had been in a similar place so many years ago when Ferrari came knocking on the door. As much as he loved Red Bull, Christian, and Daniel, Sebastian had seen the tides shifting. How he’d gone a year without a win and Daniel had come in to win three times. How Ferrari had offered him everything he could have wanted.

Instead of calling back Jenson, he goes directly to the source.

“Hi,” the familiar British voice rings out from his phone.

“Hi,” Sebastian repeats, not knowing how to start the conversation. They hadn’t had such a conversation when Sebastian had signed with Ferrari – that day had been spent with Lewis’ doing his best to have Seb turn as scarlet as the race suit he would wear. And the conversation in 2020 when it was announced that he would be going to Aston Martin had been short due to Sebastian not wanting to talk too much about how he felt about it. Instead that night had been spent with drinks and Lewis’ bare body pressed up against his own.

“So you heard?”

“Is it true? Are you…” Seb trails off.

“Fred and John are a very convincing duo,” Lewis jokes with a slight laugh. “Would you have done it?” He asks after a few moments of silence.

“I did do it,” Sebastian replies. He too had once left a team built around him, where he won his championships, to go to Ferrari where another driver was already established. “I think that you’ll do better than I did,” he adds.

“Could you open the door?” Lewis questions and right on cue the doorbell rings.

“Are you?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian doesn’t hesitate to get up and walk into his house so he can open the door.

Standing on his doorstep with a phone held up to his ear is one Lewis Hamilton. The most sought after man is standing there with nothing more than his phone.

“What? How?” Sebastian questions letting his hand with the phone drop to his side.

“I was driving back from paintballing and next thing I knew I was on a plane to Switzerland,” Lewis replies.

“Paintballing?”

“I took my side of the garage paintballing so I could tell them,” Lewis answers as if it is the most normal way to tell someone such big news. Sebastian can’t help himself but laugh at the absurdity of Lewis taking his team paintballing just to tell them that he’s leaving at the end of the year. “What? It was better than my original idea of taking them skydiving,” Lewis pouts before he too bursts out laughing.

As the world of F1 (and Motorsport to a degree) falls into shambles around them, the two are just laughing at the absurdity of it all.

It’s… nice.

[linane-art]

Public Service Announcement

Yes, I'm back! Missed me? :D

I don't know where to start, really. My last year of travels was both an incredible, life-changing, empowering, unforgettable experience, and the hardest, most challenging thing I have ever done (and probably will ever do) in my life.

In the space of a year I have visited 11 countries: New Zealand, Fiji, Australia, New Caledonia, Japan, South Korea, Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Poland and Greece. Everywhere I went, I have always tried not to be a tourist, but live like a local, stay with the local people and have as many experiences as I could possibly grab a hold of.

I close my eyes and I can re-trace the exact route from Cashmere to the city centre of Christchurch, or I can still taste the Kava drink, or I remember exactly where to put my feet on the ascent to Yunomine Onsen via the Kumano Kodo Pilgrim Trail, or I can tell what Sumatran elephant skin feels like under my fingers, or which of the rice fields around Ubud offer best views without too many tourists.

I got to do everything I ever wanted, fulfilled every dream I ever had and then some, met some amazing people that will stay with me for the rest of my life, and frequently did 8 absolutely impossible things before breakfast. I travelled on local busses, bought my veggies from local bazars, had local supermarket loyalty cards, dealt with visas, made friends with people who didn't speak a word of English... It kinda made me fearless and unstoppable. I've also struggled with depression, seriously questioned my life's choices, missed home insanely, been to paradise and hated it at times, doubted myself, and had a real reality check on what's important to me. And I regret none of it.

How do you pick up the pieces of your life after something like that?

The good news is that my love for this fandom has never left or diminished, and in fact it often provided to be a source of great comfort to me. I wrote stories in my head during my walks, I re-read some excellent old fics, I took Fili and Kili with me to some seriously remote places.

But I think the fandom has changed during my absence. And I have changed too. So as I sit down and re-think how I wanna indulge in my love of FiKi, here's what I've got:

I am seriously attached to three of my Verses (and have been focussing on them for a while), which I'd love to continue with: Silence, Isca and Postcards. There will be more posted, when I'm ready with it. Watch this space. Subscribe, maybe?

I have been writing mainly for myself for a number of years now and I can and I will continue to do so. But it's alwas a delight when someone else comes on a journey with you, so I'll continue posting publically.

GF is my Happy Place and I have missed it hugely, especailly as it hadn't continued to function as I hoped it would during my absence. I want to come back to tending that garden, as it's important to me. And I might take part in some events again, if the gods smile at me again, which will mean any and all verses will be considered.

I can't imagine in what possible universe I would have the time for drawing again. Having said that, I am sitting on some unpublished and unfinished artwork, some of it in collabs, and I know I can be stubborn enough to force their completion. Something to think about.

What else? I guess that's it. How have everyone been? What's new? WHO's new? Did I miss anything important? Come and say hi - I'm always happy to chatter.

[leclerced]

Ooooooh this idea of a third boyfriend is fueling my Carlos-Oscar beef thoughts.

I’m just imagining after Singapore Bunny, Lando, and Carlos spend the night together, and one of them accidentally butt dials Oscar in the midst of the evening.

Oscar picks up, thinking Bunny or Lando were going to tell him where to meet them at a bar or club, and instead he’s greeted by the sounds of Bunny and Lando moaning, with Carlos just domming the two of them. Carlos is telling Bunny things like “you know you and Lando want me more than just one night, mi cariña, let him hear how good I make him feel you and let him feel it as you moan against his cock”

Oscar is literally gripping his phone as he listens to the way Carlos teases his girlfriend and boyfriend, making sure they’re begging for more time with him, just a little more till they reach the edge when Carlos sees Oscar is on the phone, knowing that he’s with them and Oscar isn’t. Oscar would be furious at first, knowing it’s his rival making them feel this way and not him, but he’d find hishand slowly wandering down when he hears Bunny’s moans and the rough huff of Lando’s breath when he knows they’re close, he’s ready to plot and show them he’s the only one they need.

Though Carlos loves returning to that place of comfort where it was once just the three of them when he was on McClaren, he’s drawn to express this sentiment of it just being the three of them and talking about the nights they spent together even more knowing that he’s taunting the rookie who took what he views as his place in their bed. It makes him want to edge the two of them more and more so Oscar has to hear how they beg for him to let them cum, how good he makes them feel.

After it, Carlos is telling them to imagine what if it was like this every night, what if they could all go home together and if he was Bunny’s boyfriend, because who else knows their bodies so well and cooks them their favorite foods, whose parents looks at Bunny and Lando like they’re family already.. it only makes sense that they would just finally make it official. It’s coming from a sincere place but also one where he feels he’s putting the rookie in his place, reminding him that they were his before Oscar’s, that Lando was his best friend and the one who has spent holidays at his beach house with Bunny in her skimpy little bikinis skipping along the beach as they watched and waited to take her to bed. After examples upon examples, Oscar hangs up the phone, a man on a mission.

And when they get home the next day? Oscar is waiting at the door, ready to fully veto it, and can’t help but take his frustrations out on Bunny and Lando. After hours until he feels like he’s shown them why they chose him, he’d then have them FaceTime his parents to “catch up because they missed them” over a breakfast that he cooked himself “just because”. And that because? Because no one could make them feel more loved, more known that him— even fucking Carlos. -🐝

this is so perfect i could CRY i love this.

the ending about calling his parents 😭 imagine his mom crochets/knits and she’s like omg you guys! i’m working on blankets for you for christmas! and is showing them all the bunches of yarn she picked out for each one, explaining the reasons behind the colors. his parents are promising to fly out to a race to see them as soon as they have the time, and bunny promises that she’ll fly to visit them after the next race bc it’s easier for her to travel! they’d melt at that and immediately oscar’s mom is making spa reservations so they can have a girls day. oscar’s watching as lando and bunny almost cry as the call ends bc she’s so sweet and they can’t get over how much she loves them. they’d have forgetten about carlos hours before, but after that phone call all they can think about is how perfect oscar is and how perfect his family is and how they welcomed them with open arms and love both of them so much.

[abihastastybeans]

1, 9, 14 and 16 for the ask game!

Hiiii niyati, I'm answering the ask as promised xD

1. Favourite place in your country

I haven't travelled to a lot of places😭 But for the sake of this ask, I really liked that one Airbnb we stayed in when we went to Coorg. Very pretty :)

9. Which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best?

I said this long back but I'd like to visit those South-East Asian countries like Burma, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, etc etc! Because I want to know if there really was Tamil influence in those places or if it's just stories xD

14. Do you enjoy your country's cinema and/or TV?

I hardly consume Indian media :p so no comments. Everything I know about it has been learnt through osmosis

16. Which stereotype about your country do you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?

Hate - that we're always singing/dancing/*doing that one Bhangra step*😭😭 No bro it's very rare, atleast in my family

Agree - we've spoken about this before😂 the fact that Indians will click any video/smth with the word "India" on it. Idk why that happens and why it works on me sometimes as well what the hell But hey, it's not as bad, atleast we're contributing to that video getting more views :p