#it doesn't explain *how* the formulas are used but still

[jellyfishsthings]

The Gravity Between Us

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Summary: Dick yearning for a nerdy girl who constantly talks about her new books or new science inventions, he doesn't understand shit and they have to look stuff up constantly trying to keep up with her

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

Dick didn’t believe in love at first sight.

He believed in proximity. Shared moments. Laughter over mismatched socks and long nights spent brushing teeth in silence. He believed in the slow build—accumulated glances, casual touches, the way someone’s name sounded when said too softly, too often.

But if there was ever a moment that could challenge that belief, it was the first time he saw you.

You were arguing with the Dean of Gotham University’s Applied Sciences Department in the hallway. Over orbital velocity.

You weren’t angry, not really—your hands moved too freely for that. You were passionate. Bright-eyed. Electric. You rattled off calculations like poetry, numbers and terms Dick didn’t understand but wanted to memorize anyway.

She’s speaking Latin, he thought. No. Star-language. This woman is built of solar flares and syllables I don’t know how to pronounce.

He was there for a guest lecture on criminology. You were late to a meeting. You brushed past him, eyes distant, your bag slamming into his side without apology.

Dick fell in love with the sound of your thoughts.

He asked Barbara who you were.

“She’s scary smart,” Babs said, smirking over her coffee. “Don’t get your hopes up, Grayson. I tried to get her to help me debug something once and she built a better algorithm in ten minutes while eating a croissant.”

So of course he pursued you.

Like any normal person, Dick decided to attend your public seminars. Which meant sitting in the back of overcrowded rooms next to grad students who whispered things like Did she really reverse-engineer a nuclear model for fun?

He didn’t understand 70% of what you said. But he liked the way your eyes lit up when you talked about gravitational wave detection or microbial communication. You swore like a sailor when you explained things and always had chalk on your hands, like your mind spilled out of you faster than you could contain it.

He wasn’t your type. That much was obvious.

You liked brilliant, slightly aloof, lab-coated types who forgot to eat dinner because they were too busy decoding the genetic memory of fungi. Not acrobats who carried grappling hooks and read crime scene reports for breakfast.

Still. He wanted to know you.

You met properly during a blackout in the city.

You were in the lobby of your building, trying to coax a neighbor’s ancient cat out from under the vending machine with a laser pointer and tuna.

“Need a hand?” he asked, half-laughing, crouched beside you in the dark.

You looked at him. Really looked at him. Something shifted.

“I’ve seen you before,” you said. “You’re the guy who keeps showing up to my astrophysics lectures and pretending to take notes.”

Dick flushed. “Guilty.”

“You looked very confused during the part on dark matter.”

“To be fair, I was still trying to figure out what the Standard Model was.”

You smirked, tugged the cat out gently, handed it off to a grateful neighbor, and turned to him.

“Buy me coffee and I’ll explain it to you.”

He did. He also fell in love with the way you dunked your biscotti and talked about string theory like it was a romance novel.

Dating you was like orbiting a star.

You were radiant. Intense. Impossible not to be drawn to. You had ten books on your nightstand and a half-finished whiteboard formula in your kitchen. You wore socks with chemical structures on them and got distracted mid-sentence to scribble ideas on napkins.

And Dick—he tried.

God, he tried.

He watched documentaries. Asked Babs for help. Subscribed to every science podcast with a halfway decent host.

You’d curl up beside him, humming as you flipped through papers, occasionally whispering things like, “Did you know Venus rotates backwards?” or “There’s a protein in tardigrades that basically makes them immortal.”

He didn’t understand half of it.

But he loved listening. Because you came alive when you spoke. And every time he saw your hands moving, sketching new ideas in the air, he swore the rest of the world went quiet.

It wasn’t all stardust and poetry.

Dick had his own shadows. Long nights. Bruised ribs. The part of himself that couldn’t always talk about where he was or what he saw.

You didn’t push. But sometimes he saw the questions in your eyes. And sometimes, when you were halfway through explaining a recent breakthrough in bioluminescent engineering, you’d stop, tilt your head, and say:

“You’re not really here, are you?”

“I am,” he always said. “I’m trying.”

You’d nod, but the distance would settle in like fog.

One night, you found his emergency burner phone in the couch cushions. The message on it: “Warehouse raid at 2 a.m. Bring backup.”

He expected you to yell. Or leave.

Instead, you said, “You’re him, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Nightwing.”

Dick froze.

You looked calm. Tired, but calm. “I’ve cross-referenced your injuries, time away, and your avoidance of any real explanations. You’re either a spy or a vigilante. And given your gymnastic abilities and the way you keep bruising your ribs…”

He blinked. “You figured that out from my rib injuries?”

You shrugged. “The pattern matched a common trajectory of reinforced police batons. I ran the math.”

He laughed. Then kissed you. Then cried a little into your shoulder when you said, “I still want you to be safe. But I’m not leaving.”

One night, you were on the phone with your lab while cooking stir fry with your free hand and explaining CRISPR to Damian, who’d just dropped by to borrow a biology textbook.

Tim was there too, sitting at the counter with a furrowed brow and an empty notepad.

“Wait—wait, can you say that again?” Tim asked, already flipping through his calculus workbook.

Dick walked in and stopped in the doorway.

There you were—hair messy, glasses askew, hoodie half-tucked—and two of the smartest people he knew were hanging on your every word.

Tim scribbled notes while you corrected a theorem. Damian asked about mitochondrial DNA. You didn’t even pause while plating dinner with your foot.

And Dick?

He leaned on the doorframe and watched you—half in awe, half jealous.

Because he used to be the one who lit up when you talked. He used to be the one who asked all the questions, tried to keep up. Now the boys were stealing your brain, your laugh, your look at this cool thing I just discovered!

He sighed a little too loudly.

You turned, eyes wide. “Hey, babe. Hungry?”

“I could eat.”

Tim looked up. “She just explained the Schrödinger equation using scrambled eggs.”

“Of course she did,” Dick muttered, kissing your temple. “Because that’s sexy now, apparently.”

You grinned. “Oh? You jealous?”

Dick looked at your two very eager pupils.

“…Maybe a little.”

Later that night, you found him in bed with a beginner’s book on astrophysics.

You laughed. “Babe.”

“I need to catch up. I don’t want to lose you to Tim and Damian.”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“They understand your brain.”

You crawled into his lap, took the book from his hands, and kissed him softly. “You don’t have to understand everything I say. You just have to listen.”

“I do listen.”

“I know. That’s why I love you.”

Dick paused. Blinked. “You love me?”

You smiled. “Was that not obvious?”

He pulled you into his chest and whispered, “I’m in orbit, sweetheart. Always have been.”

And you?

You curled up against him, heart steady, mind quiet for once, knowing that no matter how fast your thoughts spun, he’d always be right there—trying, listening, loving you through it all.

[i-havenothingelsetopost]

genuine question, do you like maths?? i have a vague feeling i saw your post of tags or something that said something about it but i cannot figure out if it was in fact you or if it was even positive ahahah

Yeah that was me! I don't go looking for math problems, but when I happen to do them, I tend to enjoy it. Wasn't always this way — elementary school math was about speed and memorization and I hated that — but I had a really good teacher in upper secondary school, and it became about creative problem solving. It feels the same as writing a poem in meter or managing to untangle a really bad knot in a ball of yarn.

[melanchoire]

If you haven't already, can you make g!p somno or dubcon (or both 🫣) with karina

She's our bully, and she convinces us to help her study, and we end up falling asleep, forgetting the time. Just to wake up being filled with her huge dick 🤭

Begging and pleading her to stop (knowing damn well we like it), she's so rough too omg leaving marks all over marking her territory.

cw: dubcon.

having to help karina study for the upcoming chemistry test and catch up on activities and homework was clearly not your idea, but you couldn’t refuse to accept the task when she practically threatened you last week by cornering you against the lockers and telling you that you would help her improve her grades, and it wasn’t a question, it was a demand

karina’s carefree and disinterested behavior while you were explaining the formulas to her was something that was trying your patience. she was leaning back in the chair, manspreading as she slowly began to swing in the chair 😤 no matter how hard you tried to get her attention, she didn’t seem to care! karina would just nod vaguely when you explained something to her and asked if she was following you, having a disinterested look in her eyes and seeming to be ignoring your every word

and of course it was kind of annoying! here you were, spending your time tutoring someone who didn’t seem to give a shit about school and was proud of her poor grades. you didn’t understand how karina could hold her chest high about her embarrassing low grades, but she just responded by saying that ‘she preferred to have bad grades but enjoy her time at school having fun with her friends and laughing during classes instead of “wasting” time doing homework’

the tiredness present in your body became more noticeable when you asked karina to solve a couple of exercises on her own and she was taking so long that you were practically falling asleep in your seat. you had put your elbow on the table and rested your head on your palm, but little by little sleep was overcoming you and you felt more and more tired…

and yes, you fell asleep instantly 😣 at one point you moved lazily in… your bed? you don’t remember when you got home, maybe it was because you were too tired to remember your way from leaving karina’s house to getting to yours! of course 👀 so you moved around in bed, looking for the perfect comfort to continue sleeping, until you felt a coldness in the lower part of your body?? you also don’t remember when you took off your pants to sleep…

until you felt hands pulling your panties down your thighs 😳

as you try to turn around to see what the hell is going on, karina grabs your head and pushes your face into the pillows. “shh, go back to sleep, doll.” and that was more than enough to wake you up completely!

you obviously tried to fight against karina’s hold, kicking and trying to free yourself from being under her, but karina is much stronger than you, even if she doesn't look like it! so she holds both of your wrists above your head with one hand and uses the other to spread your thighs so she can get between your legs? yes!

and before you could even try to do anything to defend yourself you were already taking karina’s thick cock slowly and painfully 😣 she doesn’t mind staying still for a moment to let you get used to her size or even take in the situation, preferring to hear the gasps and sharp moans that came from your lips with each sharp and precise thrust of her hips 😵‍💫 karina loving how you beg her to go slower or be gentler with you but you do absolutely nothing to stop her and your pussy was clenching around her cock with a grip that was practically begging her not to pull out… and above all she loved it when you freed yourself from her grip, instead of trying to push her away, you decided to place your hands on her shoulders, digging your fingers into her flesh or even scratching her back every time she gave you a hard thrust

akkwjdiwkds karina manhandles you every second that you two are fucking, digging her fingers into your skin until they leave red marks on your skin, throwing you around and positioning you as she pleases like some kind of toy… she forcing you to spread your legs, placing her hands on the back of your knees and pushing them until they are practically pressed against your chest 😵‍💫 karina makes sure you stay like that by leaning forward and almost lying on top of your body, her chest pressed against yours and she buries her face in the crook of your neck as she growls against your skin

and of course the study session achieves its initial purpose! karina asking you to help her study, only this time you’re sitting on her lap, cockwarming her until she can’t take it anymore and bends you over the desk to fuck your brains out <3

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

Simon taking care of a child with medical issues when her bio dad is a deadbeat (✿◡‿◡)

I can just imagine Simon would be so good with a little girl who has type 1 diabetes. (There's a little bit of explaining of different medical terms so you're not left hanging) BUT TRUST ME HE WOULD BE SO GOOD FOR THE BOTH OF YOU

You had gotten pregnant with your little girl, Annabeth (Beth for short), a year after being married to Ethan. He seemed ready to be a dad, but once he found out Beth has diabetes, he cares for her less and less. He went to classes with you two, learned how to calculate her bolus (amount of insulin needed at meals) and basal (baseline amount of insulin for the day), but never did them properly. She'd end up with high blood sugars all day, sometimes getting ketones (breakdown of muscle in an attempt to breakdown sugar when there's no insulin) because he wouldn't give her the right amount of insulin. She'd puke and cry from how bad she felt, and he still wouldn't take care of her properly.

It would cause you to have to come home in the middle of work to give her the insulin he wouldn't, or if she got ketones, take her to the ER. You'd constantly get into arguments that would end with him going to the pub, and you crying. He wouldn't change, no matter how many times you explained that she could die from improper inulin dosage.

Other times, he'd give her too much, and her blood sugar would drop so low she could barely drink her juice. He'd call you, saying she's barely able to move, she's sweaty and the color from her face is drained, that she's crying, and he doesn't fucking know what to do.

The divorce ended with you having full custody, you allowing small visitations that are supervised. You can't trust he will take care of her how she needs.

NOW

When you start dating Simon, you explain to him why you got divorced, and how important your baby's health is. Even more so that she's so fragile. He assures you he's nothing like your ex-husband and would go strictly by your instruction if you allow him to be a part of her life.

The first few times he was around Beth, he payed close attention to how you took care of her. One time, at the park, Beth played a bit too hard, and her blood sugar dropped. You had 2 juices with you, but she went through those so fast. Once her blood sugar went back up, she played too hard again. Without telling you, he had already brought a few juices in his car. That was the first time he took care of her.

The second time was then you had asked him to pick up her prescriptions from the pharmacy. He waited for her insulin, but they only gave one vial. He explained to them that she uses two a month and that she needs the other one. They said that was all that was ready, so he waited 2 hours until the other one was ready.

What made up your mind was when you were called into work under an emergency, and you had no one to take care of Beth. You hadn't slept well the night before so when Simon offered to watch her, you hadn't thought to explain her dosage formula to him. It wasn't until the end of your shift that you realized and sped home (definitely going over the speed limit). Rushing through the door, you were greeted with the sight of Beth laying on Simon's chest, sound asleep. How was she not sick from no insulin?

"You told me her basal, so I gave her tha'"

oh

"What about the food she ate? Did she eat? What insulin did you give her?" You asked, extremely confused.

"I looked up no carb to low carb foods so I wouldn't have to worry about tha'. She had a cheese stick with some almonds and a lil bit of mashed blueberries with cinnamon mixed in, wasn't very hungry though so she didn't really finish it" he says softly, petting her hair, "told you I'd take care of her, mama"

oh

He really wasn't like her dad.

So, it wasn't really unreasonable when after she was put to bed, you pushed him to your bedroom and took care of him too.

(All of the information in this is coming from me, a type 1 diabetic. Everyone's diabetes is a little different, so this is based off of how mine affects me)

[notebooks-and-laptops]

BG3 doesn't understand what makes someone 'evil' and it shows

Since its release, BG3 has been heaped with praise for its ability to let the player do pretty much whatever they want in a runthrough. An RPG thrives on choice, and BG3 offers you plenty. You can attack anyone you might want to instead of talking to them, or you can try and persuade individuals round to your point of view. You can romance any member of your party, or you can romance none at all. You can save the druid grove and the refugee tieflings that are hiding there, or you can kill them all by siding with Minthara.

However, now I'm in my 'evil' playthrough of BG3, I can't help but notice cracks in the BG3 formula. And I think the best way to shine a light on these cracks is by comparrison with another choice heavy RPG: Dragon Age Origins.

In Dragon Age Origins, there is a quest in which you travel to a mage tower to find chaos all around. The templars at the doors explain to you that someof the mages have summoned demons into the tower through blood magic, and they have thus sent away for the right of annulment that will give them the authority to kill every mage in the tower. You can talk the templars into letting you into the tower to try and help, but how you 'help' is up to you. You can either carry out the rite of annulment for the templars, killing all in your path until the tower is free of all possible demonic influence or you can try and save as many mages as you possibly can. Depending on how you complete this quest, a different ally will join you in the final fight (either the templars or the mages).

So, on the surface, pretty similar to the grove right? You can either kill everyone in the grove, or you can try and protect them against those who are trying to annihilate them. Similarly to the grove too, a companion (Wynne in this case) will leave your party to defend the mages if you say you're planning on killing Irving the head mage (just like Wyll will side against you if you attack the grove). Except. Wait. There is a very specific difference.

I don't think anybody would claim that carrying out the 'rite of annulment' for the templars is the morally virtuous choice. It involves killing innocents all the way to the top, and the assumption is that the templars will kill any individuals you leave behind (mainly: the children Wynne is protecting). Throughout the game we have seen how the mages are effectively prisoners at the mercy of the templars, and while the demons running around are obviously not a good thing you can see why the mages felt the need to summon them to try and escape.

But there are in universe reasons why your character would chose to carry out the rite of annulment on the circle and side with the templars beyond 'hehehe I'm very evil'. DAO establishes before you even get to the tower that mages are viewed as incredibly dangerous in this world. You've potentially already met Connor, a little boy who tried to use his magic to save his fathers life, and in doing so has been waking hoards of undead to attack an innocent village. The circle is viewed as the only way mages can learn to control their powers, and the templars the only way to protect mages from themsleves. The overwhelming culture and the propoganda for said culture would say that the 'right' thing to do is to side with the templars so that none of this can affect anyone outside the tower. And to hammer that point home, they have a traumatised templar Cullen at the top of the tower who's been subject to torture for days and lays out exactly why it'd be better to kill all the mages than to even have the slightest doubt that they're still using blood magic and summoning demons.

So your character has a reason to chose the 'evil' option here, beyond just 'hahaha I'm so evil'.

Now, lets turn to the grove in BG3.

What reason does the player character have for siding with Minthara and attacking the grove? Minthara and the goblins don't offer any reason to beyond the fact that their God told them to, a God who by that point you're already suspicious of due to the tadpoles and the seeming mind control said God is using to control those around her. The Absolute is a new God too, so I suppose Minthara and the Goblins could convert you prior to going to raid the camp, but there's no way for you to have been raised as a believer in the Absolute or have any reason to follow the Absolute really.

It all just feels a bit convoluted. The evil choice is evil because....it is the evil choice. When you make said choice, you are basically deciding to play as a character who is evil for evils sake, because the game doesn't give any in-universe justification why you would ever want to kill the tiefling refugees. In fact, the game heavily disinsentivises you by making your objective in the Goblin Camp to free Halsin so he can help give you a cure. No potential cure is offered by Minthara for helping clear out the grove; nobody says 'hey if you follow the absolute and do as she says she'll be able to fix that parasite'. In fact, you need to keep a secret from the Absolute in order to keep playing the game - you need to make sure you don't hand over the prism. You literally can't fully be on the absolutes side at this point.

So while BG3 does offer you the choice, I think it doesn't do a good job of offering you the choice in the way other similar RPGs do.

Off the top of my head, perhaps they could have fixed this by exploring the goblins a bit more. Perhaps the Druids have been persecuing the goblins for a long time prior to the game, and the goblins want to attack the grove because the druids have been hoarding resources. There could even be a sense of 'the druids let the tieflings in but they refuse to see us goblins as people worthy of protection so we're being left out here to starve'. The goblins have been recruited to the absolute who believe the grove may have the prism, but the reason they're attacking is more to do with the politics of being seen as an 'evil' race not worthy of protection, despite the druids having plenty to go around. Obviously, it would still be the 'evil' choice to kill the tieflings and druids in this universe but you could see why a character would sympathise and chose to side with the goblins.

But no, instead if you want to do an 'evil' run, you really do just have to be kind of comically evil here. Which is a shame, because I think it really takes away from what actually motivates individuals in these circumstances and why they'd chose to take various pathways which other RPGs at least try and give justification for.

[nathaslosthershit]

Some Bad, But a Whole Lot of Good (LS2)

Summary: To the fans, it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume the week after his replacement had been hell for newly dropped Logan Sargeant, but to the people who knew him, they weren't worried. Warning: James Vowles slander, a lot of it, I made Logan yell at him because I want to yell at him

Getting fired a week before your first child was born wasn't on anyone's bucket list. But here Logan was.

He was mad- no he was furious. Sure, the past few months with the team have been miserable, but this was the worst timing possible.

"Why now? Why not the two weeks we were off on break?" Logan asks yells. He doesn't lose his cool, at least not like this, not by yelling at his boss.

"Logan, you have to understand we are in between a rock and a hard place. I am truly sorry but it's a difficult time for us-" Vowles begins to explain.

"A difficult time for you? I am about to have a fucking baby, James. Next week! What the fuck am I supposed to do?" He got up and ran his hand through his hair. "You just had a baby a year ago, I would have thought you of all people would have thought this through more."

"Believe me, we have Logan, we have discussed this at length for a long time now."

"Oh fuck you! You have been thinking about this for a long time and choose now to do something about it? God, James, why do you hate me so much? I know I haven't met expectations, I know I have fucked up, but I still have given everything to this team and this is how you end it?" he finally met his boss'- ex boss' now, I guess, stare.

As Logan looked at his team principal, he tried to see any remorse or sincerity in his eyes but just as he had suspected, James' apology was bullshit, completely insincere. He knew this wasn't going anywhere, he didn't even know why he was fighting.

Formula 1 had been the dream for a while. Logan had let himself sacrifice everything he could to achieve it. He tried to tell himself that he had made it and that he was happy, but it wasn't true. He couldn't face the reality of the dream he worked so hard for not being everything he had imagined.

After meetings about contract termination and how they were to proceed, a sad little goodbye party filled with people that were probably thrilled to have him go, and an actually heartfelt apology and goodbye from his teammate and those he worked closely with, the American left the factory for the last time.

The most difficult part of this whole affair? Telling his very pregnant wife that he was now unemployed, a week until their first child's due date.

After tears, cursing a certain British boss' bloodline, and dissociative silence, Logan sat next to his wife as she suddenly burst into laughter.

He was stunned, she was practically doubling over, at least as much as she could in her current condition. The sight so ridiculous given the circumstances that he began to laugh too.

Several minutes were spent laughing until their stomachs hurt and then trying to catch their breath before either one of them could say another word.

"This is such terrible timing!" she said, wiping her eyes as she continued to giggle.

"Could not me a worse time" he replied as he started to laugh even harder.

"God, we shouldn't be laughing at this! We have officially lost our minds"

"Perfect timing too! Just like everything else"

It was ironic, this was the absolute worse scenario Logan could come up with but this was also the hardest he had laughed in a long time. When was the last time he actually laughed? The last time he actually felt joy about anything involving his job?

As if she could sense what he was thinking, she took a few deep breaths, finally calming down, as she said, "This is insane of me to say, but maybe this is a good thing?"

He knew where she was going, he thought the same, but he needed to hear her rationalize it before he agreed.

"I mean, honey, you were miserable. And I am sorry because I did love some of the people on your team but most of them were jackasses! It was such a time commitment and you have spent so long giving everything to them just for the team to spit in your face. Plus, with savings and such, we have enough to be fine for a while, even with the baby. You finally can put your family and yourself first"

She was right, it was time he admitted to himself how much he had hated his job in the past few months. How miserable it made him. How he could hardly enjoy anything in his life because he was always thinking of how to improve, how to show he still has potential even with the shitty car he was given.

"Im sorry. I- its not fair that I spent so long chasing a dead end dream that I couldn't actually enjoy what I do have. I mean, I could never race again and I would be 1000 times happier with out little family then I could ever be in F1. I will never not put you both first again." He said as he looked at her, held the bump, and genuinely got to relish in what was to come.

The first race weekend since Logan was replaced, he wasn't stewing in his misery, he was sitting in the hospital next to his wife, holding his first born, and the last thing on his mind was what was happening anywhere else in the world outside of the room his entire life was currently in.

logansargeant

liked by alexalbon, jensonbutton, and others

logansargeant New job

user1 hey! so this is insane

user2 unemployment has never looked better

alexalbon This is a crazy way to hard launch fatherhood but good on you, mate!

logansargeant got to keep them guessing

user4 dilf era yes please

oscarpiastri how long is the contract?

logansargeant full time for 18 years, then after there is a bit more leeway, but there is certainly no retirement in my future

user3 replaced right before he had a BABY?! oh that British fuck better watch out

jensonbutton Such a big moment! So happy to see where life takes you, I know it will be great!

A/N: Had to finish this right after the news he is testing for indycar in november dropped!!! U-S-A U-S-A!

[nor-4]

Formula 1 Incorrect Quotes with reader

F1IQ - Part Two

Y/n: You have issues Charles: Omg you noticed🥹❤️

Max: How tall are you? Yuki: Extremely. Thank you for asking

Lando, apologizing: . . .—-. - / … —.-. .-. -.- Y/n: What’s that? Lando: remorse code Y/n: I’m even angrier now

Lance: So girl what that mouth do Y/n: complain

Christian: Nice ass, sorry about the mental illness Toto: Thank you king

Y/n in drive to survive: If you’re ever losing an argument hit them with the “you just want me.” Max: I’m just saying you are in the wrong and you are yet still stubborn Y/n: you just want me Max: I do and now i need you to listen to me

Carlos: *wearing a turtle neck* Y/n: I heard in the internet that men who wear turtle neck are most likely to be a whore.

Y/n: Wtf people actually tell their crushes they like them???? Fernando: What the hell do you do? Y/n: i die? Lmao what kinda question…

Lewis: Bro. I am on my way

Lewis: Sorry for calling you bro you are my girlfriend and i love you

Y/n: I love you too brah

Daniel comforting max: Always here for you bro 🌹🌹🌹

Daniel: Those were flowers btw

Daniel: For our bromance

Y/n: Anyways see you in court

Lance: I get to see youu😍

Oscar: You're a reoccurring guest in my sleep

Y/n: are you in love with me

Oscar: i just see you when i sleep often

Y/n: because you are in love with me

Y/n: i am not normal about this man

Sebastian: You are not normal in general

Y/n: I need a relationship advice

Kimi: break up

Y/n: listen to me first

Y/n: You know you can open up to me anytime

Charles: Okay fine

Charles: Idrk how to explain it it's just i wish i was dead *Y/n liked this message*

Charles: Why the fuck did you like the message

Sebastian: Dinner is ready. Come down and eat.

Sebastian: bring down your lady friend

Y/n: ?? It's my friend charles. He's a boy

Sebastian: Gay. Christian thought it was a chick.

Y/n: well he has pretty face

Sebastian: Gay

Sebastian: Both of you come eat.

Lando: You heard a joke about gas lighter?

Carlos: no

Landos: yes you have

Carlos: No i haven't

Lando: You've literally heard it already

Carlos: I DONT KNOW

Lando: You're crazy

Y/n in drive to survive: Playing among us with a gay is really hard

Charles: Give me the code bitch

Y/n: Waitt

Y/n: SKSJHK

George: Omg what happened

Y/n: BITCH THAT'S THE CODE

Logan: You are really cute

Y/n: Thank youu, you too

Logan: So what do you like?

Y/n: murder

Y/n: Wait you like me??

Y/n: for my personality??

Yuki: i know I'm surprised too

Oscar: You are so annoying

Y/n: But you like me

Oscar: Doesn't make you less annoying

Y/n: So can we talk?

Lando: talk about what?

Y/n: about us

Lando: Why would you want to talk about United State

Lewis: that's it?

Lewis: You done bitching?

Y/n: That was just a warm up

George: THERE IS SO MANY SNACKS IN HERE

Y/n: WHAT SNACK

George: Like hot guys

George: NOT FOOD YOU FAT FUCK

Lance: How come you are abnormally nice to me lately

Y/n: what do you mean

Lance: You seem nicer than usual

Y/n: I'll punch you in the face if you want

Logan: What's up?

Y/n: about to have mental breakdown hbu?

Logan: in the middle of mental break down

Y/n: Why do we fight over stupid shit

Max: cause you say stupid shit

Y/n: baby are you flirting with me?

Logan: yes I'm trying

Logan: i dont even have an idea on what am i doing

[kitorin]

9:55 am - i.rin. in which, he does his best to help out with math - your weakest subject

"you're telling me you haven't studied at all?"

"i have, just haven't fully committed it to memory"

"that's basically the same thing—and don't lie, you couldn't even state the quadratic formula..."

amidst bored students and hushed discussion was you and yoichi, concealed by the backs of your fellow classmates; approximately something amount of minutes until your mathematics exam, something because you're too stressed to bother with the specifics.

yoichi fiddles with his calculator, ignoring what you pointed out earlier. "how are we supposed to do logs on this thing? where's the tiny ass number?"

you flip through your math book, you must've written the rule somewhere. "hang on, i can't find it."

"yup. i'm failing. couldn't be assed to do anything all term." yoichi stretches his arms forward, across the desk, towards someone in front of him. "oi rin, help me out here." his fingers barely hit the back of rin's chair, weakly begging for his attention.

to which rin responds by rearranging how he sat, forearm and elbow on the backrest, whole body rotated to the side, and study glasses removed with a pinch of his right hand. "what do you want this time?"

"logs. how the fuck do i do it when there's no small number?"

"that's it?" rin tears a page out of his english book, planting it on you and yoichi's desk. "rewrite it as a fraction, put the base on the bottom and the value on top."

yoichi stares at rin. "which one's the base? and what's the value?"

"base is the smaller number that has the index in power form, value is the bigger number that's the result, right?" relief washes over you; at least you didn't need notes to remember that."

yoichi's face brightens. "you're a genius, can't believe you were worried for this test, dumbass."

rin rolls his eyes. "you're just stupid, yoichi. and hopeless." his hand searches around in his bag, fishing out god knows what.

"i'd rather not hear it from the guy who placed in a second year class just for math." yoichi scoffs, asking for permission to revise with your notes through a small tap (and of course you granted it, pushing your notebook towards him). "i'm not that bad at it, also, explain this one."

"no." but rin brings out his calculator. "got better things to do. see here, you can change the base on this thing."

he demonstrates, you barely acknowledge what it can do before flipping through your notes, while yoichi is star struck.

"can i use that?"

"nah."

"i'll give you twenty bucks."

rin rolls his eyes once more. "just learn the math, dumbass."

yoichi swears under his breath, yet rin heeds no mind and turns back to whatever he's doing.

"yoi, it's really not that bad. i have a cheat sheet with all the formulas." you push it towards him but he declines, face slumped onto the desk.

"y/n, i give up. even after years of friendship with itoshi fucking rin he won't give me his calculator."

and it's not just yoichi—others panicked, concealing phones behind textbooks with youtube tutors and notes being aggressively inspected.

you'd be lying if you said you felt okay.

are you doing better than yoichi? certainly, but maths is difficult, it's the kind of subject where your average can drop at any moment. you've studied hard, yet uncertainty still nauseates you a little bit.

you'd be lying if said you weren't nervous—uneven breathing and an unrelenting bounce in your thigh exposes that easily.

9:58 am. only two minutes until next period.

until it's time for you to make your way to the math test.

yoichi leaves first, not even bothering to tuck in his chair. "i'm gonna head to the bathroom first, i feel sick." he taps you on the shoulder. "see ya later, good luck."

you whisper it back while tucking his chair under the table, though the thought of luck doesn't seem to be helpful. at all.

with hesitance, you close your notebook. it's too late to change anything now, you'll only stress out more.

besides, it's only your first year. there'll be plenty of opportunities, right?

rin turns around to speak again, you peer up from slumping forward as he gets ready to leave as well.

"here." it's his calculator.

you blink. "it's okay—." you pull your calculator back out to show him. "i remembered mine." (how could you not, when the very mention of math engulfs you with a sort of doom). you chuck it back into your bag, until deciding you'd rather keep it in hand for the sake of your nerves.

rin just shoves it closer. "take it."

"but i have one."

this time he forces it into your hand. "this one can do change of base for logs."

"but i remember the change of base for logs." you try to hand back the calculator, yet all he does is push your hand back.

"i know. but you can save time with this thing." rin peers at you through his glasses before taking them off to return to his case. "doesn't change anything for me. i don't have a test next period. you might as well take it."

you're tempted to try give it back again, but the way he's staring at you intently insists to you that he's persistent. he won't yield to any "but" or "i'm okay".

and so you give up, nodding and putting your own calculator away. "thanks, rin."

he's by your side as you leave the classroom for your exam. "it's fine." you half expected him to zoom away during the moment silence prevails, to whatever special class he has for high achievers. but he continues speaking. "you're gonna do well, y/n."

"i hope so."

rin scoffs. "not "i hope so". you will. you've literally done nothing but math all week."

you open your mouth to refute, but he cuts you off.

"you're smart. heck, you don't even need that calculator. i bet you could do better than everyone else without it."

a smile appears on your lips. "thank you. i'll do my best!" the two of your swerve to the side for a bit, letting a group of seniors pass. "thanks again for the calculator."

"like i said, it's nothing." he looks away, glancing at the classes the two of you pass. "and you better not do anything to my calculator. it's special."

"of course i won't!" you reassure him by putting it into your pocket for safe measure. "what makes it so special?"

"austria."

"austria?"

"yeah. it's from austria. so it's expensive and hard to get."

your eyes widen. "oh—i see." you're slightly tempted to hand it back to him, just in case you manage to accidentally break it but from the half year you've known rin he'd tell you off for it. "i'll treasure it while i have it."

"you better." his voice is cold, but you swear you can see a small grin.

you pass by a familiar room. "isn't your classroom back there?"

he nods. "not going. i'll walk you there."

"but—"

"i said i'm not going. c'mon. what happens when you add two logarithms with the same base?"

this is easy. it comes as though it's muscle memory. "multiply the values."

rin scoffs, this time with amusement and not irritation. "i told yah you'd be fine."

"y/n, how do i solve this thing?"

you turn to yoichi, who was scratching his head over a trigonometry equation.

"hm? what's wrong?" it's hard for you to tell, with such aggressive scribbles and writing clouding his page.

yoichi grips at his calculator, as though he was trying to strangle it. "i keep getting a fucking obnoxious decimal. how is the road meant to be 0.351 metres long??"

you check the diagram. "you've done everything right." (you mentally check "soh cah toa" to be safe). you check his calculator. "you made it an inverse, silly. that's for finding the angle."

he groans. "thanks. i really fucking hate trig."

"me too." something about his calculator looks familiar. "where'd you get this?" you inspect it, until you notice the little box alongside the log button. "you got a calculator from austria?"

yoichi looks at you as if you're crazy. "i have a calculator from the stationary store nearby. if that's what you mean."

you stare right back at him. "but this is a special one—it changes the log base, rin—"

"rin? itoshi rin told you this calculator's special, from austria?"

"yeah." you say with utter confidence.

"and you believed him?"

"yeah." your confidence remains unfaltering.

"you're an idiot." he states, with no expression whatsoever. it somehow feels more offensive than if he were to scowl at you.

"'m not—"

"you thought, that this calculator. the one i bought at the mall because i got screwed over on that test, was a special calculator from austria."

the way yoichi says it makes you realise how stupid it is, and your face begins to heat up.

"in my defense, rin told me that when he lent it to me."

"why the fuck would rin have a fancy calculator from austria?? i mean, are austrian calculators better than other ones???"

now you have a lot of questions. "well i dunno, he's rich so i thought he was right."

yoichi's fuming, though not at you. "rich people don't spend money on calculators. they spend their money on overpriced shoes and motorbikes so they can show off in the morning." he scrunches a piece of working out paper. "i'm going to kill him next time our families meet up. i could've at least gotten close to passing if he gave me the damn thing."

you pat him on the back. "i would've given it to you if i knew. and if you didn't barely make it to the exam room."

"oh shut up. you better not fall for him."

"now you're the one saying stupid shit. he's just nice, that's all."

he scoffs, loudly, so loudly that you're wondering why no one has asked you guys to be quiet yet. "and i assumed that after seeing him speak to our coach in middle school. he wants you bad. idiot."

"you're being dramatic." rin's just a nice classmate, even if he can be a bit cold at times.

yoichi scoffs again, this time as if you've shamelessly committed a crime. "y'know what, gimme your paper. you don't deserve top mark if you're capable of being this stupid."

"oh shut up yoichi." if you weren't in math class you would've tackled him by now. he's smart, but this whole "rin wants you" is simply ridiculous.

"no, i don't think i'll shut up." he tosses the working out paper he had scrunched harshly at you. "i'll bet on it then. if rin doesn't ask you out until next year then i owe you a meal, if he does then you owe me."

free, food, why not? "fine. deal." you shake on it, then finally resume studying.

little did you know that yoichi would be laughing at your face six months later over sizzling yakiniku.

taglist (send ask to be added) : @yuzurins , @pokkomi , @chigirizzz

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[bibewilderedandbuck]

Buck goes out to get food or restock after a particularly rigorous ""work out"" session and it just happens to be at the same time as some idiot decides to rob the place.

Buck is kneeling down because hes looking for Tommy's favorite gatorade flavor. They have all the popular flavors at eye level but if you're looking for dark red, you have to stoop down. Homophobic, and during pride month.

He hears the commotion and of course his hero complex kicks in. But he doesn't wanna spook the guy cause he knows how he looks. Massive and buff and a firefighter and everyone at this place knows him too, he lives right down the road (or maybe the drug store is one the first level of his apartment). He goes to send a quick text to Tommy, when the guy with the gun demands all their phones. Buck gets out "911" and turns on his location. He stays low to the floor but makes himself known. Gets the gun trained on himself instead of anyone else because that's just who buck is.

The robber is getting desperate and every time bucks phone pings he gets more and more jumpy.

“Whose needy ass boyfriend wont stop blowing up their phone?”

Buck raises a shaky hand. He opens his mouth to say something but before he can get it out-

The store clerk high-fives him and tells him he’s proud of him. “It was only a matter of time, man. He went through all the women of LA and he just moved on to the men.”

A chorus of “Oooh come on!” “That’s biphobic” “ew gross” “not cool” ring out among the other hostages. Buck’s cheeks are burning. The mix of positive and negative reinforcement creating chaos in his head.

“You really should consider letting us go.” He says to the man with the gun. Buck takes a risk and stands to his full height and the other man’s eyes widen. “My boyfriend is bigger than I am. He's waiting for me and we weren’t done.” He holds up a box of condoms and the gatorade and someone hoots behind him.

It’s then that the sirens start. Someone shouts instructions through a bullhorn. Buck isn't listening, he's determined to get everyone out before himself. He calmly explains that out there is one of the most fiercely protective police sergeants he's ever met.

"And her first priority is not going to be you." Buck motions his raised hand to the other people in the store and says, "let them go and I can help you."

The voice amplified by the horn sounds more desperate by the second and when did the fucking fire department get here?

The armed man send everyone out, except buck, who he now holds in front of him with the barrel of the gun tucked snugly against his spine. Buck can feel it shiver against his skin.

"I didn't want to hurt anyone."

"I- I know," Buck says. The guy cowers behind him and he curses his height because if anyone was a fantastic human shield its Evan Buckley.

There's a new voice coming through the bullhorn now and Buck groans. Its Tommy and he's telling Buck the whole teams here and he's going to be alright. He sounds desperate and scared and Buck just wants to wrap his arms around the man and tell him its going to be OK.

"The boyfriend?" the guy asks and Buck almost laughs. He lets out a shaky breath.

"Yeah, needy right?"

"Listen man, I made a mistake. I'm in a lot of trouble but I never wanted anything like this." Buck nods. "My baby is sick and I'm broke. I just needed some cash and some formula."

Buck groans. He's too nice for his own good.

"There's an exit in the back."

"What?"

"In the back room I've seen them take in deliveries that way." He can hear the guy shuffle and then stop.

"Should I hit you?"

"What?" Buck peaks over his shoulder, the guy is half way to the door at the back of the store and still he's completely shielded by Buck's body. Seriously he should have been a bodyguard or something.

"I mean...it'll look like you just let me go?"

"This isn't a movie? I- I'm literally being held hostage, dude."

"Right." He turns away from Buck and then stops again. Buck is holding his breath. "Thanks man. I know this is fucked up and you didn't have to help me. You're a good guy."

Then he's gone.

Buck's not sure how to react. He did it, he saved everyone and himself and oddly the whole thing feels like a dream. Unreal. He walks slowly to the door of the shop and exits with his hands still in the air. Eddie is the first to hug him, barreling right into him and smacking his back into the glass of the window. He's checking over Buck for injuries and squinting inside the store and he seems confused.

"Where'd he go?"

Buck shrugs. "Went to the back and never came out."

Athena is next, she too gives him a once over, lets him know she can take his statement tomorrow and motions to the rest of the crew. They give him one resounding bone crushing group hug. Buck's warm and smiley but he still feels not here.

Finally, Tommy ambles out from behind the police car. He's thrown on a hoodie and sweats and he's vibrating on the balls of his feet. Buck see's the same expression on his face that must be reflected on Buck's. He reaches out to Tommy and Tommy clutches at him. The hug starts off timid until Buck hears a few pops in his back and Tommy is taking a deep breath in at his temple.

The world falls back into place like they've hit the bottom of a drop of an amusement park ride. His feet feel solidly on the ground and his stomach finally drops. His knees nearly buckle. At some point Buck had known he wasn't in danger, but it didn't feel that way. It felt like he was never going to talk to his family again, he would never see Hen or Eddie or Bobby...or Tommy. There is so much he wants to say but his breath is shaky and his hands won't release Tommy's shoulders.

"Do you want to be alone?" Tommy asks. Because of course he asks. No Buck has never wanted to be alone less. He feels like if he lets go of the man in his arms he's going to float into the atmosphere and dissipate. Like he's only tethered here by Tommy's hands.

"No," Buck says. He takes a grounding breath in, his chest bumping Tommy's. "I- I want to go home."

[grogumaximus]

Rico Verhoeven open about friendship with 'super busy' Max Verstappen: 'Nice to see'

"I just think it's great," Verhoeven tells Sportnieuws.nl about Formula 1. That's why he's also present at the opening of the F1 Exhibition in Amsterdam. "And of course I have a few friends who drive well, Max and Lando (Norris, ed.). So that's super cool. I'm super proud of them and it's great to see how they perform at the highest level."

"We're just friends. But we're both extremely busy, so unfortunately we don't see each other often enough," says Verhoeven about his bond with Verstappen. "Of course, he flies around the world for a large part of the year and I'm also preparing for races. But where we can, we see each other. Then we meet in Monaco or the Netherlands and then we enjoy ourselves."

Verhoeven doesn't watch every Grand Prix due to his own busy career. "But I do watch the highlights to see how he did." He was very impressed by the Red Bull driver's qualifying round in Japan. The kickboxer doesn't know much about the sport, he admits. Fortunately, he sometimes gets extra explanation from Jos Verstappen, Max's father.

"When I'm at a race and I'm sitting next to Jos, he's going to explain to me what's actually happening." For example, about pit stops and the choice of a tire type. "I think that's cool. There's a whole strategic game involved. Very interesting to see that and learn more about it."

A career change is not in the cards for Rico. There is no way he would fit into an F1 car. "Maybe only with one leg," laughs Verhoeven.

Verhoeven has a remarkable maternity gift for Verstappen: 'I don't know if he will use them'

The top athlete seems to have an extremely special maternity gift in mind. When asked if he is going to give Verstappen a set of small boxing gloves, Verhoeven grins: “Of course, of course. I don't know if he is going to use them, but we are going to give them anyway.”

Although Verhoeven is of course a big fan of Verstappen in the first place, the kickboxer is really enjoying the current title fight, in which Red Bull currently seems to play a supporting role. "Yes, that's what makes it fun, right? when it's exciting, everyone likes to watch. Oh, what's going to happen? When you know in advance who's going to win..."

The 36-year-old top athlete doesn't think that Formula 1 isn't fun, but that the current scenario is just a bit more fun to follow. "It's not necessarily that there's nothing to it, but it's still very impressive. Only now you're just like: Okay, let's see what's going to happen today." Verhoeven still hopes that Verstappen can win the title. "Always hoping for Max of course. But in the end I just want it... Yes, the one who does the best, can win, right."

[herasversion]

Someone older

Summary: As Fernando Alonso's daughter, you finally have the opportunity to watch him race live again after several years. During the event, you encounter a handsome Spanish Ferrari driver.

A/N: no use of Y/N, some spanish

Carlos Sainz x Alonso reader

masterlist

It's not like you meant for it to happen, after all. Admitting it made you feel even a little bit weird. Because how do you explain your attraction to older men? Not that they have to be ancient; a few years older is good enough for you, they just need to have the vibe.

Sadly enough, or actually lucky enough for you, your Papi works with a lot of men that fit that vibe. Not that you would tell your Papi that, because how do you tell your dad, Fernando Alonso, that his Formula 1 job brings you around all these hot men that are your type, and most of them are at least four years older? Not that you're a baby; you're 22. Not that you can tell your Papi that; he would explode.

Either way, you can't blame a girl for looking, especially not at the most handsome Spaniard you've ever seen, Carlos Sainz. But you should probably stop being that oblivious with your looking before you walk by his garage; otherwise, he will realize, but most of all, your Papi will realize.

As I gather up the courage to walk by his garage, I get startled by a voice.

'Princesita, are you coming or not?' There he stands, your most favorite person in the world, your Papi. 'Of course I am coming, Papi!' But you're walking way too fast; the race only starts tomorrow. As you say that, you follow him quickly behind, as you don't know your way around the paddock. The last race you went to with your Papi was at least seven years ago when you were a 16-year-old girl, and your staring problem was way more obvious. Sorry, Mr. Vettel.

Alright, maybe you needed to practice a little bit more because there he stands, the man with the most beautiful brown puppy eyes, accompanied by the most beautiful cocky smirk. But that is not the problem; the problem is that he is talking to your Papi, and you're walking their way.

Princesita, come here. I want you to meet Carlos," your Papi says. As he speaks, you see his head turn to look at you. And yes, you most definitely still have your staring problem. Luckily for you, he seems to have the same problem as he looks you up and down and smirks. He gazes into your eyes with his beautiful brown eyes, and suddenly, you realize he's saying something. "Sorry, what did you say?" you try to laugh it off.

He laughs and says, 'Nice to meet you, hermosa,' as he shakes your hand a little too long for it not to be a little flirty. You're both interrupted by laughter and a deadly glare from your Papi. 'We have to go, Princesita,' he says in a stern voice. I try to keep my giggle inside, but it doesn't work as you follow your Papi to his garage. As I turn around, I notice a certain Ferrari driver still watching you.

Luckily for you, your Papi forgets about it soon enough. I mean, how could he not? Your Papi had a place on the podium today. And even more luckily for you, a certain beautiful Ferrari driver with beautiful brown eyes was also on the podium. That way, no one would notice your staring problem. Well, they probably wouldn't if he didn't keep looking back at me.

As your Papi runs off the podium, he runs to his team and to you to give you a big hug. And that is the moment that you know there will be a great celebration, which you could finally join. Maybe with enough luck, a certain Spanish Ferrari driver could also join; after all, he also has something to celebrate.

As I get ready for the club, I had the trouble of deciding what I should wear. After all, what do you wear to celebrate your Papi's win while still being sexy enough to seduce a certain Spanish Ferrari driver? After I think it is cute enough and my Papi is finally ready to go, we are on our way to the club. As we pull up, I realize that it's already packed, which is great news because that would mean that there are already some drivers inside.

As we walk around, I realize that maybe it isn't that great of news that it's so fully packed, as I already lost my Papi in two minutes with no one else I recognize. I push myself through the crowd, trying to get to the VIP section.

'Everything going alright, hermosa?' As I turn around to the person who whispered that in my ear, I see the most beautiful driver on the track and say, 'Yes, just trying to find Papi.'

He laughs. 'I don't think this is the place where you want to find your Papi.' Suddenly, I get pushed into him and look up into his beautiful eyes. He bends down, looking at my lips, and whispers, 'You want to dance, hermosa?

Before my mouth could even form a response, my head was already nodding yes. He laughs at me and smiles as we keep getting closer. As we dance, I notice him looking at my lips, and I kiss him. At first, he acts surprised until I feel him grin in our kiss and spin me around.

Before I even realized what was happening, we were in his hotel room, and I ended up in his bed. As I wake up to the most beautiful man grinning at me, he says, 'Good morning, hermosa.' I giggle and reply, 'Good morning.' He laughs and gives me a kiss until my phone rings very loudly. I grab it and realize I am in big trouble because I promised my Papi he could drive me home.

[russellsppttemplates]

How about a girlfriend that does charity and she does it with the driver maybe Lando? when they’re home together (like idk buying and donating things for orphanage or women’s shelter) if you’re comfortable with he idea

"I don't mind auctioning my stuff away, but how about some of your things too?", Lando suggested as you sorted through his wardrobe and helmet and racesuits collections.

"I've been donating clothes that are still in good shape - your clothes have more value because they've been worn by you, so it brings in more money", you reasoned, "no one would buy anything from me", you shrugged your shoulders.

"We could try, though! Chat is always crazy about you and I think they would be down for that. Say this dress here - didn't you tell me that it pinched you and it hurt your boobs?", he pointed to a black dress you wore to a team Christmas dinner, "I certainly don't want you in pain and never hurting these", he cupped your boobs, smirking like a horny teenager, "so maybe it would be good to sell and then donate that money?", he suggested.

"I doubt anyone would pay good money for it, but sure, we can try! And we could throw this one in the mix too, and this shirt - if anyone's paying for anything it's because it's a good piece", you mumbled.

"Hi guys! Chat is all excited because you're here, see?", Lando kissed your temple and secured you on his lap, "today's stream is a little different, and you might have seen a little bit of it from the stories I put up earlier this week", Lando explained, "earlier this week Y/N and I made a big order of clothes and some furniture for an orphanage back home. They have an amazing program to ensure kids have a future in what they want to study or work in and we're also visiting them soon, and we thought you guys would want to help too if you wanted!", he smiled.

"This seems like we're decluttering the house - and in a way we are, to be honest, but there's this organisation here in Monaco that helps new parents in need - anything from diapers, formula, wipes, medications, clothes - and since we don't know much about that", you said as Lando chirped in, "not yet", smiling as he kissed your temple again, "since we don't know much about it, we were thinking of auctioning Lando's racesuits and a spare helmet, and all of the money would be going to that organisation", you explained, still blushing from his comment.

Lando put up the website where you had uploaded the photos and details, "someone says "there are some of Y/N's dresses here, are they for auction too?" - Yes, they are! This one wasn't so sure anyone would buy them so please buy them because a) it's for a good cause and b) I would get to tell her "I told you so" and get bragging rights for being right", he smiled smugly.

"Wow, you're really loving it", you spoke to the stream as the pieces or clothing were getting higher and higher bids, "guys, thank you so much! You have no idea how happy this makes me, us! We donate to this organisation every year and now we thought we could make a bigger contribution but never this big, thank you so much", you smiled, feeling a bit emotional and how caring and giving everyone was being, even people typing in the chat that they had made a direct money donation with the quantity they were able to give.

"What can I say? I'm always right", Lando charmed, praising himself as you cuddled closer to him, "you were", you whispered.

"Louder, baby, the chat can't hear you say I was right", he chuckled.

"Oh, the lady at the orphanage just sent us pictures of the kids doing their homework on the new desks!", you showed Lando the pictures you were sent, "I wish we could show you guys, but the little faces are showing", you said, pursing your lips and scrolling through until you found one of just the room, "this one doesn't! Look at how great their room looks now!", you gushed as you showed the camera.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[valyrfia]

The Sainz Effect on Media: What the Hell is Going On?

Last weekend, Carlos Sainz Jr. won the 2024 Australian GP, and subsequently, almost every single F1 media outlet has seemingly lost their minds. From the aramco power rankings giving him a perfect score (despite Max not getting one for a grand slam last weekend), to motorsport.com acting like a fan account, everyone is tripping over themselves to sing his praises.

F1 is a complex sport, it requires several different aspects to even get a car moving, even more to make it competitive, and even more to enable a championship fight. From driver line-up, to aero, from international politics, to tyre deg. There's no other sport like it. To truly be an expert in Formula 1, you have to have knowledge of how a track works, an understanding of combustion engines and aerodynamics, a grasp of interpersonal and sports psychologies, and a sense of international relations. This is why, even more so than any other sport, good journalism is vital to the sport's ecosystem. No one person can be expected to be an expert in all these areas, you need a team of people who are willing to pool their knowledge and resources before coming up with conclusions to disseminate to their audience.

But media also likes narrative, and media likes an underdog, that is undeniable. And you can create an excellent underdog narrative with Carlos. From losing his seat despite his teammate keeping his, to him having to get his appendix out in Jeddah, the circumstances are there to set up an underdog narrative. But the crux of the issue is this: anyone with any sort of F1 wheel knowledge understands why Charles was kept over Carlos (a better driver even in a car built away from his driving style, who is revered almost as a messiah figure amongst the traditional fans of the team), why Sir Lewis Hamilton is a much more desirable asset to a top team than Carlos (7x world champion, who brings in a massive draw for talent that will far outlast his stint with Ferrari). So what do you do with these characters who don't match the narrative that you want to push?

Simple. You discredit them.

Make no mistake, this is what we're seeing across every major F1 news outlet in the past week. A plain journalistic choice to choose narrative over integrity. There's all sorts of rumours whizzing around as to why that could be: from possible covert payouts from Sainz Sr, to possible misogyny towards Leclerc fans to pundits simply not being bothered to do their research. But the why of it, although important, doesn't matter nearly as much as the fact that however you look at it, these journalists are failing the sport they claim to love. What's even worse, is that it takes a simple glance at numbers to tell us that these media outlets are digging themselves a hole, and are going to have to backtrack or try and excuse their belief in this narrative in the coming months.

Let's take a common line that Sky Sports like to use as an example, "Carlos Sainz is driving for himself. How incredible would it be if Carlos could compete for the championship this year." Max Verstappen will likely win the championship this year, there are no ifs and buts about it. Red Bull are still developmentally leaps ahead of their rivals, and even if Ferrari were to catch them, Max is still at the wheel. And if Ferrari were to catch them, why would Ferrari prioritise Carlos over Charles? The only driver who has been proven to be able to beat Max in his current form at Red Bull on pure pace is Charles Leclerc, which he achieved in Las Vegas last year, and would've gone on to take the win at that same race if not for the safety car. The most likely championship fight this year is Max Verstappen vs. Charles Leclerc, and that's hinging on Ferrari matching Red Bull development. This outcome is blindingly obvious to anyone who knows how this sport works, and yet the current media angle seems to not be to explain how the sport works to the general public, but rather to double down on narratives that are certainly going to be proven incorrect in a manner of months, if not weeks.

Let's look at another common angle the media seem to like to take, "You have to ask, did Ferrari make a mistake swapping out Carlos Sainz for Lewis Hamilton?". Now, if you've been even near a TV showing F1 in the past ten years, it's pretty obvious this answer is of course not. Lewis Hamilton is likely the greatest driver of all time, his name in a lot of cases outshines the sport itself. No other driver on this grid even comes close to his level of acclaim. This reason alone is enough for Ferrari to sign him. Ferrari has not won a championship in close to two decades, the best and brightest engineers want to be working where they know the results are going to come from, and right now, as a stellar engineer, Red Bull or Mercedes or even McLaren would be a choice over Ferrari, which has the added hurdle of moving to Maranello (considering nearly all the other teams are located in the Midlands in the United Kingdom). Acclaim aside, Lewis Hamilton is still a very impressive driver. P3 in the championship last year to a Red Bull 1-2 is not something to be taken lightly, considering his teammate finished in P8 in the same car with only one more retirement. It does make pure racing sense to sign him over Carlos, who finished in P7, especially since Ferrari have an up and coming talent in Ollie Bearman, and what they need is someone with experience to fill that gap until Ollie can make it to Ferrari, and will likely happily step aside when that time comes at some point in the next five years.

However, has there been a single major F1 news outlet calmly and rationally explaining this thought process for those who may enjoy the sport but are not experts? No. Instead, what we get is Sainz sensationalism, and bias so explicit it tips right over into unprofessional. From The Race saying that a Sainz/Leclerc civil war is Leclerc fan hysteria, despite their own outlet running an article just months ago about tensions in Ferrari, to motorsport.com creating a CV for Carlos, and then proceeding to harass fans who ask why they are so keen to ignore facts. Every single F1 outlet seems to have lost their minds.

The sad thing is this will only backfire massively on Carlos himself. Charles will outperform Carlos, every metric from the past year indicates so. Ferrari may be in the running for the WCC by the midpoint of the season, but Carlos's win will fade into distant memory long before we reach Spa, and the average enjoyer will look back on all this crazy media hype and go "hm, well he didn't live up to expectations did he? He was massively overrated." And this too, will be the fault of F1 media.

In conclusion, F1 media sensationalism has failed Charles, Lewis, and Max, it will fail Carlos in the coming months, but most of all, it has failed the fans of the sport, by choosing to focus on far-fetched narratives, rather than deliver proper journalism and build equally compelling narratives out of the data on the table. It highlights a lack of skill and awareness, which threatens the entire ecosystem of the sport that we all know and love.

[misspelledwordswizard]

Heya! Do you know the TikTok trend that’s like a hear me out cake? Idk why but I image reader is doing one and put time on it and twilight is like that girl screaming that’s my dad!? Hell that’s so silly idk why

Yes!!! this trend is so funny! I died laughing while writing this, thank you so much for the request <33333

— Meat-Stuffed Pumpkins! — Wild said as he placed the toothpick with a poorly drawn picture of the food on the tip in the cake he had made himself. 

 It took a while, but I finally managed to convince some of the boys to participate in this game that has been popularizing in my world lately, before I showed up here. I was dying to do it with my friends before, but I didn't have the opportunity, so why not do it with the new friends I made? 

— What? A food? Are you serious, Champion?! — The veteran freaked out a little at the unusual addition. 

— She said it was supposed to be really strange and unlikely things! 

— Honestly, from the videos I remember seeing about it, a food is actually pretty normal! — I added it to try to ease the blond's mood. 

I managed to convince Wild, Twi, Legend and Hyrule to play with me. They even let me record with my cell phone, which, even though it doesn't have internet, at least served as a way of recording. It took a while for them to understand the concept and get carried away with how strange their “hear me outs” were supposed to be, but finally, after several attempts at explanation and more than a day of preparation, it was working! 

Among the things added to the cake so far were some ornate swords and weapons, some strange cartoon characters added by me, the number seven, a shooting star, the sun itself, and graciously added by Rulie, a zora from the champion era. I think he was impressed by how different the zoras were compared to the ones from his era. 

“Okay, now it's my turn again, let me see…” I said as I looked through the options of images glued to sticks in my hand. 

 Oh yes, I had separated some very good ones, others not so much. Some not so hear me out considering they are a consensus – like Pedro Pascal hidden there in the middle – but they didn't need to know that. And there, among abstract concepts, childish drawings and inanimate objects, was the most interesting one of all, because I knew the boys knew this one. 

 I struggled and failed miserably in trying not to laugh, imagining their reaction to it, my face heated up and I was definitely red with embarrassment now as I stuck the next image into the cake for everyone to see. 

A photo of the Team taken with Wild's Sheikah Slate - don't question how I printed most of these things, that technology is beyond my knowledge. 

— Hear me out on Time... 

I said once as I struggled hard to hold back my laughter at the expression of pure shock that appeared on the four boys' faces, but I couldn't help it when Twilight spoke indignantly. 

— That's my ancestor! 

And then my fit of laughter was followed by one from Wild and Legend who certainly couldn't handle the Rancher's reaction, Hyrule just stood there looking in some confusion for a moment, not knowing whether to laugh too or comfort his brother. 

— Why would you put my ancestor there? He's a committed man, you know? And much older than you... — Now he seemed more worried than shocked. Maybe he felt a little sorry for my mental health. 

— Okay, wait, let me explain! Hear me out!! — I said while still fighting back laughter. — It's just, you know, this whole older man vibe, no wonder Pedro Pascal and RDJ are on my list too... 

I avoided using the word Daddy, they might end up misunderstanding, but I think this term explains my situation well. After recovering from the fit of laughter, I managed to calm and comfort Twi, assuring her that it was just for fun – more or less – and then we could finally continue with the game. 

— Okay, my turn! — The veteran said with a much better and softer mood than before, as he approached the cake. — Bhaskara's formula. 

— WHAT?! 

[unforced3rr0r]

THE DEAL || CA

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Pt. 3 (previous part)

summary: Carlos hated having a PR manager, especially one who was his age. Convincing her to leave was the best plan he'd ever had, but what happens when he realises he doesn't want her to go?

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warning: none.

a/n: Asking politely everyone ignores how long this took me to write, turns out I had actual uni work to do which is lame. Also, look at them not arguing the WHOLE time is there a civil colleague relationship forming?

MASTERLIST

You had been avoiding Alcaraz since the moment the two of you shared in the hallway after the press conference. Spending the rest of the afternoon hiding from his gaze and pushing him through interviews as fast as you possibly could.

Each time he brushed past you from one interview to the next, Your cheeks flushed with your mind drifting back to his body so close to yours.

Despite being invited to the team dinner that Juan Carlos had urged you to attend, you found yourself leaving the Rod Laver arena with no intention of detouring from your hotel bed which was firmly on your mind.

The halls were bustling with people, tennis players, physios and staff rushing from room to room. As you wandered aimlessly towards the exit of the building your eyes caught a bundle of red curls bounding towards you.

"Y/N" the Italian called your name and you spun round to face his towering figure. You'd met Jannik many times before while working in the world of Formula 1 and he had been one of the first to convince you to take the job with Alcaraz.

"Jan!" The tennis player wrapped his long arms around you lifting you into a familiar hug. The warmth from his body a comforting hug which saw the tension in your body immediately dissipate. "How's media day going?"

"You know how us players feel about all the interviews and content. We'd rather be on court." A smile beamed across the young Itlian's face and for once it felt nice to not be constantly on edge in this job. You laugh and let out an exasperated groan,

"Trust me, on behalf of all media and PR people - we also wished you'd be on court instead of annoying us." Jannik gave you a playful shove, his laugh bringing a smile to your face.

"I'll try not to take that personally, though I'm pretty sure it was aimed at him." Jannik nodded his head further down the hallway. Stood against the wall, with his eyes trained on you and the Italian was Carlos Alcaraz.

His arms were crossed over his chest and while you couldn't be sure if it was Jannik or you he was staring at it was clear he was trying out the whole 'if looks could kill' theory.

"Trust me, I'd much prefer to spend a media day with you than him." You turned back to Jannik trying to block out the presence of the Spaniard in the background.

"Trouble in paradise?" Jannik tilted his head looking down at you as you scoffed.

"If this was paradise I shudder to think what hell is like." You felt Alcaraz's gaze burning into the back of your head, certain he was now staring you down.

You didn't even know why he was still hanging around, you left him after your last interview and thought he'd gone off to meet the rest of his team.

Jannik laughed loudly, "He can't be that bad, it's Carlitos. I'm surprised he hasn't been flirting with you." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively but you couldn't help but laugh and roll your eyes.

Truth is, the Alcaraz that Jannik was explaining was what you'd expected when you'd started.

Warned about the Spaniard's bubbly personality many people who knew him would smile and say 'Watch out for the flirting'.

Instead, you'd met a different Alcaraz, one who constantly saw you as a waste of space on his team and far from flirting with you, you were met with constant coldness.

"Yeah that's not a problem." You sighed deeply. "You should go, I don't want to be the cause of another PR Manager's troubles." Jannik smiled, wrapping his arms around you and giving you a soft kiss on your cheek.

"If you need anything, or want me to slap some sense into Carlitos, just let me know." You grinned softly, pulling away from the Italian.

"I might take you up on that."

Jannik turned to make a move down the hallway in the direction of Alcaraz, who's attention had switched to his phone. He looked over his shoulder briefly and beamed, "Ci vediamo presto, tesoro" (See you soon, darling.)

Your heart warmed, smiling as you watched the lanky tennis player bound down the hall. He stopped when he reached Alcaraz, the usual warm greeting between the two seemed colder.

Alcaraz nodded dejectedly before his gaze fell back onto you. Uncomfortable under the harsh gaze you turned away and made your way back towards the doors of the arena.

...

You reached your hotel room and fell on the bed releasing a deep sigh. You stretched out your arms and rolled onto your side. The mattress caved under your weight and cradled your body.

Your phone buzzed and you reached lazily for your phone, fighting off the sleep and flipping your phone over.

Alcaraz: You coming to dinner?

You paused, then rolled your eyes.

Y/N: Don't worry, I won't be there to ruin your evening.

Three dots appeared, and then they disappeared. Your eyebrows furrowed softly. The three dots appeared a second time, remaining on the corner of your screen for a few seconds before they went once again.

You sat up slightly, the relaxed demeanour you had now shifting as tension flooded your body.

For a third time, three dots appeared. You watched them intently waiting as they slowly moved on the screen. But like each previous time, the dots disappeared.

You scoffed, shaking your head and moved off your bed. You left your phone resting on the bed as you made your way to the bathroom to shower.

The hot water pelting down on your body instantly soothed you. The knots from your shoulders disappearing with the stress of the day.

The argument with Alcaraz still weighed on your mind but you were determined to push through and get this tournament done with.

You were just so sick and tired of him constantly taking everything out on you. For once you wanted to be the one to frustrate him, and as you stepped out of the shower you smiled brightly, with a genius idea crossing your mind.

ATP was asking for a bunch of the players to do extra content ahead of the tournament - usually, you only signed Alcaraz up for one to reduce the amount of complaining you had to listen to.

But with an evil smirk on your face and a towel wrapped around you, you walked back into the bedroom. You immediately found your phone, opening your message to text the ATP's PR manager who you got on well with.

Y/N: Hi Amy, Alcaraz would love to do the extra content. Sign him up for as much as possible. Thank you!

As you clicked send you laughed quietly to yourself, you couldn't wait till he found out.

...

You were in comfortable clothes, makeup off, sat cross-legged on the sofa when you finally got a response from Amy sending over the schedule for the next day's media.

You forwarded the schedule to Alacaraz with the headline 'Surprise!' and closed your laptop.

Settling into the sofa you switched the TV on and called room service. The buzz of TV made your eyes heavy as you lay further into the sofa. Before you knew it you were drifting off to sleep.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your head was cloudy as you were pulled from your slumber. The furious knocking woke you up violently. You sat up form the sofa, your stomach rumbling as you made your way to the door.

The knocking persisted, "I'm on my way!" you called out, opening the door with a smile.

But when you opened the door, instead of being met with room service, an angry Spaniard was staring at you.

"Alcaraz?" He brushed past you, stomping into your room. "Aren't you supposed to be at dinner?"

"¿Quieres decirme cuando acepté hacer medios todo el día mañana?" (Do you want to tell me when I agreed to do media all day tomorrow?) His glare went right through you as you closed the door and faced him.

You fought the smile that was trying to take over your face. "Look, I just thought it would be good for you to remind everyone how charming you are."

At the sight of Alcaraz's angry stare, you let out a laugh, shaking your head lightly as you moved back towards the sofa. As you passed the Spaniard, he grabbed your arm stopping you from going anywhere.

His chest was pressed against your back and he leaned down to you.

"Cancelarlo" (Cancel it) He towered over you and you turned to face his, you reached your hand up sliding across Alcaraz's chest. You watched as his gaze faltered at the action a glimpse of something indistinguishable passing through his eyes.

You slid you hand up his neck and to the side of his face. You watched him carefully, focusing on the way his breathing deepened. Then a devlish smile took over your face, tapping the side of his face and pushing him away.

"No." You walked to the sofa and sat down, leaving the Spaniard at loss watching you. "Oh and you can leave now."

He stood there for a moment while you set up a new film to watch. As the film blared through the hotel room, you turned your head to see if Alcaraz was still behind you. He watched the screen with a curious look on his face.

"What film is that?" his voice came from behind you, you laughed.

"Notting hill." The absent look on his face caused you to turn fully toward him leaning on the back of the sofa. "You've never seen Notting Hill?!"

He shook his head and looked down at his feet awkwardly. A silence fell across the room only broken by Hugh Grant's voice in the background.

Without thinking you started speaking "Um, you could stay...and watch it, if you wanted?" You regretted it as soon as you said it. The Spaniard looked at you, his brown eyes focusing on the gentle gaze you sent him.

"Um," For a second you thought he was going to join you. His shoulders fell and he look as though he was about to take a step forward when his phone buzzed, pulling it out of his pocket he glanced at it.

He took a step back and any softness in his eyes hardened. "Team dinner remember."

His sharp tone settled in the pit of your stomach as you stopped your disappointment from showing. He left without another word and the door slamming made you jump slightly.

You were about to turn back to the TV when there was a knock on the door. Hope bubbled in your chest and you rushed to open it, part of you waiting to be met with those brown eyes on the other side of the door. Instead, it was your room service.

They brought your food in and you thanked them, leaving you in the peace and quiet of your own company. You leaned your head against the back of the sofa and sighed.

You kept finding yourself unable to escape Alcaraz, not just in a work capacity. In the last few days you'd had his body pressed against you more times than you wanted to think about.

But today, that glimpse in his eyes at the suggestion of the movie. You couldn't help but think he wanted to join you. You laughed and shook your head, you couldn't believe he was getting to you. As far as you knew it was all part of his plan to make it easier to get rid of you.

You quietly watching your movie and ate your food when your phone buzzed. It was around the moment Hugh Grant walked through Notting Hill with the season changing around him that your phone buzzed.

Glancing at the screen you spotted it was a notification that Alcaraz had posted an Instagram story. You clicked on it, ready for another PR crisis when you were met with a picture of him and the team laughing at dinner.

Of course, you chose not to be there but the sight of them all smiling and laughing. It hurt. You couldn't help but think maybe you should've listened to Juanki and gone. This was going to be your final two weeks with the team and you were wasting them sat in your room.

You quietly made a promise to yourself in that moment that you'd enjoy the final weeks. Alcaraz had to put up with you as part of the deal and you intended to make the most of that.

...

You dreaded the day ahead. You knew Alcaraz was going to make everything more difficult than it had to be because you were forcing him into this busy day where you knew he wanted to be on the court.

You were ready waiting outside his hotel door. You also had a sandwich with you, getting ready to bribe the no-doubt grumpy player who would emerge from the room.

You shot him a quick 'I'm outside' text and waited patiently. After just a few minutes the door swung open and the tall Spaniard appeared in front of you.

"Morning, Alcaraz!" You shot him a smile and you were met by a slight grimace.

"How do you always have so much energy this early in this morning." You handed him the sandwich which he took with a curios look.

"I'm excited for a full day of media, and the sandwich is a peace offering." He looked down at the sandwich with a funny look on his face. He glanced up at you and quirked his eyebrow,

"A peace offering?" You beamed at him.

"It's going to be a long two weeks, I just suggest we aren't at each other's throats the whole time." His gaze softened ever so slightly but he still looked tentative. "Please, I just want to know what it is like to actually like my job."

He paused and watched you carefully. He took a bite out of the sandwich you had given him and he nodded.

"Fine. But I want more of these." He held up the sandwich with a smile and you shook your head.

"Perfect, let's go then." You made a move down the hallway with Alcaraz following closely behind as you settled into the elevator.

The journey to the stadium was quiet, a trip that was mostly filled with Alcaraz greeting fans, players and staff while you led him through the halls.

You arrived at the ATP's makeshift studio and spotted Amy in the crowd of staff. "Amy!" She turned and smiled at the sight of you and trying to pretend he was happy to be there Alcaraz.

"Y/N, Carlos, thank you both so much for this." The Spaniard shot her a coy smile as he carefully watched the different aspects of the studio, his gaze paused on the box of what looked like props sat by the edge of the set and he turned to look at you.

He sent you a look of pure fear his eyes widening and head lightly shaking that pulled a soft laugh from you.

"Alcaraz is happy to help, he loves all this stuff." The Spaniard pinched your arm and you muffled a yelp sending him a stern look.

"Perfect, you can grab yourself a coffee and there are snacks over there too - and Carlos if you come with us!" Alcaraz politely nodded and just before he began to follow Amy to set he let down and whispered.

"Te arrepentirás de esto." (You will regret this) You laughed and waved him off with a shit-eating grin.

"Have Fun!"

You knew that the next opportunity he got, Alcaraz would make you regret this but the sight of him with silly glasses on filming promo just seemed to make it worth it.

————————————————————————

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taglist: @kcharlyy @champagnecoastca @ilottcountry @austin-butlr

[blorbocedes]

Hiii - for the fic prompts:

girlcedes - 7. Trapped in a room/closet/elevator

Lewis is glaring at Nico like she orchestrated this.

"I have places to be too." Nico says out loud, in her general direction. They're standing as far you can socially distance on an elevator. An elevator that the intercom buzzed in and reported would take fifteen minutes to send in the guys to fix. That was twenty minutes ago. Such glitz and glamour to live in Monaco.

"Not you. Claustrophobia." Lewis grits her teeth. She's sitting in a corner, squatting in her Dior running shoes. Probably showing off her knees can still take it.

Nico's leaning by the glass mirror because she's wearing a white pantsuit.

Oh right. Claustrophobia. Nico always forgets because it's always funny, the cars they drive in is more cramped than the spacious elevator. But it's about control, she gets that. Lewis in a Formula 1 car is just an extension of her body. But Lewis would always keep the door of the drivers room open, back in Mercedes.

"How are you scared of this and not jumping off a plane? It should be child's cake to you. Hm, that's not right. Child's play?" Nico frowns trying to locate the metaphor in the medley of languages in her brain. She speaks mostly to keep Lewis distracted. Nico herself is not, her positive outlook mantras covered this. Negative thoughts cannot happen if you don't let it. That's why she never checked her portfolio after the AI company she invested in rugpulled millions. It simply does not exist if she doesn't give it the power to.

"Skydiving is incredibly safe," Lewis bites the bait, "It's safer than scuba diving. And you're in control the whole time."

"All it takes is one parachute not opening." Nico shrugs. Even the thought makes her shudder. Absolutely not.

"Good thing they strap you with two then." Lewis drawls. She doesn't say it, too graceful these days, but the idiot is implied.

Nico rolls her eyes but is beaten in the marketplace of ideas.

She turns to the mirror, her shoulder length blonde hair bouncing. There's a pimple cropping up under her chin, she can feel it. She presses down on it, warning it to stay there.

"Don't do that - you look fine." Lewis is frowning, looking up at Nico from where she's crouched.

Nico used to obsessively poke and prod at her face staring at the mirror as a teenager. She's a little embarrassed Lewis remembers from their days of sharing rooms during karting.

"It's the only mirror time I get. Vivi and I are very mindful of not passing any body insecurities to the girls. Entering the pre-teens is a very impressionable time." Nico explains. She doesn't need her daughters rubbing off on her complexes.

Lewis gets up, lithe like a cat, in her oversized crewneck. She looks pointedly at the lack of ring on Nico's hand. "How's the divorce going?"

Nico purses her lips. "Conscious uncoupling. Very well, thank you. How's Ferrari?" She switches the subject. "Learn any Italian yet?"

"I've downloaded Duolingo." Lewis smiles, sheepishly, the gap in her teeth is still charming even after all these years.

"I remember teaching you some." In bed, tangled up in each other, another lifetime ago.

"I'm sure none of that was usable, man."

"Hm. You should try ti va di fare dolce su e giù?" Nico smirks.

"What does it mean?" Lewis asks.

Nico just smiles in that way when she knows something Lewis doesn't. "I'm sure Leclerc will be down. Happy to... accommodate." The double entendre in her voice gives it away.

Lewis takes a step closer, her hand on the railing where Nico is standing. And suddenly, the elevator feels like a much smaller space, with nowhere to hide. She shakes her head, the rings on her tattooed hands glittering. Nico feels strangely naked without hers. "He's not my type."

Nico leans forward. "And who is?"

The elevator doors ding open. They are on Lewis' floor.