Guessyourenottheone - Gem

⋆· ༘* you belong with me !

pairing ★ jock!luke castellan x drum major!reader

synopsis ★ the one where you come back from winter break and start operation cupid. meanwhile, charles and silena meddle in your affairs on their own mission. (3.9k)

content ★ no pronouns used for reader, lowk photography/carnival date weewoo, bad matchmaking shenanigans, will they wont they, best viewed mobile obv

notes ★ ngl this went in a slightly skewed direction than what i put in the synop, subtext reading may be needed to figure out what charles and silena r doing to meddle.

series masterlist

operation: cupid aka super evil plan >:)

NO ↓ ← yes ← ABSOLUTELY NOT

— blind date

— CARNIVAL @ ANTHOS FEST ^^ ok thats good

— get hmart napa 4 mom NOT A GROCERY LIST!!!

— fake dating? OPINION REJECTED

— SAYING TO GO SMWHERE AND THEN DITCHING THEM TOGETHER ^^ is this a romcom or smth??

You shift your shoulder to let your phone press closer to your ear, cringing at the uncomfortable warmth from the screen.

“So the festival’s a go,” you say, loud enough to be heard over the dishes. “All VAPA will be there early for the parade. Make sure you get to Hesperides Park at noon and meet at the big apple tree.”

“There are, like, fifteen apple trees in the park,” Luke says, voice bouncing around the tinny speakers of your phone. “Besides, the festival’s in February. We have weeks.”

“We’ve started practicing already,” you tell him, adjusting your shoulder again. “There’s a run through on the track next Tuesday, if you need some shots for yearbook.”

Luke hums and you hear him shift around over the phone, the noise captured between satellites. “Okay, I’ll be there. What are you doing right now?”

A plate clinks into the prongs of the drying rack, water running rivulets down your arm. You cringe when the soapy streams reach and soak into the edges of your rolled-up sleeves.

“Finishing the dishes,” you tell him after a moment.

You think Luke bites back a grunt, moving around again. There’s background noise with him, soft and faint. You think you can hear music, too.

“I’m getting napa cabbages for my mom. She’s been practicing kimchi,” he tells you, and then you hear the whine of a grocery fridge. “Do you like Asian soft drinks, by the way? Got a coupon.”

You consider it, turning off the sink and drying your hands. They feel all crunchy now, skin tight over your bones with the winter’s absence of moisture. You really need to remember to put on some lotion.

“Nothing too sweet, maybe fruity. I’ll pay you back if you buy Pocky.” You exit the kitchen, fuzzy slippers padding on the floorboards. You hear a staticky thud, and the whirring from the fridge stops.

Luke sighs, the sound nestled pleasantly in your eardrums. You flop onto your bed, listening to the not-silence. He talks faintly, words far-off and lost in the background, whirs and beeps and plastic crinkling.

He speaks finally, “I didn’t know how much you wanted…so. You owe me ten.”

You scoff, sardonic and not at all serious. “Fuck you, man.”

His world on the other side goes quiet for a heartbeat.

“Well,” he says, breaking the pause, “I’ll see you on Monday with the goods.”

“You sound like a dealer.”

“Yea, a dealer in love.” He sneers out the last word, a smile sewn into his voice.

You groan and hover your thumb over the hang-up button. “Cringe, go back to watching your Grand Prix or whatever.”

“Hey, pre-season testing hasn’t even started.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, sliding a palm down your face. “I’m hanging up.”

Not even five seconds after you press the red button, he calls you again. You swipe to accept begrudgingly, and then Luke’s voice cracks back into existence.

“You forgot to say goodbye. That’s bad manners, you know.”

“Good-fucking-bye, Castellan.”

He laughs, the sound of it swirling in your stomach strangely. “Thank you, major. See you Monday.”

You toss your phone to the foot of your bed when the line cuts and tangle your legs in the blankets, mortified at the heat curling around your neck.

♫ TV Girl ・Taking What’s Not Yours

[ IMAGE: a photo of you in your band uniform, baton in hand and a silver whistle looped around your neck. The jacket is orange with a pale yellow lining, gold buttons glimmering, and you wear a pair of black, straight-legged slacks. Your face is half eclipsed by the shadow of your cap. The photo may have been taken with an old digital camera, giving it a washed-out, nostalgic look. ]

Liked by luvvbeaus and 345 others

lukestellans sweepstakes at anthos fest, congrats @.majmajmaj

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majmajmaj dont tag theyre gna find me

↳ travstole fratrnisng w the enemy ICKK 🫵🤮 ↳ anniebethc That’s not the right spelling for ‘fraternizing’. You should enable auto-correct on your device settings.

The weather under the fruit trees is better than out in the street. You’ve shed your itchy uniform jacket, opting to just wear the loose, white under-tee to cope with the temperature. At least the metal of your camera keeps your hands cool, and the dry breeze that filters through the verdant boughs sends soothing, dappled shadows stretching across the grass.

It’s hot, and unbearably so. Marching down Zeus City Boulevard from the high school to city hall was hell; it’s only late winter, almost early spring, and the temperature is already in the high seventies. You can only dread the heat come summertime.

“If you told me it was this tree,” and Luke’s coming around the trunk, camera strap strung over his torso and glasses hanging from his shirt collar, “I could’ve gotten here sooner.”

Castellan pats the bark, disregarding the sign that reads DO NOT TOUCH welded to the small fence that encircles the roots. You try not to look at his arm, lean and veined, the pale stretch of skin under his bicep growing larger as the sleeve of his airy polo rides up.

You clear your throat, fiddling with the settings of your own camera. Around you, children shriek and dash in the alleys between the carnival game stalls.

“This is the apple tree, everyone knows that.”

“I told you,” Castellan says, rolling his eyes, “that there are a ton of them here.”

You snap a quick shot of some teens sharing a big, pink cloud of cotton candy. They’re smiling wide, wrinkles of joy arrowing around their mouths. It would have been a nice picture if not for the overexposure—you kiss your teeth and delete it.

“Sorry, was I supposed to say the biggest apple tree planted by Mayor Hera’s great-grandmother, coincidentally also named Hera, in the park next to city hall?”

He shrugs, making a face of agreement. “It would’ve helped. You also could’ve mentioned that it was the golden apple tree and not one of the red apple trees.”

You snag a fallen fruit off the grass, turning it in your hands. “Does this look lustrously golden to you?”

“Fine, the yellow apple tree.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, slipping it into your camera bag. You can already feel the imminent sweat stain forming under where the thick strap rests on your shoulder, and hope that Castellan won’t take notice

“You aren’t supposed to take the fallen apples, you know.”

You look at him, brows raised innocuously. “Who took what?”

Before he can chide you again, Charles steps up to your side, wearing the same black slacks and white under-tee. Castellan doesn’t seem fazed, unfolding the arms of his thin-framed glasses and pushing them up his nose.

Your bandmate stiffens when Silena skips over, still in pep uniform, her manicured fingers wrapping around Castellan’s shoulder. It’s the first time you've looked at Silena closely, all shiny black hair and round face—she’s more cherubic now that she’s right there in front of you, full-bodied and not as slight as you’d previously thought she was.

She waves at you, cute nails glimmering pale pink in the dappled shade.

“Hi,” she’s smiling, a little giddy, honeyed kick to her voice, “I’m Silena. Luke told me a lot about you.”

( Now you kind of get why Charles and half the guys and girls at school have a crush on her. )

You try to play it cool. “Really? I didn’t know he talked about me.”

She nods, and her dark hair sways mesmerizing with the movement. Castellan looks away, embarrassment creeping up his neck. You elbow Charles in the ribs when he stays silent for too long.

He speaks, although the words are punched-out and tremoring. “I’m Charles Beckendorf.”

Silena smiles politely, lips pink and glossy, eyes a bit too wide. “I know.”

Charles is a big, tall guy. Most people who don’t know better would think he did football and go about their lives not knowing that he used to be four feet zero and played piccolo since sixth grade.

So when the cheerleader of his dreams smiles at him, you can quite literally feel his body temperature rise, the skin of your arm prickling even though he’s standing half a foot away.

“I think,” Castellan pipes up, strained, his eye twitching, “I actually have to go take some pictures for yearbook.”

He’s really fucking bad at this matchmaking shit.

“Yea—” and your voice comes out in a near squeak too “—uh, Charles, you can go with Silena. I need stuff for Heralds too.”

Okay, you’re just as bad as Castellan.

Charles shifts, confused. “You sure? We could just all go together and hang out while you do your thing.”

You and Castellan—and Silena too?—nearly shout in protest. The cheerleader laughs it off and stiffly walks over to Charles, taking his wrist gently and tiptoeing to whisper to him. The rate at which the air around your fellow drum major heats up could be considered exponential.

Charles chuckles awkwardly and steps back, wrapping his hand around Silena’s in return. “Yea, right. We’ll meet back at sunset?”

“Sure,” Castellan says, putting up a hand, arm too stiff to wave. “See you.”

Silena skips away with Charles behind her. You breathe a sigh of relief in unison and drop down onto the grass, legs splaying over the green blades.

Castellan joins you on the ground, pinching his shirt and flapping it in an attempt to cool off.

“That was fucking painful.”

“No shit, major.”

You huff, prickles creeping up your neck. The shade barely does anything against the heat now, a stiff breeze blowing hot air through the fibers of your loose shirt. Castellan looks as worse for wear as you do, nose crinkled and hair gone wild.

A puff of air makes its way out of his lips. “So what now?”

You groan and stagger up, standing on weak legs. “We should follow them just in case.”

Castellan squints up at you, dappled shadows burnishing his face, curls bouncing leisurely in the wind. He groans and holds up his hand, jello-limbed and sloth-like. You take him by the wrist and heave until he’s standing.

“The first thing Charles does when he gets set loose in a carnival,” you tell Castellan—he’s chasing your steps doggedly, blushed from the heat, “is buy cotton candy.”

“So what do you do?” he asks, a hand shielding his eyes from the unforgiving sunlight.

“I’m gonna pay the stall operator to make an extra large one so they can share.”

“No, I mean what do you normally do at a carnival?”

You slow down momentarily, nearly tripping over yourself. “Uh…I kinda skip the festival most years. It’s too hot most of the time.”

“Oh,” he says, a little dumb with the way his mouth hangs open by a smidge. “I normally get tickets for the games first.”

“Cool,” you tell him absently, searching for the volunteer-run food stalls, “we can try that next year.”

He’s weirdly silent, the blunt of the sudden quiet unnerving you.

( You do not realize your mistake until after the festival ends. )

Percy and Annabeth are operating the cotton candy stall, perspiration beading at their hairlines and ridiculous aprons hung over their white tees. It seems that everyone in band decided to forgo the ugly-ass jacket, and for good reason.

You sneak around the back, Castellan not far off, pulling two five dollar bills from your pocket.

Hissing, “Percy, Annabeth.”

The girl turns, braids swinging in the air. They nearly hit Percy across the eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Annabeth asks in a high-pitched whisper. She does a double-take at Castellan. “What are you doing here?”

Percy looks over Annabeth’s shoulder curiously. “Is that money for me?”

“No time to explain—if Silena and Charles order two cotton candies, I need you to lie and just give them a super huge one, okay?”

A grin splits Percy’s face wide, eyes gleaming devilishly. You think that the time the Stolls spend bothering him is starting to influence his behavior.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asks, fixating on the bill, completely ignoring the customers waiting for their sweets. “Charles getting the girl of his dreams?”

You groan and hold out the money vehemently. “Just take the fucking bribe and act normal!”

The speed at which Percy snatches the two fives could be considered non-human. Yea, the Stolls are definitely rubbing off on him, but he splits the bills, gives half to Annabeth; she often says that she doesn’t care about money, but her eyes sparkle nonetheless.

Huh, interesting.

Castellan pulls you away to hide behind a thick tree trunk. You hold your camera up to your eyes, zooming in on the couple as they converse with Annabeth at the register. Her customer-service smile is strained, eyes wide, a little nervous.

You were right—Charles and Silena hand over their money separately.

Percy gives them a huge cloud of wispy pink sugar—it’s nearly thrice the size of his own head and—makes some lame excuse, probably that they ran out of cotton candy sticks because he’s literally hiding the paper cones behind his back.

Silena asks Charles something and he gives her a nod of agreement. She holds the candy between them—they’re walking shoulder to shoulder now, Charles picking off small clumps and Silena almost skipping with how peppy her steps are.

Mission one accomplished.

You tail them for some time, occasionally snapping pictures of kids playing rigged games and couples holding hands. When you hold up your camera, Castellan does too, and you stand back to back sometimes, taking in every angle of the carnival.

“Wait,” Castellan speaks, putting a hand on your shoulder and pointing the other towards your friends, “they’re walking out of the park.”

You frown. “It’s not even sunset yet.”

He hums—right next to your ear. “I think she’s taking him to that boba shop she likes. It’s close by.”

“So that’s good, right?”

“Yea.”

“So mission accomplished, I can go home?”

Castellan chuckles, sliding his hand cautiously from your shoulder to your wrist. His touch is light, barely a feather’s weight.

“Nuh-uh,” he grins, shit-eating. “We’re playing the games.”

You protest but don’t make any move to break away, “They’re rigged, dumbass. It’s a waste of money.”

“We need to pass the time somehow. Remember we’re meeting back at sunset to watch the fireworks?”

“Ah, fuck you.”

He leads you all the way to the ticket booths, fingers sending tingles burning up your arm when he secures a wristband around your wrist. Castellan tugs you along by the wristband thereafter, flitting between rubber duck and ping pong ball and dart games.

He wins some, loses some. You win none and lose a lot. It’s mainly him catching prizes, and you have to cross the street to get a bag at a nearby grocery store to hold all the cheap stuffed animals.

You pass by the boba shop, brightly lit and colorful, and Charles waves at you from inside. Silena makes an enthusiastic heart with her hands and Castellan blushes, looping his fingers under your wristband and darting away.

♫ Sonic Youth ・Sunday

[ IMAGE: Two pairs of beaten sneakers facing each other on a well-tended stretch of grass. Luke’s scuffed Air Forces are easily recognizable with a small Spiderman doodle at the toe. His middle and index fingers extend in a peace sign at the top of the frame, meeting the points of yours at the bottom in a diamond shape. ]

Liked by lukestellans and 255 others

majmajmaj sunday comes n sunday goes

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perciusjakcsn CHAT R U SEEING THIS 🫢

↳ naka.ethan git saw them holdin hands n walking round the fest 🤢 ↳ conmanstole sm1 ask annie if we can disown a drum major or smth

travstole sarge connor says he was joking n to pls unblock him 🙏

FROM: becky d

(18:32) so silenas kinda tired (18:32) gna walk her home

TO: becky d

(18:34) oh? 😏 (18:34) wait no ur gna miss the fireworks (19:00) BECKY ANSWER ME WHAT ABT THE FIREWORKS (19:01) fake friend bc now m stuck w castellan until fireworks 😭

FROM: becky d

(19:45) yk u dont hafta stay right… (19:45) cant even take good pics in the dark w out lookin goofy in flash

Charles had texted you halfway through sunset, the sky beginning to pinken along with broad, orange brushstrokes of sunlight—yet you still hang around between the apple trees and the carnival stalls. It’s well into the night, temperature dropping steeply, and the once stiff breeze has you suppressing a shudder.

Castellan must be feeling the change too, because he stands so impossibly close that each time the space between you two decreases by some increment, sparks begin to unspools from your nerves and smart along your skin.

“Fireworks in a few,” remarks Castellan, pocketing his phone. “D’you know Phaestus does them?”

You pick absently at the skin beside your nail. “Like the woodworking teacher?”

“Yea.”

“Cool.” It’s stilted, stiff and brittle. Now that you know for sure that Charles has left you for the wolves, you don’t see much reason in staying longer. The only problem is getting out without feeling guilty for ditching Castellan—not that you’d feel bad for him. “I dunno if I can stay, though.”

The boy furrows his brow, a little line forming on his forehead. “Why not? It’s barely eight.”

How do you tell Castellan that you want to be far, far away from him? That at the same time, you want to press yourself into and through his skin and twine around his bones?

“Uh…I need to finish my apps.”

“College apps got submitted like, a month ago.”

Fuck, shit, fuck again. You desperately need to take a masterclass in lying your way out of situations. Castellan slides his warm fingers under your flimsy wristband, tugs on it lightly.

It barely makes a mark in your skin despite the fact that he’s been pulling on it for practically half the day. The cheap material scrapes against your wrist when he tugs it again, something skating too quick to place up your spine.

He smiles, small with undisguised encouragement. “Let’s try the Ferris wheel.”

“No way.”

Castellan laughs and wraps his fingers gently around your wrist, thumb pressed to your pulse point. “Look, we haven’t gone on any rides, and honestly, the Ferris wheel’s a lot better than that.”

He tilts his head towards the Kamikaze ride: two hammer-shaped structures swinging around in 360 degree arcs like a pendulum. You can hear someone wailing faintly, cries fading in and out in time with each rotation. You aren’t too sure, but it sounds vaguely like that one sophomore trombone kid…Grover Underwood?

( At least, that’s what you think his name is. It’s hard to keep track of who’s who when the Stolls’ stupid and distracting antics preoccupy a majority of your attention during practice. )

You rub the strap of your camera between your thumb and index finger, weighing your options.

“Fine.”

Castellan cheers, pumping his fist and pulling you towards the empty line. People begin to race to the queue as the time for fireworks begins to near, but you and Castellan beat them all to it.

He slides onto the bench and you take the one opposite of him, placing the bag of cheap stuffed animals next to you. You take one—a squishy black cat—and squeeze it, watching the plush expand between your fingers.

Castellan’s got an angry-looking dog in his lap, playing with its soft polyester ears. You see him backlit by artificial light, all carnival colors and little house windows. From a distance, a rocket gets set off, a faint boom echoing sputters of red.

Without thinking, you raise your camera up and snap a picture of the firework’s colors splattering over his frame. A snap of the shutter and then you find he’s looking right at you, eyes gleaming, face softened by the night.

You’re then distracted by a flurry of pops, a bright, phosphorescent shower sparkling on the horizon. Your head feels hazy, cloudy, too stuffed with sugar like a half-developed photograph of what’s happened today.

A shutter, a snap. Castellan holding his camera up to his eyes. You both lean together, foreheads magnetic, pulling up the pictures you just took. The fireworks continue to sound off, faint and forgotten.

In his photo of you: your shoulders are relaxed, lips in a shallow part. The black cat plush is squished under your forearm, camera half-held by your loose fingers and all-hanging from the strap looped over your neck. Everything’s backlit blue and green and white like an aquarium, sea foam threaded in the phosphorescent fireworks.

In your photo of him: he’s painted a pale red, carnival lights splashing anywhere else they can. You can’t even tell what the color of his shirt really is like this. Castellan’s hair has the image of it being freshly mussed, like he’s been running his hands through it. The angry dog lays lopsided in his grip, expression warped under his fingers.

You’re about to open your dry, dry mouth when the wheel comes to a stop and a worker yanks open the door roughly. You hurry out with Castellan not far behind.

“I gotta go,” you say, jutting your thumb towards the end of the street. You’re really telling the truth this time; it’s nearly nine and you have a stats test on Monday. Or, tomorrow. You can’t really think straight when Castellan’s right next to you.

He touches your shoulder, fingers careful. “Send me that picture, ‘kay? See you tomorrow in math.”

Castellan’s hand peels away when he begins to step backward slowly, waiting for you to say something before he leaves. You wet your lips quickly, molars teething at the inside of your cheek.

“Yea, I’ll see you. Good luck on the test.”

His lips quirk, smile lines arrowing in his skin. He waves, and you wave back. Like two ships passing in the night.

[ IMAGE: a blurry, unprofessional, iPhone camera photo angled towards the sky and extra-zoomed in on two unidentifiable teens sitting on opposite sides of a Ferris wheel car. Their outlines are lit in neon carnival lights and soft fireworks, heads bent together. ]

Liked by anniebethc and 214 others

perciusjakcsn why r the rides diabolical af 😭

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tankadreww waittt whos in the ferris 😮

groovewood FUCK kamikaze all my homies HATE kamikaze i almost saw god three times

↳ anniebethc Can confirm, the Kamikaze was terrible.

majmajmaj werent the fireworks past ur bedtime percival,,,

↳ perciusjakcsn NO AND FYI ITS PERSEUS JUST LIKE HOW UR MAJOR NOT SERGEANT ↳ majmajmaj THEN WHY DONT U CALL ME MAJOR U FUCKING DUMBASS

p.s. ★ nearly finished w this, we have two more chapters left!! might take a small break next week until finals season and journalism summer work is done obliterating me

sharing is caring, so pls rb and also lmk ur thoughts ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᡣ𐭩

luke tags (closed); @melllinaa @amortencjja @arsonnaire @m00ng4z3r @saltair-and-palemoonlight @witch-lemon @ahh-chickens @spiderbeam @jennapancake @traumatrios @omg--bluexx @dangelnleif @apolloscastellan @hiraethavis @lukecastellandefender @bookshelfminstrel @cherr-y-eji @solangelotus @liviessun @thaliagracesgf @ddarling-ddearest-ddead

© klineinie 2024 — do not plagiarize, translate, or use ANY works to train ai

the inhaler girls on tumblr are starving 💔 you're a pioneer 🫡🫡

one word ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟrobert keating

✧: part two

paring: robert x fem!oc

summery: some times luck is on your side, and kate just happens to find this out after her show.

A/N: hey everyone! so i originally uploaded these to wattpad, but i wanted to have a bit of a platform change. please let me know what you guys think. my requests are currently open so pleas feel free to send in an idea you have. enjoy!

wc: > 1k

*reblogs, likes, and feedback are greatly appreciated!!

My ears ring as I feel the final vibrations of our last song melt from my drumsticks down into my arms. It's like I'm on another planet. Then, as my breath steadies, my vision becomes clearer.

I stand, walking to the front of the stage and slipping my sticks into the back pocket of my baggy jeans before taking my band members' hands into my own. Yes, we recognize that this is slightly fancier, but the girls and I have always done it. Letting the energy between us flow as we bow. Once our hands unclasp, my smile grows more prominent as I reach into my back pocket, splitting my sticks from their usual pair and throwing them to the people closest in the crowd. Finally, my fingertips touch my lips as I give the crowd a 'goodbye kiss' before I finally exit the stage.

"Tonight was fucking amazing!" Willow, the band's bassist, says as she throws herself on the couch, hands pushing her hair back as a small chuckle leaves her lips. Kira, our lead singer, takes Willow's and I's hands as she speaks, "Yeah, who knew that so many people would want to see four girls going by The Honeysuckles. I'm so proud of us."

Ahh, The Honeysuckles. My band. My first love. I remember when the three of us picked out that name. We were sixteen, determined to become a band. To make it. We would always ramble, bad name after bad name until we ended on The Honeysuckles. It's so funny how one word can significantly impact your life—one silly little word.

"I say it's time to go out for drinks!" Fawn, our final member and lead guitarist, says as she sets her guitar in its case.

The rest of us nod in agreement as we pack our things. It was always a band tradition for us to go out after a good show. So once we were all packed up, we headed out to a nearby pub.

It was a beautiful early spring night in Dublin. The cobblestone streets were wet with dew. Our boots gently clicked down it, music and chatter spilling out of restaurants dotted along the street. After a couple of minutes of walking, we finally reached the pub.

"I'll go get us some drinks if you guys find a table," I yell slightly, having to talk over the crowd's chatter already in the small pub. The girls nod, saying a quick "see you soon" before splitting off from me.

Slipping my jacket off, I walk up to the bar, turning my horseshoe ring located on my pinky finger. It was a nervous habit I had picked up once I started wearing it. However, there was something about it that always seemed to make me feel comforted - even in the most stressful situations.

After a moment, the bartender approached me, "Four Guinness, please," I smiled, still twisting my ring. Once they stepped away to fill my order, I looked around, trying to fill the time between waiting and being able to get drunk. That's when something caught my eye. A hand sat next to me on the counter with a similar yet slightly larger horseshoe ring on their pinky finger.

"Holy shit!" laughing to myself, I gently tap the person's shoulder. Once they turned around, I was met with the most piercing blue eyes I have ever seen that put me in a slight trance that the other had to snap me out of.

"Uh, yeah?" he says, blue eyes staring intensely into mine, his hand with the horseshoe ring now wrapped around his dark, half-empty glass of Guinness.

"Oh, sorry," a nervous chuckle slipped through my berry-stained lips. "I just wanted to say that you have good taste" As I speak, I hold up my hand, showing the blue-eyed boy my almost matching ring. "Oh my fucking god, that's crazy!" laughing, he holds his hand next to mine, eyes darting between the two rings. "I never would've thought I'd meet someone with the same ring as me." He smiles, eyes meeting mine once again as a gentle flush presents itself on his cheeks. "Hey, Great minds think alike! I'm Kate. It's nice to meet you" I hold out my ring hand, which he takes in his own, shaking it gently.

"Robert," he smiles.

It's so interesting how one word can impact your life—one silly little word.

─ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘷. (𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴) 🐅

⤷ summary: spain and canada. lando's rizz is negative, mission is failed. plus, mclaren pr is about to fuck shit up 🗣️

━━━━━━ ༻✩₊⋆☾⋆⁺✧༺ ━━━━━━

liked by ynusername, zbrownceo, and 42,908 others

mclaren spain you were forgettable at best 😔 on to the next one

18,980 others

user1 y/n don't insult your team on the team account challenge

mclaren is it really an insult if it's true

user2 we got a lando photo but at what cost

user3 lando fans can never win here

mclaren why you would ever choose to be a lando fan to begin with is beyond me

user2 you're so right queen i'm sorry

landonorris DON'T APOLOGIZE WTF

user2 fuck both of y'all honestly

user4 at least mclaren fans can always count on content, even if we can't expect results 😭

user5 lando and y/n in their friendship era, how the fuck did we get here

landonorris you're posting me now? oh you want me so bad 🥴

mclaren sending this to hr immediately

ynusername YOU'RE FIREEEDDDDDDD

user6 damn she logged into both accounts just to make sure he heard her ass 💀 double homicide

user7 oscar fans i can't even tell if we won or lost

user8 we didn't get a face pic but... we didn't get whatever the fuck the 3rd slide is

landonorris guys pLEASE

landonorris i won't post it she says... it's just for me she says

user9 LMAOOOO AND YOU BELIEVED HER???? 🤣 🫵

landonorris going dark, no one call me

user9 was anyone going to anyways 💀

user10 LET HIM GET UPPPP

oscarpiastri i'll pay you 20 dollars if you don't ever do this to me

mclaren 🤝

mclaren i mean you were never the target but now you will be if i don't get my money!!!!

oscarpiastri oh ok

lilyzneimer i have pictures you can you use if you need bb <3

oscarpiastri WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON

zbrownceo Very funny Y/n! Keep up the good work 👍

mclaren Thanks boss! (:

landonorris ZAK WHY

user11 zak is so supportive now, wait until he sees her comments 💀

zbrownceo I have seen her comments! Very funny! 👍

user11 blink twice zak, we can help you

maxverstappen1 This is the highlight of my week, thank you Y/n!

mclaren hey max verstappen of redbull racing! not sure if you heard but you did win the grand prix this weekend

maxverstappen1 No i know, this is just definitely better.

ynusername where's my photo credits 🫵

mclaren my bad bbg 😍

user12 nurse she got out again

oscarpiastri we'll win next time!!

mclaren who told you that 🤨

oscarpiastri the voices in my head

logansargeant you hold on bro, we'll find your meds soon

user13 i think moto moto likes you ahh image

user14 i need to shrink him and put him in my pocket and keep him there

user15 which one?

user14 lando

landonorris nuh uh, pick again

maxfewtrell you can't post pictures without consent mate

mclaren i didn't??

landonorris i didn't consent.

mclaren who are you gonna believe max? me? or the solid concrete evidence in front of you

user16 he looks like he can do some crazy tricks on a trampoline

landonorris this is the only comment about myself that hasnt made me viscerally angry

oscarpiastri unfortunately i feel the opposite

user17 lany/n at it again

user18 literally what the fuck do you mean

user17 if you dont get it, i can't explain it to you

user18 okay cryptic ass, fuck you 🙄

user19 they're in love guys, just wait and see

user20 yall just love saying stupid shit on this page huh

user19 i hate getting accused of some shit i actually do 😡 like yeah i do love that but who told you

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user20 op be so fr right now

user21 everytime one of these illiterate f1 drivers pulls one of the hottest women on earth a fairty dies

user21 *fairy

user22 fairty

user21 you shut the fuck up 🫵

user23 people when coworkers are seen together at their place of work

user24 do you hug your coworkers and follow them like a lost puppy when you could be on a break

user23 wtf no

user24 EXACTLY MF, THIS IS NOT COWORKERS BEING COWORKERS

user25 history will say they were just colleagues 😔

opeightywon this shit is a national tragedy

user26 every time i see a post like this i think about the fact that she has probably seen this and i shiver

user27 honestly praying on their downfall

opeightywon wtf

user28 lando fans be normal challenge

user27 idgaf about that white man, she's just too hot for him 😕

opeightywon oh yeah real

user29 i need another youtube video where they stare at each other longingly again asap or i fear i may start having withdrawal symptoms

user30 another hot girl lost to an average white man's swagless looks and cringe fail personality i feel sick

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liked by landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 44,786 others

mclaren not our best results in canada but we improved i guess 🙄 but on a much better, more exciting note: NEW MCLAREN YOUTUBE CHALLENGE OUT GO GO GO GO

17,998 comments

user31 my crops are watered, my skin is clear, my funds are tripled

mclaren all me 😮‍💨

user32 "yay challenge video" we all cry in unison

user33 OSCAR FANS IS IT REAL??? HAS IT COME TRUE??? IS THAT A FACE PIC I SEE

user34 and it's good quality too 🤩 what did we do to deserve this

mclaren you don't, but oscar bought me coffee all weekend

oscarpiastri yes i bribed her, i feel no shame

user35 lando's back in the dog house bro, he's back to no face pics

user36 but look at his beautiful brown eyes

mclaren babe they're greenish blue with the TINIEST bit of brown 💀

user37 how long you gotta stare at a man's eyes to know the exact paint blend 🫵

user38 DOWN HORRENDOUSSSSSS

lilyzneimer insert comical heart eyes here

mclaren flirting with your man 🤢 on MY cellular device

lilyzneimer my bad bb, he doesn't mean anything to me anyways 🥴

oscarpiastri ok what the fuck

danielricciardo DROP THE CAMERA SETTINGS AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

mclaren check dms 🤲

danielricciardo thanks love you're the best

landonorris LOVE??? LMAOOOO

user39 bro is losing the dgaf war MISERABLY

user40 the way lando is staring at her the whole time she's behind the camera 😫 oh he's not even down bad, bro's down under

landonorris can i get the camera settings

mclaren has anyone ever told you how good you are at photography?? i'm not saying that, i'm just asking 😀

landonorris oKAY fuck you.

user41 the way she doesn't even pretend to care about the results

landonorris i know 🙄

mclaren i know p13 is nawttt talking back to me right now

user41 OHHH SHE ATE YOU UP HUH

landonorris y'all are some fake ass fans fr

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8:57 PM.

Y/n stared at the flashing numbers on the digital clock in the boardroom and huffed quietly. The table in front of her was covered in a mix of shredded mozzarella cheese and vibrant, red pizza sauce. Flour with evidence of handprints and bits of pizza dough decorated the wood and the woman internally sighed at the thought of clean up. Eventually she would have to get back to work.

Lando was on his phone across the table from her, and she fought the urge to stare at him. Oscar had left a while ago, having an earlier flight than them out of Canada. Lando and her had made the executive decision to stay and finish the pizza the two men had made during the "not my hands" YouTube challenge. It was messy, and didn't fully resemble a proper pizza, but it tasted good enough if not a little bit burnt. The two had been sitting in a comfortable silence for the time being while they ate.

In the time Y/n had gotten to know the British man, both on and off the track, she found herself warming up to him considerably. He was kinder than she gave him credit for at the beginning of the season, and far funnier. She could see now that more often than not he spoke without thinking or having any consideration, and maybe he was more than a little bit arrogant, but he also felt things deeply and cared passionately.

Before she could think about what she was doing, Lando's eyes met hers and he smirked. Y/n's face burned but she rolled her eyes at him and took another bite of their burnt pizza. Her eyes caught the sound of him placing his phone on the table, and when she looked up again he was leaning his body across the table and toward her instead.

"What are you staring at? Hm?" He teased and she scoffed.

"You," she started and took another bite of her pizza, "have pizza sauce all over your face, you idiot. And I'm just thinking, not sure if you're familiar with the concept." He grabbed a napkin quickly and began wiping rapidly at his chin and mouth, and even his nose. She couldn't help but laugh loudly. There was nothing on his face. He was perfect actually. Unfortunately.

"Did I get it? Why didn't you tell me sooner, traitor!" She doubled over but nodded anyways.

"What are you thinking about?" he questioned as he settled back down.

"Just the season, you and Oscar," she muttered.

"Me? Thinking of little ol' me when I'm right here in front of you," she rolled her eyes with a groan.

"You have selective hearing Lando," he laughed and nodded.

"Well what have you thought about it? The season I mean. And myself of course, don't care much what you think about Osc," he leaned on his hand and stared at her intently. Y/n couldn't help that being stared at by Lando felt a little bit like being ocean, being pulled and pushed by the moon's gravity. Her brain didn't work properly around him.

Or maybe I'm just really dramatic and he's just hot, she thought miserably, Probably the latter.

"I just think maybe you and me got off on the wrong foot," she said as she fumbled with the lid of her water bottle, "and I think that maybe I enjoy this job a lot more than I thought I would." The comments seemed to sober Lando's mood up slightly.

Maybe I shouldn't have been truthful. Maybe it shouldn't have been that serious.

"What did you think of me?" He asked quietly. "When you met me I mean."

"Do you want me to be honest?" He looked at her quizzically.

"Of course I want you to be honest Y/n, or I wouldn't have asked."

"I thought you were kind of an asshole," she whispered and he laughed.

"So the beef was real for you," he smiled slightly and she let her face fall gently into her hands.

"Yeah," she breathed out a laugh, "yeah maybe a little."

"Doesn't seem like a little," he goaded and she shot him a glare.

"Okay Lord Lando, maybe more than a little," he pointed at her triumphantly.

"AHA! So it was the instagram comment. I thought you knew I was kidding," A loud groan filled the room as she smacked her head on the table. Lando's giggling could probably be heard down the hall but Y/n found she didn't care all that much anymore.

"It wasn't just the instagram comment," she defended weakly. There was a brief silence as Lando stared into space and shook his head.

"Wow... I can't believe you were actually mad at me and I just didn't know."

"It wasn't that big of a deal I guess, I just felt like you didn't really take me seriously."

"Well I mean you're not a very serious person," Y/n's heart fell to her stomach.

"What?" She asked, staring at him. She couldn't have heard him right.

"Well it's just that you're not very serious are you? Like since I met you, it's never felt like you were a serious sort of person." He added as if that was some sort of defense.

As if that isn't more hurtful.

"You're not like Zak or Andrea, or really anyone else here you know? You're just you, you're different. It was hard to be serious with you here because that's just who you are." He continued.

God just shut up, please for the love of God just shut up.

"This is my place of work Lando," she muttered bitterly. "I mean do you hear yourself." His eyes widened and he put his hands out placatingly. Like she was some sort of rabid animal he needed to calm down.

"No no no," he muttered quickly and stood up to round the table, "that's not what I meant Y/n, you know that."

"Stop Lando, just stop," she said as she began to clear off the table.

Why did she expect him to be different. What made her think he could've changed.

"You made it perfectly clear what you mean. What you think of me and of my work, my career" she spit out, swiping everything on the table into the trash. They hadn't finished eating the pizza and now it was in the bin, but Lando didn't deserve to eat the pizza she helped him make. He didn't deserve to be here at all. He wasn't her friend, he was her coworker and nothing else. It was better she accept that now.

"You misunderstood what I said," he grabbed her arm to stop her from cleaning and she whipped it out of his grasp.

"Stop Lando," she said raising her voice. She knew her eyes were teary but she didn't care. She knew her face was red with embarrassment and her hands were shaking with the force of her humiliation but she didn't care. Lando Norris could go fuck himself.

He looked at her in shock and winced as he saw her face. She steeled herself. She had never cried over a man before, why would she do it now.

"You need to leave, you have a flight in the morning," she said emotionlessly. "And I have to clean so I can go home." He tried to speak and she put her hand up, stepping away from him.

"Get out please, you're in my way," she said and his brows scrunched. He was angry? Good, so was she.

"I'm in your way?" He asked incredulously, as if she didn't have any reason to be upset. "You're not even going to hear me out?" He scoffed.

"No Lando, I don't have time for this. I have a job to do and you're in my way," she said emphasizing the words as if speaking to a child. His face fell. He looked angry.

"Whatever Y/n. What fucking ever," he muttered, grabbing his bag and storming out. Y/n waited. Footsteps in the hallways continued until a far off door slammed.

Y/n wilted like an unwatered plant as tears began to fall.

So much for friends.

She knew deep down she was hurt about much more than just friendship.

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this is the second to last chapter of part one! i hope you enjoy! please feel free to comment and send requests, i'm excited to hear your thoughts <3

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𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

@lemon-lav @slutforpopculture @m4rt10ne @urfavsgf @sadsierra2 @96jnie @sltwins @poppyflower-22 @alliumiae @livelovesports @liberty-barnes @the-holy-trinity-l @iliwyss @awritingtree @redpool @elliotts1one @velentine @chaoticmessneutralplease @5sospenguinqueen @charizznorizz @2pagenumb @mxdi0 @cwiphswmwasohmm @tremendousstarlighttragedy @lnspipedrm @itseightbeats @tinycoffeeroom @woozarts @personwhoisther @a-beaverhausen @love-simon @annabellelee @ravisinghs-wife @chezmardybum @greantii @weekendlusting @monserelates @sapphiccloud @halleest @deamus-liv @gigigreens @morenofilm @laneyspaulding19 @lanireadss @dear-fifi @moldyshorts1997 @oliviarodrigostan13 @eugene-emt-roe @ilivbullyingjeongin @im-a-ghost666

the graham dunne —> dominos sessa pipeline

girlfriend of the enemy | charles leclerc

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

tags: max verstappen x reader, thoughts of infidelity, max sucks a lil in this i'm sorry

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You knew the novelty had worn off. Max was known for picking up things that were shiny and brand new to him and dropping them without a moment's notice. You just never thought you would be one of them. The two of you had met in the paddock, you having been invited by your reporter friends. Instantly the two of you had hit it off, chatting the whole night and enjoying each other's company. 

That was 7 years ago. 

Now the two of you were attending the end of the race year celebrations but you may as well be strangers. 

He’d swirled you around his friends, eye candy on his arm to match the fact that his face was plastered across the entire room. After he was sure everyone had seen the two of you together, he subtly brushed your arm off and went to talk with Daniel and Checo who were standing by the bar. 

Taking a seat at one of the tables strewn out across the large dance hall, you picked nervously at the acrylics on your nails. Max knew events like this made you nervous, with the large crowds full of people you barely knew. At the start of your relationship, he never used to leave you alone, constantly having a hand around your waist or resting on your knee so you knew he was there, but it was as if he no longer cared. You hated this side of him, missing the funny and attentive man you fell in love with. 

Drivers passed back and forth behind your chair, often bumping it accidentally as they walked, too deep in conversation with their walking buddy to notice they had knocked you. It had been at least 2 hours since you had seen Max, having watched him stalk off to a dark corner with the two men he was chatting with at the bar. You knew you looked miserable, but you were so tired of hiding how you truly felt, how Max made you feel. 

A hand brushes the back of your chair as someone takes a seat beside you. A soft voice barely audible over the loud music pumping through the room, close enough that their breath brushes across your neck. 

“Not having fun?”

You jump at the proximity, whipping round to come face to face with Max’s longtime frenemy, Charles Leclerc. He simply smiled, either not noticing how close the two of you were or simply ignoring it.  

You’d come to know Charles through the years you’d spent as a wag. He was always polite, full of kind smiles and funny anecdotes. You knew he wasn’t a fan of these things either, choosing to excuse himself early, either with his teammates or Oscar whenever things got a little too raucous. His two closest friends on the grid, Daniel and George, were more open to the party atmosphere, often getting to the point of drunkenness where you had to mother them a little, rounding up the giggling boys and wrestling them into an Uber. 

You loved chatting with the group of friends, never having a dull moment as each of them tried to outdo the other with a joke or a roast. However, you were always a little more drawn to the Monagesque, finding his warm voice and awkward jokes lightened the tension that festered deep inside whenever Max abandoned you at one of these events. 

You smiled back at Charles in the present, toying with the Tiffany bracelet around your wrist. “Not particularly. Never really liked these kind of events.”

If it was anyone else who had asked, you would have lied. Various excuses of not feeling well or simply needing a moment to yourself, but Charles had never once shown judgement towards your lack of enthusiasm for these nights. 

“Where’s Max?” His eyes flick around the room, elbow coming to rest on the bar. He must realise his mistake straight away as he pulls away, the stickiness of the counter following him. 

You sigh, reaching to drain the last of your mojito. “Fuck knows. Last time I saw him was just after 9.” 

He raises his eyebrows, turning to catch the attention of the bar staff. “Another mojito and a vodka soda, please.” Turning back to you, he checks his watch. “It’s 2am.”

You return the eyebrow raise, welcoming the new drink he hands you. “Yeah, it is. He’s probably with Daniel and Checo if you want him.” 

You were used to people approaching you just to get to the other. Nothing new but it still irked you a little that you were only ever seen as an extension of the great Max Verstappen, never just y/n l/n. 

Smiling softly, he raises his glass for you to clink yours against. “Nah, I’m fine where I am.”

–

The hours passed quickly, the two of you hunched over the bar as you tried to make out what the other was saying over the loud bass of the music. You could lie and say your heart didn’t flutter every time he laughed, eyes sparkling as he listened intently to every dumb joke you made. It made you feel a little bit sick, the butterflies in your tummy stabbing tiny little daggers into you as you try to remember the last time Max had ever spent time with you like this. 

He was a busy man, with the racing and Twitch and the various other events Redbull required him to do, the two of you rarely saw each other. You tried to organise monthly date nights in order to reignite the spark you once had but every time Max texted that he couldn’t come, not even mentioning the word sorry, you felt a little piece of your heart fall away. 

Through some kind of sick manifestation, Max rounded the corner of the bar, flagged by a barely conscious Daniel and a still chipper Checo. 

“Charles! Nice to see you!” Checo was his ever lovely self, dapping Charles up and pulling him into a brief hug. Daniel barely acknowledged either of you, slumping into the chair on the other side of you and drunkenly resting his head on the back of your shoulder. Max was neutral, eyes darting between the two of you. 

“Yeah, nice to see you Charles. I see you’ve met my Mrs.”

You hated that term. “Mrs”. Maybe if he showed any kind of interest in actually taking the next step and marrying you after 7 years together maybe you wouldn’t mind. He knew you hated it to some extent, having used it often as a joke in media events to make you roll your eyes and send him a cheeky text. But now the word just grated you, imaginary hackles rising at his standoffish tone. 

Charles smiles at the two, briefly eyeing Daniel from where he was snoring on your shoulder. “Yeah, me and y/n have met quite a few times at these things. Normally when I’m too tired to deal with Daniel and George’s shit.” He aims the last sentence towards you, joining you in a small chuckle. 

Max laughed sarcastically, hand coming to grip your free shoulder. The strength of it made you shrink slightly, hating the possessiveness it held. “Well, it’s getting late, I better get her home.” His head nods down at you, the resignation in his voice a poor attempt at humour but it lands flat. 

Charles eyes him, then the hand gripped harshly on your shoulder and finally lands on you, eyes warm with a tint of ice. “Sure. It was nice to chat to you, Y/N. Don’t be a stranger.” He rises from his seat, hand raised to deliver a half hearted fist bump to Max and Checo before he disappears, swallowed by the horde of people still present at the event. 

You grab your bag as Max shakes the sleeping Daniel on your shoulder. The two of you work side by side to sling an arm of Daniel’s around each of your shoulders, Max thankfully taking the brunt of the weight. Silently, you make your way to Max’s car, humming at the drunken gibberish from the man hanging between the two of you. 

As you settle into the passenger's seat of Max’s car, you can’t help but wish it was Charles sliding in beside you. 

–

👤 maxverstappen1 Liked by redbullracing, charles_leclerc and 592,048 others

y/nstagram eindejaarsfeest met mijn lief en jouw wereldkampioen ♥️ (end of year party with my love and your world champion)

fan she’s so gorgeous, maxverstappen1 can you fight? ♥️ 39,927 others

redbullracing never mind the trophy, we think you’re the real prize ↳ fan damn admin got rizz ↳ redbullracing 😎

fan why does max never like her photos anymore i miss the “here before the dutchman” jokes ↳ fan they’ve been together 7 years maybe the honeymoon phase has just worn off? ↳ fan idk even when we see them in the paddock he brushes her off all the time  ↳ fan i thought we all agreed to stop prying into their relationship?  ↳ fan true but 7 years and no ring?? I’d have wifed her up immediately 

charles_leclerc si belle ↳ y/nstagram merci charlie :) ↳ fan ariana what are you doing here?  ↳ fan he’s been in her likes / comments since he joined f1, i’m pretty sure they’re friends ↳ fan he always comments “beautiful” or smth sappy on her posts… ngl i kinda ship them ↳ fan saying that on a post where she’s just called max her love… seek help ↳ fan damn sorry that i just wanna see her be treated the way she deserves???? She posts max nearly weekly and the last time she graced his ig was like 6 months back ??? AND he never likes / comments on her posts even when she tags him AND he ignores her in the paddock like all the time ↳ fan he’s a 4x world champion and the face of redbull, he’s a busy man damn 

-

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Another country, another race, another day of Max ignoring you. You’d always been understanding of the fact that, as the current world champion, he had a lot of pressure on his rather wide shoulders. People called for him wherever he turned and he’d follow, giving piece by piece of him to whoever needed his attention. Race engineers, press, other drivers, even Christian himself. In the earlier years, he’d drag you along with him, hand wrapped firmly around yours as he discussed better ways to reduce drag or answer the same god damn question from the same 10 faces you saw at every race. 

Nowadays, he’d barely look your way as he gets out of the car, instead letting you roam around of your own volition. You often found yourself walking up and down the paddock, looking at all the other drivers who would throw a loving glance to their girlfriends as they rush around their garages, or drop a small kiss to the crown of their heads as they pass by to the back rooms or even something as small as readjusting their stance as they spoke to their engineers so they could press a thigh or an arm against their other half. 

So far you’d passed Alpine; exchanging quick hugs with Kika and Flavy before they went to the back rooms, McLaren; where Lando and you had exchanged a quick fist bump whilst you swiped away his questions about Max’s whereabouts, and Haas where both Kevin and Nico had waved brightly at you as they entertained their children on the garage floor. Looking up, you find yourself standing in front of the Ferrari garages. More specifically, in front of Charles’. 

Whether the halt in your footsteps has been subconscious or not, you couldn’t stop yourself from hoping for a glimpse of Charles. Flashes of red passed your vision, engineers and strategists moving amongst one another like a well oiled machine, but no sign of white fireproofs or padded red race suits. 

Sighing softly, you turn on your heels, ready to head back to the Red Bull garages where you’ll inevitably end up being forced into putting on a headset and a fake smile when it’s race time. 

Eyes focused on the ground, you walk slowly away from the Ferrari garages, not wanting to see all the loving couples around you. Only three steps down, a pair of race boots pop up in your vision, eyes trailing up until you meet Charles’ worried gaze. 

“Y/N, what are you doing all the way over here? It’s nearly race time?” His head quirks a little to the left, reminding you of an inquisitive puppy. 

It’s enough to bring a small smile to your face, eyes flicking over his face. “Hey Charles. Honestly, I didn’t even realise I’d made it this far into enemy territory until I looked up and saw your garage.” 

He matches your teasing smile, nudging his foot with one of yours playfully. “I wouldn’t say enemy, just unfamiliar.” He takes a moment to give you a once over, eyes clinging to the ever present furrow of your brows. “Where’s Max?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you huff quietly. “God knows. Last I saw, he was in a very heated debate with GP, something to do with the rear wing.”

He nods in response. “Does he know you’re in enemy territory?” He teases softly, aware of the way your expression darkened at the mention of your boyfriend. 

“I don’t think he would realise if I upped and left to be honest.” The second you said it, you regretted it. Charles has enough to worry about on race day without you piling your relationship problems onto him. “Sorry, ignore me. Must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed or something.” You laugh unconvincingly, trying to avoid his knowing eyes. 

He’s quiet for a moment, pensive silence spreading between the two of you. It makes your skin crawl, all too aware that he was probably already clued into your crumbling relationship. You wanted him to make a joke, to nudge his shoulder with yours as he quips about how you should join the other side for once. You wanted him to make you smile, knowing he’s been the only one to do so in so many years. 

A knot sits heavy in your stomach. Wanting another man to make you smile like your boyfriend isn’t standing 20 feet away. Another man who was the best friend of your boyfriend. 

Yours and Max’s relationship wasn’t all arguing and sneaking into bed whilst the other slept far on the other side, but the only times he made you laugh recently was in front of cameras, smiles too large and laughter too loud to be believable to either of you. 

With Charles, it was easy. Almost like breathing. He was still a little awkward with you, jokes sometimes landing flat but the way he would wince and chuckle at his own bad lines were enough to have you laughing loudly and unapologetically. 

You needed to get out of here before you said or did something you’d regret. Luckily, Xavi came to your rescue, spotting Charles out on the paddock and rushing over to sling a friendly arm around his shoulder. “Charles, vamos! We have to get ready for the race. Sorry to steal him from you, Y/N, but I can’t risk him sharing trade secrets with the girlfriend of the enemy.” He pairs the teasing jab with a wink at both of you, the arm hooked around Charles’ neck pulling him gently away. 

Charles’ throws a smile over his shoulder, waving a hand goodbye as he’s dragged into conversation with Xavi. You wave back, energy not quite matching his. 

It was a throwaway comment, something every team said when you’d chat with their racers, normally coupled with a squeeze of the shoulder or a friendly grin. Charles had even said the same thing himself two minutes prior. But something about it being Charles’ race engineer left a sour taste in your mouth. 

To Charles, you were just the girlfriend of the “enemy”, and that’s all you could be. 

-

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a/n: i swear i'm working on a happier one for charles' monaco win buuuut before i spend another 2 weeks finishing this off - anyone interested in a part 2?

Seniors at Vassar College, 1895

Hello, my name is Fadi from Gaza. I am 35 years old. I work as a carpenter. I have lived through all the harsh details of the war on Gaza, including hunger, displacement, fear, terror, and the loss of my dearest people.

I no longer have anything to lose after the death of my father in this war, the destruction of my home, and the destruction of my workplace, which is the source of my income and that of my family, and that's why I'm speaking to you today.

I was in good condition before the war on Gaza, and I didn't imagine for a moment that I would ask for support from anyone, but as fate would have it, I lost everything I had:

my father, my home, my family’s home, and my place of work (the carpentry), and I would have no choice but to ask you to help me rebuild my workplace at least.

The amount required is much less than what is necessary, but I don't need more. I just want to have this amount with which I will be able to open smaller carpentry than the one I had, but at least I will be able to start my working life faster when this war ends.

Some achievements👇

This picture

Go found link ..Help, even if just a little

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-me-establish-my-business-after-it-was-destroyed-in-gaza?lang=en_US&utm_campaign=fp_sharesheet&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=copy_link

Vetted Palestine Fundraisers

here is a masterpost of all the accounts that have contacted me. I want to share all of their gofundme's. please please donate if you can and reblog!!!

As of August 14th the donation counts are:

@heba-baker: GoFundMe link - 3,130/60,000 vetted by 90-ghost

@ahmeadhilles: GoFundMe link - 5,324/80,000 - vetted by 90-ghost

@asmaayyad: GoFundMe link - 7,200/45,000 - vetted by 90-ghost

@lenarafat15: GoFundMe link - 3,795/30,000 - vetted by 90-ghost

@wafaaresh: GoFundMe link - 26,032/100,000 - vetted by 90-ghost

@ahmedhamda12: GoFundMe link - 14,200/50,000 - vetted on nabulsi and el-shab-hussein's spreadsheet

@mohammadayyad: GoFundMe link - 14,775/35,000 - vetted by 90-ghost

@helpfamily: GoFundMe link - 5,105/50,000 - vetted by 90-ghost

@lina-gaza: GoFundMe link - 32,848/45,000 - vetted here

@rehamjawad33: GoFundMe link - 18,978/70,000 - vetted #125 on nabulsi and el-shab-hussein's spreadsheet

@mahmoud0hilles: GoFundMe link - 9,486/50,000 - vetted #198 on nabulsi and el-shab-hussein's spreadsheet

@karemandohan1999: GoFundMe link - 4,561/50,000 - vetted by 90-ghost

@farahmoo: GoFundMe link - 1,941/50,000 - vetted by 90-ghost

@safaayassersposts: GoFundMe link - 135/50,000 - vetted by el-shab-hussein

@eslamfamily: GoFundMe link - 1,185/50,000 - vetted as #175 on the B&W spreadsheet list

@abdelmutei: GoFundMe link - 9,648/25,000 - vetted by 90-ghost

just found out that there is a sudanfunds website! like gazafunds, it is a compilation of funds for people facing genocide