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holllandtrash · 1 year

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6 to 1 | lando norris (part 7)

pairing: lando norris x leclerc!reader part 7 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)

the lead up to the silverstone race is treacherous, painful and downright confusing, and you're not referring to the weather. you find yourself being pulled in different directions and just when you think you've figured it out, your path leads you right back to where you started in the first place

word count: 6.9k tags/warnings: just a lot of angst im sorry

Usually, when you attended the races, you were there all weekend. From Friday morning till the end of the podium ceremony on Sunday. But for Silverstone, you were dreading walking into that track and seeing Charles so you pushed back your travel plans and decided to only go for the race.

Lando ordered a car for you to take to the hotel Saturday night, something that he really didn’t have to do but he insisted on it and you were starting to figure out which battles to pick with him. This was not one of them.

He had to be at the hotel with his team Wednesday night, so you really didn’t get to spend too much time with him after the shoot with Quadrant.

Which, honestly, you were okay with. You needed to pack as you were heading straight back to Monaco the following Monday with Charles and Arthur. You weren’t looking forward to that plane ride. If you were lucky, Charles would have a good weekend and he wouldn’t bring up Lando.

But the second the car pulled up to the hotel, a few drops of rain hit the windshield. The driver made a comment about how conditions would only get worse for tomorrow and you so desperately wanted to ignore the possibility of a wet race, however that seemed to be what everyone was talking about in the lobby.

You picked up your room key and texted both Lando and Charles that you arrived. Lando texted you back immediately saying he was in a briefing with his team but that he’d stop by your room after and Charles, without any context, sent you '1125'. His room number.

You dropped your luggage off, but didn’t give yourself any time to settle in before heading up the few levels to floor 11. Charles didn’t have to say anything other than his room number, you got the hint. He needed to talk to you.

The door swung open as soon as you knocked.

“Look I don’t want to fight,” you started off, already sounding defensive as you followed Charles into the hotel room.

“I don’t want to fight either,” Charles agreed with you, opening up the mini fridge to pull out a bottle of water. “I just want to know what’s going on in your head, Y/N. What are you doing getting involved with a driver?”

“Lando’s just a friend,” but even you didn’t believe your own words.

Charles gave you a look, one that told you he saw right through your bullshit and you pulled your fingers through your hair, needing a way out of this that didn’t paint you or Lando as the bad guy.

“Okay fine,” you shrugged helplessly. “I like him, I think. Is that what you want me to say? It’s not as though I’m dating him and even if I was, what’s the big deal?”

You probably didn’t need to add that last question. It was just an open invitation for Charles to tell you everything that was weighing heavy on his mind.

“This is a dangerous sport, Y/N, but this is what all of us drivers have signed up for.” Charles started off with what you already knew before hitting you where it would hurt. “We know the risks when we get in the cars, but we don’t have to think about anything besides what’s on the track…” his pause was deafening. “But if you started dating him, that’s an entirely new element that’s now being introduced to the race.”

You scoffed, “No it’s-”

Charles held up his hand. “Listen to me, Y/N. You would be on the back of my mind if I’m ever even near him on the track. And you’ll always be on his. He might stop pulling risky moves, knowing that if anything happened to him, it would destroy you and not only that, there would be no more racing between us because subconsciously, you’ll be in the cars with us, telling us not to fight, not to put our lives at even more risk.”

He reasons for you not wanting to date a driver lined up with yours, but he was able to offer it from the perspective behind the wheel.

“It’s the same reason why I’m terrified for Arthur to ever move up to F1,” Charles further explained. “I would jeopardise my own race for him, for his safety. I would do anything to protect him and I would do anything to protect you. If you started dating Lando, then that need to look after you, automatically extends to him.”

You felt sick. You needed to lean against the wall behind you, feeling your legs grow numb. The worry in Charles’ eyes assured you that he was no longer upset or mad about you going behind his back to hang out with Lando, he was now concerned for what lay ahead.

“I love you and I want you to be happy, I want nothing more than for you to find a partner to be happy with,” Charles rubbed his hand over his face as he shook his head. This was as painful for him to get out as it was for you to hear. “But selfishly, I don’t want you to put your happiness in another driver.”

There really wasn’t anything for you to say. Charles had every right to be selfish. This was his career, his life. You weren’t supposed to be any more intertwined in it than you already were.

You pushed yourself off the wall, ignoring the sinking feeling in your stomach as you turned to walk towards the door.

Charles tried to follow, “Y/N, I didn’t mean-”

You held up a hand towards him as you turned and forced a smile on your face. You really didn’t want to fight. You loved your brother, you wanted to respect what he was asking. He had given you so much. Because of him, you had dozens upon dozens of opportunities and met the most incredible people.

You could give up this thing with Lando, whatever it was. And better you did it now before it became too hard to walk away.

“You should get some sleep” you told Charles, your voice almost caught in your throat. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you in the morning.”

You left his room without another word. The elevator ride back to your floor was slow, treacherous even as you thought about what sort of conversation you needed to have with Lando.

You’d wait till after the race. It wouldn’t do anyone any favours to call this whole thing off right before his home race. The least you could do was wait until after to break his heart.

But then the elevator opened and you saw the driver who had taken up all of your thoughts leaning against your hotel room door. He put his phone away when he looked up and spotted you. His smile broke you. For so long you wanted to be the reason for it and now you were going to be the cause of why it would disappear.

“How was the drive?” Lando asked, stepping out of the way for you to unlock the door. “It’s starting to rain, hey? The team thinks it’ll be pretty bad for most of the race tomorrow but what’s Silverstone without a little-”

“Lando,” you cut him off promptly, turning the handle to push the door open. You met his eyes for a second before you had to look away, before he could catch on that something was wrong. “Look, I’m really tired, I just want to go to sleep, I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Lando was a little taken aback, but he didn’t try to talk you into staying up. He reached forward and gave your hand a squeeze, “Okay, yeah, get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

All you wanted to do was pull him into your hotel room and spend the next few hours with him until he had to leave to go to bed. Even then, you’d probably be able to convince him to just spend the night with you.

But you couldn’t do that. The most you could do was offer up a sliver of a smile before walking into the room and letting the door shut behind you.

Suddenly, a wet race for tomorrow seemed like the least of your worries.

You arrived at Silverstone with Charles. He had tried to talk to you all morning and it wasn’t as though you were mad at him, you were just frustrated with the position he had put you in.

It didn’t help that the second you scanned your badge and stepped past the gates, you felt the first raindrop of the day hit your cheek. You looked up, and even with the dark shades on, it was impossible to miss the incoming storm clouds.

“Wet race today, hey?”

You turned over your shoulder to see Pierre scanning his badge as well. The two of you hadn’t spoken at all since your conversation in Montreal. You asked yourself why you even stopped walking to wait for him, especially since Charles had gone off ahead to get out of the rain.

“Still giving me the cold shoulder?” Pierre asked as he approached you. The two of you started walking down the paddock, thankfully the Ferrari motorhome was close.

“Still telling everyone we slept together?” You retorted and Pierre dipped his head back and laughed.

“Chérie, I told like four, maybe five people,” Pierre tried to play it off, but when he saw you weren’t about to give him the time of day, he grabbed your hand and forced you to stop walking. “Come on, we’re friends. Don’t cut me off like this.”

“No, you and Charles are friends,” you hastily pulled your hand away from his grasp. “I’m just someone who got caught up in the moment.”

It blew your mind how cocky Pierre could be sometimes. It almost made you want to tell Charles what happened just because you knew it would cause a fight between them. Maybe Pierre would second guess his actions if he was getting yelled at by his best friend.

And that way, Charles would have something else on his mind besides you and Lando. If anything bad happened on the track, not like you want something to happen, he could blame it on finding out about Pierre and you. Surely learning that his closest friend and sister slept together was much worse than whatever this fling was that you currently had with Lando.

Speaking of Lando…

You hadn’t even seen him walk through the gates. Your frustration, and therefore your attention, was solely on Pierre. It wasn’t until the bright orange hoodie became impossible to ignore that you pulled your eyes away from the French driver.

Recently when you looked at Lando, you felt a swarm of butterflies attack your stomach.

Those butterflies were still there, but it was as if they were now trying to claw their way out of your stomach, fighting each other and making you suffer the consequences.

You didn’t want to end things.

You wanted to meet him halfway as he approached you and collapse in his arms, who cares who saw? You wanted to kiss him without a time limit and wish him good luck today. You wanted to hang out in the fucking McLaren motorhome which is something you never thought you’d ever find yourself wishing for.

“Little gloomy today, huh?” Lando asked, sounding a lot chipper than how you or Pierre looked.

You glanced up, as did Pierre and you shrugged. The less you spoke now, the easier it would be to end things later.

“It’s not too bad yet,” Pierre pointed out.

“Oh I was talking about Y/N’s outfit,” Lando joked, nudging your arm with his elbow. “What’s with the all bla- are you okay?” Lando's smile dropped and his tone did a 180 the second he noticed you weren’t in the mood for one of his jokes. He glanced between you and Pierre and not so subtly raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t do anything this time!” Pierre announced, hands held up beside his head in defence as he started to walk away. “Paddock Princess over here was in a bad mood before I said anything.”

You watched him head off for a second before your attention went back to Lando. You tried to dodge his hand when he reached for your sunglasses but he was too quick, pulling them right off your face.

“You’ve been crying.”

“You should get inside before it really starts to rain.”

“Look either we keep stating the obvious or we talk about what’s going on,” Lando demanded, not giving you any other option. There was no lighthearted tone any more, no more playful attitude like he usually had when he saw you in the Paddock.

More people started to walk through the gates, people that were going to want Lando’s attention if he didn’t keep walking, you both knew this.

“Can we not have this conversation right here?” You asked him, lowering your voice as you nervously glanced around. Ideally, you wouldn’t even be having this conversation.

And in a strange twist of fate, you got what you wanted.

Lando could see right through you, he saw the hesitation just from your stance alone. The guilt in your eyes was clear even if they were slightly puffy and bloodshot. They way you refused to hold eye contact for more than a few seconds told him that something heavy weighed on your shoulders, something heavy enough to take out the both of you.

And Lando didn’t want to have this conversation either.

He might not have known exactly what was on your mind, but he didn’t need to ask anything to know it wasn’t good. That and how quick you were to turn him away last night, it was all starting to add up. No words needed to be spoken.

He handed your sunglasses back to you and nodded slightly, like he was accepting the outcome of this, like he knew he couldn’t change your mind, so why bother trying? He walked right past you without saying anything, but that’s what you wanted right?

No conversation was easier than laying it all out on the table. It was easier to accept the reality as it was than to hear yourself say the words ‘we can’t be together’.

You slid the sunglasses back on your face and waited a few seconds before heading towards Ferrari, making sure to stay on the opposite side of the paddock. Neither one of you so much as glanced at the other. You heard his name being called before you walked up the bright red steps and the moment you entered the motorhome, you let out the heaviest exhale that had been pressing against your chest.

Was it even reasonable for you to be reacting like this? You weren’t even dating.

But you were throwing away the possibility of something great, all because you knew you had to put Charles first.

He was the first person you saw when you walked inside and gathered your bearings. He was in the middle of a conversation with his assistant when you grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

“I hope you’re happy,” you spoke through a bitter laugh. “Me and Lando are done.”

He seemed confused, but when his features softened after a moment, you could tell that he was in fact pleased to hear this news.

“Good,” Charles nodded. “You shouldn’t date a driver anyway.”

“No you shouldn’t have this much say over my life, Charles,” you rubbed your hands over your face, letting what was once sorrow turn to anger. “It’s not fucking fair.”

“It’s not fair?” He raised his voice as well, neither of you caring about the handful of people that were nearby. “I put my life at risk every weekend, the least you could do is not give me something else to think about when I get in the car!”

“You don’t have to think about anything other than the points, don't worry.” You assured him. The venomous tone was impossible to miss. “And good luck today. Hopefully my heartbreak doesn’t ruin your race for you.”

Charles groaned, rolling his eyes at how dramatic he thought you were being, “Y/N-”

“Oh, no, wait, you only give a shit about my feelings when I start caring about a driver other than you, right?” You patted his shoulder, a bit of force behind it as you sucked in a sharp breath. “Brother of the year, over here.”

You walked past him and he was smart by not trying to talk to you, instead choosing to go up to his drivers room. You sat down on the couch in the hospitality lounge, lips pursed together tightly as the sound of raindrops hitting the window behind you started to grow loud enough to drown out your own thoughts.

You would have loved nothing more than for the race to start, to stand in the back of the garage and flip Charles off before he slid his helmet on. You wanted to flirt with Carlos right in front of your brother before he was inevitably dragged away. You wanted to watch the race and cheer Lando on for a change. You wanted to do anything and everything that would purposely get under his skin.

But things never seemed to work out in your favour.

It was announced the race was postponed due to the oncoming storm and you stayed right there on that couch, watching everyone else scurry around to figure out the new game plan for the day.

Charles' assistant tried talking to you at one point, but you just shook your head. She got the hint and turned right around.

You weren’t in the mood to talk to anyone in the motorhome, that was pretty obvious. If the all black outfit wasn’t enough to deter people away already, your constant crossed arms and the fact that you wore sunglasses inside sure had people second guessing whether or not they wanted to approach you during the wait.

A couple hours went by and you received a few curious looks, but the only person who didn’t give a single fuck that you were purposely trying to look reclusive, was Carlos.

He dropped down on the couch beside you, arm stretched on the back of the couch behind your shoulders as he playfully twisted the end of your ponytail around his fingers.

You yanked your hair out of his hand, “What do you want, Carlos?”

“Why are you in a bad mood?” He was straight to the point, you liked that about your friendship. There wasn’t any bullshit.

“I’m not,” okay maybe there was a little bullshit.

“Okay,” Carlos nodded, going right back to playing with your hair, “Why is Charles in a bad mood?”

“I don't know, it’s not my problem.”

“I think it is, hermosa,” Carlos snickered, “I think you two are each other's problems.”

“Fine, you know what,” you turned on the couch to face him. Carlos was a bit taken aback to see you give in and talk so easily, “Charles’ problem is that he thinks my life affects his and my problem is that I care too much about what Charles thinks. Do you see how this is a bad cycle for us to be in?”

Carlos paused. You could tell by the way his jaw tensed he was trying to figure out what to say, but you were purposely vague and the more time that passed with you just staring at the Ferrari driver, the more it sank in for both of you that he probably couldn’t help you.

“Is this about Lando?” Carlos eventually asked. “And how about how you two have been getting close recently?”

You inhaled a sharp breath, “This is about me practically being forced to put Charles first.”

“As opposed to…”

“Putting myself first.”

Carlos raised his eyebrows. Everything you said was just adding to the confusion and you eventually just gave up trying to keep it bottled in.

You repeated what Charles had told you last night. You told Carlos about the added risks Charles had if you started dating a driver, you shared the concerns and how guilty you felt for wanting to see things through with Lando when you knew you owed it to Charles to call things off. You expressed that you were upset and angry and broken and confused at the same time, which shouldn't have been possible.

“He told me he didn’t want me to put my happiness in a driver,” you rested your elbow on the couch, cheek to palm as you tried to ignore the pain of Charles’ words for the second time in less than 12 hours.

Carlos didn’t say anything for a few seconds. And then those seconds turned into a minute. And then that minute turned into three and you had to hit his arm to get him to look at you, worried that he had been thinking too hard and accidentally zoned out.

“Carlos,” your eyebrows furrowed together, “Say something.”

He opened his mouth, only to close it once again. You rubbed your hand over your face, wondering why you decided an F1 driver would make a good therapist.

“I just-” Carlos couldn’t get the words out. “I don’t get it, is all. When we get in the car, we know that nothing else matters except the race. Charles doesn’t have the right to pull you into the car with him, metaphorically of course. If he does that and messes up his race, that’s his own fault.”

You wished that was the case, but Charles didn’t see it like that.

“Okay, let’s say you were dating a driver, Lando, for example” Carlos started off, dragging his fingers over his lower lip. “Charles is the one who needs to learn how to separate it. He needs to learn when it’s time to see Lando as the competition and when to see Lando as the person who makes you happy.” Carlos dropped his hand to your leg, “That isn’t on you. That’s on him.”

“But it’s just going to make his life difficult and I don’t want that for him.”

“Charles is a grown man I think he can figure it out,” Carlos’s assuring smile spread across his face. “Plus with the amount of gossip that goes on in the paddock, I don’t get why this, your happiness, is what he’s choosing to make you feel guilty for.”

You nodded in agreement before Carlos’ words actually hit you.

“Wait,” you pointed a finger at him. “What gossip?”

Carlos instantly knew he messed up, “I didn’t-”

“What. Gossip.”

But his silence said it all. This fucking Pierre bullshit was coming back to haunt you again. You dropped your hands to your face and let out a muffled scream. There were a handful of people who were nearby who gave you a look of concern, but none of them mattered.

When you looked at Carlos again, his face had gone red.

“So you know and Charles knows?” You asked. “About me and Pierre?”

“Well he doesn’t-” he shrugged. “Charles has an idea but he’s not going to ask you or Pierre about it. He can pretend it didn’t happen if you never confirm it.”

“But he knows,” you clarified. It wasn’t your fault that Charles just wouldn’t accept the reality of what happened. “He knows and yet somehow, that doesn’t affect him on the track? He can race Pierre like normal but the second I’m actually happy with someone, it’s game over?”

Again, Carlos didn’t know how to respond and this time, you weren’t sticking around and waiting for him to. You stood up from the couch and walked up the stairs of the motorhome, knowing your brother was in his driver's room. Carlos was hot on your heels, probably regretting having dug this past up because whether he liked it or not, he was now caught in the middle of it.

You didn’t even knock on Charles’ door, you just swung it open. Charles was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, half dressed for the upcoming race. His fireproof long sleeve was on but his drivers’ suit was hanging around his hips. He looked up at you, confused as to why you just barged in.

You just blurted it out.

“J'ai baisé Pierre.” I fucked Pierre.

Charles’ mouth dropped.

You repeat yourself, in English this time. “I had sex with Pierre.”

He stood up, looking at Carlos behind you for help, but Carlos was just as stunned as he was.

Finally, you said it in Italian, just to get the message across loud and clear. “Ho dormito con il tuo migliore amico." I slept with your best friend.

Charles was speechless. He tried to sputter out the word ‘what’ but he had no voice. He just kept shaking his head, as if that would do anything.

“And-” you decided to keep going. Everything was already up in flames so why not keep feeding the fire, right?

You turned and grabbed Carlos’ shirt to pull him towards you. Before he had time to react, you pressed your lips to his. For a second, you did panic about not knowing whether or not he would even consent to this but when you felt Carlos start to kiss you back after a few seconds, presumably forgetting his teammate and your brother was standing right in front of you, you figured it was fine.

You pulled back and looked at Charles, “-I just kissed your teammate.”

“What the fuck-”

“I like Lando,” you harshly cut him off.

This was the first time you were saying it without the word maybe in front or i think following it. This was also the first time you didn’t feel any sort of hesitation. It was freeing.

“I like him. And I don’t know how strong these feelings are, I don’t know if they’ll last, all I know is that he makes me so stupidly happy, and selfishly-” you used his word against him. “-I want to hold onto that for as long as I can.”

You felt Carlos tap your shoulder and you held up a finger towards him, indicating that this was not the time to dissect that kiss.

Charles looked ready to strangle you. And Carlos, but mostly you. “Y/N why are you saying this? Why did you just kiss him?” He gestured to his teammate. “What the fuck is going on? I race today and you think it’s smart to drop all of this on me?”

“Charles, you seem to think that what happens in my life affects yours, more specifically affects what you do on the track and I don’t think that’s the case.” You took a step forward, keeping your voice as calm and reasonable as possible as you said what you should have told him last night.

“Really, it’s just what you choose to do with the information that you’re given and now you know everything. Now there’s three drivers on the track you might see differently as opposed to one and I know you. I know you’re a strong enough driver, and strong enough mentally, to not let any of this get to you. If you want your emotions to get in the way when you’re in the car, that’s on you. That’s not on me.”

There was definitely an easier way to go about this conversation. You didn’t have to walk in announcing you had sex with his best friend and kissing Carlos probably wasn’t needed, but it all furthered your point.

“My life is intertwined with yours. It has been since I decided to accompany you to all of these races and yes, I will be your biggest supporter but I will also live my own life at the same time,” slowly but surely you could see Charles' shoulders drop as he started to untense. “You can’t blame my feelings for Lando if you have a shitty race, okay? You can’t blame me.”

You started to back up and Carlos stepped out of the way for you.

“Where the hell are you going now?” Charles asked.

“To fix things,” you waved off his concern and practically ran down the stairs and out the front doors of Ferrari.

You were sprinting as you made your way down the paddock. The rain was coming down hard now and your eyes were set on the McLaren motorhome.

You probably looked insane. Running down the puddle-filled paddock in platform boots without an umbrella but in all honesty, this was probably the best time for a grand gesture. Everyone who worked for the media was finding shelter right now, you were in the clear.

You walked up the steps but someone from the team who had been standing outside under the awning stopped you before you could reach for the door.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Leclerc, you can’t just go in there, not without an invitation,” he told you, obviously recognising you as being Charles’ sister. It made sense. You were, by association, with Ferrari.

“I need to talk to Lando,” you wiped at your eyes, pushing the wet strands of hair out of your face. You felt around for your phone but came up empty handed, figuring you must have left it back on the couch in Ferrari. “Please, two seconds. That’s all I need. Tell him I need to talk to him.”

He held up a finger and opened the door to head inside. You waited for a second but your clothes were soaking, your hair was sticking to your face and neck. Your make up was ruined and the rain was freezing cold, so obviously you walked inside as well.

A hush fell over the motorhome when the door shut behind you. Mostly because you stood out like a sore thumb. Everyone was wearing orange, you were the only one dressed in all black and you were the only one who looked like they just jumped into a pool with all of their clothes on.

You smiled awkwardly, shoulders tightening as you pressed your back to the door. You were wondering who was going to say something first, who was going to kick you out, and surprisingly the one who spoke up was Oscar.

“For christ sakes get her a towel or something,” Oscar called out, standing up from the table he sat at. You mouthed a quick thank you to him.

You and Oscar had never exchanged a single word before, maybe a smile here or there, but you were truly appreciative that he acknowledged you as someone who just needed to dry off right now, not as someone who was associated with Ferrari.

Someone who worked with Hospitality crossed the floor with a few clean dish towels, telling you it was all she had at the moment. You thanked her and then looked up at Oscar who was also making his way to you.

“Hi,” you breathed out, ringing out your hair. “I know I shouldn’t be here-”

“Oh I don’t mind at all,” Oscar laughed. “I take it you’re here for Lando?”

You didn’t nod. You actually didn’t say anything, your mouth just fell open and you forgot how to breathe when you realised that Lando had most likely told his teammate about you.

“I might be,” you reluctantly answered. “I might also be here because I heard that you guys have the best espresso machine.”

“Espresso is a piss poor reason to venture outside during a storm.”

You chuckled, nodding in agreement as you wiped the cloth under your eyes. The amount of makeup that had transferred to the towel was horrendous. You didn’t even want to know what you looked like right now.

“Is he-” you glanced towards the staircase behind him. Why was it so hard for you to finish your sentences? Why was Lando clouding every one of your thoughts to the point that you couldn’t get more than a few words out? Why did he affect you so much?

At that moment, the security from earlier started to descend the stairs. Instinctively, you stood closer to Oscar, trying to make it seem as though he was the one who invited you in.

“He’s busy,” was all the McLaren employee said.

“Bullshit he’s busy,” you spat, coming across much harsher than you intended to. “The race is postponed, he’s not doing anything!”

“He told me to tell you he’s busy.”

You looked at Oscar, it was obvious he felt a little awkward standing in the middle of the conversation, but he wanted to help. What was good for his teammate was ultimately good for the team and Oscar so desperately hoped you weren’t here with malicious intent.

“You can hang out in my driver's room,” he offered, his lips curving upwards into a smile. Oscar turned to the security, “She’s my guest too, it’s fine.”

This employee knew Oscar was lying through his teeth and all three of you knew Oscar’s room was right next to Lando’s. But because you were given the go-ahead from a McLaren driver himself, he couldn’t do anything to prevent you from walking up the stairs, boots squeaking against the floor the entire way.

Glancing over your shoulder, you shot Oscar a thankful smile and he gave you a thumbs up. Part of you felt horrible for never giving him the time of day before. Subconsciously, you saw him as the driver who replaced Daniel and held a bit of a personal vendetta, but it was clear he had a good heart.

You waited until the security guard looked away before sneaking around the corner to where Lando’s room was located. You read his name on the plaque a few times and thought about knocking, but if he knew you were outside the door he wouldn’t open it.

So you turned the handle and pushed the door open. Lando wasn’t even in his racing suit, opting for a pair of joggers and a hoodie as he waited for the race start to be announced. He was leaning against the massage bed and looked up from his phone, barely even acknowledging you before turning right back to his phone.

“I don’t really feel up to chatting right now,” Lando muttered.

“Fine then just listen,” you walked in and shut the door behind you.

Your heart was pounding and you would have liked to blame your trembling on the fact that you were just standing in the rain but you knew it was because you were finally about to be honest with Lando.

“I think I made a mistake,” you stated. Lando didn’t look up, choosing to disregard your words. You couldn’t blame him. You went from barely being able to look at him a few hours ago to dramatically confessing your feelings. “I didn’t want to admit it before, but Lando I really- I like you.”

“Yeah you like a lot of things,” Lando was unamused as he scratched the side of his face. “You like chocolate cheesecake, you like daisies, you like Daniel’s merch-” he inhaled a sharp breath, still keeping his eyes on his phone. “You like speaking French over Italian, you like supporting the underdogs, you like that you have a presence in the Paddock.” This was taking a turn, “You don’t like driving, you like when someone understands your humour, you like putting your family first even if it means putting yourself last, you love cooking, you have a weird obsession with shitty movies.”

Finally he looked up.

“You like when people compliment you but you never know how to respond. You like being needed but you don’t like needing someone. You don’t like the unknown which is why a relationship scares you, regardless of who it's with. You like leading me on because you don’t care about the consequences afterwards and I fall for every word you say, every hypothetical you tease, because I think that maybe this time, it’ll be different, and do you want to know why I know all of this? Why I've put up with all of it?”

This seemed like a rhetorical question but you responded meekly anyway, “Why?”

Lando paused. He pushed himself away from the bench and walked towards you slowly. His jaw tightened, there was no trace of a smile. Even if what he had to say was good in nature, it was only going to destroy you.

“Because I like you,” he said, sounding so sure of himself and simultaneously like he wanted to take back those words the second he said them. “But I’m not about to waste my time at this halfway point with you. There’s a line here and I’m willing to cross it, to meet you so far past the middle it to make this work, but I don’t think you can say the same. So until you decide, fully and completely, what you want…stop stringing me along.”

Lando had never been so serious before.

Your entire friendship, relationship, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it, was playful and fun and he was the reason why your jaw hurt from laughing. He was the person who wanted to take care of you, to make you smile and now he was so close to giving up on all of that, all because you were going to put Charles first.

You genuinely couldn’t blame him. You had been back and forth for weeks. It may not have clicked until now, but you had been leading him on. He had done so much for you and practically overnight, you were nearly ready to forget all of it.

There was a knock on the door. Neither of you made the move to answer it, instead letting whoever was on the other side inform Lando through the wall that it was time to change and head down to the garage.

He was waiting for you to say something. He was waiting for you to tell him that you wanted him. And you knew you did, but why couldn’t you open your mouth? Why did your fears outweigh what was right in front of you? Why was it still so hard to let yourself be happy with Lando?

Lando nodded, accepting once again that no answer was probably better than the answer he didn’t want to hear. He gestured towards the handle of the door. Without saying a word, he was politely asking you to leave.

And because you still couldn’t say anything, because you couldn’t meet him halfway, you left. You stepped out in the hallway, avoiding the eyes of nearby McLaren employees as you walked down the stairs. You passed Oscar before reaching the front doors and he gave you a hopeful look, curious if all was worked out between you and his teammate.

You shook your head, still unable to find your voice.

When you stepped outside, it was still raining but it had eased up. It was a light drizzle compared to the storm you ran through earlier.

By the time you made it back to Ferrari, most people had already left to go to the pitlane and the garage.

An exception to that was Charles.

“Don’t,” you demanded. You didn’t want to hear anything from him, but he was clearly waiting for you. He didn’t comment on your rung out appearance or your smeared makeup. It wasn’t his place to, anyway. He just stood up and walked over to you, zipping up his racing suit in the process.

“I stand by what I said,” Charles declared and all you could do was roll your eyes as he continued. “You shouldn’t put your happiness in a driver.”

“And what if I already did?” You retorted, quite loudly. “What if I already did and I didn’t realise it until it was too late and now- and now I have nothing? What if I’m worse off now than I was before?”

For a split second, you could see it in his features. Charles was conflicted too.

There was Formula 1 driver Charles Leclerc. The man fighting for championship winning points. The guy who risked his life every time he stepped into the cockpit of the car.

And then there was your older brother. The one who hated that he was the one who put you in this situation. Your brother, the one who said he wanted to keep you safe, was the sole reason there was a sense of vulnerability and emptiness looming over you.

You didn’t feel those things because you had feelings for Lando. You felt those things because Charles made you feel guilty for supporting someone other than him.

And even after everything, after you came to the realisation that you wanted Lando, after you dropped a bombshell on your brother, after you ran across the paddock for some stupid grand gesture, where did you find yourself?

Standing in front of Charles.

No wonder Lando had his doubts with you.

“I can’t be here,” you admitted, your chest feeling tight once again. “I can’t watch the race, I’m sorry.”

For once, Charles wasn’t going to stand in your way. He had done enough damage.

“Take the plane back to Monaco if you want, there’s a car that will take you the airport-”

“No, I’m not going to Monaco,” you shook your head. Monaco was the last place you wanted to go. You didn’t want to walk into your empty flat. There was nothing for you there.

There was nothing for you here either. You couldn't stand to look at Charles. Lando wasn't going to talk to you until you figured out what your intentions were but you couldn't figure it out if you were watching a race. You needed to leave.

And you needed to go to the one place that actually felt like home.

masterlist here

taglist: @moneymasnn@thotd-f1 @masonspulisic @mcmuppet@f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @themisric @happydazzz123 @moonxblossom @norrisleclercf1 @scarlettisconfused @sbgal @e-lisa-bettan @harrysdimple05 @ophcelia @alesainz @fandomxs1 @majx00 @sbgal @mehrmonga @themockingjayreader @f1mockingjay @topguncultleader if i missed anyone im so sorry

#lando norris #lando norris au #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris social media au #lando norris fic #f1 requests #f1 #f1 fic #formula 1 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #holllandtrash

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munson-blurbs · 2 months

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie's rejection made you question your own hopes and dreams, but the consequences were even more dire for him. (3.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, homelessness, depiction of alcoholism, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter three: turn the lights back on

Eddie left during Dad’s shift on Friday. Over the years, there were more than a handful of guests who’d put up a fight when check out day arrived, but he wasn’t one of them.

When you’d inquired about his departure, as nonchalantly as you could, Dad only said that Eddie had signed the log and walked off without any formal goodbye.

“What time?”

“Six-thirty, or thereabouts. No later than seven.”

Almost as if he’d waited for you to clock out. Purposely avoiding you.

You shrugged off the thought, chastising yourself for taking a harmless coincidence so personally. Maybe he had to be somewhere early or wanted to beat the rush hour traffic. Maybe he didn’t even take your presence—or lack thereof—into consideration.

He did, however, swipe the blanket from his bed, leaving behind just the pillow and a rumpled sheet. Disappointment wove its way through your veins at its finality. He was simply another guest, another face stored in the depths of your memory with some many other one-timers.

Making a mental note to replace the blanket before the summer crowd arrived, you stripped the remaining sheet and pillowcase and made the bed with clean ones. The fabric was so worn that it was nearly transparent, barely concealing the litany of stains that decorated the old mattress.

Eddie didn’t appear to have added any to the collection. That was something, you supposed.

Your Friday and Saturday evenings were always spent the same way: watching groups of friends traipse up and down the boulevard, laughing at jokes that were only funny because everyone was on the right side of tipsy. Rain or shine, teenagers could always be counted on to frequent the local bars and liquor stores that didn't bother to check for identification.

Sundays brought the usual sense of existential dread; the week ahead was daunting and the week prior was a blur of exhaustion. A new guest checked in, an older woman who’d missed her flight out of LaGuardia and needed a place to stay until the next plane took off in the morning. You almost put her in room four, the key temptingly dangling from its hook, but you plucked the one for room three instead.

And then Monday arrived, baring its ugly teeth in a menacing grimace. It exhaled a rancid puff of morning breath, the same smell that belched from the bus’s tailpipe.

Backpack sagging low with the weight of overpriced textbooks, you dragged yourself towards the bus stop. Your only reprieve is that today marked the last week of classes. All that remained after that was finals week, and then you were done.

The typical small collection of commuters greeted you in traditional New York City fashion: tired half-smiles with a respectful lack of eye contact that you reflexively reciprocated. One of the older men sat on the bench, but the normally empty spot next to him was occupied by none other than Eddie Munson. He kept his guitar case safely clenched between his thighs, his garbage bag suitcase leaning against his left leg.

Curiosity nudged you and wormed its way into your thoughts. Where was he going? Was he staying at a different motel, one that had cable so he could watch MTV whenever he needed?

Or maybe he was en route to Port Authority so he could high-tail it back to not-New York, to his hometown where people considered it polite to strike up conversations with strangers.

Wherever his destination was, it was no longer your problem.

If he noticed you, he gave no indication. His vacant stare never left the ground, vaguely looking up one time to light a cigarette. He cupped a hand around the flame, blocking his view of you.

It was probably better that way.

The bus hissed as it pulled up to the stop and the doors hinged open to let passengers board. Would he sit next to you? Would he position himself as far away as possible? Or was he wholly indifferent, regarding the exchange as out of sight and out of mind?

Taking a seat towards the back, you searched for him in the sea of faces. You could apologize, explain you were only trying to help and never meant to embarrass him, and the two of you could part ways knowing that you didn’t look down on him.

But there was no sign of the frizzy curls that he wore like a crown, no guitar case inching into the aisle. For all intents and purposes, this bus was an Eddie Munson-free zone.

A disappointed ache settled in your chest and you massaged your sternum in hopes of alleviating it. When the driver turned the wheel away from the curb, you caught a glimpse of Eddie through the fingerprint-smudged window, sitting on the bench just as he had since you’d arrived.

Except this time, he was looking directly at you. It was intentional; he’d seen you waiting at the stop and waited until conversation was an impossibility before daring to glance your way.

He averted his gaze the moment your eyes locked onto his. It was so fast that you worried that you’d imagined it. A sleep-deprived hallucination, even.

You didn’t stop looking even as the bus left the stop. You watched him toss his cigarette butt to the ground and crush it with the sole of his sneaker. You watched him take another one and place it between his lips. You watched trembling fingers dig into his jacket pocket and take out the lighter once again.

He was out of sight before you could see a spark.

Excitement hummed through campus, a live wire that electrified even you. It was hard to ignore the end-of-semester buzz, especially with the sun warming the air in a soft spotlight.

Other students sat on the quad, blankets tucked underneath them as they ate lunch with friends. Their mouths moved in conversations about exam cramming and upcoming parties and post-graduation plans. You wanted to bottle their lightheartedness and carry it around with you, dipping into it when life got too serious and dabbing it on your pulse points like perfume.

Fluorescent bulbs replaced the natural light as you walked the hall towards the classroom. You slid into your usual spot and placed your bag on the adjacent chair to reserve it for Nora. Until she arrived, you’d be left alone with only your thoughts to keep you company.

Great.

The memory of the other night, of Eddie’s sullen expression and the way his lips hardened into a frown, was a stone in your stomach.

How could he think that you pitied him, looked down on him for his circumstances? Wasn’t it obvious from the motel’s disrepair that you weren’t exactly living in the lap of luxury either? And yet, he’d perceived your attempt at an alliance as some sort of enemy threat. You wanted to shake his shoulders and yell, “we’re on the same team!” but it would probably just bounce off of his MTV-obsessed brain without him ever processing it.

Eddie’s reaction wasn’t the only part of the confrontation that bothered you. No, what really drove you to the brink of insanity was that the confrontation bothered you at all.

How many guests were snippy or even downright mean to you over the years? How many had raised their voice over the most trivial matter? You had lost count of the number of times someone had spat the word ‘bitch’ in your direction because of low water pressure or a lightbulb that needed replacing.

And yet, this is the instance that grated at you, had you wondering if he’d looked away from you this afternoon out of disdain, guilt, embarrassment, or some combination of the three.

It shouldn’t have even mattered. So what if he hated you? He was out of the motel, which meant that his problems were no longer your concern.

The click of the door being wrenched open forced you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

“Last week of classes!” Nora trilled with a wide grin. She practically skipped to your side, slinging her backpack over the wooden chair back. “Then we have finals,” she contorted her face in disgust before resuming her excited disposition, “and then we graduate!”

She plopped down in her seat, adjusting her body to face you. “That reminds me; we should probably figure out where we’re going to meet before the ceremony, because I am not sitting through that alo—what?” She frowned when you flinched, the realization setting in. “Nonono, don’t tell me you’re not going.”

“Sorry,” you offered half-heartedly. The pen markings on your desk suddenly became incredibly interesting, and you rubbed your forefinger over them in a feeble attempt to end the conversation.

As usual, Nora refused to accept defeat. “Still haven’t told your parents?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, you’ve got two weeks.” She clapped you on the back a bit too harshly, her lips pinched with an edge of impatience. “Time to put on those big-girl panties.”

She meant well–she always did, doing everything in her power to encourage you to pursue the career you wanted. But she just didn’t understand the mounting pressure to be what your family needed, or how you were constantly towing the line between selfishness and dignity. One step in the wrong direction and you would either crush your parents’ dreams or your own. And while there had to be some gray area there, it was overshadowed by the polarizing categories.

“I’ll try.”

You won’t.

You spent the class forcing yourself to listen to the professor, jotting down notes every so often when you could remember to do so.

Paying attention to lectures, final papers and exams, the graduation ceremony–it all seemed asinine when you considered your failure to help people on the most basic level. Like with Eddie: as hard as you tried to emphasize the mutual benefits of him working at the motel, you’d still inadvertently offended him.

When were you going to learn to stop extending help to people who weren’t asking for any? In these situations, you tossed logic aside to make room for emotion. It had been that way since you first began to understand that answers to life’s problems were seldom clear-cut.

There was one day in particular, where rain fell in sheets and your only option was to play indoors. You were jumping rope in the lobby, excitedly counting along with each skip.

“Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty—”

The rope smacked against your ankles, but you were too distracted to feel the sting. Your eyes were glued to a man who was stumbling towards the front desk. He wobbled in his whiskey-drenched cloud, mumbling something incoherent under his breath before collapsing to the ground in sudden hysterical sobs.

“Everything okay, sir?” Dad asked. His inconspicuous hand motioned you towards your room, but you froze in place. It wasn’t fear so much as shock that a grown-up was having a temper tantrum.

The man didn’t answer; instead, he took a swig from the brown paper bag clutched in his hand. Amber liquid trickled out from between his lips as he cried, and he slowly pushed himself up and out the front door without acknowledging anyone else’s presence. Raindrops pelted down on his head and matted whatever hair was left on his head

“Why was he crying?” You’d asked Dad, the jump rope now all but forgotten. “And what was in the bag?”

Dad gave you a small smile and did his best to explain the adult situation to a child. Even now, you remembered him talking about how drinking alcohol can make people feel happy, sad, or angry. He omitted the fact that all three emotions could occur in the same person, in the same moment, but your eight-year-old mind wouldn’t have comprehended that anyway.

Ever inquisitive, you continued asking questions. “But if it makes him sad, why doesn’t he just stop?”

“It’s not that easy,” Dad said with a tight grimace.

You’d considered his response for a moment, eyes lighting up when you conjured up a brilliant idea. “What if we go in his room and throw out all of his alcohol!” You tugged on Dad’s hand, expecting him to reciprocate your enthusiasm, but he’d stayed where he was and shook his head.

“Afraid it doesn’t work that way, kiddo. He’s gotta want to stop drinking first.”

It hadn’t made sense to you then, and though you’d learned about the nuances of addiction as the years crept by, it didn’t do much to quell your frustration. Any solution being beyond your control was a piranha ripping into your ambitions with its razor-sharp teeth.

The Eddie situation gave you that same helpless feeling. If you could turn back the clock, you would have done something different. You weren’t sure exactly what would be different, but it would almost certainly be better than your spur-of-the-moment offer last Wednesday.

But since time travel was out of the question and Eddie was no longer one of your guests, both he and his problems were out of your hands.

If only your heart could accept that.

A reel of your shortcomings played in your mind on a continuous loop; it still gnawed at you as class was dismissed, the professor calling out a reminder about final paper submission while you and Nora walked out the door.

“Are you okay?” She frowned and put out a gentle hand to bring you to a stop.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

She wasn’t falling for that lame excuse, not when something heavier than sleep marred your face. “Seriously. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you ever feel like you’ll never actually help anyone?”

The words came out in a rush before you could curtail them. Wincing, you allowed yourself a peek at your friend’s expression. Confusion knitted her brows together, but her arms stayed at her sides.

“What do you mean?” Her words were soft and careful, distinctly absent of judgment or condescension.

A monologue of response was lodged in your throat. It was a thought you held inside, silently rehearsed but never dared to speak aloud:

Are we really going to make a difference? Or enough of a difference that it even matters? Like when you see a homeless person and you give them some money, or buy them something to eat. And you feel good for a split second, because now that person isn’t going to be hungry for a little while, right? But then you pass by another homeless person. And another. And you realize that, to them, it doesn’t matter that you helped someone else. Because those other people are still hungry.

You said none of it, swallowing the words and replacing them with a, “never mind, I’m too in my own head today.”

Nora nodded, not wanting to push too hard, but you knew she was teeming with questions. She offered a small smile that told you the conversation wasn’t over, just paused temporarily.

A nod of your own sealed the compromise.

The rest of the afternoon played out without a hiccup. Lunch was your usual greasy sandwich from Niko with a side of his irritated banter, this time about the price of gas.

“You girls think it won’t affect you because you take the bus,” he warned, finger wagging between you and Nora, “but just watch them hike up the fare. It’s only a matter of time. Especially with those new card things you gotta use.”

His fears were unfounded, at least for the moment, and you and Nora each dropped $1.25 into the coin slot.

“About what you said earlier,” she started, finding space to wrap her hands on the pole, “we don’t have to talk about it—”

“Please.”

“–but I need to tell you one thing.” Her eyes held firmly onto yours. “If anyone’s gonna make a difference in this shitty world, it’s you.”

The compliment should have illuminated you from the inside out; instead, it was a firefly’s light, barely bright enough to cast a shadow with its pathetic flickering. You ached to believe her, but it was impossible to imagine that the same person who wouldn’t tell her parents a simple truth could also change the world.

“Thanks.” One word compounded with a forced smile, and the truce snapped back in place. Weighing potential conversation topics, you settled on the most neutral–the final paper for your class–and launched yourself into it with as much enthusiasm as you could summon for the remainder of the ride home.

There was no overt sign of Eddie when your bus pulled up to the stop. Not at first. The only indication of him was a familiar mint-colored blanket tightly wrapped around a lump laying across the bench.

It wasn’t until you stepped off of the bus and got closer that you could make out the curly brunette tendrils peeking out from the top, the blanket rising and falling with each breath he took. His face was hidden and his eyelids were screwed shut in fitful sleep, allowing you to hold onto the false hope that it wasn’t him, just someone with a similar build and hair texture. Even the frayed hems of his jeans and his scuffed sneakers sticking out from the other end of the blanket could have been a coincidence.

But there was no denying the truth once you caught a glimpse of the guitar case being hugged to his chest.

Just keep walking. Stop trying to fix things that you didn’t break. Things that didn’t ask to be fixed.

Your conscience trumped logic once again as two fingertips gently pressed against his blanket-wrapped shoulder.

“Eddie?”

His eyes flew open in an instant, revealing the delicate red lines that scarred the whites and meandered towards his brown irises. He clenched the guitar case even tighter as he jolted upright, protecting it like it was his child, and the sudden movement sent a handful of empty beef jerky wrappers floating to the ground.

Sunlight streamed through the glass panes, fragmented where it had been shattered by a rogue baseball or perhaps the crown of someone’s head, though you would have heard about it if it was the latter. It backlit him in an angelic glow, a halo comically contradicting his bitter expression.

“Fuckin’ shit–don’t scare me like that!”

The gentle, rhythmic inhales and exhales were long gone, replaced by a frantic fight-or-flight panting that flared out his nostrils. His hardened jawline softened a bit once he’d fully clawed himself out of his sleepy haze and realized that the person in front of him wasn’t a threat, just a nuisance.

“I told you; I don’t need your charity.” His lips set into a scowl and he laid back down on the bench, tugging the blanket back up to his chin.

That’s it. Conversation over. Go home.

“You certainly need my blanket, though.” Raising one eyebrow, you thumbed at the thin material to make your point.

Eddie only doubled down, sitting up once more to ball up the blanket and toss it in your direction. “Here ya go. It’s all yours.”

You caught it with one hand, the loose threads tickling your forearm.

“That’s not what I meant.” A hiss of air passed through your teeth. This was the perfect opportunity to leave him behind, to go somewhere you were needed and wanted. He had been making it abundantly clear that he’d rather live outside than spend another second with you.

And yet.

“I’m not just gonna let you sleep out here.” Tone thick with insistence, you mustered up all of your determination. The blanket was now tucked beneath your underarm and sopping up the pooling perspiration. “And it’s only a matter of time before you get mugged. With that thing,” you gesture to the instrument still in his grasp, “I’m surprised it hasn’t already happened. So you can either stay at the motel and re-wallpaper the lobby or you can kiss your precious guitar goodbye.”

Fire burned behind your eyes as you spoke, each word adding kindling. You couldn’t tell if you were doing this for his safety or your own pride, but both led to the same outcome.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just scraped his top teeth over the dead skin on his lower lip, drawing a speck of blood that went unnoticed. You stayed silent, too, the weight of his impending decision anchoring your tongue.

Finally he nodded, slowly at first, then faster as desperation seeped in, but he remained steadfast in his refusal to meet your eyes.

“Fine.” Eddie’s breath was shaky, teetering on the brink of tears, but none fell. “Just until I find a paying gig.”

He grabbed the neck of his guitar with one hand and pressed on his knee with the other. Fixing his posture, he stood tall in hopes that no one walking by would equate him with the pitiful mess who had been sleeping at a bus stop in a stolen blanket.

“Okay,” you agreed with a quiet breath, a cautious smile playing on your lips as the two of you walked back to the motel. You stayed two steps in front of him, leading the way.

He could turn heel and run. He could back out at any moment and you’d never see him again. But when you unlocked the door to room four–Eddie’s room–he was still behind you.

“I can take the blanket back,” he said, motioning to the bundle under your arm as he stepped over the threshold and into the room.

Like a phantom appendage, you’d forgotten it was there. “No. I’ll get you a fresh one.” You shook your head, finalizing the matter.

“Okay.”

No hesitation. No argument.

Maybe there was a chance you could actually help him. Maybe you didn’t ruin everything you touched.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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WIBTA if i tell my thesis coordinator, about one of my groupmates lack of comitment?

I want to start saying english is not my first language, and give some over all info. I am writing this on the 28th of November, 2023, a Tuesday. I am a Game Design major.

Ok, so i am doing my thesis work, and for what we thought it was going super well!

We have 5 members in our group, me, the game designer, 2 artist (M and B) and 2 programers (A and P).

As I said I thought things were going fine, we had a dead line for monday, yesterday as I am writing this, and we planned to have everything done by Sunday, with monday being a playtest by 3 people or so.

Both artists had all tasks done by wednesday and friday, and both were helping me with formating the big game design document 194 pages long baby! Wich got done by saturday night. However, I got informed by P that there were some issues with the code for the game, and they were gonna try and fix it by monday afternoon. It comes monday and i try and talk to both programers to get info on the game, and A tells me he can't talk cuse he is to busy and that he needs me to write the conclusion of our thesis paper. I found it weird that he asked me that now, since he said the writing was done on June! I believed that we only had to add some in game screenshots, but I write it the conclusion without any arguments.

Anyway, me and the other 2 artists get in a call to check the prsentation slides, and M says she has something important to talk about. B joins and the truth comes out. M explains that A has been doing another persons thesis coding work, not helping, but doing it entirely! We were super surprised and she asks us to not tell anyone else, and says this has been going on for a while, and she did confront A about it a week back, and he promissed he wasn't gonna work on the other guys project. Turns out he did work on it mutiple times, and even filmed the walktrough of the game for the guy. As I am writing this, A has told her he was working on this today.

Before we continue with this mess, I want to explain how M has found this out. A few months back A did tell her he was helping this other guy out with the code, he is a good programer and this dude is doing the thesis by himself, so she didn't think much of it, but a few weeks back, when she was asking A to implement some assets she had finished, he said he was to busy with Guy's project to do it. At this point she realised how much he was involved, and let me tell you, M knows how to extract information, she now knows A is also being PAID for it, he guy owns 500 bucks to A from what I gathered, besides what has alredy been paid. ANYWAYS let's get back to this mess.

I was so tired I couldn't even really react, and just did what I had to do that day, by this point I gathered we wouldn't be able to do the playtest, and write the thesis conclusion acordingly. Around 10 PM the programers tell me the game still has a few glitches but they have uploaded it to the google drive, and i do a one over and send in the file for avaluation.

I spent today mostly relaxing, reading and watching some videos, but around 7pm i am consumed by the anger and betrayel i couldn't feel yesterday, and I talk to B about what happened

We agreed we had to confront M about the situation, and since me and B were not supposed to know about it, she had to talk to A. She said she alredy did, and told us that A was planing on talking to everyone on the next meeting (tomorrow), however, i argue that P needs to know beforehand, since this situation is horrible and he could lash out if A just dropped this on him, us 3 agree and invite P to the group.

Turns out A has told P about it today, but he was so tired from the past few days, he had no energy to react.

We talked a lot, and we agreed we need to talk to our coordinator about this hole mess, wich is probably gonna happen the following days.

So, WIBTA for airing this mess?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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varijeri · 7 months

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so i was watching Fit's stream and he was cleaning up a Federation outpost.... what's up with the outpost names huh? long post warning TL;DR at bottom.

Sector A's outpost names are derived from Slavic mythology; specifically special places from the myths. after searching these names online i found this website: https://meettheslavs.com/slavic-mythological-places/ taking from the website; 1. there's a "mystical mountain of Vitor" that's "built in heaven" and "hard to find because it changes its location as soon as the wind blows in a different direction". it's also said to have dragons living on it (this is the one Fit was sent to for repairs, and it also had weird blue draconic-looking creatures around it. it was also an icy mountain...) 2. there's a "Buyan/Bujan Island", described to "appear and disappear with the tides" and be the "dwelling place of three brothers, the Northern, Western and Eastern winds". 3. there's a "Kingdom of Opona", an "imaginary place [that] existed at the edge of the Earth which [ancient Russians] imagined as a flat plane." it was believed "free and happy [peasants]" lived in this country under a "true and just" ruler. 4. there's a "Vyraj/Viraj", a "resting place for the souls and spirits" AKA the equivalent of Heaven in Slavic mythology. it's "a place where birds find their retreat in the winter". (notably this outpost is inactive) 5. lastly there's a "Nav/Nawia", a "mysterious place for the souls of the dead", and "often interpreted as another version of the imaginary place Vyraj", so AKA Hell or the Underworld. (the Hell outpost is active but not the Heaven outpost???) If Outpost Vitor sort of matches the description from the myth, maybe the other outposts do too? so like Bujan is on an island in the sea, Opona is super far out in a village maybe, Viraj and Nawia i have no clue... Sector B's outpost names are derived from Norse mythology; specifically Norse gods. being a nerd i noticed this instantly which was what tipped me off to search up Sector A's names. taking from various sources, but mostly from their Wikipedia articles: 1. "Tyr" is an one-armed god representing justice and fair treaties despite being a god of war, who lost his arm in the process of binding Fenrir the wolf. he dies in Ragnarök. 2. "Odin/Woden/Wodan" is the ruler of Asgard, the All-Father, and the one-eyed god of wisdom war, and death. he presided over Valhalla, a sacred hall that housed dead warriors in preparation for Ragnarok. he dies in Ragnarök. 3. "Thor/Donar" is probably the most popular Norse god, the god of thunder. the embodiment of strength, he is the protector of the Æsir and the humans. he dies in Ragnarök. 4. "Máni" is the god of the Moon and brother of Sol, the goddess of the Sun. they is eternally chased by Skoll and Hati, two wolves who seek to plunge the world into chaos by eating the Sun and Moon. he dies in Ragnarök. 5. Outpost Frïja I believe is "Frigg", the Queen of Asgard and the goddess of marriage, family and motherhood. she lives in Ragnarök. notably, all five gods (and goddess) lend their names to days of the week (Máni -> Monday, Tyr -> Tuesday, Woden -> Wednesday, Thor -> Thursday, and Frigg -> Friday). none of these outposts are active, they are all inactive or under maintenance, so i'm inclined to believe these aren't as important right now as compared to Sector A... still, these outposts are named after Slavic and Norse myths for a reason possibly so these might be significant. Nothing particularly comes to mind but if anyone has any idea feel free to add on... TL;DR: Federation Outpost names from Fit's stream have Slavic/Norse mythology inspired names, possible significance?

#qsmp #qsmp liveblogging #qsmp theories #qsmp theory #qsmp fit #qsmp liveblog

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shattermelyhfmlblog · 17 days

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Just a bunch of facts about Aaron Warner Anderson!

Warner birthday is on 24th of April, meaning his zodiac sign is Taurus.

"Warner" is his mother's last name.

Warner has a soft spot for animals.

Warner's identification number is 45B-00001.

Warner is very meticulous with hygiene.

Mafi was inspired to create Warner because she was interested in human's capacity for good and evil.

Warner owns a collection of scented soaps.

Warner likes to take long baths.

Warner doesn't really sing in the bath, but he does hum a little.

Warner suffers from insomnia.

Warner speaks 7 languages including English, Spanish and Arabic.

Warner is afraid of spiders.

Warner hates being barefoot.

Warner drinks black coffee because he likes the bitter taste.

Warner's favourite song is Like A Rolling Stone by Bob Dylan.

Warner's workout routine is as stated: Mondays are for legs, Tuesdays are for chest, Wednesdays are fir shoulders and back, Thursdays are for triceps and deltoids and Fridays are for biceps and forearms. Everyday is for abdominals and cardio. He also spends most weekends doing target practice.

Warner can fly planes.

Warner taught himself how to ride a bike.

Warner can build and defuse his own bombs.

Warner has a soft spot for fashion.

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Credits to the writer 🩷

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lukehughes43 · 1 year

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no time for goodbyes - luke hughes

word count: 4,282

a/n: so this is technically the first installment of the coug!read x luke seeing as I still haven't finished the other fic, or even started the fic that is the beginning of coug!luke. but I was in my feels last night, so please enjoy this heart wrenching fic🫶🏼

the night had started to wind down for everyone in the sophomore house the minute you had gotten back from student teaching. the boys being exhausted from a monday afternoon practice, and you being exhausted from chasing around six-year-olds for eight hours straight. when your five sophomore hockey players walked through the front door a little after four o’clock they found you passed out on the couch, still dressed in your blue and white checkered and a plain white tee. luke was in charge of carrying you up the stairs to your room so mark and eddy’s disaster of cooking dinner wouldn’t wake you from a much-needed rest.

you woke up an hour or so later by lightly shaking you awake. mumbling a soft, “marky and eddy made dinner for us, coug.” to which immediately woke you up based on the fact the last time mark and eddy tried making dinner you almost no longer had a house due a kitchen fire. you stumbled around the practically empty bedroom, minus the boxes stacked up in the corners, before groggily booking it down the stairs to make sure everyone was still alive.

when you ran into the kitchen and dining room area the other four were seated around the dining table in their unofficial seats, smiles on their faces waiting for you to finally join them in order to have one of the last meals together as a found family. after practice tomorrow they were departing to the airport right from yost in order to get on the plane to tampa. meaning that this was it. this was the last meal with all five of them together as once michigan was done so was luke. he was to board a plane straight from tampa to newark and the last two years at michigan would officially be in the books for the youngest hughes brother. leaving you in a house full of four other hockey boys until it was your turn to join luke in jersey after april 28th: graduation day.

“you guys made family dinner,” you smiled as the bittersweet words left your mouth. not yet wanting to believe that this was the end of the cherry on top of your time at michigan. “and you didn’t even burn the house down. i’m so proud of you.”

there was a chorus of laughter that filled your ears before luke pulled your seat out for you. once he pushed you in all the way he took his seat to the left of you, sitting so he was for the last time eating a meal between two of his favorite people - you and dylan. the conversation between bites of the steak, mashed potatoes, and caesar salad was almost nonexistent. everyone in an unspoken agreement to just sit there and soak it all in. of course small talk was eventually made as mackie made you a glass of wine, claiming that it was well deserved even though it was only monday. he knew how hard you were taking everything, you may not have told him directly, but he knew. all of the boys knew. while this was luke’s last week of college hockey, it was also the last week everything would be semi-normal regarding your relationship. the nhl and the demanding schedule an obvious looming fear to both of you.

the conversation died out after hearing how practice went and the six year olds who had crushes on you found out you would be leaving them soon. and soon one by one all of you dismissed yourself from the table. mark being first, trying to get out of dish duty. eddy followed second, taking everyone’s dishes as he went. dylan sprinted away afterwards as if filming a monday questions video. leaving mackie, youself, and luke. you were the next to fall, not wanting to be, but ultimately knowing you had too much to do in order to prepare for missing all of your classes thursday and friday in order to be in tampa. your left hand squeezed luke’s right, as your right hand ran over the discolored wooden table. “‘ve gotta head up, lukey,” you whispered over to him. a sad smile taking over your face while you stared at him as you tried to read the expression on his face. praying his blue eyes would give you a little insight into what he was thinking. he hummed before turning to look at you. “get out of my work clothes, shower,” you then explained. “go through your bags to make sure you have everything.”

the last part earned a laugh from mackie seeing as he had done the same for both mark and eddy. duker being too stubborn not allowing anyone to double check for him. “goodnight y/n/n, see you tomorrow?” mackie asked with a hopeful smile.

shaking your head you frowned, “i’ve got school.” instantly the rain cloud that had a hold over the room became even heavier at your words. “i won’t see you guys until thursday. i’m in the middle of teaching during the send-off, and since i’m already missing thursday and friday…” you trailed off at the end, not having the heart to speak anymore. too afraid that you would break down in the middle of the dining room if you did.

“i get it,” mackie answered with a sweet smile. “we’ll see you thursday, mom.”

nodding your head you turned your attention back to your boyfriend. “i’ll be up soon, cougy,” he mumbled, eyes meeting your for a split second before he looked back at the table. the use of ‘cougy’ instead of ‘coug’ was what tipped you off to what was going on inside of his head. he was reaching his emotional breaking point.

“okay, lu.” he leaned down and pressed a kiss against the top of his curls before turning to look back at mackie, “night macks. take care of everyone for me until thursday, yeah?” he gave you a final salute and that’s when you started your terk upstairs to the empty bedroom once more. it made your heart heavy to walk into a room that was normally so full of life, reflecting yours and luke’s personalities, packed away into boxes like it had been since the end of the big ten tournament. between preparing for regionals, classes, and student teaching luke and you were busy packing up your lives at the mere fact that his season could’ve ended two weeks ago meaning you had to be prepared in case that was to happen.

you let out a deep sigh and walked into the empty room, slowly closing the door behind you so nobody could hear as your walls came crashing down faster than you could piece them together. the shower was where you choose to break down for the night. already knowing that luke would leave you to yourself once he came into the room since he had showered at yost after practice, and knew you needed this time to decompress. so that’s exactly what you did. you sat under the scolding hot water letting the tears stream down your face as you silently sobbed over your college life that was coming to an end. over this being luke’s last week as a michigan wolverine. at how after his nhl debut you wouldn’t see him again until graduation, something you needed to bring up to him and talk about as the devils would be in the playoffs and there was no way you’d let him miss anything hockey related just to watch you walk across a stage.

when you finally got out of your depression shower, luke was already camped out in your bed. the comforter was pooled around his waist, his bare chest on full display for you. just waiting for you to climb in next to him. “how was your shower, coug?” his voice was tight as he asked the question, and you wondered if this was when it finally happened. if this was the moment luke finally allowed himself to come to terms with the whirlwind of emotions he was currently experiencing.

“it was nice,” you answered honestly. “helped me clear my mind.” right away you knew luke would understand what you were getting about. slightly hoping that he would take it as a subtle hint that he too could confess everything he was going through to you. instead, all you got back from him was a small hum of acknowledgment, eyes downcast on his phone screen. after changing into your pajamas which consisted of luke’s boxers and a worn-out ntdp t-shirt, you crawled into bed next to him. arms immediately wrapping around his torso, head falling against his chest. “i never got around to looking through your bag to make sure you have everything,” you said to break the silence of the room. “i’m not that worried though,” you added on, “i mean everything you needed was the only things you could pack. you just have to remember your chargers in the morning before you go to practice. i can text you in the morning to remind you if you want.”

when luke didn’t answer you thought maybe he had fallen asleep. it wouldn’t have been the first time the worn out hockey player fell asleep while in the middle of a conversation with you. only that wasn’t the case this time. you could feel from underneath its resting place as his heart rate began to increase. his breathing beginning to follow in it’s footsteps. “hey lukey, baby, we gotta sit up. can you sit up for me?” you asked, already knowing what was about to happen. luke was on the verge of a panic attack, everything hitting him all at once. the packed boxes. the final practice at yost is tomorrow. an elc in his future.

“‘m okay,” he choked out between ragged breaths. “just, just stay here. just lay here.” you knew he was referring to you staying situated on his chest, feeling the safest when he had you cuddled up on top of him.

shaking your head you propped yourself up instantly. throwing your legs on either side of his waist in order to straddle his lap. “no, no luke i need you to sit up for me. okay? can you do that for me, baby?” you asked while staring down at him. his eyes were screwed shut, knowing that if he had them open you would be able to see how red and puffy they were. his final moments of sitting at the kitchen table after family dinner ended causing everything to hit him like a freight truck. “luke, i’ve got you,” you whispered, hands cupping his cheeks, “but i need, you have to sit up for me. please.” you were disparately pulling him into a sitting position, letting his head fall against your chest. his arms wrapping around your waist in a bone-crushing hug. “i’ve got you. i have you, lukey. it’s okay. i’m right here. you’re safe. just, just get it out. deep breathes.” your words were muttered into the top of his curls, as you soothingly ran a hand up and down his back. the other laced in the curls at the nape of his neck. “i love you. i’m here. you’re okay. i’ve got you, lukey.”

“i- i, i start playing in the nhl as soon as saturday,” he finally spoke. voice cracking as he did so, his breathing slowly coming back to a normal rhythm. “tomorrow… tomorrow’s my last ever practice at yost. tonight was the last family dinner.” you could feel your own heart breaking all over again at his words. shattering even more so as you knew there was nothing you could say or do to make things better. “our fucking bedroom has been packed up to leave for two weeks!” his hold on you got tighter with each realization. your presence being enough to ground him in this instance for him to get all of his emotions out before it was too late. “cougy, this is it. it’s my final week of college hockey.” it took all the strength in his body to force his head up to look at you. his blue eyes as clear as glass due to the tears that were pouring down his cheeks. “my final week of seeing you every single day until i retire, which will be what? like ten-fifteen years from now?”

you squeezed your eyes shut in order to prevent the tears from slipping out. forehead dipping down to rest against his, “it’ll be okay, lukey. we’re going to make this work. you have to take the good and the bad. that’s what you’ve been telling me since january right?” just barely his forehead moved against yours in a nodding motion. “plus it’s me and you, honey. me and you no matter what.”

“you and me,” he whispered against your lips. you could taste the salt from his tears that were staining his cracked lips with every word he spoke. “but coug, i just. this is it. it’s over. and, and i don’t even get to say goodbye to you tomorrow. you’ll be gone before i wake up, and i won’t see you until thursday. and - and if we lose it’ll be for nothing.”

“it won’t be for nothing, luke warren,” you corrected with a pointed look. “everything you’ve done, everything i’ve chosen to do in order to watch you play this year has not been for nothing, luke. i do it because i love you. because there is nobody out there more proud of you than me,” you confessed with a small smile, “just don’t tell your parents i said that.” your little jab jim and ellen caused a small smile to grace luke’s face as well. “if you lose on thursday, which you’re not going too, then we get on a plane and we go to jersey. you get on the team plane and go to boston, and i’ll fly out with your parents. we’ll be there for you first ever fucking nhl game, and i’ll be there standing and waiting for you. tears streaming down my face just like after you scored your hat trick. you know why?”

he shook his head, “no. why?”

“becuase i love you,” you answered. “because the last three years of my life have been the best years of my life because i’ve spent them loving you. officially i mean. but what you’re feeling right now luke? it’s normal. it’s healthy. it means that we have met some incredible people who we are so lucky to have in our lives. people that are always going to be there for us, no matter what happens in the future.”

he let out a shaky breathe while he let his eyes meet yours once more. “you graduate college in twenty-five days. and then you’re mine. in jersey, and everything will be okay again. i’ll be there to watch you walk across the stage, and then we’re together, never apart again.”

your heart was in your throat at his words, knowing that there was no better time to bring this up than right now. “about graduation, lu, you’re going to be in the playoffs. as much as i want you there, you can’t be if you have something hockey related. especially if you have a game scheduled for it.” the way his arms loosened around your waist is how you knew you struck a nerve within the nineteen-year-old. “i just! having our parents there will be enough for me. and as soon as the ceremony ends we can have a devils watch party at your house! cheering on my favorite boy, and my best friend.”

luke’s face hardened with every passing second. not at all thrilled by what you had said. “i’m not missing your college graduation, y/n,” he grumbled, clearly frustrated by the fact you had suggested such an outrageous thing. “you realize you’re the only one of us whose’s going to graduate college and have a degree, right?” by that you knew he was referring to quinn, jack, himself and you. the four of you being thick as thieves since you grew up next to each other. you and jack have been best friends since your shared birthday, as well as the fact your mothers were best friends. “how could i miss that? miss the love of my life getting her degree that she’s worked her ass off for the past four years to get it? no, absolutely not. i’m coming to graduation on the twenty-eighth. game or no game. end of discussion.”

it was no secret to either of you that you had more to say on the topic, but you knew when luke was set on something he was going to do it so you dropped it. “okay, you’re coming to graduation. but as soon as it’s over we’re getting on the first flight newark, got it?”

“got it, coug,” he agreed with a smile growing on his face. his head dropped back to rest against your chest once more. his tears pooling into the already wet fabric. “do you think i - i mean, do you think we can do it this week. win the natty? push my rookie game back until the eleventh?”

“of course i think you can do it, moosey,” you answered with nothing but certainty. “there’s nothing you guys can’t do. you know that.”

he let out the breath that he was holding in. nuzzling his head further into the cotton fabric that smelled just like you. “i’m sorry i acted like the world was falling apart tonight. it’s just, i never thought we’d actually get to this point,” luke confided in you. “it always seemed so far away, like we’d never actually make it to this day. but now it’s here, and i feel like there’s still so much i haven’t done with the guys. so much i haven’t done with you, coug.”

you dropped your head to rest against his fluffy curls, taking a deep breath in to smell his shampoo and conditioner. “don’t apologize my sweet boy,” you cooed, kissing the top of his head. “i mean i just broke down in the shower before you got in here. it’s okay, i promise you. it’s a little scary, yes, but you have nothing to regret, lukey. you have left such an incredible impact on everyone here and mich, and you’re going to be so fucking missed. fuck, i’m going to miss you those two weeks before i get to see you at graduation.”

“don’t remind me about that,” he groaned, head diving forward so you were now laying on your back and he was on top of you. a squeal left your mouth from the action, cradling his head closer to your chest. “those two weeks are literally going to be hell, cougy. we’ve never been apart for that long before.” humming you ran your hands through his hair. trying to find the right words in order to try and calm his nerves about it. “are you going to be able to survive without me for that long, y/n/n?”

“god no, lukey. how am i supposed to fall asleep in an empty room with you not here to hold me?”

you could feel the frown form on his face through the t-shirt. “i’ll call you every single night. make sure that you get to sleep. no matter how much jack chirps me, i don’t care. and if, you know, the depression gets a little too much in those two weeks, just go climb into bed with duker. or make a bed in mackie’s room.”

a cold shiver ran through your body at the thought of you sleeping in the same bed as dylan. of course, it’s something you’d done before with him being your college best friend. sometimes it was because he needed to comfort of someone other than his boys, someone who would actually listen to what he was feeling and try and help him through it. other times it would be because luke was busy and you were on the verge of crumbling apart. it was in those times dylan would make it a mandate you slept in his room where he could keep an eye on you before luke got home. in fact, you’ve slept in every room of the sophomore house. taking turns making sure your college children weren’t sad or just being there in case they needed the gentle loving that only you could offer them. “ew absolutely not!” you laughed. luke’s head tilting up to look at you with a smile. “i don’t want to step foot in that room. we don’t know what goes on in there anymore. it’s definitely highly unsanitary.”

a chuckle fell past luke’s lips before he rested his head in the crook of your neck. his breath fanning against your skin, lips just barely grazing the skin there. “you could always have him sleep in here.”

you shrugged your shoulders. “i was thinking about just going home,” you mumbled, almost as if you were scared to admit that you wanted to spend the last two weeks of your college career in either yours or luke’s childhood bedroom. “i love the boys, and i love being here. but i just, i feel like it might be better for me to stay at home. i mean i’ll have your parents, my parents. being here just won’t be the same without you, lukey.”

the sudden confession you had just made was pulling on luke’s heartstrings. “would you drive to school and teaching?” you nodded your head ever so slightly, eyes growing heavy with each passing second. the physical and emotional exhaustion finally hitting you once more. “you could always take my car too if you wanted. just so you’re not constantly using your own.”

yawning you smiled, “i was already planning on it, lukey.” your eyes were closed when luke looked back up at you, and he could feel as your breathing began to even out from underneath him. “i love you, luke.”

multiple kisses were pressed against the skin of your neck and jaw, pulling a smile on the corners of your lips. “i love you too, y/n/n. get some sleep, okay, cougy? i’ll be here when you wake up tomorrow.” and with that you drifted off to sleep for the final time in a full sophomore house.

when you woke up in the morning to the sound of your alarm part of you was confused as to how your phone got in the room seeing you don’t remember ever grabbing it off the coffee table after your post-school nap. only to remember that luke thought of everything when it came to you and without a doubt brought it up when he came up from dinner. reluctantly you carefully slid yourself out from under the dead weight that was luke’s sleeping body in order to get ready. grabbing a throw blanket you carefully tucked him in, allowing him the chance to sleep in until his own alarm went off to start his day.

getting ready you were stuck in a whirlwind of emotions as you remembered you wouldn’t see any of the boys until thursday morning, having chosen to surprise them by flying out wednesday night rather than thursday morning like you originally told them all. once dressed and ready to make your way to the elementary school you were student teaching at you sat down at your desk, slipping on your cartier ring luke had gifted you along with the necklace that adorned his favorite nickname. your attention then turned to the post-it note stack, maize yellow of course. grabbing the navy blue pen you had resting beside it you scribbled out two final notes for your boyfriend and the boys you considered your children.

lukey, i love you so incredibly much i’ll see you on thursday. you’re going to do amazing this week, take it all in. text me when your boarding and when you land. i’ll meet you in tampa, moosey. me and you, sweet boy. - coug<3

after writing both notes you stuck luke’s against his phone he had plugged in on his bed side table. running back to press a kiss against his cheek. a smile pulling on his feature even though he was sleeping. “i love you, lukey,” you then whispered into his ear. kissing the top of his head one last time before you carefully slipped out of your bedroom. the next and final stop in the early morning hours of the house was the front door. you were frozen as you stood there waiting to walk out, knowing if you didn’t leave now you would be late to school after running to starbucks. so you forced yourself to put the final note up on the door.

to my hughes wedding bridal party, make sure you have absolutely everything- CHARGERS!!! now that thats out of the way, know that win or lose i’m always going to be proud of you guys. thank you for the past year, there’s nobody else i would want to life willingly with. i’ll see you in tampa! love you guys. - coug… aka mom<3

you stared at the note for a minute longer than what was necessary, tearing beginning to well in your eyes before you forced yourself to open the front door. taking a deep breath you pulled it closed behind you, as well as closing the door on the last four years of life.

#my writing #umich imagine #umich #umich hockey #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #coug!reader #coug luke #usa hockey #ntdp #new jersey devils #my works #dylan duke #ethan edwards #mackie samoskevich #mark estapa #2023 ncaa hockey tourney

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