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#season 2 polo
laz-kay · 6 months
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Highkey one of the most underrated and overlooked jokes in the entire show😂
Bob's Burgers, Synchronized Swimming (S2: E3)
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17isrighthere · 1 year
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Remy Hii as CROWN PRINCE JINGIM in Season 2 of Marco Polo (2016)
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smuganya · 7 months
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ÉLITE opening and closing shots of each season
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shopcat · 10 months
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i do genuinely think in my heart steve is the most realistic top contender for saying the phrase "gag me with a spoon" which is really funny because there is an entire character from california. and she would never say it.
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armand/louis season 2 lookbook wishlist part 1
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tvshowcloset · 10 months
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Who: Lola Tung as Belly Conklin What: Polo Ralph Lauren Striped Polo Knit Sweater in Jersey Stripes - Sold Out Where: The Summer I Turned Pretty Season 2
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desjardins-sarah · 11 months
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Sarah photographed by Colette de Barros for ELLE USA, May 2023
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lilothestitch16 · 3 months
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Would it be possible to draw Season 2 Kenny wearing this polo golf club shirt and baggy jeans and dress shoes with and without his hat on? I want to see what he would look like wearing this kind of outfit. Last pic is how the outfit should be worn.
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personinthepalace · 2 years
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The Mysterious Benedict Society Season 2 Summary on DisneyPlus
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[Image ID: The Mysterious Benedict Society is reunited when Mr. Benedict invites the children to his mansion with the expectation of sending them on a globe-trotting scavenger hunt. But when Mr. Benedict and Number Two go missing while in Europe, the kids defy the adults' orders and sneak off to find them on their own. Mr. Benedict and Number Two have been kidnapped by Dr. Curtain, who has bounced back after the failure of The Emergency by claiming credit for its destruction and capitalizing on that fame to push his new Happiness Revolution - which is really a subtle form of manipulation creating an artifical feeling of euphoria. Dr. Curtain and his Happiness acolytes live on a compound in rural Italy and are making plans to spread their joy to the world. The kids cross to Europe by stowing away on a ship and uses the clues left for them by Mr. Benedict to get closer to find out the truth of their whereabouts. Meanwhile, the children are pursued by both the adults of the Society (Rhonda, Milligan, and Ms. Perumal) who are concerned for their safety, as well as a Water Polo Team with nefarious intentions. The intrepid members of The Mysterious Benedict Society scour Western Europe as they piece together the mystery in front of them, dodging unexpected dangers and new and old adversaries at every turn. When everyone reunites at Dr. Curtain's compound, they realize that Curtain's methods led to unexpected side effects. The Society enacts a swift escape and retreats to a safe location to prepare for a final confrontation, but they must find a way to undo the damage of Curtain's methods on some of their own before it's too late. /.End ID]
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I'm Very Animated About This: Which Missing Doctor Who Episodes Are Most Likely to be Animated?
I'm Very Animated About This: Which Missing #DoctorWho Episodes Are Most Likely to be Animated?
Finally, after decades of chanting, praying, and letter-writing campaigns, two of the most well regarded and sought after missing stories are being animated. Popular demand has brought us The Smugglers and The Underwater Menace to celebrate Doctor Who‘s 60th anniversary! Of course, I jest, as it’s probably to mostly fill out Season 4 to pave the way for the future Blu-ray collection. But…
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relative-dimension · 2 years
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“The Wall of Lies”
Season 1, episode 17 - 4th March 1964
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[id: screenshot of the intro to the Map Men youtube series. The title is written in the centre of the screen over a map showing part of Asia, and subtitled “with Jay Foreman and/or Mark Cooper-Jones.” The poorly cropped floating heads of Jay and Mark are on either side of the title, looking mildly uncomfortable. /end id]
The main crime that this episode in particular commits is that, by his own admission, this is where John Lucarotti started running out of ideas. It just about manages to coast by on the established subplots, with some development of the character dynamics and apparently pulling from some of Marco Polo’s anecdotes in his writings.
Is it an entertaining watch: 4/5, yeah, I feel like it’s pretty fun.
Does the production hold up: 2/5, I criticised the cave set before, and there’s not anything new that looks much better to counteract that. The cliffhanger is also one of the worst of the show so far, especially with the recon where you can’t even really see what’s happening.
Does it use its time well: 3/5, as mentioned, Lucarotti was running out of ideas, but I personally think that a lack of action means that the character dynamics continue on their trajectories in a more natural way than having some external factor cause every single development. It’s not that good, but it’s not nothing.
Are the characters consistent and well-used: 4/5, yes! Dr Who’s meddling, Ping-Cho’s shifting loyalties and relationship with Susan, Ian and Barbar slightly miss out on having anything to do but still!
Is there anything actually going on under the surface: 3/5, as mentioned, the developing character dynamics probably fall into this category. Apart from that, idk.
Does it avoid being a bit dodge with its politics: 2/5, I would like to take this point to mention just how cartoonishly evil the Mongol bandits are. I am aware they’re just playing into the trope and this is a children’s show, but having the non-white evil bandits gambling to choose who gets to kill Barbara is a bit much. And also, once more, everyone’s in yellowface.
Overall Score - 18/30
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starkeyisthelastname · 2 months
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Stepbro!Rafe fucking the reader anywhere at any chance he gets bc he just can't get enough of her, she acts like she's all scared they're gonna get caught but he knows she loves it, shes always squeezing him so hard at the thought.
(This is set in season 2, episode 2 when Rafe and Ward go to the Bahamas. 😘)
You weren’t sure why you brought on this trip other than Rafe telling you that it was to keep him company. You didn’t complain, never wanting to disappoint your step-brother and trudged along. Your poor little naive self didn’t realize that keeping him company meant getting your pussy pounded in at every chance he got.
“Rafe.. wh- what if we get caught.” You asked, voice shaky as you felt his fat girth stretch your hole open. The Bahama house was huge, but sneaking away while Ward was only on a phone call left the two of you with limited time.
He hushed you, thick fingers shoving themselves into your mouth as he relished in the amazing feeling of your soaked little cunt. “Don’t be so fucking loud then, sis.” He rasped out, his hips moving at a brutal pace.
You whimpered around his digits, eyes rolling back as he slammed into you as if his father wasn’t somewhere close around the mansion. In the back of your cock drunk mind, you were of course afraid of being caught. Rafe made it hard to focus on that little thought when he had the most magical, monstrous dick a girl could ever want. You were constantly soaking his length, cunt clenching around him so tight as you loved the thrill of this and he knew it. He looked so good with his backwards hat still on, piercing blue eyes staring down at you, polo lifted up to expose toned abs that flexed.
“You love your step-brother’s big dick, don’t you? This pussy was made for just me to wreck.” Rafe grunted, never being able to get enough.
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offensiveslur · 2 years
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Elite s5 WTF WAS THAT
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afewproblems · 8 months
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Season 2 Halloween AU Part Three
Part One, Part Two
Eddie waits till the end of the day to strike.
It's after four, and almost everyone has left for the day with the exception of the teachers and the janitor --who has already given Eddie the stink eye for remaining after hours for 'no reason'.
But Eddie does have a reason, a pretty decent one too.
He's waiting for King-Steve to get out of detention.
Turns out it didn't take until lunch for the whole school to hear about Harrington and Wheeler. In fact, the way Eddie heard, Steve had been ambushed not two minutes after his conversation with Nancy by Hagan and Hargrove.
Now here was where the story differed depending on who you heard it from.
Tammy Thompson told her lunch table that Steve freaked out when Hargrove started talking shit about Nancy.
Mark Holmes told Jim Cutter that Hagan got punched in the face and Hargrove was simply defending his friend from Steve.
Sarah March told Jeff in their homeroom that Steve wound up with a black eye after gym class that morning and was almost suspended for the week.
Eddie knows there must be a thread of truth linking all of these stories together. And at this point, he'd much rather hear it straight from the source.
Plus with a black eye Harrington would be needing those glasses back.
Eddie snaps the gum in his mouth and stuffs his hands in his pockets as he leans against locker 109, certain that Steve will have to stop by before he leaves.
"Munson?"
Speak of the devil.
Eddie tilts slightly in the direction of the voice and blows out a low whistle at the sight of the shiner on Steve's face.
It's already a deep purple, though it isn't as swollen as Eddie would have thought. It matches the colour of the bags under Steve's good eye and is accentuated by how strangely pale he looks today. Steve's lip is also split down the middle, blood staining his polo collar.
Huh, so it didn't happen in gym.
"Looks like someone had an interesting day," Eddie smiles as he crosses one leg over the other and taps the tip of his chuck on the linoleum, Steve winces at the harsh squeak it makes.
"Look Munson, whatever you want, just get it over with," Steve manages to say through gritted teeth, his hands have clenched into loose fists but the same tremor from the night before has returned in full force.
Eddie pushes himself off of Steve's locker and watches as the other man tenses. Eddie rolls his eyes and reaches behind himself, grabbing the shades from where they are hanging off his back pocket. Steve's gaze follows Eddie's movements and barely halts a flinch as the sunglasses are tossed into his chest.
Steve only seems to catch them with his latent jock ability but still nearly drops them in surprise.
"You left these in my van last night," Eddie shrugs at the way Steve's head tilts slightly, he looks from the glasses in his hand to Eddie and back again with a frown.
"Oh," he breathes out, and the tension drops from Steve's frame like the strings holding him up are all at once severed.
"First a taxi service, now a courier," Eddie smirks, dropping his left hand to his hip, "how ever will you make it up to me Harrington?"
Steve grimaces, rubbing a hand down his face, he winces as it brushes the deepening bruise under his eye, "I'm sure you're about to tell me".
Eddie grins, pretending to consider his options as he lifts a ringed hand to his chin to hold it thoughtfully for a beat while Steve stands before him, looking more and more frustrated with every passing second.
"Where's the fun in that?" Eddie says with a sly smile as he steps closer, nearly into Steve's space, and leans in.
"Maybe you'll owe me one," Eddie winks as he says it before dropping his voice into a wheezing Italian affectation, "perhaps one day soon I'll call upon you for a favor--"
"What?" Steve sputters out in a strangled laugh, leaning away from Eddie's sudden proximity.
From this angle Eddie can see the slightest flush creeping down Steve's neck.
"The Godfather? You know?" Eddie raises an eyebrow at the blank expression on Steve's face, "I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse?"
Steve's brow pinches in confusion as he shakes his head.
"I mean," Eddie huffs, moving out of Steve's space again, "you'd probably like it, you have plenty of practice rejecting offers don't ya big boy?"
It takes a second for the words to register for both of them.
Steve's eyebrows cut creases across his forehead as they rise into his hair and Eddie immediately wants to fling himself off the gymnasium roof.
Of all the stupid, stupid things--
"Is this about the weed?" Steve asks slowly with a frown wrinkling his nose, it would be cute if Eddie wasn't beside himself with relief.
Focus.
"Yup," Eddie manages to say with a straight face despite the way his heart is racing. He clears his throat and leans backwards to drape himself against the lockers again, miscalculating how far he's moved away from them after Steve showed up.
Eddie loses his footing and slams into the metal with a loud bang, sliding down onto the floor in a leather clad heap.
"Jesus Christ," Eddie hears from above him, opening his eyes to find a pair of wide hazel ones staring into his own.
"Did you hit your head?"
Eddie ignores the question and the heat that rises in his face and ears. He wants nothing more at this moment than to tell Steve to fuck off, to leave him to crawl into a hole now and finally live the rest of his days as a Hobbit.
But King-Steve is persistent.
"Come on Munson, we should go before someone comes to see what happened, I'm not getting another detention for you," Steve huffs as he holds a hand out in front of Eddie.
Eddie looks from the outstretched hand in front of him, to Steve's face. His stupid, earnest, beautiful face, and takes his hand, grunting as he rises back to his feet.
A door opens down the hall, near the admin office and both men freeze as a pair of heels begin to click and clack their way down the hall.
"Shit," Eddie hisses at the same time Steve barks out a frantic, "Go, go, go!"
They scramble to get away from the lockers and make a beeline for the side exit, a mixture of laughter and curses echoing after them.
Eddie doesn't stop running until he reaches the driver's side door of his van.
He pants out a wild laugh and shakes his head as Steve bends at the waist with his hands braced on his knees. When Steve rights himself, there's a flush of exertion and a bright smile that is only slightly marred by the black eye and split lip.
"You're a trip Harrington," Eddie breathes out before clutching his throat, "I think I swallowed my gum back there".
Steve laughs loud and bright and Eddie can't help but watch the way his head tips back, exposing the long column of his neck. He looks up again, his eyes seem to search Eddie's face briefly before he shakes his head with an expression Eddie's never seen before.
"Yeah well," Steve huffs, his good eye crinkles at the corner from his smile, "you're not what I thought you'd be like either Munson".
And Eddie just doesn't know what to do with that.
Instead, he clears his throat and kicks at a piece of gravel that careens across the empty student parking lot.
"Where's your noble steed?" Eddie asks, his head on swivel. Harrington's car was fairly iconic around here, no way it would have been missed among the sea of beat up Ford's and Gremlins.
Steve tilts his head and frowns slightly, "I left it at Tina's remember?"
And yeah, shit, that makes sense, he must have caught the bus that morning and completely missed it with detention.
"...do you need a ride?"
"Okay".
Part four up!
Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @eddielives1986
and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @strangersteddierthings @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads @stevesbipanic
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tvshowcloset · 9 months
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Who: Lola Tung as Belly Conklin What: Polo Ralph Lauren Striped Polo Knit Sweater - Sold Out Where: The Summer I Turned Pretty 2x01 “Love Lost”
Previously IDed HERE
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alittlebitofsainz · 19 days
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a place in this world - ch1
a dream come true. you, a race engineer in formula one, having built your way up through the ranks. sure, the 2020 season hadn’t exactly gone the way that everyone had expected, but this was your chance, your moment to prove to the world of racing what you and your driver, carlos, were made of. but carlos isn’t staying at mclaren forever, and eventually, you’ll have a decision to make…
pairing: carlos sainz x f! reader. slow burn colleagues to friends to lovers (please, from my own experience, don’t follow this pipeline)
info: reader lives in the uk due to working at mclaren, and is somewhat implied to be british. it is also implied that they listen to bbc radio 2 and support leicester city football club. this may or may not be because these things are true of me and I wasn’t planning on publishing this, sorry!
warnings: cursing, a lil’ bit of angst, very infrequent use of y/n, one (1) google translated spanish sentence, a dry british writing style xoxo a/n: hello! welcome to a little passion project I never thought I’d share with the internet. this will eventually become a sort of ‘choose your own adventure’ type series, where you can make decisions about your career that can eventually lead you to different teams and drivers. will be posting a masterlist soon with more info so bare with me! any feedback / comments are always welcome
Masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4
Chapter One: … Ready for It?
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it had started out like any other wednesday. except it hadn’t, not really. the nature of your job meant that there was no ‘any other wednesday’. most wednesdays meant that you were jetting off to some new country, your wide eyed face in the window seat, reflecting back off the pane of glass separating you from the dancing lights of some exciting new city, 5,000 feet below. race engineer to mclaren-renault formula one driver number 55, carlos sainz, wasn’t exactly what you had listed as what you wanted to be when you grew up, but you were far from disappointed that that’s what your linkedin profile now read, a metaphorical middle finger to everyone who’d said you’d never amount to anything in motorsports.
but by all accounts it had been a relatively uneventful wednesday in your life, in fact even more so than usual compared to the early morning check ins at Stansted airport that you’d grown accustomed to. this week was silverstone, your home race, if race engineers could call it that, and that meant no early mornings, no check ins, no flights, no decanting your liquids into tiny bottles and zipping them into a plastic bag to take through security. this wednesday was a stop at sainsburys to fill up the tank of your vw polo with petrol, and an 80 mile drive west towards silverstone circuit. the most exciting part of your morning was getting stuck in half an hour of traffic on the m25; you didn’t even need the dulcet tones of Richie Anderson on radio 2 to tell you there’d be traffic at Potters Bar. as a native southerner, you could just feel it in your bones.
still, only fifteen minutes late to track wasn’t too bad, considering your lengthy journey, and you were by far the last member of the team to arrive. you would’ve been even less late, but for the fact that you’d sat for the best part of five minutes in your car, engine off, staring at the notification on your phone. there were so many questions running around in your head, first and foremost of which was why on earth did dan from engineering have your number? but the second question, which was possibly the more important one, was why did carlos ask him for it? he said that it ‘might be useful to contact each other.’ if the current expression on your face could be summed up in a noise, it would be a very confused and very emphatic ‘huh?’.
sure, you and carlos interacted a lot during race weekends, that much was a given. you were forever catching up to discuss data, strategies, the car setup, the sandwich options at the hospitality, why the leicester city football team would beat real madrid in a fist fight. so okay, your conversations weren’t allstrictly work related, and you could’t deny that the two of you got on well and seemed to really understand each other, but that was all part of being a driver and race engineer duo; you had to be on the same wavelength. it was non-negotiable. but swapping phone numbers? you couldn’t imagine why the two of you would need to text or call each outside of work hours, and you had work phones for that. which led you to your third and fourth questions: number three, why did you suddenly feel so nervous and giddy with excitement when you re-read his message for the seventh time? (question three point five was why did you re-read his message seven times?) and number four, what the hell were you supposed to message back in reply?
you typed in a thumbs up emoji and then immediately deleted it. how fucking old were you, 65? what next, start talking to him about the cold war? no, you had to keep it fun and casual, not too overfamiliar but not too weirdly distant and cold. god, why was this so difficult? you felt like a schoolgirl with a teenage crush, constantly typing various replies and deleting them again, letter by letter. eventually you settled on a cool, calm and collected response, typing it out and shoving your phone into your pocket before you had time to overanalyse what you’d just sent. quickly gathering up your stuff from the boot of your car, you spammed the lock button on your car keys, just in case the first five times didn’t stick, and trotted off towards the entrance to the paddock.
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as it was approaching the hour mark since he’d sent his text, carlos had been starting to worry that he’d overstepped an unwritten boundary. why had he even asked dan from engineering for her number in the first place? it just felt like something that he should have. lando had will’s number, he’d already asked him that. but once he’d sent the message he realised that he couldn’t really come up with an excuse as to why he’d needed it, why he couldn’t have waited until he’d seen her this weekend and ask for her number from herself. like a normal person. deep down he knew why, though he was in some sort of state of denial about it, and it was the same reason that he hadn’t asked for her number two weeks ago in Hungary, or at the previous race in Austria, or when he’d first met her at the start of the season. 
he breathed a sigh of relief when her reply came through, 57 minutes after he’d sent his message. well, the first one that is. the second message came two minutes after the first; god, he couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to forget to include who he was at the end of the text the first time around.
but it didn’t matter now, because she’d replied, and her words on the screen made him smile to himself, her voice in his head as he read them through three, now four times over. his fingers hovered over the keypad, contemplating a reply. he checked the time - it wouldn’t be long until she arrived at track anyway and they could chat in person, so he closed the messages app on his phone and tucked it away in his pocket, deciding against committing any words to the everlasting aether which was the iPhone messages app.
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it was nearing the end of a lengthy strategy department meeting when your phone went off, a few pair of eyes glancing your way as you apologised profusely, eyes scanning over the text before sheepishly putting your phone on do not disturb and placing it back on the table face down. shit, this meeting wouldn’t be finished for another ten minutes at least, and by that time all the bacon and brie toasties would be gone (everyone knew they were the best lunch option). worse still, you hated the fact that you had to leave carlos hanging; pausing the strategy meeting to send off a quick text was equivalent to a cardinal sin, even if it was to carlos sainz. your eyes were flicking increasingly often down to the time on your laptop, the seconds crawling by as the time approached one o’clock. it felt like whichever godlike entity governed the laws of time was toying with you; surely it wasn’t possible for time to move this slowly? the head of strategy wrapped the meeting at 13:04, and you were out of your seat like a rocket.
amy, one of the strategists, fell into step beside you as you paced it down the corridor.
“you’ve heard about the brie and bacon being back on?” she asked; you only had to reply with a grin to give her the answer that she needed. she eyed you up, as much as anyone power walking down a busy corridor could whilst still maintaining maximum straight line speed.
“everyone from strategy and engineering has been in meetings. so who’s your source?” came her second question. you picked up your pace, under the guise of trying to get to the canteen quicker.
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she had a habit of taking just enough time to respond to carlos’ messages to keep him guessing whether she actually would respond at all. it wasn’t entirely her fault, carlos realised; she’d apologised for earlier, explaining that she was busy driving. of course she was, how could he be such an idiot? maybe a part of him was hoping that she’d been acting coy, teasing him by waiting, purposefully trying to keep him on the edge of his seat.
carlos saw her enter the canteen, watched with a small, self satisfied smirk as her face fell, the rattan shelf where the brie and bacon toasties had been, now depressingly empty. he left it just long enough so that she was forced to consider which disappointing option to go for instead, before finally calling her over.
“Y/N!” carlos called, watching as her head whipped round, and he had to stifle a laugh at her confusion. he waved her over.
“sorry, I was stuck in a meeting.” she sighed, her voice slightly breathless. had she ran here? he fought back the urge to tease her about it, shaking his head slightly.
“don’t worry about it.” he replied, gesturing to the seat beside him as he spoke. her eyes lit up when her gaze fell on the plate on the table, in just the way he’d pictured in his head. god, he’d never get over the way the simple things pleased her, and he didn’t mean that in a bad way. over the past couple of months that he’d known her, carlos had learned that the little things really mattered, in a way that was almost rare in this environment. she looked upon a brie and bacon sandwich like it was the sun that shined, and if she’d have looked up at carlos in that moment, she’d have seen that he was looking at her in the exact same way.
“is that for me?”
“no.” carlos replied, deadpan. she shot him a look, her face screwed up in a pout that he’d grown more accustomed to the more he teased her like this. eventually he let out a soft chuckle, as a way to say I’m only joking, of course it’s for you, and she sat down in the seat next to him with a playful scowl, which only caused him to laugh more.
“thanks, carlos. you’re the best.” she told him through a mouthful of brie, bacon and toasted bread.
“I know.” he replied, a cheeky grin dancing across his face. “it was the last one as well.”
“amy’s gonna be pissed.” she giggled, glancing over her shoulder to watch as her colleague was forced to settle for regular ham and cheese.
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a podium finish to p13. was it worse to fail because of your own shortcomings or because of something that was out of your control? if you’d asked carlos sainz right now, he would think about it for a moment, and then tell you to vete a la mierda.*
his phone screen lighting up in the darkness was the only thing that brought his attention to how dark it had become in his hotel room. christ, how long had he been sat there, staring at the wall, trying to process how frustrated and angry and upset he was? he’d put his phone on silent, tired of all the commiseratory messages that had been coming through, but apparently his bedtime reminder didn’t obey the laws of do not disturb. sighing, he unlocked the device, and quickly scanned down the many notifications he had been ignoring for the past few hours. one stood out above all the rest, because of course it did. he felt guilt clutch him as he noticed the message from well over an hour ago. from her.not only guilty at the fact that he’d not seen her message, but for some reason guilty for perceiving that he’d let her down at her home race. it was stupid, he knew, to feel that way - it wasn’t his fault that his tyre had blown out with just a few laps to go, but he knew how excited she’d been for her first ever british gp, and it had all ended in disappointment. his fingers hovered over the keyboard at the bottom of his phone for a moment, a million different emotions whizzing round in his head, bouncing off the sides like a demented pinball machine. no wonder he had a headache. he drew in a sharp breath before typing out his reply.
*I’m hoping this means somewhat akin to ‘fuck off’
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you’d almost forgotten that you’d sent carlos sainz a message of commiseration, which was shocking considering how long you’d been deliberating over it only a mere hour ago. you were back in your own bed in your hometown, seeing no need to stick around seeing as there would be no celebrations this weekend, and carlos had disappeared as soon as the team debrief had ended, making it very clear that he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. which made it all the more surprising when you leaned over to your bedside table, bleary eyes blinking back sleep as your vision adjusted to the pitch black of your room, to pick up the phone which had woken you from your sleep.
your eyes blinked again against the harsh light of the phone, taking a moment to focus on the big bold numbers on your lockscreen. 01:03? who was texting you at this time? eyebrows knitted together in an increasingly deep frown, you scanned carlos’ message. as was becoming customary, you read it several times over, this time to check whether you’d read it right. why would he want to ring you, at this time of night as well? your mind started to reach for wild possibilities - was he in trouble? hurt? worse?
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before he changed his mind, carlos hit the telephone symbol next to her contact details.
“Carlos, are you okay?” her voice came through almost immediately, sounding equal parts panicked yet somehow sleepy. shit, not only had he caused her to worry, he’d probably just woken her up in the middle of the night as well. what kind of dickhead rings a colleague that he’s only known for a few months at 1am? he cleared his throat.
“fuck, sorry, I woke you up.”
“don’t worry about it, I was awake.” she replied. a blatant lie, but carlos appreciated the attempt to make him feel better. 
“can I help you with something?” she continued, still sounding concerned. he shook his head even though she couldn’t see.
“yes, no. fuck, I don’t know.” he growled at himself for being so confused, so confusing, for not even really knowing why he’d called her. was he going insane, or did he just hear a soft sigh on the other end of the line? he squeezed his eyes shut, collecting himself to try again, but she beat him to it. 
“I’m sorry about today, carlos, it must be tough to deal with.”
sometimes it felt like she knew him better than he knew himself. he dragged a hand down his face.
“yeah, I’m- it’s not great.” he stumbled over his words slightly, his voice catching in his throat. usually he’d be reluctant to show this vulnerability, embarrassed even, but something about the late hour combined with how oh-so-soft her voice was… it made him forget his pride for just that moment. 
“I can’t stop thinking about it.” he admitted, feeling a ramble coming on but equally feeling powerless to stop it. “I know that it was a problem with the tyre, I know that it wasn’t my fault, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. and then there’s always a part of me that wonders whether there was anything that I could’ve done. like, maybe if I’d driven less aggressively or something, or changed the way I braked around a certain corner. I still feel like I’ve let myself down, let the team down, let you dow-“
“you didn’t let me down, carlos.” her abrupt reply broke him from his monologue, stopping him in his tracks and allowing him to fill his lungs with air, not realising how out of breath he was becoming with his run-on sentences.
“what?” came his soft reply. he’d heard perfectly clearly what she’d said the first time. but a part of him needed to hear it again.
“you didn’t let me down, carlos.” she repeated, with the same clarity, the same sincerity, the same low tone that he’d never heard from her before that made her sound so wise beyond her years.
“you didn’t let anyone down. this wasn’t your fault. I know it doesn’t make it any less frustrating or easier to deal with - there’s nothing I can say that will change that. but please, please don’t blame yourself for any part of it.”
there was silence on both ends for a moment, before carlos let out a long sigh.
“I- yeah, I guess you’re right.” there was something still on his mind, something that one am carlosknew that one pm carlos would never want to talk about, least of all burden his race engineer with it. but that was all the more reason to say it now.
“I just feel so much pressure to perform, now that I have the ferrari contract.” his voice dropped even lower as he spoke, as if whispering it quietly enough could make it not be true. “I feel like I have to earn my place there, you know?”
“carlos, you were P-fucking-3.” 
something about the way she stressed the syllables made carlos chuckle despite himself, and from the way she let out a small giggle on the other end of the phone, he guessed that that had been her intention all along. 
“anyone can see that you’ve earned that seat at ferrari. you’ve proved that time and time again already. this isn’t about anyone else, this is about you, and what you believe you deserve. the only person you need to convince is yourself.”
carlos chuckled again, feeling some sort of playful nature already coming back to him. maybe he’d finally figured out why he wanted to call her in the middle of the night, maybe it was even the reason he wanted her number in the first place. maybe it was because he knew that no matter how crappy he was feeling, talking to her always seemed to turn the day around. she always seemed to make him smile.
“very inspirational.” he replied, his tone almost teasing over her ‘believing in yourself’ speech. the corners of his lips curved upwards as he could practically hear her rolling her eyes on the other end.
“this is what I get for trying to be nice.” she muttered, but her tone was light, reciprocating the teasing. carlos smiled, his first genuine smile in several hours. probably since the last time he’d seen her.
“thank you, really. talking to you it… it always puts me in a better mood.” carlos confessed, glad that this was a phone call so she couldn’t see the way his cheeks lit up a soft shade of pink.
“anytime, carlos.” 
when they eventually hung up the call, carlos felt lighter than he had in weeks, like she’d melted all his problems away with her soft voice and warm heart. he slept easy that night. meanwhile, she was now wide awake.
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you groaned when the sound of your phone pinging dragged you from your admittedly tumultuous sleep. it had been difficult to drift off again after that call with carlos, a million thoughts buzzing around your brain like a swarm of bees on cocaine. you felt bad for carlos, sure, but that wasn’t enough to keep you awake on its own. there was another feeling there; if you were to flip through an oxford english dictionary until you found a word that summed it up you might settle for ‘intrigued’. 
you were intrigued that carlos that had decided to ring you of all people last night; surely he had family, or at the very least close friends, that he would rather turn to? but you were also intrigued by your own reaction - why were you feeling so warm and fuzzy that carlos had chosen you, the knowledge that when he was feeling low you were the one he wanted to hear on the other end of the line creating some sort of feeling in your heart, like someone was squeezing it not-quite-too tightly?
it was these questions, and an incessant amount of bin lorries driving past at 5am, that kept you from falling back asleep, and were the reason that you were grumbling now, as you reached over to pick up your phone. the grumbling ceased the moment you read the message and saw who it was from, replaced by a softly murmured ‘oh’, and that strange feeling in your chest again.
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as always feedback and comments are welcomed with massive appreciation and open arms! a second part is written and will be out soonish! much love, Katie x
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