Synopsis: Yuma wants your opinion about his new blonde hair
Author's note: special appearances by the ladies single skaters of team Japan!!! I love them they're so divalicious ❤️ this is lowkey just me glazing Kaori Sakamoto can't lie-
Early morning at an ice rink in Nagoya, Japan
You step into the ice rink, a large, modern building in central Nagoya, and are greeted with the abrupt slamming of a door. Staring at the door in confusion, you adjust your camera case around your shoulder, and blearily turn away from the prep rooms used by skaters towards the rink and the grandstands. Choosing to not question much is the key to a peaceful morning. You instead settle into a seat in the stands, right next to the rink.
Meanwhile, Yuma is frantic in the prep room, pacing back and forth and mumbling to himself. He stops to sit down, and unlaces and relaces his skates, gets back up, walks over to the mirror. He adjusts his hair, bouncing nervously on his toes. What will you think? He wonders. Will you hate it, be indifferent towards it, will you pull a face? Or... He lets his thoughts trail off as he begins pacing around the room again.
What if you like it? What if you love it? What if you see it and clap your hands together and tilt your head and smile at him and then what if you run your fingers through his hair and then-
The skater cuts himself off abruptly with an aggressive shake of the head. He steels himself for the worst. He prays for the best.
Contrarily, you are sitting in the stands, fully relaxed, adjusting the settings on your camera to better handle the harsh white light of the arena. You are here for some team & individual photos of Team Japan for the ISU to use for their website and a marketing campaign of sorts. It's a pretty big gig, but you're chilling. You hear the metallic swing of the door and glance up. It's the queen herself, Kaori Sakamoto; accompanied by none other than Mone Chiba, Ami Nakai, and Mao Shimada. You bow and wave at them, and they bow and wave back, Mao Shimada bouncing up and down as she waves enthusiastically with both arms. She chants your name repeatedly as you laugh and and chant hers back.
Upon hearing the commotion, Yuma peers out of the prep room, and clocks the four skaters. He groans to himself, resting his head against the doorframe. Now he will have an audience to your reaction. Glancing over at you, his heart all about stops - you look angelic, hair hung loose around your shoulders, the dim lights around the rink just barely touching your face, and your smile. Yuma sighs. That damn smile makes him weak at the knees. He fears one day you will find out what you do to him and then make him your servant for life. He hates the fact he doesn't mind the thought.
The skater is so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't notice the four women drawing closer. Once they're a few feet from the door, he tries to snap it shut so they don't see him staring, but alas, Ami notices immediately. She grabs the edge of the door and pulls it back open.
"Yuma-kun, are you loooooking at someone??" She grins. Mone gasps.
"I KNEW it," she whisper-shouts.
Kaori says nothing, but smiles a small smile at him behind her hand. She wordlessly grabs his wrist and pulls him towards the door, before shoving him out and closing it behind her with a resounding click. Yuma swallows, feeling suddenly light-headed. He peers around the edge of the wall separating the corridor from the stands, and notices you are completely engrossed in your camera once more. Now or never, he tells himself as he runs his fingers through his hair. He makes his way over to you, hoping he projects confidence, and stands directly in front of you.
"Hello," he says casually. Relaxed, that's what he's going for.
"Hiya, Yumie," you say, glancing up briefly before returning to your camera. No reaction. His heart sinks. Your fingers pause, and you raise your head again, slower this time, and take in the blonde. Your eyes widen before you break out into a smile and stand up face to face with him. You gasp exaggeratedly, clapping your hands together in delight.
"Your hair! It looks so good!" You half gasp, half squeal.
Yuma breaks out into a relieved smile.
You throw your arms around his shoulders without a second thought, pulling him into a hug, before pulling back to adjust his bangs with your hands.
Yuma thinks he's ascended into heaven.
Your bodies are still flush against each other, your hand is in his hair, and you are smiling at him like nothing else matters. You notice him staring, and look down at his soft expression. Your heart skips a beat. He slides his arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, and you tighten your hold on him in response. In an ideal world, you would both stay there forever.
Do the F1 drivers ever get jealous because of the celebs trying to take F1 driver! Reader’s attention… so they try and impress Reader with their own skills, or try to sabotage the celebs trying to woo reader 👀
oh they’re JEALOUS alright 😭 feel free to imagine the actor as whoever you likeee
more about driver!yn
YN was glowing.
Not in the romantic, soft-focus kind of way—more in the sunscreen, expensive iced coffee, and media attention kind of way.
Miami was hot, the paddock was hotter, and apparently, so was the actor who wouldn’t stop following her around.
“No way that’s him,” Lando mumbled, biting the straw of his smoothie as he watched YN from under the shade of the McLaren hospitality area.
“It is,” George confirmed, arms crossed, brows raised, because even he had to admit the guy had good hair. “He’s here with Tag Heuer or something.”
The camera crews had caught it all: the actor leaning in a little too close. YN laughing a little too loudly. Her hand grazing his forearm as she smiled.
And every single F1 driver within a 30-meter radius watching it like it was the most suspenseful Netflix drama ever made.
Lando’s Tactical Distraction
Lando hadn’t planned it. Not really. But it just so happened that as soon as the guy offered to walk YN to the Pirelli zone, Lando jogged up behind her and slung an arm around her shoulders like he’d done it a million times.
“YN! You still owe me that paddock pass bet from quali, remember?” he grinned, teeth bright, eyes just a little too sharp as he glanced at the actor. “Oh. Hey, man. Big fan, by the way.”
YN blinked, caught between confusion and amusement. “Lando, I literally beat you in quali yesterday.”
“Details,” he shrugged. “Let’s go settle that, yeah?”
And just like that, he steered her away, all while shooting the dude a smile so fake it could’ve been sponsored.
George Russell & his Weaponized Charm
Later that day, YN was at the Mercedes garage doing her usual round of interviews when the celeb found her again, this time holding two smoothies.
“Oh my god,” George muttered under his breath, watching from the engineering station. “He brought her a strawberry smoothie. She hates strawberry.”
“She’s smiling,” Kimi offered, voice flat. “He’s gonna die.”
George didn’t answer. He just walked up like it was choreographed, suit halfway unzipped, sweat glistening on his collarbone because of course it was.
“YN,” he said, voice warm, “I was just looking for you. You left your sunglasses in the sim trailer.”
She blinked. “I—what?”
“Come on, I’ll walk you,” he said smoothly, plucking the smoothie from her hand and sipping it. Then, wrinkling his nose. “Strawberry? Really?”
The actor watched them go, his grip tightening around the other cup.
Lewis Hamilton with his Specialty
She was standing near the pit wall, hair up in a claw clip, oversized sunglasses on, and sipping from her water bottle like she wasn’t single-handedly responsible for every man within a ten-meter radius losing their damn minds.
The actor approached again—smooth, charming, complimenting her race suit and asking if she wanted to join him on his yacht for “a private sunset thing.” She laughed, polite but distant.
And then—
“YN!”
Lewis Hamilton, in head-to-toe cream linen with three Cartier bracelets and not a single bead of sweat, appeared. Like a goddamn movie entrance.
He greeted the actor with a perfectly neutral nod, then turned to YN with a grin so dazzling it should’ve been illegal.
“You didn’t tell me he’d be here,” he said lightly, slipping his arm around her waist in that familiar, comfortable way that made her laugh without thinking.
“I didn’t know,” she shrugged.
“Come on,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple (casual? not casual?), “We’re due on the paddock rooftop for that vegan tasting with Pharrell. You forgot?”
“I—wait, what?”
“Let’s go,” he said, and then he took her hand, walking away without looking back.
The actor? Left blinking in confusion, and maybe a little rage.
Max Verstappen, Silent but Deadly (And Petty)
Max didn’t even try to pretend.
He sat on a golf cart near Red Bull, arms crossed, eyes hidden by sunglasses, watching like some kind of brooding villain in a summer blockbuster.
When YN strolled past with the actor trailing her, Max didn’t say anything. He just reposted a photo of him and YN from last season with the caption:
“She doesn’t follow clowns.”
It had no tags. No mentions. But everyone knew. And the fans? Oh, they went feral.
The Afterparty
She shouldn’t have worn the white dress. Or the heels. Or the smile that made every other girl in the room want to be her and every guy in the room want to talk to her.
The celeb tried again—offering her a drink this time, a whisper of a joke in her ear. It made her laugh, sure. But from across the room?
It made Charles nearly choke on his champagne.
“Do we intervene?” Carlos muttered, sipping his drink. “Because that guy just touched her lower back. That’s intervention territory.”
Charles was already halfway across the room before Carlos could finish his sentence.
“YN,” Charles said, stepping between them like it was nothing, “can I borrow you for a second? It’s urgent.”
“Uh, yeah? Sure?” she said, glancing at the actor, who looked thoroughly unimpressed.
Charles didn’t even care. He led her to the dance floor and spun her into a half-hearted two-step. “He’s annoying.”
“Who?”
Charles didn’t answer. But his hand lingered on her waist a little longer than necessary.
user: charles leclerc dancing w y/n like he didn’t just interrupt her conversation with an actor 😭 grid men are so unserious
user: lando norris giving that poor actor the evilest eye i’ve ever seen…someone is not handling the competition well
user: GEORGE DRINKING HER SMOOTHIE TO EXPOSE THE FLAVOR???? i love when they get petty
user: i just know if that actor tries anything in monaco, lewis is gonna call beyoncé to distract him
user: grid boys: 1. actor boys: 0.
user: lewis walked up in linen and took her away like a lead in a romcom. how are the others supposed to compete with THAT??
Stephen and Isabeau together in Courmayeur. This photo set seems to be a glimpse into how much Stephen loves her as most of the photographs were likely taken by him. Such a cute couple.
yuna kim's TWO olympic gold medals @bartallenisbuiltdifferent - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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