Random Oneshots from my Tumblr (@bad268)
Writing Inktober entries were moved to another book so read that too :)
The only new chapters of this book are part 2s or the off chance I write for a fictional character
New stories are posted in book 2 on m...
Racing Hearts and Scholarly Pursuits (Juan Manuel Correa X Reader)
Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3
Requested: Yessss (MY LOVER ILY I TRIED JMC I REALLY DID I WATCHED SO MANY PODCASTS SO I HOPE ITS NOT SHIT <3)
Warnings: Mentions of Spa 2019 crash/recovery, mentions of Ariel Castro and his crimes (Kidnapping, homicide, rape, child endangerment, disregard for human life, etc.) (I'm a criminal justice major so I did this essay based on an actual essay I did)
Summary: Master's student Y/n visits JM at one of the most important races of the year: Spa.
W.C. 1749
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Schooling has always been a main concern for me, and I made that clear in any relationship I was in. My friends knew that when I had assignments due, there was no going out, and I would be almost entirely focused on my work. When I met JM and eventually got into a relationship with him, I told him the same thing, and he was very supportive of it. He also made it clear that he would be traveling a lot because he was back on the Formula 2 grid, and I fully supported him.
Recently, my summer classes have been busy, but I knew I wanted to support JM in Belgium. I met him while he was in recovery in Miami, and he told me about his crash at Spa. It was still a difficult place to be, so I knew that I wanted to be there, regardless of my schooling.
Being on the F2 paddock was a shock. I hadn't been there before, or to a race in general, but the people there were crazy. There were photographers, journalists, celebrities, and fans everywhere, and they were all pushing for any attention they could get. As soon as I got through the gate, they were at my throat, trying to ask questions about who I was, get pictures of me, and overall just pushing to get a reaction out of me.
I ducked into the first building I could find, and thankfully, it was the Van Amersfoort motorhome. I walked into the first room that was open, which happened to be someone's driver's room, so I could call JM. After a couple of rings, he picks up.
"Hey, are you at the gates?" He greets.
"Nope,' I laugh, "I somehow made it to Van Amersfoort while running from the press. I'm in someone's driver's room, I think."
"How far did you walk in the building before going into the room?" He asked, already heading out of the meeting room he was sitting in.
"I went straight and the door was open," I explained, looking around the small room before laughing, "I actually like this room. This would be a good place to work on my essay."
"Well, if you're in the room I think you're in, you can stay in there all you want," he chuckled as he abruptly hung up the phone. Before I could complain or send him a not-so-kindly-worded message, he walked through the door. He immediately wrapped his arms around my shoulders as he pulled me into a tight embrace. "Ironically, you found my driver's room."
