Formula 1 One Shots [REQUESTS CLOSED]

Make It To Christmas - Franco Colapinto (2)

In the vocabulary of biathlon fans, two special sounds indicate whether or not their favourite sportsman missed. There is a loud enthusiastic "EY" and a low-volume disappointed "Oh". You can guess which is which.

In their language, I will present to you how the third stage went for Y/N.

EY!

EY!

EY!

EY!

...

EY!

Y/N quickly put the rifle on her back and sprinted back on track, a warm feeling filling her whole body despite the freezing temperatures. She did it! She sent it, and it worked out! This was probably the most challenging couple of seconds of her life, and she handled it like a pro. Y/N couldn't be more proud of herself. But what properly shocked her was that only she and Justine Braisaz-Bouchet continued whereas the rest of their group went on a penalty loop. She was in a fight for the race win. She could actually win this.

Franco, who watched the whole scene, couldn't hide his enthusiasm. Even the coach, who was usually frosty and concentrated, let out a strong: "Yes, let's go!", his fist flying in the air. He quickly muttered something into the transmitter before looking into the spotting scope again as some of Y/N's teammates arrived at the shooting range. He had a tablet with the times and the leaderboard. Y/N was doing an exceptional job keeping up with Braisaz-Bouchet.

"What are you still doing here?" Franco slightly jumped at the coach's firm voice. He looked up and saw his burning dark eyes making holes into his body. He suddenly felt so small.

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently, rubbing his hands in gloves together. Coach's eyebrows moved up in unison.

"My athletes are like my children," his strong voice echoed even through the shooting, "I know everything about them. They tell me if there is something bothering them...or someone." his voice trailed off as he had to focus on his job.

"We just had an argument, that's all," Franco muttered, more to himself as the coach didn't listen to him anymore. He got it, he wasn't welcomed here. Not after Y/N painted him in the vilest colours. He wouldn't make it this easy for her.

Y/N expected to lose contact with Justine rather quickly as she was much quicker on skis. But even a world-class athlete like her needed to store her joules for later. In the two kilometres they had to do before the last shooting, they switched positions several times. It wouldn't be strategic if one ran away from the other, wasting their energy.

The strident cheer welcomed them back at the shooting range. From the pre-race training, Y/N knew that the best shooting position was from station number 1, so she overtook Justine at the very last minute to secure that place. Her hands were shaking while she was placing the rounds into the stack, almost dropping them on the carpet. It was difficult not to have all the what-if thoughts. She won several races in the junior categories but this was a different league. It was the Formula 1 of biathlon, best of the best. A new kind of pressure she wasn't used to.

"We need to pray now," Y/N's coach told Franco and started mumbling something under his breath. Franco put his hands together, sending all the positive energy he had towards Y/N. Arguments or no arguments, he wanted her to win. She deserved to win, "ah shit, she slowed down," he sighed as Y/N's rapid-fire shooting was nowhere to be seen, "she's too nervous, she's too careful and that is risky."

Whereas Justine was already leaving the shooting range with one penalty loop to do, Y/N still had one more target ahead of her. She knew that she was now alone at the range and had to react quickly. She had no idea how her opponent did, she only focused on herself. Y/N briefly recollected how one mistake yesterday cost her a possible podium. She didn't want to make the same mistake twice. She would never forgive herself if she did. It was now or never.