kell9rs

[kell9rs]

what do u mean francos replacing jack for the next 5 races at alpine… if they feel the need to change their driver every 5 races maybe it’s time to take a different approach and CHANGE THE CAR

[kell9rs]

it hasn’t even been a year… is this happening bec i was praying on his downfall yesterday bec of the jack doohan rumours…

[kell9rs]

fuck sam bennett and i mean that. but also the department of player safety has to do their job. one team cannot continuously be allowed to bully their way to wins. florida does this because they have repeatedly been told it’s okay, that there are no repercussions for their dirty play, and, in fact, they will be rewarded for it. dops and the league have to do better.

[kell9rs]

call me crazy but i just feel like if a player leaves the arena ON A STRETCHER there should be a mandatory player safety review regardless of what they think happened on the ice

[kell9rs]

anyone who says anything mean about joseph woll will be condemned to the depths of hell

[kell9rs]

sam bennett cannot keep getting away with this oh my god

[kell9rs]

which one of you cooked here

[kell9rs]

i know i've been going at this since yesterday but can we also talk about how lando gets hate for not having ‘champion mentality' JUST bec he's open about his mental health??

the same people that preach men's mental health awareness are the same people who hate on lando for being open about his struggles with his mental health. like let’s be fr for a second… how is being emotionally available and self aware suddenly a weakness?

so many athletes in this sport have very openly spoken about their struggles, they’ve had their moments of self doubt — sebastian vettel, lewis hamilton, and even kimi raikkonen in his own way. but when lando speaks on it it’s somehow proof that he’s not good enough for the sport?? that he’s not built to be a champion bec he feels emotions like real human beings??

being open about your mental health is toughness. it’s growth, and if anything it’s the self awareness and maturity that champions need.

and now i know people are gonna say they think he’s not champion material bec he’s too immature or bec he makes comments about other drivers… guys let’s pls be fr here for a moment 🥀🥀🥀

immaturity and making snarky comments does not disqualify someone from being wdc. literally every world champ ever has had their own petty moments— alonso who threw shade every other weekend, max snapping at GP over the radio, seb dropping petty ass one-liners in his interviews, lewis being passive aggressive on the radio, schumacher who literally crashed into people.

lando being petty does NOT mean he’s incapable — it means he’s a 25 year old who’s under so much pressure in a hyper competitive environment. when you’re under pressure, and overwhelmed you’re literally bound to make comments or say something you don’t mean, everyone does it. but when lando does it it makes him immature?

you people only call it immaturity when you don’t like a certain driver. being petty under pressure doesn’t make you weak it literally makes you human. all the best drivers have done it, lando’s just not polishing it to please you.

[kell9rs]

very niche but i had a dream about this, clayton and reader having an argument and him walking out bec he doesn’t want to say something he doesn’t mean, and when he comes back home late at night he finds reader cuddled up in bed, clinging to his pillow and his heart just breaks

it’s a stupid argument. you both know it even while it’s happening — you know it by the way your voices snap too sharp, by the way clayton’s hands keep raking through his longish brown hair, by the way you both look at each other like you’re frustrated but also like you want to just fix it and can’t figure out how.

“i’m not doing this right now,” clayton finally mutters, voice tight, jaw clenched. his blue eyes flick away from you, down toward the floor. “i’m gonna go cool off.”

you feel your stomach twist as you watch him grab his keys. “clay—”

“no,” he cuts in softly, not even looking back. “i don’t wanna say something i don’t mean.”

and then the door clicks shut.

you sit there on the edge of the bed, feeling that hot little sting at the corners of your eyes, trying not to let it spill over. you hate fighting with him. you hate how it makes you feel small and lonely even though you know he loves you.

eventually, you crawl under the blankets, heart heavy and mind churning. you grab his pillow and pull it close — it smells like his shampoo, like his skin, and you bury your face in it even though you know it’s pathetic, even though you tell yourself you’ll just wait up for him and somehow end up falling asleep.

when clayton finally slips the key into the lock, it’s late. the house is dark, still. his chest aches, tight with regret, as he toes off his shoes and moves quietly through the apartment.

he doesn’t expect the sight that greets him when he pushes open the bedroom door.

there you are, curled up under the blankets, his pillow clutched tight in your arms, cheek pressed against it like it’s the only thing keeping you together. your brow is faintly furrowed even in sleep, your lashes damp like you might’ve cried yourself out.

clayton’s heart just crumples.

he crosses to the bed slowly, easing down onto the edge. he brushes a careful hand over your hair, his thumb ghosting along your temple. “pretty girl,” he whispers, his voice cracking a little, “you missin' me?"

you stir slightly, shifting toward the sound of him, still half-asleep.

clayton slides under the blankets and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close until you’re nestled against his chest. "yeah, i know, i missed you too..." he coos.

you let out a soft, sleepy sound, instinctively burying your face in the familiar warmth of him.

he kisses the top of your head, his throat tight. “i love you. i’m so sorry.”

and as you settle back into him, still holding onto his pillow like you’d been waiting for him to come home all night, clayton just holds you tighter — vowing silently not to let stupid arguments steal another minute from you again.

[kell9rs]

clay spamming you with texts while you’re out with your friends because he misses you so much and he feels like he has no one to hang out with except you during off-season and you’re the only person he even wants to hang out with

you only meant to check your phone for the time. really. you swear.

but the moment you light up your screen, you're met with a barrage of messages—ten, fifteen, seventeen?—all from clayton. and they’re coming in fast.

clayton 🐾 8:02 PM: are u having fun i feel like u forgot about me

clayton 🐾 8:03 PM: i’m gonna start writing a song called “she left me here with the dog and nothing else”

clayton 🐾 8:04 PM: you’re literally my only friend who am i supposed to hang out with rn. the couch?

clayton 🐾 8:05 PM: he’s ignoring me (pic of lucky, mid-yawn, clearly not ignoring him)

clayton 🐾 8:07 PM: do u remember love do u remember ME

you stifle a laugh, trying not to be rude as your friend continues telling a story across the table. but the next notification buzzes in your lap again.

clayton 🐾 8:08 PM: u know when we said “in sickness and in health”? i feel like this is the “sickness” part i’m lovesick

you finally excuse yourself to “go to the bathroom” and shoot him a reply.

you 8:10 PM: we’re not even married and you’ve seen me like three hours ago

his typing bubble appears immediately. like he’s been waiting.

clayton 🐾 8:10 PM: 3 hours is A LOT in off-season time i miss u come home

you lean against the wall in the hallway, smiling down at your screen. he's dramatic. he's so dramatic. but you know exactly what he means.

you 8:11 PM: clay. go play video games or something

clayton 🐾 8:11 PM: i tried. it’s not fun without you telling me i’m doing it wrong plus my chair smells like u

you 8:12 PM: how does a CHAIR smell like me

clayton 🐾 8:12 PM: u sat in it one time after a shower and now it smells like shampoo and pretty

you cover your mouth to keep from laughing too loud. he's ridiculous.

you 8:13 PM: you’re so embarrassing

clayton 🐾 8:13 PM: no i’m in love

clayton 🐾 8:13 PM: i’m in love and lonely and my life is gray when you’re not here

clayton 🐾 8:14 PM: please come home before i adopt a second dog and name it after u

you glance back toward the table where your friends are still chatting, but your heart’s already turning toward home.

you 8:14 PM: …give me 20 minutes

clayton 🐾 8:14 PM: 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

clayton 🐾 8:14 PM: i’ll queue up the office and warm ur spot on the couch

clayton 🐾 8:15 PM: i love u so bad

you shove your phone in your pocket and head back to the table. you’ve still got a half-full drink and a few more laughs to have—but now there’s a certain boy with blue eyes and a dimple waiting at home, curled up with your dog and pining like a sad victorian ghost.

you’re not gonna make him wait too long.

[kell9rs]

i had a dream of clayton having a dream thay he became pope and he woke up breaking a cold sweat because he was freaking out

you wake up to rustling.

soft at first — the kind of half-noise you’d normally ignore, burying your face deeper into the pillow — but then it sharpens into a sudden thud and a muffled “oh my god,” and that’s enough to jolt you.

you crack open one eye, squinting through the darkness. clayton’s sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, his longish brown hair a mess, his shoulders tense. his head’s in his hands, and his breath is coming in fast little huffs.

“clay?” you croak, voice thick with sleep. “babe, what…?”

he turns, wide blue eyes flicking toward you, and you immediately notice the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the way his chest is rising and falling way too fast for someone who’s been asleep.

“i—I…” he drags a hand through his hair, blinking hard. “oh my god. i had the worst dream.”

you push yourself up a little, frowning in concern. “what happened?”

he stares at you, dead serious, as if he’s about to confess something earth-shattering.

“i became pope.”

you blink. “what?”

“pope,” he says again, slightly wild-eyed. “the pope. i woke up and i was the pope. i had the hat and everything. people were kneeling. i don’t even know how it happened.” he runs both hands down his face, shaking his head. “i was just… standing there. and they were calling me his holiness. i don’t even go to church!”

you bite down on a laugh, but it slips out anyway, a small, startled giggle. “oh my god, clay.”

“don’t laugh!” he says, but his lips twitch a little like he’s trying not to smile. “it was horrifying. i had, like, responsibilities. and they wanted me to make decisions! moral decisions! i can barely pick where we’re ordering dinner from.”

you’re properly laughing now, and clayton groans, flopping backward onto the bed, arm thrown dramatically over his eyes.

“it felt so real,” he mutters. “i swear, i woke up thinking i was about to step onto the balcony and wave at the crowd. like, i had the robes. the pope robe. it was—i can’t even explain it.”

you roll onto your side, grinning as you trace a light finger down his bare chest. “well, your holiness, i hereby absolve you of all pope duties.”

he snorts, finally lowering his arm and peeking at you with a sheepish smile. “thanks.”

you lean over and kiss his cheek, right by that little dimple. “go back to sleep, clay. you’re just my dumb hockey boyfriend. no popes here.”

he sighs in relief, curling an arm around you and pulling you close. “good. because i don’t think i could handle another pope dream.”

you laugh softly against his chest. “i’ll make sure to keep you humble, your eminence.”

“oh god,” he groans, but he’s laughing too now, the tension melting out of his body as he buries his face in your hair. “i’m never living this down, am i?”

“not a chance,” you whisper, smiling.

[kell9rs]

oh my god deliberately posting shit like this is the reason why the f1 community now is so incredibly toxic. if you don’t like a driver don’t root for them!! did you know you could do that? did you know you can just ignore them?? put your energy elsewhere, perhaps a driver that you actually like!! it’s insane to me that people forget that these drivers that do the sport that we love are STILL human beings who make mistakes!!! who have feelings!!! if you wanna go around nitpicking every little thing he’s ever done look at yourself as a person too. start reflecting on yourself and your own actions, because i promise you if you feel the need to come onto social media — a very grateful place already — to spread even more hate, YOU are not a good person either!!!!!! literally no one is perfect. no one makes zero mistakes. and just because someone is famous doesn’t mean we should expect them to be perfect?

[kell9rs]

this is the happiest they’ve been all year and it’s in a lego car. what does that say about ferrari rn.

[kell9rs]

GO LEAFS GO!! never doubt my wives again.

[kell9rs]

i hate sam bennett ❤️

[kell9rs]

anthony stolarz should be allowed to kill sam bennett with a rock & im being so serious

[kell9rs]

matthew knies. killer of florida. he’s got wheels. he’s got hands. he’s a brick shithouse. he’s the next pope