#posting this when no one is online so you can’t stop me

[mooshie-blue]

IMPORTANT UPDATE.

Please read

I’m gonna be honest with y’all. The internet is just. Not healthy for me. There’s a lot of reasons, doom scrolling, discourse, easy access to see horrible things happening that I can’t stop or control.

I use the internet to cope. Cope with my feelings, my anxiety. To escape and find solace in others. But lately, it’s not enough. Nothings enough.

Maybe I need to spend more time with myself and family. I need to just let it go. I’m exhausted. I’m always overthinking my worth to others.

Sometimes I cry alone, in my room wishing it would all make sense, or that I could trust people. But I can’t just sit and vent online because it really doesn’t help. Not as much as I wish it would.

And my art. My stupid fucking art. I have improved a lot last and this year, but that doesn’t erase the fact that I can easily see people that deserve the title of “artist” way more than I do. I can’t fucking stand it.

I’m even finding myself angry and jealous at my friends, but it’s not their fault. I’m the one who lacks discipline and variety lol.

And honestly. Yes, the harassment I received two years ago still bothers me, not in the sense that I miss the freind I fought with, I don’t. I hope she’s doing okay. It’s moreso the fact that I think they were all right about me.

I still don’t think I’m a good person. I get angry, I say things without thinking. I lose patience. Others get angry because of bad things happening to others, same here, but I also get angry because of how I think others are against me, or better than me.

It’s all culminating to a point where I’m obsessing over and spending hours sticking to unrealistic or unreasonable thoughts and ideas about my friends

And instead of asking them or talking to them upfront I just let those thoughts fester until it pops.

I need a break. From the whole internet. All my apps. Everything. I can’t hurt myself like this anymore. I mean I’ve come dangerously close to harming myself more times than I can count.

I mean most of my all nighters are spent dicking around on my phone. And it’s made even more pathetic by the fact that I don’t have any irl friends. You guys online are the only friends I have. And I don’t even talk to a lot of you guys, so even that’s a line that’s thin enough to cut.

I don’t want to put pressure on anyone anymore. I don’t want to hurt or think bad thoughts. I need to open myself up a little bit and stop letting everything get in the way.

I want to focus on me. Not my thoughts, not my art. Me. I want to grow more comfortable with myself. Just sit and think. Read, play games. Just let it all go.

So. I’m gonna take a break. I don’t know for how long. I don’t know what I’ll do. But I can’t keep living like this.

The only thing online I’ll be doing until further notice is DMs. I’ll still talk to you guys. But I’m not posting for a while.

I love you guys. Thanks for understanding. I’ll come back when I’m ready.

[mrs-johnson]

“Trending Topic”

Aaron Taylor Johnson x Fan!Female Reader

Warnings: One-Night Stand | Accidentally Pregnancy | Marital Issues | Media Attention | Emotional Tension.

Summary: After a one-night stand with Aaron Taylor-Johnson, a young fan unexpectedly finds herself pregnant.

You had never imagined your life would end up on TMZ.

But there it was.

“Aaron Taylor-Johnson Spotted with Mystery Woman at London Hotel – Is That a Baby Bump?”

The headline didn’t even show your face—just a blurry photo of you walking out of a café, hoodie pulled over your head, cradling your stomach unconsciously. You were barely three months along.

And yes. It was his.

You hadn’t even meant for it to happen. You were just a fan—had admired him since Nowhere Boy, followed his work, never expected that kind of night.

It was at a small afterparty, a premiere you’d only gotten into because of a mutual friend. You spoke to him briefly—nervous, flushed, but genuine. He seemed drawn to your honesty. You didn’t scream, didn’t ask for a selfie. Just… talked.

And when he kissed you at 2AM, you didn’t stop him. Not when he led you back to his suite. Not when he whispered how tired he was of being seen as someone’s “boy.”

The next morning was quiet. Gentle. He left you a note:

“I don’t regret this. But I have a complicated life. Stay kind. – A.”

You didn’t expect to see him again.

Then the test came back positive.

You didn’t tell anyone for weeks. Not him. Not your family. Until you couldn’t hide it anymore and someone posted that damn photo.

That’s how she found out.

Sam.

You saw the news unravel in real time—Twitter and TikTok flooded with reactions:

“Not surprised tbh, Sam was basically his mother.”

“Can’t blame the guy. She groomed him when he was a teenager.”

“This new girl? She’s his AGE?? Good for him!”

“Bet the baby’s gonna be gorgeous omg.”

“Homewrecker 🙄”

You shut your phone off.

You didn’t want any of this. You weren’t a homewrecker. You weren’t a groupie. You were just… a woman who had one strange, intimate night with someone you never expected to meet again.

But Aaron did come back.

It took three days. The knock on your door was soft. You didn’t even look through the peephole—you just knew.

When you opened it, he was standing there in a hoodie and sunglasses, holding his breath.

“…Hi.”

You stared at him for a moment. “Did you know?”

He shook his head. “Not until I saw it online. I didn’t even know how to reach you.”

You stepped aside. Let him in.

⸻

He sat on your couch in silence, hands tangled.

“She told me we were over,” he said, finally. “Sam. When it broke online. I didn’t lie to her—I didn’t cheat. We were… we were done long before that night. I just didn’t say it out loud yet.”

You watched him carefully.

“I’m not asking for anything,” you said quietly. “I’m not trying to trap you.”

He lifted his head sharply. “This isn’t that. I just… I needed to see you. To know if it’s true.”

You nodded once. “I had the scan last week. Ten weeks.”

He blinked. Then looked down at your belly.

“…May I?”

Your chest ached. You guided his hand to rest over your shirt. There was nothing yet. Just soft skin. But he looked like he could cry.

“I never thought I’d get to… do it right,” he whispered. “Be present. Choose it.”

Your eyes burned. “What are you saying?”

He looked at you like it was obvious. “I’m saying… if you’ll let me, I want to be here. Not because of headlines. Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night.”

Silence.

Then—

“Even if I’m just some fan who got lucky?”

“You weren’t just anything,” he murmured. “You looked at me like I was Aaron. Not a character. Not a tabloid name. And that night was the first time in years I felt like I could breathe.”

You were already crying when he leaned forward and kissed your cheek.

⸻

Three Months Later

You and Aaron sat in a quiet garden café, hand in hand. Your bump had grown. So had the number of online posts—but surprisingly, many were… supportive.

“Okay but they’re actually adorable together.”

“He looks HAPPY. Like really happy.”

“This new girl is stunning and radiant and kind and age-appropriate. Finally.”

“Hot dad era unlocked 🔓🍼”

“Imagine being the baby who saved Aaron Taylor-Johnson from that weird age-gap marriage.”

The noise didn’t bother you anymore. Not when he kissed your knuckles every time you got anxious. Not when he whispered the baby names he’d been secretly writing in a notebook. Not when he told interviewers he was taking time off because “family comes first.”

⸻

And when your son was born?

He didn’t stop crying for an hour.

Neither did you.

Because despite the whirlwind start, the gossip, the glare of cameras—you had found something real.

A second chance.

For him. For you.

For love.

[duxearlier]

BEHIND THE SCREEN

▪︎___________°••>>>* kinich x reader * <<<••°____________ ▪︎

Synopsis: Summer is over and it’s time to go back to school. Being one of the so-called ‘’nerds’ wasn’t so bad, they could go about their day unbothered. Every year should be the same, so why was this year different? Every year should be the same but this year it made sure to hurt y/n in every possible way. Things change when rumours come out which made y/n find out that their long time online friend and crush is no other than one of the popular kids.

Warnings: Swearing, yelling, bullying, angst, lots of angst, angst to fluff drama. Suggestive themes? Misunderstandings

Genre: collage au, modern au, online friends, popular/ nerd au

Taglist: open

<hey guys! First, I apologise for the slow,,very slow updates. Some things came up and I was unable to do anything but-! I’ll try to post one chapter a week, sometimes two. I wanna do two chapters a week but I can’t promise anything-. Jdkdk. Anyway! I hope you guys enjoy the new chapter! Have a good day/afternoon/night! > (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

CHAPTER FIVE

<chapter four || materlist || chapter six>

▪︎_______________°••>>>*<<<••°_______________▪︎

The bell rang, making students rush out of the classroom and go towards the cafeteria. y/n took their time, gathering their stuff before making their way out the classroom, a small sigh leaving them, making their way down the hallway. It was the second day and they were so over it. It wasn’t a good day either and they just wanna go home, talk to Quiche and just forget about it but, for now they still need to get through this day.

‘Hm I wonder what we could play? Maybe we could just chat too. Ah I can’t wait-“ they thought to themselves, “maybe-“ before they could finish their though, turning to make a left before suddenly-.

They bumped into someone, stumbling back, dropping their bag in the process “im so sorry-“ words died from their throat as y/n looked up at the person that they bumped into, which was no other than Kinich. They couldn't help but stumble back a bit, almost tripping over their feet but Kinich managed to reach over and grab their hand, stabilising them before y/n could fall “careful, are you okay y/n?” He asked, staring at them making y/n blink. He knows their name-??

“Y-yeah yeah- I uh im fine- sorry I didn’t mean to bump into you” y/n apologies, shaking their head a bit as Kinich let’s go of their hand, reaching down and picking up y/n’s backpack, giving it to them “it’s fine” he spoke, looking at them which made them a bit nervous as they grabbed their bag from him “thank you” they mumble, clutching their bag, heart racing for some reason.

“It’s no problem, see you around y/n” with that, Kinich walked off making y/n flustered and confused. See you around!? What does that mean? And how does Kinich, a popular guy, know about them? Letting out a breath, they rushed off to the cafeteria, needing to tell someone about this, someone no other then Setho’s since he’s the one who knows about their crush on the popular guy.

~

Not too far off from where y/n bumped into Kinich, ajaw smirked and rushed after his best friend, practically grabbing the other’s arm to stop him “hey hey what did I say?! I'm right aren’t I?” He grinned as Kinich stopped to look at him, slightly annoyed. “About what?” He asked as Ajaw grinned, poking him “about y/n! They are cosmos! I’ve heard them say it and don't they sound familiar too? They have the same voice!” Ajaw huffed out, crossing his arms over his chest. “Hm..” Kinich turned to look towards the direction of where y/n left, silently thinking.

Well,it’s true that y/n does sound the same and ajaw mentioned how he heard they mentioned his online tag..but then again, he cant trust ajaw that. He will have to do some investigation on his own.

Letting out a sigh, he turned around and started to walk off, making ajaw squawk “hey! HEY! HOW DARE YOU IGNORE ME!? KINIIICHH! COME BACK HERE!”

▪︎_______________°••>>>*<<<••°_______________▪︎

< taglist> @yaoizee @crazydreamcat @hikari-star @liyahbug @yuukiririix @aliceleste @soifon-simp @arraxthatsonjah @thingforxiao @wiggly-yrath @jiminscarmex @abejaruby @ayangyyen @minminmum

[yingren]

at this point i think modern verse ren is just my outlet for bad jokes and doing whatever i want with him. there’s no reason for him to have a full horror themed sleeve tattoo. but also. a junji ito inspired one. the spiral. tomie. he adds more and more to it occasionally. loses a drunk bet and has to add something random / someone’s signature or another dumb thing to it.

[watsername]

this post was supposed to be a lighthearted post about aspec people by highlighting them in a joking way that still instills positivity and pride in the identity .

unfortunately too many people are too chronically online and media illiterate to realise that so let’s break down the post.

‘shout out to the people not having gay sex this pride month’

this was intentionally a worded to counter the ‘have lots of gay sex this pride month’ jokes and positivity that surround pride discussions. The wording directly associates with anti-queer activity and their frequent attempt to divert attention from queer people during the month of pride. it is worded intentionally. it is supposed to seem counter active to pride .

the humour is then seeing a pride flag. specifically the asexual flag- in which case this stands for an umbrella term across the aspec community which is more recognisable than the variety of aspec flags that i had seen whilst looking for a flag for this post . the grey line of the asexual flag stands for the spectrum between allosexual and asexual it represents the degrees of asexuality and in so, with the purple, stood for the aspec community in this post.

if the joke is still lost on you, the idea was to read a statement that counters the idea of queer pride and find it recontextualised to humorously represent an identity associated with the lack of sexual attraction; ergo no gay sex .

what this post is NOT, is a comment on varied asexual attraction. it us not a commentary on what makes a valid asexual person or whether or not you specifically will have sexual inter course this pride month . it is not saying asexuals are not allowed to have sex . this post is pushing any stereotype of asexuality . op is a sex having aspec person. i am demisexual . i have been with my partner for almost 2 years and engage in sexual activity .

what this post IS, is a joke. it’s a fucking joke i cant make it any clearer. not every single joke is going to relate to your own experiences and that’s ok. not every post about asexuality is going to relate to your own experiences that’s ok. you need to stop taking things at face value and actually engage in some media literacy to understand when something is a reductionist and stereotyping commentary which is inherently negative and when something uses a reductionist approach to convey humour because a lot of you really seem to be struggling with that one.

i fear a lot of you take yourselves too seriously and can’t find the humour in simple tumblr shitposts to the point where i’m having to actually explain what i thought was a very easy concept to grasp because it has upset a lot of people . stop taking everything so seriously .

if you are offended by the original post that is actually a you problem. that is something you have to work on where you cannot accept any form of lighthearted media that does not directly align with your own experiences . bc it’s not serious . it’s a joke x

also allo people can fuck off bc this is literally a post celebrating aspec ppl idc if your gf lives across the country or if you’re just a single loser this literally has nothing to do w u

yall make me want to kms for making me do this

[maruflix]

r/AmITheAsshole u/THEsajaboy • 17 hours ago

My manager said I’m “unprofessional” and all I can think about is how I want her all for myself. AITA?

feat. saja boys (jinu-centric)　　⎯⎯　wc. 1.5k

content: female reader, manager!reader, fluff, slight crack, gets kinda dark at the end, possessive jinu, no beta we die like me after finding out that lee byung-hun is the voice of gwi-ma

note. goofy ass...

I (400, M) have a really cute manager and I kinda like her. Sometimes I tease her to get her attention (you know, like all men do) but yesterday, she tells me that I’m unprofessional and I piss her off :(

“Jinu! What did I say about posting Instagram stories without going through me first?!”

Abby is quick to scramble away from the scene of the crime, taking his phone with him. Baby, who’s looking for something to drink, quietly closes the fridge and speed-walks to the living room.

No one wants to be in your line of sight when you’re angry, demon or not.

Meanwhile, the source of all your headache is slumped over the kitchen table lazily, scrolling his phone with one hand. His other hand is deep in a bowl of popcorn as he munches away without a care in the world.

“Jinu!” Slamming your hand on the table, Jinu finally angles his head to look at you.

“Oh, hey, manager.” He smiles dazzlingly. “What did I do now?”

You exhale in frustration, knowing that Jinu loves to press your buttons. “Who’s on your Close Friends list?”

Jinu tilts his head. “There’s only one person. Guess.”

“I’m really not in the mood to play games.”

“Aww, come on~”

Instead of trying to talk with a man with the personality of a seven year old, you opt to do this the easy way: you snatch Jinu’s phone and checks his Instagram settings, sighing in relief when you see only one person in his Close Friends list:

You.

“Very funny. As if you don’t annoy me enough in the real world already, you just had to insert yourself into my online life too.” Grumbling in annoyance, you deleted his dumb story as an extra measure before handing it back to him. “Why would you post a photo of me and caption it with ‘smash’?!”

“Because...” Jinu slings an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him with one swift motion, “I would...?”

That answer must’ve not been good enough because Jinu earns himself a hard smack on the arm.

“You’re the most unprofessional idol I’ve ever had the misfortune of working with! If you piss me off one more time, I swear—!”

She’s indeed very competent at her job and she takes things very seriously. That’s part of why I like her... and also why I like to tease her. I just want her to be able to let loose and take it easy instead of always worrying about numbers and charts and promos. For the record, we actually have a pretty good relationship.

“Damn it!”

The Saja Boys didn’t even look up from their telenovela, already used to your outbursts by now.

“What now?” Jinu deadpans, “Did they cancel the feature?”

“No, worse.” You sigh, “Golden is so damn catchy.”

The boys’ head slowly turns to your direction.

“You saved it on your Spotify playlist, didn’t you?!” Jinu points, gasping in horror.

“I-” Hiding your phone behind your back, you stand up under the critical eyes of the Saja Boys, “What I do in my free time is none of your concern!”

“Have you saved Soda Pop on your playlist, have you or have you not?” Jinu narrows his eyes, crawling from the sofa to the chair where you’re sitting.

You quickly turn your attention back to your phone and clicked the plus button.

“There! I have! Of course I have!”

“Traitor!”

“It’s not what it looks like!”

.

.

.

But it is, because the next time Jinu discovers your traitorous ways is when he catches you humming a ‘We're goin' up, up, up..’ in the living room sofa as you scroll that week’s stats.

“Traitor, stop humming that song now!”

Jinu’s tickling your sides mercilessly, making you scream.

“I can’t believe we have a traitor amongst our midst!” Your laughter is infectious because he’s also smiling now. However, what you did still annoyed him and so he will punish you for that.

You try to roll away and shove him but he quickly moves on top of you, holding you in a vice-like grip as he continues his assault on your sides. You and your little arms are no match for him.

“Jinu! Ahahaha! Sto-hahaha! Ji-ahahaha!”

Upon seeing tears running down your cheeks, Jinu finally decides to take pity on you and stop his tickling. The two of you are huffing now, trying to catch your breath. None of you are moving from your position.

“Asshole,” you huff, but your eyes are smiling. “You’re so annoying.”

Jinu leans down, “But you like me annoying.” he grins, savoring the way your cheeks glow scarlet and your eyebrows furrow at your inability to make a comeback.

When you’re no longer able to fight, you choose flight.

You break away from Jinu’s grasp to stand up but your leg gets tangled with his. “Crap!”

Jinu pulls you before your back hits the edge of the table and you crash, instead, on his sturdy chest. When you look up, Jinu is smirking down at you. He doesn’t say anything, yet he doesn’t let you go. It’s like there’s a magnetic pull between the two of you. The way Jinu looks at you intently has your breath hitching.

‘Is he going to..’

You know this is not right, but you can’t move when his grip on your body keeps tightening. You can practically smell his cologne now, his eyes never leaving you even when he angles his head and your lips part—

Abby and Baby burst through the door with pizza boxes and a big bag of energy drinks, unaware of what just went down in the living room sofa.

“What are you two doing?” Abby questions, eyeing the two of you in suspicion.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

Jinu narrows his eyes when you scramble away from his lap. Damn it. And he was so close.

Lately I feel like I get jealous a lot. I even scare myself during those moments because I get so inexplicably angry when I see her with other men. I feel like I want to monopolize her.

“Abby, the shirt stays on!”

Jinu sighs quietly when the music comes to a screeching stop. Next to him, Mystery slumps to the ground. He doesn’t blame him; they’ve been trying to shoot a ‘dance practice’ video for over an hour now.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s a passive skill.” Abby grins sheepishly, walking over to you, who’s sitting crosslegged on the floor. “Are you sure, though? Surely the fans appreciate some.. service.” Abby squats down to your height and flexes proudly, the layer of sweat on his muscles glistening.

You look away, suddenly feeling flustered. “I swear..”

Jinu raises an eyebrow at this.

“Ha! I knew our manager also appreciates some of... this!”

His flexing only causes you to blush even more. Sure, you’ve also managed other boy groups before, but all of them are the cute, respectful type who calls you ‘noona’ and looks up to you with puppy-dog eyes.

The Saja Boys, though? They’re in a league of their own.

The ice cold water bottle to your burning cheek is a lifesaver. You turn to see Romance, looking at you unblinkingly.

His goofy face makes you laugh. “Thanks. Sure is hot in here.”

Before you can finish drinking, Jinu is already by your side, seizing your arm and dragging you with him.

“Whoa- wait!”

When the two of you is outside, Jinu stops. Truth be told, he also doesn’t know why he reacted like that.

“Jinu? What’s gotten into you?”

What has gotten into him, indeed? All he knows is when you look at someone else, his heart churns. When you get flustered and it’s not because of him, something dark writhes inside him.

The Saja Boys are his comrades, but if they get in his way, he’ll—

“Jinu! It hurts!”

Your yelp breaks his train of thoughts. He quickly lets go of your arm. “S-sorry.”

“What’s wrong? You’re scaring me!”

Jinu just stares at you, his jealousy growing even deeper when he remembers you smiling and laughing with the other members.

Someday, when you see his true colors, are you going to leave him?

“Jinu!”

Your grip on his shoulders is secure, anchoring him back down to reality. Jinu looks at you and smile. “I guess I feel left out when I see you getting along with everybody..”

“What? Jinu...”

“I know I’m a handful. You probably hate working with me, and—”

You pull him into a hug. Although you scold him a lot, you don’t want him to misunderstand your feelings: he’s a great guy and you like him. Sure, you think he’s an all-around cocky guy and that ego of his can be knocked down a notch, but... to think that someone like Jinu can also feel self-conscious...

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jinu. I can never hate you.”

Jinu smiles, slipping his arms around your waist to hug you back. Has he been approaching this with the wrong tactic? The gears in his brain are turning, thinking of ways to bind you to him.

All the while, his demon mark gleams silently.

I think she likes me but she wants to take things slow because she’s still unsure of her feelings. The problem is, I’m not a patient man and I want to have her all to myself ASAP. I can’t risk her having second thoughts. What can I say? I love her so much, so it should be normal, right? So what do you think?

[no-144444]

hey girl!

I LOVEEEE your writing, you're so talented! i was wondering if you could do a grid post where either the reader, or the driver starts crying during an argument? I'd just love to see how it would play out!

thanks ml :))))

crying during an argument

꩜ featuring: the entire grid, zhou guanyu, paul aron, jack doohan.

꩜ a/n: thank you for requesting and thank you for reading! I loved this idea and lmk if yall want a part 2 to any of them bc i have some ideas... :) also heads up, this is 14k words... my b i got carried away :p

mclaren

Oscar Piastri 

Oscar didn’t cry often. Special events required crying; terrible crashes where he genuinely felt scared for his life, his dog dying, missing his sisters’ graduations. 

And apparently this. 

You were ranting, not even raising your voice, just frustrated. You were so damn understanding too, so aware of the fact that it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t control his schedule. You just missed him. You just wanted him there for one of the biggest nights of your life, and he couldn’t be there. 

He felt the emotion building in his throat, foreign and clunky. Uncontrollable. He tried to swallow it down, but he just made this weird choked sound, and he felt the tears on his cheeks. 

You’d somehow sensed it, like you did with everything else about him. Always, after every race, every tough day, every great day, you always knew just what he needed. You stopped talking. You whipped your head around, and you were already in front of him with wide eyes and more patience than he thought he probably deserved.  

A soft hand on his shoulder, a tentative breath. “Oscar?” You practically whispered. He nodded, wiping his tears away, only for more to appear seconds later. “Oscar, it’s ok, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your hand reaching up and running through his hair, coaxing him to lean into you. He did. He dropped his head to your shoulder, his tears soaking your shirt. You didn’t seem to care. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out, not entirely sure what he was apologising for. You shook your head as he fisted your shirt, trying to hold onto something so he wouldn’t fully fall apart.

Your voice came soft and soothing. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” you tightened your grip on his waist. “Please don’t apologise.” 

“I just-“ hiccup- “I feel bad,” God, he sounded like a child to himself. You didn’t judge. “I want to be there so bad.”

“It’s alright Osc,” you hushed. “It’s okay. I know you support me,” you said it against his temple like a prayer, and it made him want to believe you. “I know you love me.”

He nodded, pulling his face out of its solace in the crook of your neck. “Okay,” he nodded, breathless. Your eyes were wide, but trusting. Truthful. “Okay.”

You hadn’t seen Oscar cry many times, mostly because he didn’t like to. He knew now, if he needed to, he could come to you. 

Lando Norris  

It was a dumb argument. Somewhere in your brain, you knew that. 

But it’s hard to remember that when you’re that angry, and that frustrated. 

You shouldn’t have shouted. You shouldn’t have stopped looking at him. You shouldn’t have let him go quiet. There were a lot of things you shouldn’t have done. 

He listened as best he could, truly. He wanted to solve the problem, to make it better, to make being with him easier. He can’t control his schedule though. He can’t control where he’ll be day by day. He can’t leave at a moment's notice. He has people who rely on him, too many people who rely on him. It weighs on him, and somehow, it’s started to weigh on you. You’ve become a background character in your own partner's life, and you couldn’t take it anymore. He feels like more of a roommate than a boyfriend, and he’s hardly ever home. He wanted to fix it, but when so many parts of your life are out of your control, you start to feel helpless. You start to believe the things people say online, the ones online telling him he should just break up with you since he only gets to see you twice a year. The ones who tell him he’s not a good boyfriend. The ones who remind him of his failings, and all the second chances you’ve given him without even thinking about it. 

He teared up and just left. The bedroom door locked behind him before you’d even notice he’d fucking left. 

Then the guilt settled, right down in your stomach, so deep you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You cupped a hand over your mouth, like it would reverse all the things you’d said. Like it could take it back. It couldn’t. You couldn’t. 

Time passed as you stared at that fucking door, debating about what you’d even do if you went in there. You didn’t know, but you knew you had to make it right. 

You knocked against the wood. “Lan,” your voice was breaking. “I’m so sorry,” you leaned your head against the door. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Slowly, you heard footsteps, and the door opened. He looked cosy, but the sad kind of cosy. The kind of cosy he looked when he was overwhelmed. 

He cleared his throat. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that,” his usual sentiment lacked any conviction, but there was a soft kind of humour in his words. “She’s a genius.”

You shook your head, that guilt clawing at you from the inside out. “I’m not sure I am,” you chuckled out, but it lacked any kind of humour. “I’m sorry,” you looked up at him, his red-rimmed eyes, his soft expression, his sunken shoulders. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

He shrugged. “Probably not,” he let out a breath. “But I’ve said a lot worse, and you’ve given me another chance every time without thinking about it,” he admitted. “And I think we’re both exhausted.” 

“You’re too nice to me-”

“You’re not nice enough to yourself,” he corrected, wrapping his hand around your waist and pulling you into his chest. “I just needed a minute, I’m sorry I left.”

“I think we both needed a minute,” you admitted, that warm feeling in your chest somehow choking out the feeling of guilt. “I’m sorry again Lan.”

“Thank you,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “We’ll work through it. We always do.”

mercedes:

George Russell 

George argued like he drove; completely controlled until he wasn’t. He liked to think he could keep his cool, that an argument with his girlfriend wouldn’t shake him so much when he could make split-second decisions while driving 300km/ h. He couldn’t. Every word coming out of your mouth seemed to rattle him, make him falter, make him lose his mind. 

He didn’t realise he was crying. It wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t being overwhelmed. He was frustrated. He wanted to be what you needed, he wanted to be there for you, he wanted to always be able to drop everything for you, but he couldn’t. Yes, it was his dream to drive, but sometimes, it left a sour taste in his mouth on the nights you texted him sad and lonely, or exhausted and in need of affection. It made him feel… ashamed. He wanted to be the perfect fiance, be there for you more than anyone else. He couldn’t. And it made him feel like shit. 

“George,” your voice pulled him out of his shame-spiral, and he felt your hand on his cheek, wiping away the wetness. “Breathe,” you demanded, your voice full of fear and eyes wide. “You’re going to have a panic attack, George, breathe.”

He did as you asked, grounding himself with his hands on your hips, squeezing your shirt in time with his breaths like you’d made him do several times before. He focused on your eyes. Exploring the colours he knew so well, reminding himself that an argument is just an argument, and you were just frustrated, he was just frustrated. You’d both lie down together tonight, he’d kiss your shoulder, and you’d pretend to hate the way his hand sneaks up your shirt. You’d still be there. You’d still love him. 

He nodded. “I’m alright,” he sighed out, the tension finally breaking. You didn’t look convinced, you never did during one of these. “I’m alright,” he spoke slower again, reassuring you. 

You nodded, then pressed your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice,” you let out, soft and small. Like you were scared he'd fall away if you didn’t hold onto him. 

“I’m sorry I can’t be there,” he whispered, a humorless chuckle in his lips. “You’re always there to support me and I can’t fucking be there for you. Ever.” He spat out the last word like he was embarrassed, or disgusted with himself. 

You looked up and pressed your lips to his. He kissed you back like it could maybe make up for it. Like he could show you how much he cared, how much he wanted to be there. “George,” you were breathless, he tried to kiss you again, and you stopped him. “You’re always there for me,” you smiled softly, the kind of smile that made him see into the future, wrinkles and kids, everything he wanted. “Even when you’re a million miles away, you’re always checking up on me. You care so much it scares my friends sometimes,” you chuckled and pressed a kiss against his forehead. “I’m just…” you couldn’t finish your sentence, you didn’t even know how you felt. 

“I know,” he whispered, his forehead against yours. He always knew when it came to you. 

Andrea Kimi Antonelli

Kimi hated arguments. He hated making you upset, hated not knowing what to say. 

“You can’t say shit like that Kimi, it’s not fair,” you scoffed, fluffing the pillows of your couch. Moving in together had been tumultuous. You both loved it, but it was a long process to figure out the balance between being together all the time, and not ripping the heads off each other. He’d said something stupid, some off-handed comment that made you see red. He sat on the couch as you rage-cleaned the apartment, ranting all the way. He felt too much like a child for his liking, sitting on the couch as you scolded him. 

Kimi was an emotional person, and you’d only had so many arguments in your relationship. He hated seeing you upset, and knowing it was his fault just started a guilt pit in his mind, picking apart every single thing he did that upset you. 

“I think I just need some time alone,” you sighed, putting down the towel in your hand. “I’m going to go for a walk-“

“Don’t go!” He shot up, the emotion building behind his eyes as panic surged through his chest. You couldn’t leave, not like this. He grabbed onto your wrist and pulled you against his chest. “Please don’t leave, talk to me, scream at me, just don’t leave. Please.” His eyes were wide and pleading, and his grip was practically bruising. 

You’d never seen him like this. Begging. Pleading. Like if he didn’t convince you to stay, you’d never come back. You cupped his cheek, the beginnings of tears falling from his eyes as he tried to blink them away. “Kim,” your voice was soft. “I’m not leaving,” you assured him, stroking his cheek as he kept his eyes fixed on your face. “I’m right here.” You took his hand and placed it on your waist, showing him you weren’t leaving. 

“I hate it when people leave,” he admitted, breathless. “I don’t-“ hiccup “-want you to leave,” he closed his eyes. “I never want you to leave,” he pressed his forehead against yours, like it could somehow stop you from running. 

“I’m not leaving,” you whispered. “I’m not leaving, Kim,” you shook your head. 

He tightened his grip on your waist. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I was just tired, I didn’t mean it-“ 

“I know,” you nodded, voice full of warmth and understanding. He wasn’t sure he deserved it, but he took it all the same. “You don’t have an angry bone in your body Kimi, I know you didn’t mean it,” you chuckled, and he felt lucky to ever hear the sound. “It just… upset me.”

“I didn’t mean to-“

“I know you didn’t,” you cooed, and his frown relaxed. “Again, I don’t think you have a mean bone in your body either. It just… it was what it was. And it’s done now.” 

Forgiveness, it had never tasted so sweet. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you,” he repeated, on his lips like a chant. 

williams:

Alex Albon

It’s haunting how strange Alex looks when he cries. That’s what he thinks anyway. He’s almost sure you think it too. He’s just so used to not being upset, that he really doesn’t know what to do with himself when he is. You were there for him, through everything. Through RedBull. You’ve seen him cry. You’ve seen him rise up from it, rise up to Williams, rise up to P5 being a genuine result, a constant result. He’s proud, of course, but there’s always that voice in the back of his head that sounds surprisingly like Will Buxton, telling him that he’s a problem. 

Even in his relationships. Even in your relationship. 

That’s what this stemmed from. He didn’t feel good enough. He shut you out again. He didn’t text for a full week. 

“Alex, you can’t just not text me for a week, alright?” You were exhausted, exasperated, and downright pissed. Frankly, you had every reason to be. He was in the wrong, he knew that, but he just couldn’t help feeling slightly justified. He would’ve caused a fight either way, especially when he got like that. “I want to hear from you, the good, the bad, the ugly, the mundane! I don’t care once it’s coming from you,” your words were raw with emotion, and it almost shocked him. He sometimes forgot the fact that he made a difference in people’s lives. 

He didn’t feel the tears falling until one landed on his shirt, and he almost thought it was somehow raining inside. “I know,” his voice broke despite himself. “I’m sorry.”

Your head whipped around and you were beside himin seconds. “Alex,” you whispered out, his name coming out like a secret. “It’s okay,” you wrapped an arm around his neck, your heart breaking as you felt him hiccup against you, trying against his better judgement to stop himself from crying. “You can cry.”

And he did. He wrapped his arms around your back and pulled you into his lap, and cried into your shirt. He didn’t know what to do after carrying this… hurt, for so long. But for some reason being beside you, having you hold him, it didn’t seem so heavy. 

“What’s wrong?” You whispered once his crying has subsided. Your expression was full of care, of understanding, of love. He wondered how he’d gotten so lucky. 

He shrugged. “I just… I don’t know. Sometimes there’s this voice in my head that, no matter what I do, tells me I should still be more,” he admitted, and immediately, he felt out in the open, and not necessarily in a bad way. You nodded your head, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

It took you a few seconds to formulate a response, but it didn’t make him panic like he’d thought it would in the millions of times he’d gone over this very scenario in his head. Your hand smoothed up and down his arm, and he knew you cared. You wouldn’t run away. 

“Thank you for telling me,” you smiled softly. “And I always want you to talk to me about these things, because I’m here for you,” you took a deep breath. “I’m going to say something that I know you won’t like, and that’s how you know I genuinely believe it. Alex, I think you should see someone again,” you placed a soft hand on his cheek as he stiffened. “Not right now, maybe not even in the next few months, but I think it would be good for you. I can love you as much as I can, and do, and evidently, I can’t make it go away. Race results don’t make it go away. Progress doesn’t make it go away. Nothing is going to make it happy, and if I’m understanding right, you can’t just turn it off,” you pressed your lips to his cheek again. “I think seeing someone would help.” 

He felt like you’d opened his eyes. You were right, nothing would make it go away, other than him. For the first time in his life, he was happy about an argument. 

Carlos Sainz

When he argued, he got quiet. Whether he meant to or not, he did. So there was nothing out of the ordinary when it seemed like you were talking to yourself as you listed out the problems. You didn’t want to go to a race when you knew a certain other girlfriend would be there, because she made you feel like shit. Carlos didn’t seem to understand that, and he fought you on it. He called you selfish. You walked off. This was part two of the argument, what you called the reconciliation, but Carlos was silent as he leaned against the counter, his back to you. 

“You’re not even fucking listening, are you?” You scoffed, feeling more than dejected. “I don’t know why I try,” you mumbled, starting to walk away again, but a strong hand gripped your waist and pulled you into his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered out. He hadn’t paid much attention before, when you’d said you didn’t want to go. He just felt rejected, and he ignored your reasoning. He stopped listening. He didn’t know it was because of the group chat you had been added to and humiliated by a girl you thought was your friend. He would’ve never fought you on it. He would’ve just agreed and moved on, asking you to come to the next one. “I didn’t listen, I’m sorry.”

“Carlos-” you reached up and cupped his face in your hands. “What’s wrong? I-I’m sorry-”

He sighed, that hole of guilt in his heart aching with every word out of your mouth. Of course you’d start worrying about him. You should get angry, but of course, you chose to be soft, to care, to love. Sometimes he wished he could do that. He wished he could think like that, instead of going straight for an argument. “You don’t need to apologise,” he shook his head, his big brown eyes dropping with tears as you tenderly wiped them away. “I’m in the wrong,” he reminded you, almost as if he thought you forgot. Maybe you had. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, and I’m sorry I started an argument,” he sniffled. “I love you,” he pressed a kiss to your shocked cheek. “I love you so much, mi cariño.”

“Car,” you were wordless, not even sure how to react. “It’s alright,” you answered, your eyes focused on him, only him. “It was a mistake.”

His heart ached. The world didn’t deserve you, your friends didn’t deserve you, he didn’t deserve you. You should scream. You should tell him to shove his apology up his ass. But you don’t. You chose to forgive him. 

He wasn’t sure he deserved it, but you kissed him like he did, and he couldn’t really complain from there. 

redbull racing:

Max Verstappen 

Max probably wasn’t the best person to go to about emotions, and you knew that. Not only was he emotionally stunted, he was also Dutch, a nationality famous for being blunt. 

But you thought he would see your side and agree. He didn’t. He spent a half hour lecturing you on why your mother was justified in what she said to you. You just agreed, it wasn’t worth the energy to fight with him, he was always so fucking logical. He couldn’t just appeal to the illogical side of you, he couldn’t let you just be upset. He had to solve the problem, he had to explain why the problem wasn’t a problem, he had to make you feel like a helpless kid. 

You finished getting ready for dinner in silence. No music playing. No fun dancing he pretended to hate watching (and sometimes joining you for). No bright smile when your hair looked how you wanted it to, or your outfit came together exactly how you’d wanted it to. Just a flat line on your lips. Just a dull gaze in your eyes. He, on the other hand, was completely entranced by you. You looked stunning in that dress, with your hair done the way you had it.

“Ready to go?” You asked him, not even trying to bait him into putting your heels on you. Another thing pretended to hate, but secretly loved. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, watching you with a sense of curiosity and confusion. “Are you alright?” He asked, trying to snake a hand around your waist, but you just walked on. 

“I’m okay,” you nodded, but there was a stiffness in your actions and words. “Just tired.”

He decided to put it to bed for now, just enjoy the night together, and check back in with you in a while. 

You ditched him the second you got on the yacht. Alexandra was there, so you practically ran to her, and Max loitered around the drinks table with Charles. 

“Alex is mad at me,” he admitted. 

“I think Y/n’s upset with me too,” he admitted. He could blame the loosening of his tongue on the gin in his drink, but he knew it was because of his growing anxiety about the situation. You rarely fought, and it rarely went on this long. 

“What did you do?” Charles knocked back the rest of his drink and Max took him in for the first time that night. He looked practically disheveled. A broken man in front of him, because he had an argument with his girlfriend. 

“Nothing really, she had an argument with her mom over something stupid, and I told her to get over herself. I have arguments with my folks all the time,” he shrugged, and Charles looked at him like he’d committed several war crimes. 

Charles’s jaw dropped even further when he realised Max wasn’t joking. “Are you fucking crazy?” He demanded. “Do you want her to break up with you?”

Now it was Max’s turn to think Charles was crazy. “Obviously not? I love her.”

“You sure?” He scoffed. “If I said that to Alex, I think she’d break up with me-”

“The fragility of your relationship has nothing to do with mine,” he interpreted because he’d finally realised what he sounded like. God, he’d been a fucking asshole, no wonder you were upset. 

You slinked into the bedroom with your head low and a tired expression on your face. You slotted into bed beside him, but you didn’t shock him with your feet against his, frozen against warmth. You didn’t turn to him. You didn’t show him the funny tiktoks you’d found that day. He felt something in his heart squeeze. 

You turned out the light without a kiss, and the air in the room filled with the atmosphere of a heavy silence, and he genuinely yearned to reach out for you. He didn’t. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed. 

You waited 30 minutes. Max was a good sleeper, and heavy sleeper. You could get away with sleeping on the couch for one night, not because you wanted to hurt him, but because you genuinely couldn’t sleep next to him after he told you to get a grip. 

Slowly, you climbed out of bed, pillow in hand. 

Something pulled you back. A hand. His hand. 

A sniffle. “Stay,” he whispered into the darkness of the room. “Please stay. I know what I said was shitty and wrong, and you can hate me all you want, but please stay.”

You halted in the darkness, his words carrying more weight than you thought he probably meant them to. “I don’t hate you Max,” you answered. “I’ll never hate you.”

“You can, if it means you’ll stay,” he admitted, his voice breaking. You climbed back into bed slowly, but he felt that hole in his chest, the one that had been there since the day his father left him at a petrol station, close up just a little more. The way it always did when he was near you. You climbed into his arms, feeling small droplets of water against your shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

You breathed out. “Alright,” you nodded. “Thank you for apologising.” He practically held his breath. What the fuck was he doing crying when he was one the in the wrong? He could hear his dad now, telling him to stop crying, telling him to grow up, telling him- 

“You can cry, y’know,” you whispered. “I like it better when you trust me. Like when we dance or when you put on my heels. You’re less nonchalant than usual. Makes me feel like you really care about me,” you admitted, running a hand through his hair. “Makes me feel like you like me enough to trust me.”

He closed his eyes, tight. Of course you’d say the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing anyone had ever said to him and act like you’re the one inconveniencing him. “I trust you,” he whispered. 

And that was the first time you’d ever seen Max cry. 

Yuki Tsunoda

Fathers were funny in the way they showed their love. You understood that Yuki probably didn’t have the healthiest relationship with his, especially based on the way he practically shunned him when he came out of the car, another disappointing Sunday. You knew it was already weighing on him with a simple glance. 

He clearly couldn’t. He complained the whole way back to the hotel, all throughout dinner, and even on the short walk back to your hotel rooms. 

And you couldn’t take it anymore. Yuki was trying his damnedest in one of the shittest cars on the grid, and the only reason it looked so bad for him was the fact that he had Max 4-Time-World-Champion-one-of-the-greatest-of-the-modern-era Verstappen as a teammate. 

“He’s trying. How can that not be enough for you? He’s trying,” you shook your head at her before bidding his wife a good night, and walking into your own suite. Yuki had no idea what to do, but his father just brushed by him coldly, his mother behind him offering a sympathetic smile. He felt twelve again, sandwiched between two things he wanted equally. He wanted his father’s approval, he wanted his dad to just say he was proud, just once. And he wanted your support. He liked that you stood up for him, that you were willing to, but it wasn’t that simple. The majority of things never were. 

He didn’t even know what to say. It happened in slow-motion. He couldn’t stop it, just watch the chaos unfold and have to deal with the aftermath. He just stormed in and demanded. “What the fuck was that?!” 

“Yuki, the way he was talking about you, it was disgusting,” you answered, shocked at his confusion. 

“You just disrespected my father, Y/n, you’ve just fucked the both of us,” he scoffed. He paced the floor, his eyes wide, panic surging through him. Tension filled the room, oozing from every corner. “He’s going to hate you now.” He knew it probably wasn’t the best thing to say, but he needed you to understand the level of disrespect, and how his father would hold that grudge. 

You shrugged, unbothered, as you pulled your earrings out. Though he could tell, from the stiff and rigid nature of your movements, it bothered you. “Let him hate me,” you sighed. “I’m trying to support you, and hearing about every tiny thing you did wrong isn’t going to make you feel any better, just worse. He needed to shut up.” 

He groaned in frustration, his head falling into his hands. Despite the way he wanted to keep his composure, he could feel it crumbling under the weight of the day. He sniffled and looked up again, willing himself not to cry. He failed, and the first tear fell. 

You stared at him through the mirror, your eyes locked in on him. You slowly turned around and stood when you saw him. “Yuki,” you breathed out, pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry,” you cooed. “I made it worse, and I know that. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, emotion breaking his voice. “I just- I wanted today to be good. Not like every other fucking race this year. I wanted it to be worth it. Worth their sacrifice. Worth your sacrifices. And it’s not,” he sighed. “I just step into that car feeling like a failure.”

“I know,” you nodded as his hands circled your waist. “But you’re not, baby, you’re not a failure. Christian is. Helmut is. You’re just taking the brunt of the weight because they’re too small to admit their mistakes,” you soothed. He wondered how he’d ever gotten so lucky. “And you’d never fail me.”

Something about the way you said it made him believe you, and for the first time in a while, he didn’t go to bed feeling like a failure. 

vcarb:

Liam Lawson

He hated crying. He hated how it made him feel. He hated how it made other people feel. You hated arguing just as much. 

The fact that both these things were happening simultaneously was entirely your fault.

He knew you wanted to meet his parents, he really did. You were just busy. The life of a software engineer was busy. You couldn’t change that, even if you wanted to, which you did. You would’ve been there, at that restaurant on 43rd, that gorgeous Italian place you two frequented when you were in New York. Yet you stood him up for a late-night coding session with your team because the contract you were working on was taking longer than expected, and you were contractually obligated to keep on working until you could get as close to done. His texts were just… miserable. 

Hey baby, where are you?  (18:04)

We’re going to start without you, alright? I’m sure you’re just late (please don’t be too late my dad is already teasing me about you not being real :)) (18:35)

Y/n, where are you? (18:47)

Are you alright?  (18:59)

Please text me I’m getting worried. (19:34)

Fucks sake Y/n. I just checked your location. Really? 

Work is more important than this? Than me?  (19:57)

Congratulations my parents are pissed and I’ve been doing fucking recon all night. I thought you’d actually make it this time. I thought you put the time aside. I thought you fucking cared.  (20:07) 

Don’t text me. I don’t want to talk to you until tomorrow. (21:49) 

I’m staying in my parents' hotel. (21:50) 

He was crying on the streets of New York like some bad romcom. He felt pathetic, in more ways than one. How was it that he could fuck everything up, all over again. He trusted you. He relied on you. He was so sure you’d show up for him like you’d done so many times before, and you just didn’t. His parents felt disrespected, fuck, he felt disrespected. He’d planned out the entire dinner, picked a place you loved, briefed his parents on you as a person so they could ask questions, briefed you on them, so you’d have just as many questions. 

And you didn’t show.

You walked towards his hotel, shame hanging off you so clearly, you were sure anyone who could see you would know. Fuck, you stood up Liam’s parents. Brilliant first impression, you thought to yourself. You knew him well enough to know that after a night like this, even when you fucked him off so badly, him still wanted you to try. He’d messed up enough for you to know this routine, though you didn’t think it would go as it did regularly. You’d missed dinner with his parents. Possibly the worst first impression you could ever make, especially when you truly planned on marrying him. You loved him, so bad it hurt sometimes. 

You dialled his number. You couldn’t wait the 18 minute walk to apologise. You just hoped he’d pick up. 

He picked up on the fifth ring. 

“I’m so sorry,” you rushed out. “I’m a fucking piece of shit, and you deserve so much better and I’m mortified that I missed it, I’m so sorry Liam.” You waited with bated breath as he just breathed on the line. He was quiet for a minute, so still you thought he almost hung up. 

“I can see you,” he answered. You raised an eyebrow, and looked around, seeing a figure that looked a lot like Liam, just across the stream between you. 

“What-? Liam-” you started, hearing the thickness of his voice. He’d been crying. The knife twisted in your heart, and you had only yourself to blame. 

“Across the water,” he finished. “You look beautiful,” he smiled through his tears. “So fucking pretty.”

Again, that knife got deeper. Of course he’d compliment you even after what you’d done. Of course, because that’s the kind of man he was. Caring. Loving. So fucking sweet it hurt your teeth sometimes. You let out a small humourless chuckle. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“You fucked up tonight,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair as he stared at you from across the water. “Figured a compliment might soften the blow.”

“You don’t need to soften the blow, I was an asshole. I deserve the full consequences,” you breathed out. “I’m so sorry Liam. I’m genuinely so embarrassed and fucking… ashamed. I’m such a fucking idiot,” you played with the ring on your middle finger. He’d given it to you after he noticed that you liked to fidget while you spoke. That's what he did, he noticed. 

He let out a teary laugh. “Yeah, you were an asshole,” he agreed, nodding his head. The words felt foreign in his mouth. He hated saying shit like that, but objectively it was true. You were the asshole in the situation. “But I fucking love you,” he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “And for some reason spending a night we could spend together, alone, makes me sick to my stomach. I want to fall asleep next to you and I want to wake up beside you tomorrow before I fuck off to wherever,” he admitted, his vulnerability pulling at every single string of your heart. “And I fucking love you so much I spent all of tonight convincing my parents I got the date wrong. So you owe me.” 

You breath caught in your throat at that. Of course he did. Always protecting you. Always caring too much. “Liam, you didn’t have to do that. You should tell them-”

“Just come over here,” his voice was pleading, like he wasn’t above begging for you. “Please,” he added at the end. 

Against your better judgement, you walked straight through the shallowest part of the stream, ruining your dress from the knees down, and running right into his arms. “I’ll make it up to you,” you whispered against his lips as he kissed you like he hadn’t seen you for months, not days. 

“You fucking better,” he chuckled, wiping away the last of his tears as he pulled away. 

Isack Hadjar

Isack had vowed to himself he wouldn’t cry until the end of the season. Was it the healthiest thing on planet earth? No, very much not, but he seemed set on the idea, so you let him. You were just ready to be there if it fell apart, and he needed some comfort. 

He did pretty well, up until it started. You came home, quiet. You weren’t humming in the kitchen as you made a snack, you weren’t asking him about his day, it was like you were there physically, but not mentally. And it didn’t change. He’d thought it had been a once-off, but no, the next day you pushed him further and further away, and he had no idea why. You’d always been the better communicator out of the two of you, hell, you’d taught Isack everything he knew about communicating effectively. So getting radio silence from you was not only unusual, it was worrying. He left for the double header, thinking you were just mad and needed time to process it, and then you’d talk. You didn’t. You texted him a few times, small messages wishing luck, or congratulations on a good result, but your regular messages about your day were gone, much like your hours-long facetime calls. He didn’t let it bother him. He gave you space. He didn’t lose his cool, because he knew you loved him, and he loved you. That wouldn’t change.

He walked into the living room with a confused expression when he found you sitting on the couch, the apartment looking more barren than when he’d left. It hit him. His heart stopped in his chest and he dropped his bag. No. He thought. This isn’t real, she’s pranking me, she’s just mad at me, she’s just-

“Isack,” your voice was steady, but anyone could see the way you were breaking inside. “We need to talk.”

Those dreaded words. He nodded and gulped back the emotion building in his throat as he sat beside you, his eyes trained to you like you’d disappear if he looked away for a split-second. Maybe you would. He didn’t reach out and hold your hand or grab your thigh like he usually would, he didn’t know if he was allowed. He held his breath. “What’s wrong?” he asked, all the care in the world in his voice. 

You sighed. “I can’t do this anymore,” you admitted out loud for the first time. For months you’d been going over every scenario in your head, trying to work through every possible fix, and none of it left you satisfied. You couldn’t just be someone’s WAG, even if that someone was Isack. You needed a boyfriend who could show up for you, always. And Isack never could. And the worst part was, it was never his fault. He always wanted to, tried to support you from oceans away, sent you message after message, and you’d see how disappointed he was once you came back and you had to recount the whole night to him. He cared so deeply, but it just wasn’t enough. You needed someone to be there, mind, body, and soul. Not in a racecar halfway across the world. “I love you,” you sniffled, a stray tear falling down your face. “But this isn’t working for me anymore. I need someone who’s here, someone who can be there for me all the time. And it’s not your fault. You’ve been nothing but the best to me,” you choked up, unable to continue as more tears fell down your face. He wanted so desperately to reach out and wipe them away, promise you he could be there, that he would be there, but that was unrealistic. He couldn’t be there, no matter how badly he wanted to be, and intentions and text messages after the fact are never as good as actually showing up. He couldn’t give you that. He understood. “You’re so kind,” your voice was barely above a whisper. “And caring, and loving. I just… I need something else right now.” 

You finally looked up and saw his face, tear-stained but accepting. He nodded. “That’s alright,” he whispered, though every syllable killed him. “You deserve someone who can be there for you,” there was a small smile on those lips you knew so well, and it hit you that it might be the last time you ever see him in person, you were sure you'd end up seeing him on your TV screen, even long after today, probably winning world championships. Time stopped for a moment and you let yourself remember what it meant to be with Isack, just one last time. “And I’m so sorry I cannot give that to you,” he sighed out a teary, angry sigh. “It is one of my great failings,” he sniffled, but brought a hand up to your cheek and wiped a tear away. “Maybe one day we’ll find each other again?” he asked, his voice hopeful. 

“Maybe,” you nodded, but you both knew this was the end of the two of you. 

You left the apartment after that. You didn’t look back. You saw him, years on, watching the sport you fell in love with because of the boy you fell in love with, with your family. Your husband and your children loved car number 6, and you didn’t have the heart to tell them you loved it for a different reason. He won world championships, like you always knew he would. He never got married, he just raced. He sent you Christmas cards and thank yous that you hid and cherished forever, because you never really forget your first love. 

Years on, you told your granddaughter about the boy with the hazel eyes and fighting spirit, and how some nights, you wished you’d stayed with him. She told you that you should’ve. You told her she was wiser than you were at her age. 

Maybe she was right. Maybe you should’ve held on a little bit longer. 

ferrari:

Charles LeClerc

Charles notoriously hated fighting. He had no idea what the point was, because he’d just apologise, kiss you, and want everything to go back to normal. That worked for him. He came from a family that didn’t yell, a family so tightly woven together through something so deeply upsetting, that shouting was never an option. He came from a family that took care of each other, no matter what it cost them. Loyalty. Strength in numbers. Unconditional love. 

You didn’t. You came from a family that made their children compete for love, made you hate your siblings and them hate you in return, and a family that boarded all that up with their perfect image. 

He didn’t know. He wouldn’t have pushed if he did. He wouldn’t have gone behind your back and set up the dinner if he realised it was like this, on your birthday no less. 

Those carefully disguised jabs from your mothers, those deliberately placed smirks and sniggers from your siblings and their stuck-up partners, those blatant comments from your father, he saw how they all weighed you down slowly. Over the course of a dinner, he saw you turn from the extroverted, kind, and sweet girl he’d fallen for, to the small, picked-on, and scared child you’d been for half your life. The side of yourself you’d never shared with anyone. The side of yourself you promised you’d never have to. He saw how your eyes watered before you got up to go to the bathroom, another snarky comment about your career choice being ‘unique’, like you weren’t literally changing people’s life with your work. He shook his head as he watched you leave. 

“You are all terrible,” the words came out of his mouth before he meant them to, his eyes low as he looked at the table around him. He’d already said it, why not dig the grave deeper? “Get out of my house, now.” 

There was a tense stillness that followed. Knives stopped. Chatter died down. Anger pulsed through his veins. 

“Pardon?” your father asked, an incredulous smile on his face. He acted as if he didn’t hear Charles, and if he was a better man who wanted to keep a relationship with your family, he would’ve apologised and told everyone to continue eating. He wasn’t a better man, not when it came to you. He would do anything to protect you. He would go to any length to make you happy. He’d do anything if it meant he wouldn’t have to see you with that heartbreaking pout and cloudy eyes. 

“I said, get out of my house,” he repeated, standing from the table. “I don’t want to see you here again.” He walked over to the door and opened it wide, waiting for them to step outside. They looked at him dumbfounded. Like he wasn’t being serious. Like he wasn’t seconds away from grabbing your brother, who’d made an awful comment on how you were ‘parading yourself around the paddock like an instagram whore’, when he didn’t understand or know how long it took Charles to convince you to come with him. When he didn’t see the hours you’d spent before walking into that paddock, pacing your hotel room, and nearly backing out at the last minute, but you forced yourself to because you wanted to be there for him. 

“W-what’s going on?” you asked, walking out of the bathroom, the tension palpable. 

Your father turned to you. “Brilliant question, what is going on?” he demanded, his tone laced with anger. You flinched. Charles knew that was it. 

“They’re leaving,” he said, never raising his voice, never arguing. Just assertive and simple. “Say goodbye.”

The fear in your eyes broke his heart. Had this really been how you’d grown up? You looked around the room, panicked. “Charles, they’re not done their-”

“No, we are,” your sister bit out, standing up with her husband beside her. “Thanks for the hospitality, Bunny,” she practically spat at you. You just flinched, those beautiful eyes filling with fresh tears. He wanted nothing more than to go to you, hold you, promise you he was sorry, swear he’ll never let it happen again. But he couldn’t. Not yet. He had to make sure they left. 

“Meg, come on, I’m sorry-” you reached for her, but she slapped your hand away. Like it didn’t even matter. Like you were less than her. Charles couldn’t stop himself. He crossed the room and grabbed her wrist, holding it tight. She gasped. You grabbed his arm and tried to get him to let go, begging in his ear gently, but he had this unbreakable focus and precision. He wanted to scare her, scare them all. He needed to show that you were untouchable now, that he wasn’t going to let this shit slide. By the way your mother’s eyes widened, he guessed she got the gist. 

“What did you just do?” he questioned, the terrifying calmness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. She didn’t answer. “Apologise, then leave.” 

She mumbled out something, and Charles let her go. It wasn’t that he actually cared about her apology, it was about scaring them. She shuffled out the door with her bitch of a husband behind her, your brother following, shouting about a lawsuit. Your parents were last to go, their eyes on Charles the entire time as you just watched them leave, feeling eight years old again. If you had it in you, you probably would’ve begged them to stay, just because dealing with their teasing is better than the opposite. Silence. For months at a time. Even when you were in the same house. Even when you were a child. 

Your hand was wrapped so tightly around Charles arm, he didn’t even notice the pressure until you released it. Your eyes were clouded over, you were shaking, and you just walked over to the table and started cleaning up dishes. 

“Y/n-” he started. 

“Don’t,” you breathed out, your voice uneven and broken. It squeezed his heart. “Just don’t, Charles.” He held you clean up the table in silence. He dried the dishes after you washed them and he tried to push that terrified look in your eyes out of his mind, but it kept coming back. Your realisation of them leaving, the way you were trying to apologise, and the way you tried to stop him. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, stopping in his tracks as his eyes watered. You just kept washing the dishes. Mindful, like it was a ritual, holding onto it like it was the only thing stopping you from crumbling. “Y/n, please,” he begged, reaching over and turning the tap off. “Talk to me.”

You looked up, a tear already flowing down your cheek. You dried your hands on a towel, then wiped your cheek. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against him. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, hsi voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.” 

You nodded, tears falling onto his shirt silently. “I know. You didn’t know. It’s alright,” you whispered, that heartbreaking frown on your lips against his neck. “It just sucks.”

“Was it always like that?” he asked in a broken whisper. You didn’t respond, and that was answer enough. He choked back a tear. “It’ll never be like that here, I promise. I swear.” 

You nodded. You believed him. Charles made you feel safe. Sure, he made a mistake tonight, but he was already making up for it. 

He loved you. That was worth a shitty night.

Lewis Hamilton

The apartment was ground zero for an explosion of toys, arts and crafts, and Lewis was sure there was some mashed up food in there somewhere. And it was quiet. Too quiet. A newborn, two toddlers and a five year old meant there was constant noise, but none tonight. He raised an eyebrow as he expertly stepped through a broken lego set, and moved towards the kids bedrooms. 

No one in the nursery, not unusual, since the most time Millie spent there was sleeping. 

No one in the boys room, again, also not unusual at this time of night, they usually stayed up with you until about 8, then when he got home, they’d go down without a fight. 

No one in Emmy’s room, so they were in your room. 

He opened the door as quietly as he possibly could, and found three children sprawled out on the bed, already asleep, and Millie asleep in her crib. He smiled fondly, tucking them in, kissing Millie on the forehead. Moments like these made those shitty days in the car bearable. Just knowing he had his own little fan club back home, made getting into the car just that bit easier. 

The light from the bathroom spilled out from under the door, and he froze when he heard a tiny choked sob. He softly opened the door, worry furrowing his brow as you came into view. Red-rimmed eyes, hand over your mouth to stop the sobs from waking the kids, exhausted eyes. His heart ached and he pressed a cautious hand on your shoulder, just a simple ‘I’m here’. 

You whipped around and fell into his chest, everything you’d been holding in for weeks finally coming out. Then you did something unexpected, you pushed him away. 

You stood up, wiped your eyes, and went back out to the main room, and you started cleaning. He closed the bedroom door and followed you out, a confused brow raised. “Baby?” he questioned. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing Lewis,” you spat, picking up toys, as tears fell like you didn’t even notice them. “Nothing’s wrong.” His heart ached. What could possibly be this wrong? Why would you be calling him by his first name? 

“Clearly something’s wrong,” he started, approaching you slowly. You stilled and stared, finally looking at him. Ferrari shirt and some jeans, necklaces and rings, hair done perfectly. It made you hate him. He got to go out and live his life every single day, every single weekend, while you were stuck in an apartment in a country hundreds of miles away from your family and friends, and you were just expected to deal. Deal with a newborn. Deal with your toddlers. Deal with the actual important things in your life while he gets to go race, and still be the favourite parent. God, you fucking hated him for it. You weren’t sure when it started. You weren’t sure if it was just your regular case of postpartum depression, or if you genuinely hated his guts, but either way, you didn’t want to see him. You didn’t want him to touch you. You didn’t want him. 

Seeing him standing in your living room filled you with so much rage, you actually didn’t know what to do with yourself.  “Just fuck off Lewis,” you scoffed, resuming picking up the toys. “Go on the sim or something, leave me alone.” 

“Y/n,” his voice was stern, serious. “What’s wrong?” He tried again. 

And you broke. Even though you didn’t want to. Even though you’d been holding it together since Millie was born. You dropped the toys to the floor with a loud crash, and you sobbed. Openly. Angrily. 

You let yourself rage. You didn’t think about the other people. You didn’t think about the kids asleep inside. You didn’t think about the fact that you’d end up saying things you regretted, because you didn’t care. You just wanted him to hurt, to understand your hurt, and you didn’t know how else to show it. “Fuck you Lewis,” you sniffled. “You’re never here!” you shouted, thanking your past self that you soundproofed the apartment years ago, so hopefully, the kids wouldn’t wake up. “You’re never fucking here. You leave me, all the fucking time. You don’t parent our kids, ever. I do. Every fucking day. Every drop-off, every mess, every spillage, every argument, every fucking day. And I don’t get a moment to myself. Because I have four fucking kids relying on me, alone. Their father is never fucking here. And every time I remember that, I think back to your vows to me, as your wife,” you choked out, sobbing as you shouted. You didn’t even feel like a person anymore, just a mom. Not a functioning human with thoughts and opinions, and needs, and wants. “You promised you’d never leave me.” 

He stood there, dumbstruck. He had no idea. Of course you didn’t, you’re never here, a voice in his head shot back. “Baby, I’d never leave you-”

“You already have, Lewis. Clearly you have,” you sighed, letting your arms cross over your chest. “I just… I need to go home.” 

“You are home, baby,” his voice which was once soothing, sounded so fucking patronising now. You gritted your teeth. 

“I want to go back to my home. With my family, and my friends,” you bit out. “I’m bringing the kids with me. You can visit us there.” 

Fuck, that was heavy. You both felt that settle in the room, tension filling the air. He didn’t realise he was crying until it dropped down onto his shirt. “Y/n, you can’t just leave-”

“You do it every damn weekend,” you offered an angry smile. “I hope you’re satisfied by the end of the season, because if you don’t choose our family and me over your career, I’ll be filing for a divorce.” 

And the ultimatum was set. Fuck, he probably would’ve fallen over if he wasn’t already leaning against the wall. You didn’t notice. You just continued picking up the toys and putting them away. He felt bile rise in his throat. 

Zhou Guanyu

Zhou cried, he was just like that. But, he’d never cried because of you. This had rattled him. He’d never expected you to be so… mean. He knew you didn’t mean it, emotions were high anyway and this was just the cherry on top of a shit week. 

You knocked on the door, guilt heavy in your stomach like a bowling ball. “Zhou,” your voice was soft. He held his breath. “Zhou I'm so sorry,” you started choking up yourself. “Fuck,” you mumbled. “I’m being mean to you and I’m the one fucking crying,” you sniffled, leaning against the door. “I’m an asshole.” He felt your weight against the door, and heard the desperation in your voice. He just… wasn’t ready to respond yet. He didn’t have anything to say to you. 

You took another deep breath. “I shouldn’t have said that, I-I’m sorry,” God, you felt so small. Taking Zhou down just because you were stressed? Snapping at him like he wouldn’t do anything for you? Like he didn’t love you so much it hurts? You were disgusted with yourself. You honestly thought you didn’t deserve forgiveness. “I was stressed, and I know, that’s not an excuse. I just don’t know how to fucking deal with it. When everyone is breathing down my neck, a-and you’re just trying to love me with, with your fucking love languages and I love it. I swear I do, I don’t ever w-want it to fucking stop, I just… it gets c-crowded in my h-head,” you admitted, hiccups interrupting your explanation. You’d never been good at this, at love. But you were willing to try for Zhou, because you loved him so much you felt like you couldn’t breathe without him. You let out another sob. He felt the tears falling down his cheeks. “I just don’t know what to do with myself sometimes. I’m so bad at this, I just… I’m so scared you’re going to wake up one day and realise that I’m not worth the trouble. And I-I push you away because I already love you so much that losing you w-would break me,” you held in a sob. “And I’m so sorry Zhou. You deserve so much better than that.” You knocked your head against the door lightly, like it could somehow fix the turmoil in your brain. It didn’t. 

He sniffled from the other side of the door and it twisted the guilt in your stomach. The door unlocked. You stepped back. Zhou stood in front of you, looking just as broken as you were. 

No words were exchanged. He didn’t shout or demand an apology. He did the most Zhou-thing he could’ve done. He forgave you. He hugged you. He kissed you. He promised you he’d stand by you when you felt like this. 

He chose to be kind, because of course he did. He was your Zhou. 

haas:

Ollie Bearman 

He was fucked. Literally, and metaphorically, he was fucked. 

Seriously, he’d just fucked someone. And he’d just realised it wasn’t you. After the fact. After it was over. 

Dodging calls wasn’t like Ollie. Dodging texts wasn’t like Ollie. But, he’d changed a lot since moving up to F1. He was colder. Less goofy. Less… himself. He walked around like he cared what people thought now, which you guessed he must’ve. You saw it in the way he carried himself. You saw it in the light in his eyes, or lack-there-of. 

And you were seeing it in person, right now. He stood in front of you, eyes wide and teary, excuses pouring from his mouth like those tyre strategies he used to rattle off. 

“It was a mistake,” he sniffled. “And I’m so sorry.” He let his head drop, eyes falling to the floor. He couldn’t face it, face you. This was the biggest mistake of his life, and he was a Haas driver. He thought back to those nights where you’d hold him when he got like this. Whether it was results or pressure or stress, you always cared. You hugged him and kissed him and told him everything would be alright. Well, right now, he wished you would. He knew you wouldn’t, knew he didn’t deserve it. Didn’t stop him from hoping.

“Alright,” you shrugged, no tone, no hurt, nothing. His head snapped back up, eyes filling with hope. “Pack your shit.” 

His world stopped. “Y/n-” 

“Fuck you Ollie, I don’t care. I don’t trust you. I can’t love someone I don’t trust,” you laid it out perfectly. Simple. Easy. He broke your trust, so he didn’t have you anymore. “Begging won’t change anything. Just leave with your dignity.” 

And even if he didn’t want to, he did. He left with that pit of guilt in his stomach, knowing he made the biggest mistake of his entire life. 

Esteban Ocon

Esteban was quiet. You were tense. Your apartment was usually full of laughter and light. It was silent that night. The sun had set on the beautiful city of Geneva, and the chill crept in from the cracked window, or just the cold shoulder your boyfriend was giving you. The bed felt cold. He felt cold. You thought back and noticed how those sweet routine moments you’d cherished for years had slowly started to dwindle in recent months. He wouldn’t join you for a shower anymore. He didn’t bother teasing you while you did your makeup or skincare. He didn’t dance with you in the kitchen anymore. He spoke more French, a language you didn’t quite understand (though in recent months you’d been learning it, for him). He focused on work. 

Your heart broke slowly as it hit you. He fell out of love. 

“Just say it,” you whispered into the darkness of your shared bedroom. His hands weren’t around your hips like they used to be. His face wasn’t buried in your hair as he slept soundly. No, he stayed to his side of the bed like you had the plague. 

“Say what?” he huffed, tired voice and eyes turning over to meet your eyes. “It’s 2am Y/n.” 

You stared at him for a moment, and you knew she knew what you were saying. He knew exactly what you were saying, he was just too pussy to do it himself. “You’re seriously going to make me say it?” you scoffed. He shook his head in annoyance and looked at you expectantly. He was a small man. He was pathetic. That's what you reminded yourself as you spoke. Maybe your voice would shake, but at least you spoke. “You’re not in love with me anymore,” your voice sounded so small it was almost like you didn’t recognize it.

He was quiet for a moment, then he broke. Eyes weeping, chest heaving, fully sobbing. You stared in shock. Never in your three years together had he ever done that. Never had he fully broken down in front of you. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I never meant for this to happen.”

And you hated yourself for being right. Of course he fell out of love with you, everyone always did. “Yeah,” you shrugged, sitting up. “I know you didn’t.” There wasn’t much enthusiasm behind your words, but I think anyone could’ve excused you for that. You didn’t reach out for him. You didn’t comfort him. You didn’t care to. Who was he to be crying when he was the one at fault? You’d been the perfect girlfriend, perfect support system, perfect fucking WAG, and he fell out of love. That was his failing, not yours. You told yourself, but it had started to feel like there was something wrong with you. This kept happening. You’d give yourself to someone completely, and they wouldn’t care anymore.

He grabbed your wrist before you could leave the bed. “You’re going to find someone who loves you like I should’ve.”

Fuck, if that didn’t break you more. 

aston martin:

Fernando Alonso

Arguments weren’t uncommon in any relationship. People disagree, it’s just humans being humans. But these disagreements were showing up more often, cutting into you a bit more, his words became more harsh. You knew he didn't mean to, but he hurt you. He made you feel like a child, with the way he talked down to you, like you were too fucking stupid to understand the complex inner-workings of his brain. 

It made you feel less-than, and you fucking hated that. It made you feel like you weren’t in a partnership, but a mentorship, and you hated that too. He used language that he knew would hurt you, childish, adolescent, a baby. Like you couldn’t understand just how bad life can get because you were 28 instead of his wise age of 43. 

So you were quiet. You stayed quiet, shrunk yourself to fit in better. You didn’t take back when his friends made awful comments, you spent more time to yourself, you stopped wanting to come to races, you stopped wanting to dress up and go out, you stopped wanting things. Race weekends passed in a still kind of tension, one that he didn’t seem to notice. He did. He saw every time you made yourself smaller for him. Every time you gave up something you wanted for him. Every time you kept your mouth shut for him. And it broke him. Why would you think he wanted you to be any different? Why would you change yourself for him? Why would he let it go on so long? 

So he sat down at the table one day, dinner in front of him, you to his left, and he broke down. It was all too much. The pressure from the sport, the silence in the house, the shrinkage of the only thing good left in his world, you. 

You gasped. “Fernando,” you reached out and cupped his cheek, panic filling your eyes. “What’s wrong?” You asked, your food forgotten as you leaned in closer to him. So caring, so kind. It twisted the knife into his heart, but he was always good at persevering. 

He shook his head, a sad smile reaching his lips. “You deserve better than me, than this,” he spoke softly and your heart dropped into your stomach. He couldn’t make you miserable a minute longer. He couldn’t watch you shrink. “I think we have to take a step back,” The fear in your eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life, but he knew he needed to do this. He had to set you free, you had to live your life free of him. He pushed your hand off his cheek. “I’m not interested anymore. I want you gone.” 

That was all it took. That panic and fear melted away into something darker. Resentment. Anger. Hatred. It killed him to watch, but he knew it was the right thing, even if it felt like his world was falling apart. 

Lance Stroll

“Just- shut up!” he groaned, his hands flying around the room uncontrolled. It was quiet for a moment, you were quiet for a moment. Just standing there, still, either in shock or rage, he couldn’t tell. He just knew nothing good could come of this argument since the minute he started it, and he still started it. “I just… I need a minute.” His voice broke and that unforgettable burning sensation began in the back of his throat. You stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his back, soothingly rubbing up and down. He could tell you were still upset, still mad, still raging. But you chose to put it aside for a moment, and calm him down. Fuck, he didn’t deserve you. 

You sighed, laying your head on his shoulder and leaning into him. “Lance, you can’t start an argument and leave it once it gets hard, or I get angry. It’s not fair,” you whispered out, your exasperation clear in your tone. “It’s not fair.”

He knew you were right, knew he should apologise, knew he should say something. He didn’t. He just nodded, trying desperately to hold himself together as he felt everything in him beg to be let out. You huffed. “Lance, you can cry, we just need to keep talking after. You have to stay here. Trust me enough to let me comfort you. If you don’t trust me I genuinely don’t understand why we’re still together,” you admitted, your voice raw and tired. You couldn’t do this dance again, you needed him to commit. Feel the fear, and do it anyway. Trust. Love. 

He nodded again, stronger this time. He took another shallow breath, and he turned to you. She has you. He told himself. She loves you, this isn’t going to scare her away. 

And he let himself go. 

sauber:

Nico Hulkenberg 

He missed it, even though he’d flown all night. Exhaustion had settled itself in his bones long before he reached his front door, and still, he continued. 

But he missed it. 

That’s what she would remember. Her dad wasn’t there for her birthday. He didn’t get there in time. 

You were waiting in the living room. It was 5am. Too early to get the day started but also too late to go back to sleep. You told yourself you should go for a walk, start breakfast, get ahead on your work, but something anchored you to the couch, watching the sun rise on Monaco. The harbour shone in the sunlight, making it as beautiful as the time you first saw it. When he brought you here for the first time, all those years ago. You sat on a boat beside him, a new exciting talent in the world of F1, a jittery 20-something guy you’d met through mutual friends. Someone had said to you that even then, he looked at you like he saw something else. A future, a loving home, a family. And they were right. You chuckled, remembering those moments where he’d come home to you after a shitty weekend, and he’d just melt into you. Not leave your side for three days. It made you laugh. 

“I missed it,” he whispered into the expanse of the dark living room, just brightening up in the new day's light. He didn’t approach you. He didn’t know if he was allowed. “I fucking missed it.” You stood up and walked over to him, hearing the wobble in his voice. It cracked your heart, just like every question from your daughter had, during the day. You wrapped your arms around his neck. You should be mad. You should shout.

“She’s four,” you whispered. “She loves you more than anything. Children are more forgiving than adults. Don’t miss the next one,” you advised with a soft smile on your lips. He squeezed you tighter, the beginning of tears falling onto your hoodie. “You’re not a bad father,” you reminded him, instilling in him that he wouldn’t become his worst fear. “You’re a lot of things Nico, and a bad father will never be one of them.”

He shook his head in the crook of your neck. “I don’t deserve you two.” 

Now it was your turn to shake your head. “You do,” you smiled. “We love you so much Nico.” 

Gabriel Borteleto

He wasn’t prepared, he didn’t think about it, he just said it, he didn’t realise the implications, didn’t notice the way you stiffened. 

Now his apartment was empty. It was his apartment, as he’d so unkindly shouted during that godforsaken argument. It all came back to him clearly, the housing, the tears, his unwillingness to stop. He hadn’t meant to drive you away, he just… he needed you to understand. Understand the pressure. Understand the disappointment. Understand how he felt like he was failing every single time he jumped into that car. But he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. Even when you left, he sent you message after message, calling you selfish. Making you out to be the problem, as if you weren’t the only thing holding him up. 

The pounding in his head didn’t cease throughout the day. You’d told him to at least wait a day before talking to you, or else you’d never hear him out. It was torture. Counting the minutes down as the time slowly ticked by, never quite close enough for his liking. Then 8pm rolled around, and he was dialling your number as fast as he could. You picked up on the fifth ring. 

He spoke first, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m so sorry.” He held his breath. He wasn’t expecting you to forgive him immediately. He wasn’t really expecting you to forgive him at all. He was expecting to get scolded, to get told just how bad he’d hurt you. 

“Alright,” you shrugged, indifference crept into your tone and it made his blood freeze, his whole body shivering with a scary sense of dread. You didn’t care. Not anymore. Not now. He’d pushed you too far. He’d done it. He’d fucked it. He leant against the bathroom door, a sob ripping out of his throat as the burning sensation of his unshed tears began. You sighed. He held his breath again. “Gabi, what do you want me to say?”

You might as well have stamped on his heart. God, he wanted to scream. Anything that shows you fucking care? He thought. Anything that makes me think this is salvageable? “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Just… something. This has to be worth saving, we have to be worth saving.” He choked out through angry tears. Why weren’t you fighting? Why weren’t you angry? Why didn’t you care? 

“Is it worth saving?” you asked him, and his world tipped on its side. Of course it is. Was his immediate response. He loved you. You loved him. It made sense. You groaned. “We fight all the fucking time, Gabi. You’re not happy, I’m not happy. We haven’t been for a long time.” 

He thought back to those fights and those nights you both spent angry. By morning the problem would be forgotten and you’d make up right? You’d kiss his cheek and make him a coffee, he’d give you some half-assed apology but you’d accept anyway. That’s the way it was, and he never wanted it to change. Maybe she wants it to change, a voice in his head spoke up. She’s getting the short end of the stick. His heart dropped to his stomach when he realised he’d been ignoring all the animosity from you. The burnt coffees. The glares. The subtle and slow retreat back into yourself. He coughed. “It is for me,” He had to fight for you, promise you he’d change. “I’ll change, I swear. I love you.” 

“I don’t need you to change. I need to change. I need other things, and you can’t give me them. I’m sorry Gabi, but we’re over.”

alpine:

Pierre Gasly

He hated arguing, really he did. He was just good at it. Weirdly good. Like, he’d been told to become a lawyer on more occasions than one. But he hated arguing with you. And he hated when he took it too far. 

You wouldn’t understand. He’d said.

What, like I’m not smart enough now? You were livid, and rightfully so. 

I like taking care of you, is that so hard to understand?! He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but he had. He just didn’t understand why it was such a big deal, it was just money, a simple thing he had more than enough of, and he wanted to spend it on you. You weren’t having it. 

It’s not being taken care of Pierre, it makes me feel gross, like I’m using you or something. And you could use that money to do so much good in someone’s life, God! You were just being kind, but he was frustrated. He just wanted to do something nice and you’d blown it out of proportion. It was a dress. A fucking 5,000$ dress. It made you sick to just look at the price tag, but he didn’t feel the same. That kind of money was cheap change to him. 

You’re being dramatic, it’s s dress, I just wanted to congratulate you. You got a promotion, it was a big deal. He was proud. 

I’m not trying to sound ungrateful Pierre, but flowers would have sufficed. 

And he snapped. He said things he didn’t mean, and you left. You went back home, leaving him in Austria with a race weekend to finish. You told him to sort his shit out. You told him to think before he speaks. God, he’d been thinking of you since you left. He called your phone. 

You didn’t pick up the first time. Or the second. Or the third. 

Ten times. Then you responded. You picked up the damn phone on his lucky number ten. 

“Pierre,” you yawned. “Isn’t it late over there?” you whispered into the phone like you’d wake someone if you weren’t quiet enough. You wouldn’t, you were alone in your hotel room, still sorting out your shit from the argument. 

“I missed you already,” he admitted, the first tears falling down his cheeks. He sniffled. “I’m such an idiot sometimes.” 

You chuckled. “Yeah, you are.” He chuckled too. Quiet conversation filled both your hotel rooms as you both drifted back off to sleep. You didn’t talk about the fight. You didn’t talk about how he was crying. You just… talked. About your busy schedules, how you were running out of foundation, and how tired he was. Boring things. The in-between things. Monotony. Regular, normal life. 

He loved every second of it. 

Franco Colapinto 

His body ran cold when he looked at the time. 2am. You still weren’t home. He’d pretended it didn’t bother him long enough, he had to text you. Or call you. Make you come home. 

He wasn’t a stranger to fucking up, especially with you. He knew what he did was shitty. He knew he should’ve tried harder, worked harder to be there, but duty calls sometimes, and fuck, he has to answer whether he wants to or not. He called your number, his hands shaking. 

Pick up. He begged. Pick up, please. 

You picked up on the sixth ring. “Franco?” your voice was tense. Like he was annoying you. He didn’t care, he was just happy you were responding to him. Relief surged through his body like a fucking lightning bolt, and suddenly he could breathe again. “Why are you calling me?” You were sick of this, of him, of being a secondary priority. You didn’t even want to fucking fight anymore, you just wanted peace, a boyfriend would could be there, who could show up. 

“Where are you?” he asked, his voice quiet. Timid. And, if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded scared. He was. He felt sick to his stomach that you were walking around Spielberg all alone. You left the hotel 4 hours ago. 4 hours of him burning a hole in the floor pacing the room, 4 hours of genuine fear that it might all be over, 4 hours of shit. Pure and utter shit. He was scared, alright? Fucking terrified. He wanted you back, in the hotel, in his arms, in his bed. He wanted you home, to him. He wanted to make sure he was still home. You were quiet for a moment, debating on whether to tell him. “Come on mi cielo, just… come back,” he let a small sob out, his voice just above a whisper. 

You stopped in your tracks. You’d seen him cry a handful of times at most. Over family stuff. Over results. But never was it over you. You didn’t think this had pushed him that far, didn’t think it would. He was so… unbreakable sometimes, you forgot he was just as fragile as you were. He hurt and bled the same, and of course he wouldn’t want you walking out in the dark in a foreign town with your location off, ignoring him. Of course not. “I’m on my way back now, I’ll be there soon.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut and held back a relieved sob. He nodded. “Great,” he choked out. “I’ll be here.” 

Jack Doohan 

It was important to you, he understood. He saw the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about it. He basked in that light, he planned beside you. 

Blood is thicker than water. His father’s mantra rang out through his head, taunting him. He’d been the one to fucking say it and the hurt on your face told him everything he needed to know. Not that he hadn’t known it before, he had. He knew you wanted him there more than anything, he knew how much it would mean for him to get on a plane and meet your family. Yet, he flaked. For some fucking family holiday he didn’t even want to go on. But you cried when he left, and you asked him to practically never come back, and even though he felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest, he boarded that plane like he didn’t have another choice. He saw that he did now. He saw the right choice. 

Mick saw the changes in Jack. He saw the untouched food, the sluggish walk, the lack of interest. He texted you and got no response and he knew what it meant. 

Dinner was too loud, so Jack sought refuge with the sand and the water. His bracelet, the bracelet you gave him was threaded through his fingers as he watched the waves roll out. He was too deep in thought to see Mick sitting beside him. 

“What did you do?” he asked, his voice soft, though it startled him all the same. He jumped and turned to him, a slow smile made its way onto his lips, a chuckle leaving Mick’s. “She’s gone for good?”

That smile disappeared quickly. Jack looked back out at the ocean in front of him, so vast and wide. “I fucked it up,” he admitted, his heart aching with every word. “I left her for this.” He gestured to the area around him, but Mick got the gist. He sighed and clapped a hand on his friend's back. 

“Did you talk to her?” 

“She doesn’t want to hear from me,” he shook his head. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried, he had. You genuinely didn’t want to hear from him. Emotion bubbled deep in his throat, but he tried to swallow it down regardless. He didn’t care if it’d choke him, he didn’t want it. Emotion admits more than words ever would. If he let himself break down he’d be admitting it was over. He wasn’t ready for it to be over. He wasn’t ready to kiss those moments with you goodbye. The way you smiled at him, the way you’d tease him over anything you could, just because you loved it when he’d finally tease back. He couldn’t say goodbye to those nights when you’d stay up until dawn, just talking, making promises about a future you two weren’t guaranteed. He wouldn’t leave those memories of you telling him you loved him in a box in the back of his mind. 

He hadn’t realised he’d been crying. Well, there it was. 

Over. 

Paul Aron

“You can’t fucking do this! You can’t leave for weeks at a time and not talk to me Paul, for fuck’s sake!” you groaned, your eyes wild and angry. It had been like this for 40 minutes, a back and forth that wouldn’t end no matter how much you both wanted it to. He wouldn’t see your side, and you couldn’t see his. He didn’t really have a justification for his actions, just empty promises, and you were sick to death of those. Your hands raked over your face, and you sighed, your eyes meeting his. “Either sort your shit out, or break up with me Paul, because those really seem like our only options right now.” You already knew you were crossing a line, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You just had to say it. 

He could’ve pretended that didn’t feel like a punch to the gut, but you knew him too well. You knew the second you said it too, because you stilled. His face faltered, his body twitched and jerked in a weird way. He wanted to recover, to pretend it was normal, act like it didn’t happen maybe. He couldn’t. Not when it was you on the line. Not when you were talking about a universe where he couldn’t come home to you every night and have you kiss his head or let him kiss you silly. 

You walked over and wrapped your arms around him. Your face was serious but tender and he cupped your cheek. The low light made him look like an angel, a crying angel, but an angel all the same. “Paul, I’m sorry,” you whispered, tender but timid. Like you were scared you’d make it worse. “I’m tired and you’re tired, and you’ve just had a huge weekend, and we just need… we need each other, right?” you offered and he just nodded, too shocked to really comprehend what was going on. “Let’s just head to bed, yeah?” 

He nodded, then dipped his head down and kissed you like it was the last time, like he was trying to put all the love and care and passion he had for you into the kiss. Like that would make you understand him. To an extent, it did. 

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

mclaren masterlist (OP81 &LN4)

ferrari masterlist (CL16, LH44 & AL65 )

williams & mercedes masterlist (GR63, KA12, CS55 LS2 &AA23)

redbull & vcarb masterlist (MV1,IH6 & LL40)

alpine masterlist (JD7, PA17, FC43, PG10)

[moved-to-slayfk]

posting here because this just doesn’t feel right to talk about in the horseimagebarn voice but this is extremely important to talk about.

my partner and i have returned to our hometown to stay with her family and my own has gotten a hotel here too (they moved to the town we currently live in after we did) so we are all safe and out of the thick of it

however there are tens of thousands of people who are not both in my own town and in the many surrounding it. appalachia will take an extremely long time to recover from this and there are more storms on the way. all i see on social media right now is people asking for shelter because their homes have been destroyed, or people asking for help searching for family members who are missing. hundreds of trees have fallen. hundreds of homes have flooded. roads are literally falling apart. preexisting sinkholes due to shitty pipes are opening up and consuming land. dams are on the verge of bursting and the only way to stop it is to release water so quickly it floods whole towns. all but one of our cell towers are down, so only people with at&t have service and the rest can’t contact anyone. over half the town still doesn’t have power. a major water supply issue occurred and the entire town is on a water boil order with no electricity to boil with. people are trapped in their homes and workplaces or out on the street because they have nowhere to go. law enforcement is blocking off roads but trapping people in the process. people have to be rescued by helicopter. our animal shelter has no water or power and boarding facilities have been flooded. entire villages like chimney rock nc are gone, and entire cities like asheville are cut off from the rest of the state and are completely inaccessible. ALL OF THE ROADS IN WESTERN NORTH CAROLINA ARE CLOSED. 400+ roads are closed because they are unsafe . that is INSANE!!!

when people say that climate change isn’t real, they don’t know what they’re talking about. climate change and its father capitalism are only going to continue to worsen lives in every way possible. i live in the mountains and our infrastructure is completely unprepared to handle hurricanes and it’s only going to get worse. it’s such a strange and eye-opening experience to live something like this when you think that it could never happen to you because that type of weather shouldn’t reach you in your environment. climate change doesn’t care where you live. it’s real.

western north carolina and the rest of the southeast that has been hit by helene need help. more people need to be talking about this so that the government DOES SOMETHING because the government historically fucking hates appalachia and it still does!!! the major state institution near me took DAYS to respond despite being the only place in town with power and wifi connection because they had to wait for the state to approve their response—they could have allowed thousands of people to evacuate days prior to the hurricane hitting us but they didn’t do anything before or after until it was too late!!! it’s bullshit!!! PLEASE get talking about this because something has to be done. climate change is going to continue happening and our mountains and the people in them are going to suffer immensely. hundreds if not thousands are now homeless. please talk about this look at the footage online of the wreckage and look how quickly our infrastructure crumbled. we need better. the people of appalachia deserve better.

i’ll get back to posting horses soon. but for now this is a lot. my friends are homeless and my family had to get off the mountain or be trapped there without power and water for days. we’re all safe but exhausted. i hope everyone who has been affected by this is staying safe. if you are in western nc, dm me. when i come back, if you’re in my area, im happy to bring supplies. stay safe everyone

[5sospenguinqueen]

Hit It Like Rom Pom Pom | Max Verstappen x Sargeant! Reader

Summary: Fans find it hard to believe that Max Verstappen managed to pull a DCC. Your brother, Logan, is just disgusted that it’s suddenly all over his timeline. 

Warnings: swearing, fluff, mention of the loss of LS2 

this is a fake reality where logan wasn’t fired before cota and he got to live his american dream of driving around fuelled by nothing but the power of the eagle 

Requested: anon 

Faceclaim: Kleine Powell 

F1 Masterlist

there wasn’t really much to go off in the ask so i hope you liked this? i basically went through all the blonde dcc, picked one i liked and went through her insta for inspo so. it doesn’t help that i’m from the uk

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yn_sarge just posted

liked by victoriaverstappen, megan.mcelaney and others

yn_sarge girls gone wild 

12,003 comments

alexandrasainmleux gorgeous gorgeous girl 

→ yn_sarge miss you 

user1 we need y/n back in the garage

→ logansargeant no, we don’t. she bullies me

user2 that second pic makes me weak in the knees

alex_albon can i come play mermaids too? liked by yn_sarge

→ lilymhe you know you’re not allowed to wear the shell bra without me

user3 how is this woman single. she needs to be snapped up (by me)

→ user4 wait, she’s single? that cannot be possible

→ user5 it’s not. she’s dating max verstappen 

→ user6 just because you wish something were true doesn’t mean it is

→ user7 no way she’s dating max verstappen. him and logan don’t even talk at the track

rileywhittall my favourite sargeant

→ logansargeant back tf up

→ yn_sarge i’m our parents’ as well

user8 streets are saying she’s dating max verstappen. all he does is play on his little sim, he can’t pull her 

maxverstappen1 mijn mooie meisje

→ user9 oh. @/user5 was right 

→ user10 ‼️

yn_sarge just posted

liked by dccheerleaders, logansargeant and others 

yn_sarge game day ft. the bf only taking goofy candids of me 

19,678 comments

maxverstappen1 i can only take the goofy pics because you are goofy 

user11 we may not have her posting a pic of max but we do have a caption mention

landonorris only a pretty girl could make max attend an american football game 

→ yn_sarge actually 🤓☝️ he came because daniel wanted to watch the cowboys in action 

→ danielricciardo lando’s statement still stands. i’m a pretty girl 

user12 is it true you and max have been dating for years? 

user13 how the hell did an american pull the max verstappen 

→ user14 uh oh the f1 girlies have found her 

→ user15 we need to save her from the british 

liked by logansargeant 

user14 i find it hard to believe that she and max have been together for a while. they never feature on each other’s insta

→ user15 probably because they’re not chronically online 

→ user16 some things are more cherished when kept private 

logansargeant just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, kylekirkwood and others 

logansargeant bit late celebrating the 4th this year 🇺🇸

9,687 comments 

yn_sarge where your clothes at

yn_sarge put your nipples away

yn_sarge jump scare

→ logansargeant just because you’re dating the wdc of my sport, doesn’t mean you get to bully me. i can still kick your ass, little sis

→ yn_sarge you’re right. it doesn’t. being mom’s favourite does though 

→ daltonsargeant stop telling people you’re the favourite. i am

→ user1 love how you can tell yn is already a few cocktails deep

rileywhittall beautiful boy 

→ yn_sarge are you blind?

→ logansargeant is max?

→ maxverstappen1 not behind a wheel

user1 omg logan got a dog??

→ yn_sarge no, he's just using snowdrop for clout

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f1 just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and others

f1 spending the weekend in the lone star means we get a visit from a special group of people. one lady in particular is going to have a tough weekend deciding which flag to support 

23,669 comments

kylekirkwood she is american. she dances for an american team. you don’t turn your back on america 🇺🇸🦅

victoriaverstappen we’d be more than happy to make her an honorary dutch 

daltonsargeant oh say can you see by the dawn’s early light 

lilymhe can i throw my chinese flag into the ring? 

williamsracing where’s the british flag 

logansargeant o say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave. o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

user2 oh no, what have they done 

user3 this has summoned the americans 

yn_sarge yeah, thanks for this admin. my phone is being spammed with flag emojis from literally everyone 

maxverstappen1 my girl. my garage. my flag 

→ user4 possessive max verstappen hits different 

→ user5 he can get it hot like papa john 

yn_sarge just posted

liked by haasf1team, landonorris and others 

yn_sarge arguably the best day at work. i got to meet my favourite f1 driver 

23,221 comments 

user6 this is not a drill, we have y/n in the paddock, people! 

→ user7 and dalton. it’s a whole sargeant affair 

→ user8 do you think this is because rumours have been flying that logan is being replaced after this?

→ user9 don’t remind me! they’ve come for his last race 

maxverstappen1 that’s the wrong garage, schat

danielricciardo thunder! 

→ user10 biggest fan girl. think he would win who’s the biggest y/n fan, even if his only competitor was max

→ maxverstappen1 no he wouldn’t 

kevinmagnussen i’m honoured 

→ maxverstappen1 no you’re not 

landonorris can you teach me how to shake my pom poms

→ maxverstappen1 no she can’t

user11 not the grid pulling up like ‘max can’t fight us all’ 

→ maxverstappen1 yes i can. and i will. i’ve beat them all for the past 3 years

user12 i’m just imagining max in his driver’s room staring at her comment section wigging out any time another drive comments

liked by logansargeant 

user13 her pic with charles was so funny. that man was trying his hardest to ensure no part of his body touched her in any way 

→ carlossainz55 and the photographer kept telling him to get closer 

→ charles_leclerc max was at the side glaring at me! 

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by redbullracing, gabrielbortoleto_ and others 

maxverstappen1 3 years ❤️

14,978 comments 

user1 omg we have our first sighting of max and y/n together! 

→ user2 the fact that we didn’t even see them at cota but now he’s posting her!! 

user3 our first max and y/n post!!! 

user4 the scream i scrumpt

user5 how dare he drop this midday on a random day 

→ user6 not random to them, clearly their anniversary 

user7 max saw everyone saying he wasn’t serious about his girl because he never posts them and he took it to heart 

→ user8 his comments already prove he doesn’t play when it comes to y/n

user9 max took f1’s flag taunt seriously and decided to stand on attention 

→ user10 remind everyone who she’s going home with 

logansargeant disgusting display. that colour looks terrible on you @/yn_sarge 

→ logansargeant although everything looks terrible on you

→ yn_sarge bitter party of one 

→ daltonsargeant don’t let this fool you. he was so excited when he found out one of his racing heroes would be joining the family 

yn_sarge just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, alex_albon and others

yn_sarge award season is always an excuse to crack out this pic of the bad boys 

20,009 comments

user11 we’re finally getting the content we deserve 

lilymhe my gorgeous gorgeous girl 

→ alex_albon i don’t see me?

user11 no because the fact that she’s started sharing her relationship after years so people stop focusing on logan being dropped

→ user12 and max agreeing to share their relationship so people stop saying bad things about logan 🥺

→ user13 protecting their younger brother 

→ logansargeant hang on, he hasn’t married her yet. i’ve not given my permission 

→ maxverstappen1 you know you would though, broeder

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requests open

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @justaf1girl @piastri-fvx

[crushpunky]

drew being obsessed with actress!reader for 10 minutes

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

compilation of cute moments based on this ask :) 

when he couldn’t stop blushing when she was brought up…

“So, Drew, we checked out your social media before you got on here today,” Jimmy Kimmel said, tapping his cards on the desk as he spoke, “you seem to be a bit of a private person, but we know there’s quite a bit of content from a certain special someone floating around online. Maybe a certain actress, hmm? Care to comment?”

Drew chuckled, an immediate smile spreading across his face as his cheeks flushed a bright red. He ran his hand on his jaw, biting his lip before he spoke.

“Uh, yeah, I’m not a very big social media person, but luckily she is.” Drew grinned at the mention of y/n. “I think people would forget I exist if she didn’t post that I was still alive every once in a while, but yeah… she’s great.”

“You seem very happy,” Jimmy teased, causing Drew to shake his head as he tried to hide how his cheeks grew impossibly redder.

“I am. We are.” Drew smiled as he spoke. “She’s my favorite person and I am truly so honored and lucky to get to know her.”

when he serenaded her…

It was another karaoke night at Drew and y/n’s apartment, their friends piled onto the couch as Drew sang. It wasn’t super often he sang, let alone by himself… so that’s where the couple glasses of wine came into play, giving him the confidence to take on “Hopelessly Devoted to You”. Everyone giggled as Drew sang, missing a couple of notes here and there, but making up for it with his dramatic stage (or rather, living room) presence. He looked around the room until he locked eyes with y/n, crossing the living room in a few quick strides before kneeling down in front of her.

“But now,” Drew sang, grabbing her hand, “there’s nowhere to hide, since you pushed my love aside.”

Y/n’s mouth dropped, the rest of their friends hollering as Drew continued to sing.

“I’m out of my head,” Drew sang, a wide smile on his face, “hopelessly devoted to you!”

He pressed a quick kiss to her head, causing her to giggle before he continued his performance.

when he brought her up unprompted…

“You much of a dancer?” Drew asked Harris Dickinson, the two of them sitting opposite each other as they conducted their Actors on Actors interview.

“No, no… you are though, that’s for sure.” Harris said, chuckling slightly as Drew shook his head.

“I don’t think I am,” Drew said, placing a hand over his chest as he spoke, “but my girlfriend certainly thinks I am.”

“Yeah?” Harris hummed, listening as Drew nodded, a grin spreading across his face.

“Yeah, she, uh—” Drew laughed slightly. “She just loves dancing around the house and insists that I join her so… I can’t refuse, of course.”

“Oh of course not,” Harris laughs. “Your hands are tied.”

“Yeah. Well, jokes aside,” Drew laughed, “whether or not I’m any good, I like it, it’s fun. It makes my girl happy so that makes me happy.”

when he was pouting because she left…

The Outer Banks cast sat around a large dinner table, chatting and laughing as they waited for their food to arrive. They had just finished a long day of shooting season one, the group deciding to go out for dinner as a treat. Taking a video, Madelyn panned around the table, each cast member excitedly waving at the camera one after the other until the camera landed on Drew. He was looking around the restaurant, a slight frown on his face as he gnawed at his bottom lip. The seat next to him was empty, y/n just having got up moments ago to use the restroom.

“Drew!” Madelyn said to him, causing him to whip his head around. He looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed and a stale expression still on his face.

“What’s your problem?” Chase laughed as Madelyn continued to zoom in on Drew’s very much Rafe-esque face.

“He misses y/n.” JD teased, causing Drew to look away from Madelyn and hit JD on the shoulder. The rest of the table collapsed into laughter as Drew shook his head, trying to hide the pink tinge rising in his cheeks at the mention of his very obvious crush before the video cut off.

when he couldn’t stop staring…

Y/n set up her camera, music playing from it as she prepared to make her Tik Tok. As soon as the video started, y/n backed away, smiling mischievously as she watched Drew sitting behind her in her phone’s camera. He was sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through his phone. However, the second she stepped into his vision, he immediately looked over at her. Eyes trained on her, his gaze soft as he watched her intently.

The music quickly switched, and y/n immediately started doing the strangest possible dance she could think of, all in an attempt to weird Drew out. Soon, Drew furrowed his brow, putting his phone down as he continued to watch y/n with a confused expression. Suddenly, y/n spun around, looking at him as she jumped up on the couch and danced over him. Drew shifted his position, staring straight up at her as he laughed at her insane dancing.

“What the fuck?” The camera picked up Drew saying, his words obvious even if they were covered by music and y/n’s crazy dancing. With a squeal, y/n jumped on him, the two of them rolling off the couch and landing on the floor in a heap of limbs and giggles.

[rafesteddy]

Rafehub.com - Rafe Cameron Plink Library

+18 Minor DNI

Pornstar!Rafe Cameron - P🔗 Library

Welcome to RafeHub.com

This p!link library was made with my lover @rafesthroatbaby

if you love pornstar!Rafe check out the sexy au created by our baby @starkeyisthelastname

The titles were “written by Rafe” to give it a typical porn-esque vibe. The white text is a little backstory 💋

⭐️ Back shots 💦💦💦 🍑Your first video with Rafe

⭐️ stretching u like only i can let me ruin you 4 everyone else

⭐️ i love teasing what’s mine let me play with your pussy while daddy gets you ready for his cock Rafe easing you into it after making you sore from your last shoot

⭐️ Am i too rough? I’m sorry. I’ll take it nice n easy 4 you baby. I’m gonna try to make it all fit i promise. 🤡 cum back for part 2 where i fuck this slut into the mattress

⭐️ two girls one rafe 😈 After a night of partying, you and Rafe bring another actress back to his house to play

⭐️ they love to share me i guess i’ll keep them both

⭐️ Making a mess on the couch. How many times do i make her squirt?? 😜 Rafe’s been stalking your videos since. He didn’t know you could squirt. Now he’s desperate to make you squirt multiple times on camera.

⭐️ Messy girl ❤️‍🔥 gonna need a shower after this shit 🥵

⭐️ Let The Pussy Destroyer satisfy your breeding kink ♥️ The only actress Rafe finishes in unprotected is you. He can’t help but whisper the dirtiest shit in your ear about how he’s gonna end your career because he fucked a baby into you. But what he gets off on the most is how he’ll never have to watch you fuck anyone else again.

⭐️ daddy dicking her ⬇️

⭐️ Let me destroy you - size kink king 🍆 she’s takin this dick like a champ Rafe is clearly obsessed with you and his followers are getting jealous

⭐️ I love using your tight pussy such a perfect fucktoy for me

⭐ What Rafe sends to you after you send him your nudes 📸

⭐️ had to sneak away from her boyfriend to get fucked by daddy. Do you think he’s doin this shit like me?? 😂Shooting with Rafe after he tells you that you can fuck whoever… You mean nothing to him. He didn’t realize how wrong he was ‘til it happened. His jealousy also went into overdrive after he found out that the other actor was an ex of yours. Of course he keeps that shit to himself.

⭐️ you just don’t stop cummin do you?

⭐ mine 📸 Rafe’s petty-ass posting this GIF online and sending it to your ex

⭐️ cum give daddy a hand and stroke me til I’m emptyDenying Rafe pussy because he won’t use his words and tell you how he feels when you can tell he’s annoyed

⭐ covering her with my load

⭐️ atta girl swallow daddy’s dick

⭐️ not gonna lie this chick fucked me look at her creamin on my big dick Fucking Rafe on camera after rumors circulate about him and another mattress actress. He put in an extra effort after getting his feelings hurt and now he regrets it completely

⭐️ she says she hates me… turns out she just needed some good dick

⭐️ she loves gettin slapped and fucked dumb Getting fucked rough after ignoring Rafe’s calls

⭐️ keep screaming for me. You think I’m gonna stop? 😂

⭐️ Babygirl couldn’t wait until the movie ended so i fucked her like the impatient slut she is Rafe invites you over for a movie. When you ask him if it’s a date he brushes you off because he’s too scared to get attached. “Nah, princess. We’re just hanging out. Thought we could relax and shoot some shit when we got bored.”

⭐️ my little anal queen’s so good 💦🍑 clenching and tightening around my dick

⭐️ 🩷My tongue and fingers are magic princess lay back and let daddy Rafe make you feel like a pretty little slut🩷 First video after Rafe finally tells you how he feels

⭐️ Trying new angles while I stretch out that perfect pussy 💯

⭐️ she came 2 play 🥵 little promo 4 you filthy slut. comment below it u want some more ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️ You both love money and sex. You don’t want to stop shooting, so you make a couples OnlyFans account instead, putting out a few promos on Twitter

⭐️ 🎀little miss innocent before she met me🎀

⭐️ U got me stroking my shit… can’t stop thinking about you Leaving Rafe for the weekend while you go on vacation with your friends. He’s so pussy whipped you have him playing with himself

⭐ Her 🤍📸 Rafe posting and watching some softer GIFs when you’re gone because he misses his babygirl

⭐️ Had to pull over cause she looked too fuckin good Rafe picking you up from the airport and he couldn’t even wait til you got home

⭐️ she loves that cameron cum 👑 think she’s the one

⭐️ think she likes her new gift ⛓️‍💥😈 Shooting content for your OnlyFans - switching it up with cuffs and masks

⭐️ heard you sluts liked masks

⭐️ look at you all tied up with your legs wide open and your dripping wet pussy throbbing waiting for some cameron cock

⭐️ Be a good girl and cum with Daddy while he plays with your toys 😈

Like, reblog, and comment to show us some love 🤍 @rafesthroatbaby inbox is open for any love you want to send her way as well!!

[couch-potato28]

ROMANTIC MOMENTS CAUGHT BY FANS WITH THE BLLK BOYS! 📸

PT 3.

🎥 synopsis: Your relationship with him is already established but fans still can’t get enough of the two of you—always wanting more crumbs. Accidental meetups, funny moments and romantic scenes that get captured or posted by them online offer the world a chance to witness little glimpses of your dynamic with him.

🎞️ a/n: Lowk Karasu’s part feels a little inaccurate but could just be me, also he’s aged up! Honestly this whole series feels very goofy. Ty for reading tho lmao

🎬 characters: hiori y., karasu t., isagi y., michael k., nanase n. and reo m.

Hiori Yo—viral video

Both of you frequently watched the “Compilation of Hiori Yo being a simp for Y/N for 15 minutes straight” titled video that was edited by a fan of his who took the time to cut together all of your boyfriend’s soft moments caught on camera during his livestreams.

The football player would often stream besides playing on the field, wanting to virtually connect with his fans through the screens while also enjoying his hobby of gaming.

During the long hours of talking online—fans would often ask questions about you that he would happily read out loud before carefully answering every single one of them—sheepishly praising you for simply existing including the act of breathing itself.

His fans swore they saw heart eyes appear whenever you were mentioned, showcasing just how whipped to the core he was.

6.5 million views and a comment from:

@hioyooo_16: got caught in 4K

Karasu Tabito—dirtbag picture

Being an average high schooler, then debuting as a football star at 17, and now playing in a pro league—that was the dream for a lot of kids. Your boyfriend worked hard to get where he is now, and according to everyone who went to school with him, one thing was universally agreed on: Karasu was smart and athletic as hell.

So what happens when one of his diehard fans turns out to be a student from the very same high school he once attended?

Obviously, they start snooping around. And somehow, they manage to dig up an old yearbook from your boyfriend’s graduating class—complete with a few random photos left behind by the football team years ago.

Days later, Karasu’s name was suddenly trending. Thousands of fans were tagging him in a post: a grainy photo uploaded by that same fan.

It was a small polaroid, probably taken with someone’s old digital camera after the school’s football team had won the regional title and gone out to celebrate.

And there it was—your faces squished together, both of you with puckered lips, messy hair, and your boyfriend’s whole face covered in lipstick marks.

The PR team was freaking out. He had a great laugh while saving the pic.

Liked by @crowrasu_tabito and 4.3 million others

Isagi Yoichi—loser in love

He did it. He scored the last goal. His team won.

The fans erupted from the benches. Screams, cries, and sobs filled the stadium as the adrenaline flowed through the air.

You were there. Cheering from the first row, tightly gripping the bar before your eyes met his.

And then, as always, you opened your arms waiting for him.

Isagi sprinted across the field, ignoring his teammates’ shouts only to get to you.

It was perfect.

You two were about to be the highlight of the match again. Fans were already hearing the edits with Taylor Swift’s lyrics.

“Where’s the trophy? He just comes runnin’ over to me~”

Sweat clung to your boyfriend’s forehead, hair resembling a bird’s nest but that sweet smile of his was more radiant than ever…

…until he tripped.

He was almost there. Just a few more meters but after the game his shoelaces must have loosened up a bit, causing him to fall face flat into the grass.

Fans were about to erupt again but they stopped midway. You laughed out loud. He stayed there for a good minute before looking up, flustered and grinning.

Isagi simply proved he was in love again—no matter how much embarrassment he just put himself through national TV.

Michael Kaiser—silent or silenced

Your boyfriend had some unhinged fans—the kind who would literally do anything just to see him in person.

Even if it meant sneaking past security just to catch a glimpse of his blond hair and post-game sweat.

Naturally, they were documenting everything on live.

Thousands were watching. Some laughing. Others just straight-up crying at the absurdity of the situation.

What they didn’t know was that you two were mid-argument.

You, sitting cross-legged on a bench in grey sweats, probably his hoodie thrown on, while he stood in front of you, hands waving wildly in the air like some dramatic soap opera character.

They could barely guess what he was saying before one of the most iconic moments between WAGs happened.

You calmly took a sip from your water bottle, slowly pulling down your sunglasses.

Looked up at him with a death stare. That shut him up for good.

It was a rather simple moment but the fans ate it up, especially after a few seconds of you saying something to him before he immediately grabbed your face and kissed you for what seemed like an eternity.

Safe to say, the next day the media was filled with edits of you and he couldn’t help but drop a like for every single one of them.

Nijiro Nanase—personal experience

Your boyfriend was someone who deeply cherished his fans despite his busy schedules—after all, as he often said, they always greeted him with such sweet smiles so how could he not stop for a minute and talk?

Above all, children cutely waving and waiting for him in the crowds made him the weakest.

One of the most well-known stories about his friendliness was posted by a fan of PXG, sharing how they’ve met Nanase in a restaurant near the stadium he played in just a few hours ago.

Turns out the fan was with his 4-year -old daughter at the time (also big fan btw) who easily recognized him before bravely going up to the player with a toothy grin, asking if he would like to take a picture with her.

They wrote how Nanase’s face immediately lit up at the request, granting her wish as well as giving the child some free candy from his bag.

Melting at the sight, your boyfriend—with permission of course—immediately brought her over to your table to show you his new best friend, squishing her cheeks in the process. You two played with her for a long time before waving the little girl goodbye.

1,9 million likes and reposted by @nanana_jiro

Reo Mikage—caught comments

He loved to compliment you day and night without fail, be it in public or private, Reo would always shower you in sweet words that were truly meant from the bottom of his heart.

Sure, he had his official account for media and fans—but he wasn’t super active on it, only following his teammates and you, making it clear that he was taken.

Yet the fans never really saw him liking your posts or interacting much, leaving them to assume he was just more of a private guy.

That was until someone found his other account with a definitely not suspicious name, and the comments that were left on each of your posts—some containing a bunch of hearts while others simply praised you.

He knew he got exposed when the account suddenly gained a few thousand new followers, and how every single compliment he ever left on your photos were now top comments.

Guess, he needs to think of a new username cause @oreo_milkshake has been exposed.

2,2 million new followers and a new story posted by:

@m_reo: whoever exposed me watch out…im coming for you :)

[glamourcheetah75]

The Comments Were Never Quiet 🖤

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Fem!

Warnings: Warnings: Anxiety, emotional distress, online harassment, crying, soft angst, comfort, protective!Paige, established relationship, social media drama

Summary: You and Paige weren’t hiding—you just weren’t ready. But when a photo leaks, the internet reacts fast and loud. And suddenly, the quiet love you’ve built together is under a microscope. Paige can’t stop the noise, but she can remind you what’s real.

-

It started with one photo.

A blurry candid of you and Paige on the UConn campus, her hand in yours. No caption. No context.

Just enough to set the internet on fire.

By the next morning, your phone was a war zone.

Tweets. Edits. TikToks. And comments.

So many comments.

Some sweet.

Most not.

You stopped reading after the third one called you a nobody.

After the fifth accused you of being a distraction.

After someone posted your high school photos like they were proof Paige could’ve done better.

You turned off your phone.

Then deleted the apps.

Then curled up on your dorm bed and cried into the hoodie she left behind.

It still smelled like her shampoo.

You didn’t hear her come in.

But you felt the way the air shifted—how the room got quieter just from her being there.

“Hey,” Paige said softly. “Azzi told me.”

You didn’t lift your head. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” she said, sitting beside you. “And that’s okay.”

You turned to face her, eyes rimmed red. “We weren’t even hiding. We just… weren’t ready.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t want this to be some big announcement,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to be picked apart.”

“You didn’t deserve to be.”

You blinked back fresh tears. “I know it’s stupid. I know what people say online doesn’t matter—”

“But it does,” Paige cut in gently. “It matters because it hurt you. And that matters to me.”

She reached for your hand. You let her hold it.

“I don’t care what they think,” she continued. “I care about you. I care that this love we have—this thing that’s ours—is being treated like it’s content.”

You stared at the wall. “It feels like we lost something.”

Paige shook her head. “No. They don’t get to take it from us. They can talk. They can assume. They can scroll past. But we still have this.”

She squeezed your hand. “We still have us.”

Your lip quivered. “It just feels so loud.”

Paige leaned in, pressing her forehead to yours. “Then let me be the quiet.”

You broke.

And she held you through it.

No cameras. No likes. No cruel opinions.

Just her arms around you.

Just the sound of her breathing.

Just the kind of love no comment section could touch.

-

[fadedtoneverland]

d&g’s prince | c.sn

❤︎ synopsis — your boyfriend is away at milan for another fashion show. you’re lowkey (highkey) missing him very much, until he facetimes you to check in on you… wearing something a little too sexy

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

theme: fluff ✿ , suggestive ❤︎, slight crack ✦ (if you squint)

a/n: seeing the clips of him circling around online in this outfit …. i went a lil’ too crazy … i didn’t want to post another smut fanfic of san, so i just went for the suggestive route

cw: reader makes lots of sex jokes cuz they’re feral. implied sex at the ending. mostly teasing and shi

you never knew true boredom and desperation.

well, at least not ‘till this week.

your absolutely stunning, gorgeous, panty-dropping enigma of a man, choi san, had left your poor self all alone in your apartment. not intentionally, of course. being a hot idol that’s constantly in the spotlight, was a busy lifestyle that you completely understood.

and san just so happened to get invited to one of dolce & gabbana’s latest fashion week shows, a brand that san has modeled for numerous times.

he was over the moon, absolutely beaming about going to milan again. you were happy for him too. only problem is, he couldn’t take you with him. san being san, wouldn’t stop whining about how he couldn’t take his “absolute unit of a partner” with him, but you reassured him everything would be fine back home in seoul, and you’d regularly text.

even then, sending off san with kisses and goodbyes at the airport didn’t stop you from missing him. because, he’s choi san. who wouldn’t miss their boyfriend if he was choi san.

so now here you were, curled up in your plush, king sized bed underneath the duvet. a jellycat goose tucked underneath your chin while you scrolled through your texts with san.

sannie <3 [12:03am]: baby

sannie <3 [12:03am]: are u up ??

sannie <3 [12:03am]: just finished a pop live

sannie <3 [12:04am]: come facetime me i wanna say hiiii :33

sannie <3 [12:05am]: do it >:((

you couldn’t hold back your smile. oh san, that lovable little dork. despite being the hottest person to literally grace god’s green earth, he was still a clingy goofball of a man.

your fingers glides across your screen as you typed back

y/n [12:07am]: omg i will

y/n [12:08am]: so needy, ur lucky ur cute

sannie <3 [12:10am]: ik i am <3

sannie <3 [12:11am]: open ur laptop, baby. i’ll be on soon

and you did as you were told, getting comfy underneath your duvet while pulling out your sticker-infested laptop. snuggled in san’s favorite hoodie that had a faint scent of his sandalwood cologne, you eagerly opened the screen and clicked on the bright green facetime icon, waiting for him to call you up.

you were incredibly giddy too, trying to act like you weren’t delusional and the most sane person on planet earth. and well- you weren’t really being delusional, considering that you were dating the choi san himself.

the incoming call icon popped up on your screen, and you quickly shifted to sit up while hovering your cursor over the green button, clicking it, and watching as the screen expanded to reveal your stunning boyfriend.

“hi, baby!” san called out, waving to you. his voice smooth as honey. ugh, you could listen to him forever, especially when he sounds so happy.

“my man,” you sighed dreamily while giving him a little finger wave, resting your cheek on your palm. “i seriously felt like i was gonna die if i went another day without hearing your voice.”

san laughed, the sound light and teasing. “oh, really? and you’re calling me needy? can’t even go a week without hearing my angelic voice, y/n.”

“yeah? well—“ you were about to retort wittily to his teasing, but the grainy web camera on san’s end cleared up a bit more, showing off a bit more details of the black outfit he was wearing. the sight made you effectively stop talking, which san took notice of.

“baby?” san called out, smirk faltering a bit from concern. “you alright—?”

“stand up.” you suddenly said.

your boyfriend blinked.

“i- wha—“

“i said stand up, choi san,” you interrupted firmly. “show me what kind of slutty fit you have on.”

san blinked once. then twice. he did a little head shake before chuckling, slowly standing up from his swivel chair and adhering to your hasty demands.

“whatever you want, angel.” san sang teasingly, pushing the chair away from his desk and stepping back to give you a tantalizing view of the outfit. the camera cut out his face, and the desk cropped up to his thighs, not showing you the full body, but showing just enough details to make you go feral.

san always looked good in black, made his features pop more, and just dripped him out in sin and scandal. but your eyes roved hungrily over the expanse of his muscles that were very much defined by his shirt.

his top, thin cotton fabric in the form of the sexiest blouse you’ve seen him wear. the middle part dipped down just enough to reveal a flirty little chest window for your lucky eyes. some black stringed ribbon was tied together nearly at the front of his shirt, creating a more sinful feel, knowing he can just untie those strings and flash you with his glorious tits at any given moment.

and the jeans? tight, leather, and fucking whorish. even when he did a little spin in front of the web cam to give you the whole galore of his outfit, you couldn’t stop thinking about how those jeans fitted perfectly along his hips and curve of his ass.

you were destroyed completely, reduced to nothing but a horny little dog who felt like they were gonna howl at the moon any second. and san seemed to notice, due to your lack of speaking after he showed off his stripper fit.

“uhh… y/n?” san called out while leaning down so his face was in view of the webcam. “are you okay?”

a beat of silence. one breath. then two.

and…

“you little shit.” you suddenly blurted out.

san was baffled. “… huh???”

“who told you that you could dress up like a hooker??”

silence.

then san shook his head, blinking furiously. “i— w-what?!”

your devastatingly hot boyfriend practically lurched himself back in the rolling chair, completely bewildered by your bold, yet astronomically down bad statement for him. meanwhile, you just stared at the camera, completely serious.

“babe, this is so unfair. you can’t dress up looking like a full-course meal and not expect me to go feral,” you said, practically whining with how devastated you were. “and you’re in milan too? ugh, even worse. who’s gonna suck your dick ‘till the skin falls off now??”

san choked on his own saliva. “until the skin falls off—?! baby- it’s just a shirt!!”

“yeah, a shirt that’s making my pussy way too wet. there’s a whole damn tsunami down there.”

“princess—“

“if i was a man i’d be popping the biggest boner right now, i’m just saying.”

san was crying with laughter. laughter from both disbelief and amusement. he’s heard you say all sorts of diabolical stuff regarding many things, but never to this level of down bad. maybe this was your glorious way of reminding him who gives him the best blowjobs while he’s gone.

“baby— honey—“ san laughed, rubbing the tears of joy out of his eyes. “you- you can’t just say stuff like that! it hasn’t even been that long since i left korea.”

you scoffed, and turned your head dramatically away from the virtual image of your boyfriend. “yeah, but it’s been long enough since i last saw you, and you have the audacity to come on here and flash me??”

san blinked. again.

“flash you???”

“uh, yeah? i’m getting the whole front row view of your twelve inch dick through those slutty pants, babe.”

“i— twelve inches!?”

“god created men and sent you as an apology, baby. you’re the whole package and i’m about to unwrap your boxers like one. i’ve gone too long without your glorious presence.”

san’s jaw was practically on the floor with that one, and you looked unfazed. composed, cool, collected, despite the sheer diabolical-ness of your filthy words.

remind him why you were his girlfriend again?

“okay, okay. if you really want to come see me, you can catch the closest flight to milan,” san said, leaning closer to the screen, flashing those cheeky dimples, “but it won’t be any cake walk trying to get alone time with me, baby.”

“fine by me,” you declared, smirking back at him. “i can be stealthy.”

san raised an eyebrow, amused. “i doubt it.”

“are you saying you don’t trust me?” you retort teasingly.

“no~ im just stating the facts, the fact that your chances of sneaking past all the guards and paparazzi and staff to be with yours truly is slim.”

“slim but never zero, baby. come on, i’ve done this plenty of times during tours. i can do it again for fashion week~”

and you just had to pull out those sparkly, mischievous eyes that you know san loves so much. god, he was a weak man when it came to you. but who could blame him? he was also dying to have you near him soon, especially with how busy the d&g fashion week as gotten him.

“i better see you here soon then, baby,” san said, grinning ear-to-ear while leaning back. “and wear an outfit that’s easy to rip off.”

you smiled devilishly, knowing you’ve won.

“already looking for tickets to milan, prince.”

▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆

fadedtoneverland © 2025 | do not steal, modify or repost ANY of my work.

[tryingtofindava]

── 𝐌𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥

A Twitch streamer and a YouTube vlogger start interacting online, and the internet can’t look away.

a/n: this is modern day tlou au, these are just headcanons but I might make this a series :P

: ̗̀➛Back to source

{[Streamer!Ellie x Vlogger!Reader]}

╰┈➤ 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

You first take notice of Ellie when you come across one of her twitch clips while doomscrolling on TikTok.

It’s a clip of her absolutely raging after losing a game in the funniest, most unhinged way. You watch it three times because her reactions are hilarious and weirdly charming.

You don’t even realize she’s a big streamer. You just think, “Who is this angry little goblin and why is she so entertaining?”

So you fall down a mini rabbit hole, watching her highlights, and funny clip compilations, then finding her Twitch.

You start putting her own for background noise while you edit your vlog videos. Of course having to turn the volume down when you do voice overs, though you can always hear her tuned town voice yelling as she keyboard smashes.

One day you comment on her TikTok post,

Xx.y/n_l/n.xX: You’re the human version of a broken controller and I love it.

And Ellie is IMMEDIATELY interested in you, since she doesn’t really ever have verified accounts comment on her videos who aren’t her other streamer friends.

Ellie recognizes your username, vivid memory of your overly cutesy vlogs popping up on her YouTube feed as she searches for new games.

Ellie likes and replies,

RageSaurusRex: Takes one to know one

On stream, she casually mentions you, “Apparently some YouTube vlogger called me a broken controller… solid first impression.”

After that, you both lowkey stalk each other’s content. Ellie watches a few of your vlogs while pretending she isn’t invested. She especially likes your get ready with me posts. While you still watch her chaotic Twitch streams, trying not to laugh out loud when she accidentally says something stupid.

The mutual stalking goes wild.

In a random Twitch stream, you pop into her chat and she immediately notices. “Wait. No way. Xx.y/n_l/n.xX is in my chat? Mods, behave.” It’s playful, but her ears turn red.

Safe to say her chat went crazy as she perfectly pronounced your user with no thought at all, perfectly memorised.

Ellie slides into your DMs after the stream, casual at first… well, casual to Ellie’s standards anyways… sending you memes so unfunny they turn out hilarious and it quickly spirals into an ongoing conversation that never really stops.

╰┈➤ 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

Ellie’s streams are mostly chaotic, she likes playing bloody and violent video games, with lots of graphic content. But if you ask her to play more relaxing games she hops on that shit so fast you have no idea.

Suddenly the games she plays on stream are more chilled out, but she somehow makes peaceful games rage inducing. Though she still likes to play her violent games… she likes to throw in some Animal Crossing and A little to the left, just for you.

And you start mentioning her in your vlogs, maybe you are filming a ‘find stuff at the thrift with me’ video, and come across a guitar, Savage Starlight comic, and dinosaur plush and casually mention your online friend liking that stuff.

And your viewers IMMEDIATELY know who you’re referring to. This is the moment where fanbases start to merge.

Everyone goes crazy when Ellie calls you on stream to invite you to play a co-op game, and who are you to say no?

The first few minutes of gameplay are filled with awkward jokes, Ellie trash talking her own gameplay as she mines, and both of you getting caught up in a whirlwind of laughter.

By the end of the stream, fans are already making jokes about you two being ‘that couple’ even though you’re just starting out as gaming buddies.

So now you and Ellie have a little series on her Twitch channel of your guys cute modded Minecraft world.

After the collab, Ellie occasionally drops little comments during her streams, like, “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll let Y/n win this round. I’m that nice.” Her fans eat it up. They tease her, ‘Are you just trying to impress them?’ and Ellie plays along, dramatically rolling her eyes. It’s all an inside joke, but the fans are certain something more is brewing.

You and Ellie have this natural, easy back and forth relationship. Teasing, bickering, laughing at anything and everything. Feels totally unforced too.

Viewers eat it up, clipping every little moment where you two banter like an old married couple and the editors go crazy editing your cutest and funniest movements.

You guys get close very quickly, though you are complete opposites, you guys get on so well. And your viewers notice this, clipping every moment you two mention each other on your channel or her streams. Making cute compilation videos.

Makes people question if you two could maybe be more?

After the first few collabs, you and Ellie start messaging off-stream more often than you did originally. Late-night Discord calls, sending each other dumb memes, casually complaining about trolls and the stress of your uploading schedule … until it starts feeling weirdly personal and real.

You and Ellie fall into a natural rhythm of playful teasing. If Ellie messes up, you’re quick to call her out, “I’m pretty sure I could’ve done that with my eyes closed.” And she comes right back with, “Maybe you should! It’d be an improvement!” There’s no real tension, it’s all fun and games.

But fans definitely start noticing how comfortable you two are with each other.

Off-camera, Ellie is way softer. She sends you voice notes with her raspy laugh, asks you for recommendations for songs she should cover with her guitar on live, and lowkey gets jealous if she sees you post content with someone else.

The line between online friends and something more gets messier every day. Little inside jokes turn into flirty comments. Your chats get longer. Your smiles get a little too genuine on camera.

You’re in the middle of an co-op, and Ellie jokes, “You know, I think we’d make a great team… in life.” Your response? “Right, as long as you promise not to scream my ears off.” Chat erupts. Clips start circulating of the back-and-forth, with comments like ‘Are they secretly dating or just the most iconic duo ever?’

Sometimes, mid stream, there’s this tiny pause after you say something sweet, Ellie wants to say something but doesn’t. And chat definitely notices how her freckles cheeks get a bit more rosy.

Also, even when you two aren’t playing together she always somehow manages to bring you up. She casually mentions your name in her streams, “I was playing with Y/n the other night, and you know, they almost didn’t completely suck. Almost.” Her chat immediately lights up with comments like ‘Aww, they’re cute’ and ‘is this wuh luh wuh?’.

Yeah, you guys definitely could be something more.

╰┈➤ 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞

And people ship you guys so hard, everyone in her chat always asks about when she’ll stream a Minecraft video with you again they practically demand it, and she always laughs it off saying something along the lines of: “She’s got her own channel to take care of, chat. Go watch her vlogs if you miss her.”

A few fan edits appear, showcasing moments when you and Ellie are too comfortable with each other. One fan edit has a side-by-side of you two laughing, with the text “When you realize you’re lowkey in love with your gaming partner.” The comments go wild, including one that reads, “They’re definitely dating, there’s no way they’re not.”

They start shipping you two so much that the hashtag #EllieAndY/n quickly trends on Twitter, even though you two are just friends… for now.

People go crazy when you guys comment on each others instagram posts, especially when she calls you pretty on your most recent post. Your fanbases start colliding faster than expected. The crossover is hilarious, with Ellie’s followers getting curious about your YouTube content, and your subscribers discovering her Twitch streams.

Fans put together compilation videos of the ‘cutest moments’ between you two, including Ellie pretending to be offended when you win a round, her leaning into the mic to yell your name in a faux-dramatic way, and both of you staying up past midnight to finish a game. The fans add text like ‘#CoupleGoals’ and ‘Best. Duo. Ever.’

A flood of fanfiction starts to appear in your comment sections, all based around you and Ellie being an unlikely couple. One fanfic is called ‘Unlikely Duet’ where you two play games and bicker, but end up falling for each other after a series of increasingly ridiculous gaming mishaps. Readers comment things like, ‘If they’re not together in real life, I’m going to riot.’

╰┈➤ 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐑𝐋

People start speculating on how you posted on Instagram a photo of you at the airport, theorising how you could potentially be letting each other??? Maybe???

Of course they were right.

Ellie starts one of her streams where she just talks to her viewers, and it’s only a few minutes in when she announces she has a special guest.

And pulls you into frame on an old spare gaming chair she has. Her chat goes CRAZY. Even some of your viewers joining her stream.

The stream lasted only half an hour before she ended it. And it mostly consisted of you two giggling and smiling at each other as you talk about random stuff.

Not even two days later you list on your YouTube a vlog titled, ‘Travel with me to Seattle’.

And the blog consisted of you travelling the first few minutes, until you finally meet Ellie in person, giving each other a big hug. (imagine the cutesy edits).

The rest of the video is you and her meeting some of her friends while you film everything cool you could find in Seattle. Until you end it in her film room.

Now, after maybe half a year of just speaking online you guys do everything you can while you’re with each IRL.

Posting on instagram, taking photos together.

Getting on with her friends, Jesse and Dina, who when you aren’t around, tease her about you. Safe to say Ellie may have developed a little crush…

“You’re set up is way cleaner then I thought it would be.” You casually mention as you look at her fancy gaming set up. “You thought it’d be messy?” She laughs at you, nudging you as she lets you play some of her games. (She won’t tell you she cleaned her whole apartment for you staying over for a week.)

When she’s dropping you off at the airport to go home she gives you a big hug that lasted a little too long for friends..

“I can’t wait to do this again.” You whisper in her ear, arms around her neck, your suitcase and bag carelessly left on the ground as you say your goodbyes. She let out a chuckle, shaking her head. “Yeah, me too.” Her freckled cheeks heat up.

And after your year long online friendship, and a whole week of being together in person, you guys share your first kiss in the airport.

It was just a complete coincidence when one of her viewers recognises you two and takes a sneaky photo and post it on twitter.

WAIT STOP I LOVED WRITING THIS SM!!! SHOULD I DO MORE BUT ITS THE START OF THE RELATIONSHIP???

[lcvecove]

hiya, i have no idea if you do requests but i have a very brief and simple idea, which you can do your own take on - overly sensitive reader is dating oscar piastri & people are bothering her online but she doesn't tell oscar, instead she hides it and acts like she's fine but one night, she's in bed with him but then moves out to the living room & she's reading people's posts and messages about her not deserving him and she just sobs her eyes out, very quietly, thinking he's asleep - but he's not and he hears her, he walks out to the sight of her crying,,, then you can do whatever you want! just basically a hurt/comfort fic idea :) thank you!

𝒏ote , hi nonnie! thank you so much for requesting this. im convinced he is the sweetest sweetest bf and this thought goes so well with him . . .

fem!reader x oscar piastri. established relationship. hurt -> comfort. fluff. insecure!reader. mean online comments.

you knew better.

you knew better than to look. you knew better than to click on the notifications, the comments, the threads where strangers, bold and faceless, tore you apart like it cost them nothing.

you know it’s not true. these people don’t you. they don’t really know oscar. they don’t know anything about your relationship. and you knew better than to give them so much power over you, but you did it anyway.

it felt like a constant in your night routine at this point. after the steady rise and fall of oscar’s chest tells you he’s surrendered to sleep, you slip quietly from the bed.

you try to convince yourself you’re just stretching your legs, grabbing some water, anything to justify the gnawing pull toward your phone, toward the weight you tuck away during the day but can’t seem to ignore when it’s dark and that inner voice manages to convince you to look.

you curl up on the couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies that still smells faintly like him, like the smell of your safe space can wrap around you and stop the words from piercing as deep as they always do.

“he could have anyone and he settles for that?”

“you can’t convince me she’s there for anything but the money”

“he could do way better”

“why do the best guys always tend to settle for the most basic, gold digging girls”

one after another they appear on the screen. picking apart your body, your intelligence, your motives.

you don’t even realize you’re crying until the drops fall on the screen. little blots of water smearing and obstructing the words that had already twisted like knives in your chest.

you know you should turn it off. climb into bed and let oscar cuddle away all the insecurities gnawing at your chest. but it feels like you’re stuck. like if you just read one more comment, maybe you’ll find one that makes it all make sense, one that explains why you feel like you’ll never be enough for him.

you flinch when a familiar hand gently closes over yours, steady and warm, taking the phone from you. you hadn’t even heard him come in.

you don’t move, don’t blink, don’t breathe as he scrolls through the comments himself, brow furrowing more and more the further he goes.

after a few minutes he locks the phone and discards it on the table, settling next to you and pulling you onto his lap.

“you know none of it is true right?” he mumbles against your head, pressing a kiss to your temple and you sniffle

“osc—” you go to argue but he interrupts

“no” he says, the word so blunt and direct it catches you so off guard for a second that you pull your head away from his chest to look at him

“i’m not gonna sit here and listen to you justify what they’re saying. they don’t know you. they don’t know me. and they sure as shit don’t know anything about our relationship” he says, shaking his head slightly at the utter ridiculousness of what he just read.

“but it’s true. i’m not perfect and you could do so much bet—“ you mumble but he interrupts you again before you get the chance to finish, this time with his lips on yours, kissing you until those thoughts float away and the only thing you can focus on is the way his hand is running through your hair

“you’re perfect with me, to me, and for me. hell perfect doesn’t even begin to describe you baby. you’re everything. you’re all I want. the only way these people have any power over you is if you actually believe there’s some truth to what they’re saying. do you?” oscar asks, holding your jaw so you can’t look away from him.

“are you only with me for the money? the attention?” oscar asks, raising his eyebrows dramatically in a way that makes you wanna laugh and by the slight tilt in his lips, he knows.

“no” you say softly and he gasps in mock surprise

“really? I for sure thought you were” he teases and laughs when you hit him playfully.

“i’m just kidding baby. you hate attention even more than I do and you practically tackle me every time I try to pay for anything. and if you think for even one second that I don’t believe you’re the sexiest woman in the world, you come tell me and I’ll prove you wrong, yeah?” he says, pressing kiss after kiss against your temple, your cheek, your nose, your jaw, your lips. every inch he can reach.

“I love you” you say softly, hoping your gratitude for him shines through in your tone.

“I love you the most,” he murmurs back, no hesitation, no doubt. just the pure, simple truth.

his hands gently frame your face, thumbs brushing away the last of your tears with a tenderness that makes your chest ache all over again, but in a different way this time. a softer way.

“let’s go to bed,” he says, voice thick with exhaustion and affection as he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom, leaving your phone and all the negativity on it right there on the table.