#we LOVE YOU

[letstalkaboutf1]

🔔Daniel Ricciardo, the man that you are. You not only bring immense skill on the field with your fearless overtakes and late braking moves, but beyond that, there’s something deeply human and authentic about you. You light up the entire paddock. Whether pulling off a victory or facing setbacks, you never lost your smile.

You have always stayed true to yourself. Even in tough times, you faced adversity with resilience, always maintaining passion for the sport. It’s so clear that for you, racing isn’t just about podiums or championships. It’s about enjoying the ride, connecting with people, and bringing joy to everyone around you.

Your infectious enthusiasm and love for life remind us that even in a sport dominated by speed, strategy, and technical precision, there's room for joy, laughter, and human connection. Whether you were winning races or simply making people smile with your iconic "shoey" celebration, you bring a spirit to Formula 1 that is both refreshing and deeply needed. You remind us that greatness isn’t just measured in trophies, but in the way you carry yourself, the kindness you show others, and the joy you bring to what you do.

Regardless of what happens, good or bad, I hope you know how loved you are. I hope you know how cherished you are.

No matter what happens, we'll always root for you.

[l1li4n]

THEY TOOK LOGAN FROM ME. NOW THEY'RE TAKING DANIEL. WHO'S NEXT MAX VERSTAPPEN???

I'm so upset and i will be sobbing for the next few weeks. the interview where you could see he was getting emotional but still smiling has shook me to my core. i need to be taken to emergency care

[cherieonow]

ok so rumi deleted her account

Why?

First her mother's death have made her entering depression

Her father isn't doing good with her and her brother but I won't say what they did due to my respect to her privacy but her brother did something disgusting.

Shes been crying and telling me that no one loves her and she wants to end.

I tried everything to help her

Ended up making me a gift

Which I love it tho I told her not to bc she needs rest .

She rarely talked to me tho if she didn't replay ,she either likes my posts or sends me a dot.

Shes been overthinking which made me cry from her words she thought that everyone thinks she's annoying,pick me,attention seaker etc..

I Have no further words to say

But we will all miss you rumi , we really do <3

[dr-spectre]

WE LOVE YOU FRYE!!!!

WE'RE SO PROUD OF YOU!!!! THE UNDERDOG GETS ANOTHER WIN!!!!

[queerliblib]

It’s Lesbian visibility week !!!

❤️🧡🤍💗🩷 (we also have some reading recs over on insta)

[shadowyrainbow-naomi]

YESSS I DID IT FINALLY!!

I love the Double Hearted/DDVau

This broke my heart and it still does BUT I DREW IT!

Black light versioooooon!!

This au is @kitsuneisi & @xmaruu11

Love y’all 🫶

[oshemi00]

I think it's high time we all thank you for your incredible contribution and work that you have brought to our fandom. Have a good rest and don't worry about anything, you deserve it. I hope this is not the end, but we will respectfully accept any choice you make. Thanks for everything, Jakei

@jakei95

[impromptu-sketches]

˚✧₊˚ Happy New Year! ˚✧₊˚

By Lily ♡

[squash1]

breathe in. breathe out. i love you. i’m glad we share a sky and an ocean and a whole world.

[the anthropocene reviewed by john green / hunt for the wilderpeople / we love you on tiktok / the dream thieves by maggie stiefvater / anne with an e / aftersun]

[blackkatdraws2]

Goodbye, Matpat. Thank you for looking after us.

[yamy-brett]

Today, Jeremy would certainly like us to celebrate his life rather than mourn his death.

[courtn3ysang3l]

Rest In Peace Shannen Doherty

You will forever be the legendary Heather Duke 💚 1971-2024

[macyhaven]

Just a reminder:

Some of us are here to SELL content. Our lewd images are promo material.

There are users who are here to share their lewd images for free. They're great people; don't harass them to sell content.

And don't ignore us content creators because we put some of our material behind a paywall.

Send your fav SWers a tip :)

Even if you don't buy content, a tip is better than nothing and helps put food on the table :)

[reelovesbuckybarnes]

Sebastian is just ...

Simply the best.

[ivystoryweaver]

March the 9th

Marc Spector x gn!reader 1.4k words, angst, sex is implied, no smut, tw abuse, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Your skin tingles as you struggle you steady your breathing. Pacing the floor for an hour does nothing to calm that fuzzy feeling in the center of you.

He’ll be here soon.

You’ve memorized the pattern on the ceiling over your bed, because you stared at it the entire night, never once slipping into blissful slumber.

Your phone never rings. No emails, no letters, no messages.

But he always shows.

Bouncing on your toes, you smooth your hands down the lines of your body, checking your reflection, which lets you know you look the same as you did five minutes ago.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

The first year...

Your family moved onto the Spectors’ street when you were nine years old. You quickly befriended the Spector boys, often playing with them after school and on weekends.

Then, one day, Randall was gone. You were supposed to play with them that day, but you had the flu.

Marc was never the same and you didn’t see much of him, except at school. The Spectors didn’t throw him a birthday party and he didn’t show up at yours either.

So you created a handmade birthday card for him, making a point to cross his path at school. He was absent.

The next year approached, and you realized the Spectors once again would not be throwing a party, so you gave Marc his birthday card on March 8th. He jerked it out of your hand, eyes downcast, muttering, “thanks,” before shuffling away.

You called his name, scampering after him, but he never looked back. The two of you were in middle school now and Marc didn’t seem to have many friends at all. Hopefully he would read the card, which invited him over to hang out.

He did.

On the night of March 9th, he crawled through your bedroom window for the first time. Tears streaked down his cheeks as his body trembled.

“Can I sleep on your floor?” He brokenly whispered.

You had a queen sized bed, so, of course you didn’t let your clearly devastated friend sleep on the hard floor.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he murmured drowsily, once he slid beneath the covers. “Please, they’ll kill me.”

You didn’t understand and he wouldn’t explain. You were only twelve years old. You squeezed his hand and let him rest.

He talked to you after that, only sometimes.

The next March 9th, you gave him another card, with another invitation to come over. He did. Your fingers tangled with his.

Again at fourteen, when, after swiping the tears from his eyes, he kissed you. He kissed you for a long time and you thought you’d never felt anything so magical.

At fifteen, he kissed and touched you all night long. Your heart was his now.

Still, he kept to himself for most of the other 364 days a year.

At sixteen, he climbed into your bed and the two of you lost your virginity. Neither of you had a clue what you were doing - clumsy and wild and sweet. But he kissed you and held you and he tried. You loved him and you had never felt so close to anyone in your life.

He flinched away from your touch several times, so you thought you must be doing something wrong.

It wasn’t until seventeen that you saw his well-hidden bruises and red welts by your bedside lamplight.

“Who did this to you?” Tears streamed down your face as your fingertips traced lovingly around anger and drunkenness unleashed on his beautiful body.

His eyes met yours and you knew. He came to your bed a lot more after that.

Then came eighteen. Three months before graduation. You asked him all the time where he wanted to go to college - where the two of you could go together, but nothing ever came of it. He only answered, “I have to get out.”

March the 9th of year eighteen was the last you saw of Marc Spector for a long time. He didn’t make it to graduation.

He sent you a letter in year nineteen.

‘I’m sorry,’ was all it said.

Year twenty passed. 21, 22, 23…

You graduated college and met someone. But every March the 9th, your fingers would trace his picture, so your "someone" didn't last.

More than a few March 9ths ago, you somehow wished him right back to you. He knocked on your door, shuffling anxiously from foot to foot, swallowing hard and expecting rejection.

You threw your arms around him. “Happy birthday,” you whispered against his cheek before his mouth found yours.

He took you to bed and you knew then that your heart would only ever be his.

It wasn’t enough though. He granted you a half-hearted explanation about danger and old debts and how he was so messed up - he could never bring it all into your life.

You had enough dignity to refrain from begging him.

The next March the 9th was the same. And the next, and the next.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

This year, you’re resolute. It will be the last. It has to be. You can’t do this anymore. He doesn’t love you - not the way you love him. You’ll wish him happy birthday, take him to your bed, but - never again. It hurts too much.

A sharp knock jolts you out of your reverie, sending all the air rushing out of you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you steady yourself, giving yourself one final moment to prepare for your last night with Marc.

You reach for the door and find him holding flowers. Irises.

“You like these…right?” Dark eyebrows shift hopefully.

You breathe his name, your heart flaming with adoration. You take the bouquet and wrap your arms around his neck like always, whispering, “Happy birthday,” against his cheek as his lips seek out your own. He tastes you slowly…sweetly, his breath mingling with yours.

You lose your grasp on the irises, forgetting to care as they spill to the floor. Strong arms wind around you as his hands spread across your back, pressing you against the solid warmth of his chest. The kiss goes on and on until you’re dizzy and breathless and hot tears wet your eyes at the thought of never tasting him again.

You fight them back as the two of you finally make it through the front door and he kicks it closed. He takes you to bed and you drown in the essence that is Marc - unearthed secrets, soul-crushing burdens, beautiful desperation and a kind of hungry tenderness. You bury your nose in the crook of his neck, comforted and tormented as you inhale the spicy, sun-kissed scent of him, your lips tasting, committing him to memory.

Saltiness seeps into your mouth and you’re not sure if it’s the slight sheen on his skin as he works his way into you, or the tears slipping down your cheeks.

Your fingers twist through his dark curls as you pull your body flush against his - the heat of your tongue - the twist of your body - the scrape of your fingernails desperately attempting to communicate your need for this man.

He’s been your birthday wish most of your life.

He holds you against him until the calendar turns to the 10th. The sun rises and you realize he’s never stayed this long.

Which will make the speech you’ve planned so much harder. You shuffle to the bathroom while he sleeps, steeling yourself for the heartbreak. As you stare into the mirror, tears burn your eyes and you wonder if you can go through with it. The thought of never seeing him again is crushing, but you can’t go on like this.

Finally, you straighten out your appearance and freshen up, fighting like hell to keep your composure.

Marc is awake, sitting on the edge of your bed in only his boxers. You expect him to be dressed and ready to walk out the door, but as his warm, coffee colored eyes find yours…

He gently smiles.

“Marc?” You whisper, slowly approaching him.

“Come here,” he softly instructs, reaching for you. You sink down beside him, your foreheads touching sweetly as he grips your arms.

“Could…do you think I could stay?”

Tears trickle down. Again. “I don’t know,” you whimper. “I-I can’t-"

“I know.,” he nods, pressing an urgent kiss to your mouth. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

He’s off the bed and reaching for his clothes before you can blink, but you don’t let him get far. “Stay,” you urgently plead. “Stay with me.”

He freezes, eyes wide and hopeful. “F-for tonight, or…”

“Stay,” you repeat, pressing your palms to the heat of his bare chest. “Stay or go. Just decide.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next March the 9th…

“Happy birthday, baby,” you murmur against his lips as he rolls you underneath him.

“Happy anniversary,” he returns, sealing his mouth to yours.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc Spector-Centric stories

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[lamuliz]

CHOMP (affectionate)