writetheidea - Tumblr blog

writetheidea · 5 months ago

Text

Behind Closed Doors

Hello, I am sorry for disappearing. As I mentioned to a few kind people who reached out, I’ve been focused on completing my degree and working on my thesis. This is a bit shorter than what I usually write, but it came to me in between working on my thesis. I hope you can enjoy it regardless. Also, I thought I’d try taking requests for writing. There are no guarantees, but if you’d like to request a story, my asks are open.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x female character

Plot: after six months of keeping their relationship a secret, Carlos' girlfriend finally confronts him about it.

Tag: hurt/no comfort, angst.

Word count: 1372

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style — so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though.

The sun hung low over the Ferrari motorhome, casting a warm, golden glow that made the chaos of the day seem almost serene. She leaned against a railing just outside the hospitality area, clipboard in hand, pretending to focus on the notes she’d scrawled there earlier. The usual buzz of voices and machinery filled the air, but her mind was far from the work at hand.

Across the paddock, Carlos Sainz walked toward the motorhome, his helmet tucked under one arm, his dark hair messy from hours in the car. He laughed at something one of the engineers said, his easy charm lighting up the space around him. She watched him, her chest tightening. Six months ago, seeing him like this had filled her with excitement, the kind that made her feel alive. Now, it only brought confusion and doubt.

It hadn’t always been like this.

They’d met at a company dinner just weeks after she’d started as a marketing intern for Ferrari. Nervous and wide-eyed, she’d been acutely aware of how out of place she felt in a room full of confident, successful people. Carlos had been seated across from her, and his easy smile had melted her nerves in minutes. He’d asked questions, listened intently, and made her laugh so much that by the end of the night, she felt more at ease than she had in weeks.

After that, their interactions became more frequent—shared smiles in the hallway, casual conversations during coffee breaks, and eventually, a night where he cornered her after a meeting.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he’d said, his voice low and sincere. “Can we go to dinner? Somewhere... away from here.”

It had felt like the beginning of something extraordinary. And for a while, it was. Late-night calls where they shared their dreams and fears, secret dates where they laughed until their cheeks hurt, and stolen moments that felt like they were the only two people in the world. But it was always in secret.

At first, she’d understood. Carlos was a public figure, and their relationship was new. But six months later, it was clear that secrecy wasn’t just a precaution—it was a boundary he had no intention of crossing.

-----

The argument started in her apartment, a modest but cozy space that she’d come to think of as her sanctuary. Carlos had let himself in with the spare key she’d given him months ago, greeting her with a kiss that made her heart flutter despite her frustrations. He asked her about her day, but she barely heard him. The weight on her chest was too heavy to ignore.

“Carlos,” she said, interrupting his story about a meeting with the engineers.

He paused mid-sentence, sensing her seriousness. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I need to talk to you about us.”

His brows knitted, concern flashing across his face. “What about us?”

She exhaled deeply, setting her clipboard on the coffee table. “I can’t keep doing this. The sneaking around, the hiding. It’s exhausting, Carlos.”

His expression shifted to something guarded, his hand running through his hair. “We’ve talked about this,” he said slowly. “You know why we have to be careful.”

“Careful?” she repeated, her voice rising. “It’s been six months, Carlos. Six months, and no one knows. Not Ferrari, not your family, not even your closest friends. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“I’m trying to protect you,” he said firmly.

“From what?” she shot back, standing now. “From Ferrari? I could find another job if that’s what it takes. But this isn’t about Ferrari, is it? It’s about you.”

He flinched, but his jaw tightened. “You don’t understand the scrutiny. The media, the fans—they’d tear you apart. And if Ferrari disapproved—”

“What? They’d fire me? Fine. But let’s not pretend this is about me, Carlos. You’re ashamed of me, aren’t you?”

His eyes widened in shock, but he didn’t deny it. The silence between them was deafening.

Her voice cracked as she continued, “You won’t even tell your family. Why? Are you afraid they’ll think I’m not good enough because I’m not from your world?”

He hesitated, searching for words, but they didn’t come fast enough.

Her heart broke as realization dawned. “That’s it, isn’t it?” she whispered. “You think I’m not enough.”

“No,” he said quickly, stepping toward her. “That’s not it. I care about you—”

“Then prove it!” she snapped, tears welling in her eyes. “Because right now, it feels like you’re embarrassed of me. Like you’d rather lose me than risk anyone knowing we’re together.”

“I’m trying to protect you!” he said again, louder this time. “You don’t know what it’s like to live under this kind of scrutiny. People like you—”

He stopped, but the words were already out there.

Her breath caught. “People like me?” she repeated, her voice trembling.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Then what did you mean?” she demanded, her voice rising.

He faltered, running a hand down his face. “You don’t understand the pressure I’m under.”

“You’re right,” she said, her tone cold now. “I don’t. But I do understand this: I deserve someone who isn’t afraid to love me openly. And clearly, that isn’t you. You should go, Carlos.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to argue, but the look on her face left no room for debate. Without another word, he turned and walked out, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed in her chest.

-----

The next three weeks were a blur of work and heartbreak. She avoided every Ferrari event she could, claiming to be overwhelmed with deadlines. But the truth was, she couldn’t face Carlos or the memories of what they’d had.

Then, one morning, her phone buzzed with a notification. She opened Instagram and froze. There he was, arm wrapped around a gorgeous model at a gala, both of them dressed to perfection. The caption read: “New beginnings.”

Her chest tightened, tears stinging her eyes. He hadn’t just moved on; he’d moved on publicly, with someone who fit seamlessly into his world. Someone he wasn’t afraid to be seen with.

Before she could stop herself, she typed a message and hit send.

“I never would have been enough, would I?”

She stared at the screen, her hands trembling. Part of her hoped he wouldn’t respond. Another part of her hoped he would, with something—anything—that might ease the ache in her chest. But no reply came.

That night, she made a decision. Ferrari wasn’t just her job anymore; it was a constant reminder of him. She drafted her resignation letter, citing “personal reasons,” and sent it to HR. By the end of the week, she had accepted a job offer from Red Bull.

It was a clean break.

-----

Months later, she thrived at Red Bull, her confidence and passion for her work reignited. She had new projects, new colleagues, and a new sense of self-worth. For the first time in months, she felt like she was moving forward.

But healing wasn’t linear. Every so often, she’d see his face on a screen or hear his name in a briefing, and the ache would return.

Then, during a race weekend, their paths crossed again. She was walking through the paddock when she spotted him. He was with the same model, his arm casually draped around her shoulders. Their eyes met briefly, and for a moment, she thought she saw regret in his expression. But she turned away, holding her head high.

She didn’t need him anymore.

Later that evening, her phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

“I’m sorry. For everything.”

She stared at the message, her emotions swirling. She could reply. She could open that door again. But then she thought of the months she’d spent rebuilding herself, of the strength she’d found in letting go.

With a steady hand, she deleted the message.

As she walked through the paddock the next day, the sun shining brightly overhead, she felt lighter. She wasn’t defined by Carlos, or by the heartbreak he’d caused. She was her own person, and her future was hers to shape.

For the first time in a long time, she smiled.

131 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 6 months ago

Text

Too Much to Be Enough - part 2

Hi, I wrote the second part of this fanfiction while juggling my thesis, so I apologize if there are any mistakes. Please feel free to point them out in my DMs or asks—I'd really appreciate it. I couldn't bring myself to just write pure fluff without adding a bit of angst. As I mentioned in the story, rebuilding trust isn't a straightforward process. I hope you enjoy it!

Part 1

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x female character

Plot: after deeply hurting his girlfriend, Franco learns how hard it is to rebuild their relationship, learning that trust, once broken, is a delicate and painstaking process to restore.

Tag: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff.

Word count: 3178

Franco had always been a man of control. On the racetrack, precision wasn’t just a skill; it was survival. Every turn, every decision, required complete mastery over chaos. Off the track, he wasn’t much different, carrying that same calculated demeanor into his personal life. The way he managed his career, his relationships, even the smallest aspects of his daily routine, all reflected his need to remain unshakable. Control was his armor, his identity. But this—watching the woman he loved drift further away because of his carelessness—was a storm he couldn’t navigate.

He had made a mistake. A single moment of thoughtlessness, a few careless words, the laughter that followed, had been enough to tear open the foundation of trust they had spent years building. The memory replayed endlessly in his mind, gnawing at him like a relentless tide. He could see it all too clearly: the way her face fell, how her voice quivered when she confronted him. She hadn’t screamed or shouted; she hadn’t even cried at first. She had just gone quiet, her silence heavier than any words could have been. It spoke of wounds too deep for words, a disappointment that no apology could touch.

At first, he had thought the tension might dissipate after a day or two. He had underestimated the depth of the wound he had inflicted. What followed was a purgatory of silence. She didn’t leave outright, but her presence was a ghost of what it had been. She avoided his touch, his gaze, even his attempts at conversation. The vibrant, warm woman he loved so fiercely had become a shadow, navigating their shared spaces like a stranger. Franco’s every attempt to bridge the gap between them fell flat—flowers went untouched, her favorite pastries remained uneaten, and the small notes he left for her disappeared without acknowledgment. It was as though she was erasing him piece by piece, and he could do nothing to stop it.

The silence was unbearable. He missed her laughter, the way she would light up when she spoke about her favorite books or dreams for the future. He missed the way she would reach for him instinctively, as though he was her safe harbor. Now, he felt like a trespasser in his own life, each moment with her a painful reminder of what he had broken.

On the third night after the fight, Franco found himself sitting on their couch, his hands clasped tightly together. The room felt impossibly large, every corner of it carrying memories of better times. He could picture her curled up on the other side of the couch, her laughter filling the space as she recounted some silly anecdote or read him a passage from one of her favorite books. Now, the silence was deafening. He had spent hours going over what he might say to her, how he might begin to repair what he had broken, but words failed him.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Please,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I can’t stand this. Tell me what to do—tell me how to make this right.”

She didn’t even look at him, her gaze fixed somewhere distant. “What’s the point?” she said quietly. “You’ve already shown me what you think of me. You agreed with them, Franco. You laughed at me like I was a joke.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and Franco felt the full weight of her hurt settle over him. “That’s not true,” he said desperately. “I wasn’t thinking—”

“No,” she interrupted, finally turning to face him, her eyes flashing with rare anger. “You weren’t thinking. But that doesn’t change what you said. Or what you did.” Her voice cracked, and for the first time, Franco could see just how deeply he had hurt her. “Do you even understand how small that made me feel? Like I was some kind of joke? Like I’ll never be enough for you?”

She paused, her face now showing the pain she had been harboring beneath the surface “What else do you want me to say, Franco? That I’m hurt? That I feel like I’ll never be enough for you now? You already know that”

Her words cut deeper than any insult, the quiet resignation in her voice tearing him apart. “You are enough,” he said fervently, reaching for her hand. “You’ve always been enough. I was stupid, careless—I didn’t mean what I said.”

“But you did,” she replied, pulling her hand away. “Maybe you didn’t mean for me to hear it, but you meant it. And I can’t unhear it, Franco. I can’t forget the way you agreed with them, the way you laughed about me like I was some… inconvenience.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and Franco felt his chest tighten, guilt clawing at him like a relentless tide. “I love you,” he said desperately. “I love everything about you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t lose you.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if trying to find some trace of the man she had once trusted so completely. “Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “And right now, being with you… it hurts.”

His throat tightened as he searched for words, but there was nothing he could say that would undo the damage. “You are everything to me,” he said finally, his voice raw. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if I have to.”

-----

But words weren’t enough, and he knew it. That night, she moved to the guest room, leaving their bed and a gaping void in his heart. He lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling and replaying every moment he had failed her, every time he had taken her love for granted. He thought of her kindness, her patience, the way she had always believed in him, even when he doubted himself. And now, when she needed him most, he had failed to be the man she deserved.

The next morning, he woke to find her gone. A note on the counter said she was staying with a friend for a few days. He stared at the words until they blurred, his chest aching with the realization that she needed space from him—that being near him caused her pain. He couldn’t blame her for that, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear.

He threw himself into trying to make amends, even if she wasn’t there to see it. He cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, cooked her favorite meals, and set the table with candles and fresh flowers every day, hoping it might offer a small measure of comfort when she returned. The evening when she finally walked through the door, she paused, her eyes scanning the room before landing on him.

“What’s all this?” she asked, her voice wary.

“I thought we could have dinner together,” he said, his voice hesitant. “I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I thought… I just wanted to do something for you.”

She hesitated for a moment before sitting down at the table. They ate in near silence, the tension between them almost unbearable. He tried to ask about her day, her friend, anything to fill the void, but her answers were curt, her gaze fixed on her plate. By the time they finished, Franco felt more defeated than ever.

As she stood to leave, he reached for her hand, his grip gentle but firm. “Please. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said. “Just tell me how to make this better.”

She looked down at him, her eyes filled with exhaustion. “I don’t know if you can,” she said softly. “But if you want to try, then stop looking for shortcuts. This isn’t about flowers or dinners. It’s about showing me that I matter to you—not just when it’s easy, but when it’s hard. It’s about showing me—every day—that you love me for who I am, not despite it.”

-----

From that moment on, Franco dedicated himself to proving his love, not through grand gestures but in the quiet, unremarkable moments of daily life. He began paying attention to the things she cared about—remembering the books she mentioned wanting to read, making sure her favorite tea was always stocked in the pantry, and taking over chores she usually handled so she wouldn’t have to. He didn’t push her to talk or try to force her forgiveness; instead, he gave her the space she needed, even when it hurt to keep his distance.

The process was slow and often discouraging. There were days when she barely acknowledged his efforts, her walls still firmly in place. But there were also small victories—like the time she laughed, a soft, unguarded sound that felt like sunlight breaking through the clouds. Or the day she found a note he had left in her book that simply said, “I see you. And I love you.” She didn’t say anything about it, but later that evening, she made them tea and sat beside him on the couch, the silence between them no longer quite so heavy.

-----

Franco thought he was making progress. Slowly but surely, she was beginning to let him in again. The walls she’d built around herself were still there, but they had started to crack. She smiled a little more often, lingered at the dinner table to talk about her day, and once, when they were watching an old movie on the couch, she leaned into him without pulling away. Each small step felt monumental, and Franco held onto the hope that one day, she might fully trust him again.

But trust, he learned, was fragile.

It happened at a party—a glamorous event hosted by one of Franco’s sponsors. He had been reluctant to go, worried about the strain it might put on their delicate truce, but she had insisted. “You shouldn’t have to give up your life because of me,” she said. He had taken her words as a sign that things were improving between them, a sign that she was ready to be part of his world again.

The evening started well enough. She looked stunning in a sleek, dark dress, her hair framing her face. Franco couldn’t take his eyes off her, and for a moment, he felt like the luckiest man in the room. They mingled with the crowd, exchanging polite pleasantries with sponsors and fellow racers. She held her own beautifully, her sharp wit and quiet confidence earning smiles and laughter from everyone she spoke to.

Then came the moment that undid everything.

Franco had stepped away to get them drinks, and when he returned, he overheard a group of men making crude jokes about her. The words were vile—reducing her to nothing more than a pretty accessory, a trophy to be paraded around. Franco’s blood boiled, but instead of stepping in to defend her, he froze. He laughed awkwardly, muttered something dismissive, and walked away.

What he didn’t realize was that she had overheard, her expression a mask of disbelief and hurt as she stood just out of view.

Later that night, as they drove home, the tension in the car was suffocating. She stared out the window, silent, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. Franco tried to fill the void with small talk, but each word felt hollow.

Finally, she turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, though he already knew.

“I heard them, Franco. I heard what they said about me. And I heard you laugh. Again.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “It wasn’t like that,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean what? To defend me? To show them that I’m more than the joke they made me out to be?” Her voice cracked, and she turned away, shaking her head. “I thought you were different. I thought you respected me.”

“I do respect you,” he said, his voice rising. “I didn’t know what to say—I panicked.”

“Panicked?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “I was standing there, Franco. Listening to them degrade me, waiting for you to have my back. And you panicked?”

The argument spilled into their apartment, growing louder and more painful with each passing moment. By the time it was over, she was packing a bag, tears streaming down her face as she threw clothes into a suitcase.

“Please don’t do this,” Franco said, his voice raw. “Don’t leave. We can fix this.”

She stopped, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the suitcase. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said, her voice shaking. “This isn’t just about tonight. It’s about every time you’ve made me feel small, every time you’ve chosen your pride or your reputation over me. I can’t do this anymore.”

And with that, she was gone.

-----

The months that followed were the darkest of Franco’s life. She didn’t answer his calls or texts, and when he went to her friend’s house to see her, he was turned away at the door. For the first time, he had to confront the possibility that he might have lost her for good.

Franco threw himself into therapy, desperate to understand why he kept sabotaging the one thing that mattered most to him. His sessions were grueling, forcing him to confront parts of himself he had long ignored—the insecurities he buried beneath his arrogance, the fear of vulnerability that drove him to push people away.

He also began writing her letters, pouring his heart onto the page in a way he had never been able to do in person. He didn’t know if she would ever read them, but it was the only way he could process his feelings.

Months passed. Slowly, Franco began to change—not for her, but for himself. He realized that he couldn’t ask her to come back if he wasn’t willing to become the man she deserved.

Then, one day, he received an unexpected text.

“Meet me at the park tomorrow at 2.”

His heart leapt, but he forced himself to temper his expectations. When he arrived, she was sitting on a bench, her posture stiff, her expression guarded.

“I got your letters,” she said, her voice quiet.

“And?” he asked, his heart pounding.

“They were… honest,” she admitted. “But honesty doesn’t erase what happened.”

“I know,” he said. “I don’t expect you to forgive me—not yet, maybe not ever. But I want you to know that I’m trying. I’m working on myself, and not just because I want you back. I need to be better, for me. For whoever I become, with or without you.”

She studied him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. “I don’t know if I can trust you again,” she said finally. “But I’m willing to try. Slowly. On my terms.”

“I’ll wait as long as it takes,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”

-----

True to her word, she made Franco work for her trust. There were no shortcuts, no grand declarations that could fix what was broken. If he wanted to be in her life again, he had to earn his place every single day.

Their relationship became a fragile thread, held together by small, cautious interactions. They started meeting once a week for coffee, their conversations polite but distant. She kept him at arm’s length, her walls firmly in place. Franco didn’t push; he simply showed up, week after week, ready to prove himself.

One day, as they walked through the park after coffee, she turned to him abruptly. “Why didn’t you stand up for me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

The question caught him off guard, but he didn’t shy away from it. “Because I was afraid,” he admitted. “Afraid of looking weak, afraid of being judged. But mostly… afraid that if I stood up for you and got it wrong, you’d see me as a failure.”

Her eyes softened, but her expression remained guarded. “And now?”

“Now I realize that failing you is worse than failing in front of anyone else,” he said. “If I ever get the chance again, I promise you, I won’t let you down.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “We’ll see.”

The weeks turned into months, and their connection began to deepen again. She started sharing more of herself, though cautiously, and Franco matched her vulnerability with his own. He told her about the therapy sessions, about the childhood insecurities that had shaped his need for control and approval. It was a side of him she had never seen before, and while it didn’t erase the past, it gave her hope that he was truly changing.

-----

It wasn’t a single moment that brought them back together, but a series of small ones—acts of kindness, vulnerability, and unwavering support. Franco became a man she could rely on, not just in words but in actions. He stood up for her, prioritized her needs, and made her feel seen and valued in every aspect of their lives.

There were moments when he doubted himself, wondering if he was fighting a losing battle. And there were nights when he lay awake, haunted by the memory of her tears, the sound of her voice breaking as she told him how much he had hurt her. Through it all, he held onto the hope that one day, she would see how much he loved her—that she would believe it, not because he said it, but because he showed it in every action, every choice he made.

One rainy afternoon, he decided to try something different. He pulled out a cookbook she had always loved but rarely used and flipped to a page with a recipe for her favorite cake. He was hopeless in the kitchen, but he wanted to try—to show her that he was willing to make an effort, no matter how small. When she came home and found him fumbling with ingredients, the sight stopped her in her tracks.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice tinged with incredulity.

“Trying to make your cake,” he said, holding up a whisk like it was a weapon. “It’s probably going to be terrible, but I thought—”

She interrupted him with a soft laugh. “You’re going to burn the kitchen down.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “But I figured it was worth the risk.”

She stepped toward him, closing the distance that had felt insurmountable for so long. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, but her tone was warm, her eyes soft as she reached for the whisk. “Let me help you.”

As they cooked together, bumping elbows and laughing at his mistakes, Franco felt something shift. It wasn’t complete trust—not yet—but it was a beginning. And as he watched her smile, he realized that this was what love was: not grand gestures or perfect moments, but showing up, every day, and choosing each other even when it was hard.

491 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 6 months ago

Text

Too Much to Be Enough part 2 update and sneak peek

I have begun writing a second part for Too Much to Be Enough.

I have written the general outline for it and a couple dialogues and narrative points that I intend to incorporate.

However, progress will have to pause for a few days as I am currently busy advancing my thesis writing and have to prioritize it.

As a token of apology for the delay, I offer you a sneak peek.

53 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 6 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/writetheidea/767042005772713984/too-much-to-be-enough

okay i absolutely adored this. i love the so much i just want to hug her.

if franco wants a chance i want him groveling so hard, even posting online saying he loves her as her after he saw all the hate towards her, idk what else but he better grovel so hard and make that sweet girl feel appreciated

I am delighted to read that so many people enjoyed it! I was concerned that it might seem strange, since I am not used to writing without a name for the character.

Franco definitely needs to make amends. I haven't yet thought of a concept for a second part, but there is no doubt that he will have to beg and earn her forgiveness. I will not make it easy for him.

#ask me anything

17 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 6 months ago

Note

Hiii how are you??

Your a really great writer your story “Too Much to Be Enough” really hit home for me and you really captured the emotion someone who is always being told she is too much by a loved one behind her back for me .

I hope u have a great day :)

Thank you for your kind words.

I am very sorry that you have or have had someone like that in your life. As someone who is the opposite of you and has a hard time expressing emotions, people like you are my saviors. I always wonder if people like me, so having people express their love loudly is beautiful.

Please remember that the concept of "too much" is subjective, and when it comes to expressing love and care for life and others, there is no such thing as "too much". Please continue being yourself and disregard anyone who suggests you are not good enough.

#ask me anything

6 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 6 months ago

Text

Too Much to Be Enough

Hello, I had another idea for a fan fiction. In this one, I tried writing with an unnamed character after someone reached out to me suggesting that I shouldn't tag "x reader" even if the character had a short name. They were not this polite in their wording. Kindly let me know if you find this more enjoyable and if you have any advice or feedback. This was thought of as a one shot. Upon requests a second part has been written.

Part 2

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x female character

Plot: everyone thinks she's too much—too loud, too affectionate, too overwhelming—but as long as Franco loves her, she feels enough. When a painful betrayal forces her to question everything, she’s left wondering if even his love can truly be unconditional.

Tag: hurt/no comfort, angst.

Word count: 2077

Franco Colapinto had become a rising star in Formula 1—his unexpected debut mid-season with Williams brought attention, intrigue, and the buzz of fans enamored by his unfiltered charm and skill on the track. To the world, he was a formidable talent, sharp in his focus and strategic in his every move. But to her, Franco was simply her Franco—the person she adored with every fiber of her being, the man who lit up her world with his easy laugh and grounded presence. She never tried to share him with the world; her joy was simply in being there. To Franco, she was a grounding force. To her, he was the brightest point of her life.

Their relationship had always been natural, filled with the kind of closeness that felt both unbreakable and safe. She loved to be near him, to catch the quiet smiles he reserved just for her or hold him close, her arms around him like a shield. She had a way of finding him when he was deep in conversation, slipping her arms around him or perching on the arm of a chair, just listening, watching him with eyes that spoke of adoration. She adored him openly and shamelessly, kissing his cheeks, bringing him little snacks between meetings, and laughing at his every story as if it was the first time she'd heard it. It was how she showed love—boldly, sincerely.

In public, her spirited affection sometimes drew raised brows. She was quick to laugh, unrestrained in her warmth, the kind of person who got excited over the little things. When she spoke, her voice had a way of filling the air, especially when she became passionate, her laughter rich and booming. Franco’s teammates would sometimes tease her for it, not unkindly, but she felt Franco’s protective arm settle around her back, his voice lowering to gently bring her back to the moment, a silent reminder that she was safe, that she didn’t need to hold back. She never felt like too much with him; she felt like enough.

When Franco got his F1 call-up, the world saw his potential, his brilliance. He went from a promising driver to a star almost overnight, and with that came the scrutiny, the endless, dissecting gaze of the world. There were new pressures, new challenges—he was praised and criticized in equal measure, and with him, she found herself swept up too. Fans adored him—his directness, his humor, his daring spirit. He was the next big thing, and with that title came every word spoken about him, every inch of him magnified. And suddenly, they wanted to know her, too. Who was Franco Colapinto’s girlfriend?

But their adoration of Franco didn’t extend to her.

She’d never been the kind of girl who worried about attention, but the way the public spoke about her… it was like a slow, smothering weight pressing down on her heart. They saw only a girl who seemed too clingy, too loud, and too unfitting of someone they had put on a pedestal. Her open affection was criticized as immature, her laughter labeled as attention-seeking. They dissected her every move and labeled her a distraction, tearing into her with the kind of brutality she’d never experienced. It felt like strangers were peeling her apart piece by piece, tearing away the person Franco had always loved.

She tried to ignore it at first, comforting herself with the knowledge that Franco didn’t seem to mind, that he even loved her as she was. Franco was all that mattered; his opinion was the one she trusted. He was the only reason she could keep her head up, brushing off the hate as long as she knew she had his love. And when Franco looked at her, his smile never wavered. She held onto that—the belief that he loved her as she was, even when the world made her question it.

But then came Brazil. She’d been watching from the paddock, her heart leaping every time he turned a corner, nerves twisting as he went head-to-head with some of the most seasoned drivers in the world. And then, the crash. It was terrifying, watching him collide and skid, helpless from a distance as her heart stopped, praying he was okay. Her relief was overwhelming when he emerged unharmed, but Franco’s face had been pale, his expression distant as he made his way off the track. She could see the weight of the moment pulling him under, the strain and pressure breaking through his usually calm demeanor. She wanted to reach for him, to pull him close, tell him she was there for him, that she would carry the weight if she could.

But he’d pulled away from her, muttering that he needed a minute to gather himself. Respecting his space, she’d wandered to the restroom, splashing water on her face, telling herself he’d come around, that he just needed time. She returned to his room, pausing outside, not wanting to intrude if he still needed space. And that’s when she heard it.

“…but don’t you think she’s a bit much?” The voice was that of his engineer, a man she’d thought liked her, someone she’d shared a few laughs with before. “She’s always there. Always talking, always needing to be… close. Must be a lot to deal with when you’re under this kind of pressure.”

She waited, her breath frozen, trusting that Franco’s response would ease her worry, that he’d brush it off as nonsense, defend her like he always had.

But his voice—the voice she trusted, the voice that had always assured her she was enough—spoke words she could barely stand to hear. Franco responded quieter than she’d ever heard it. “Yeah… I mean, sometimes. It’s a lot, too much, you know?”

She could hardly breathe, the words sinking in slowly, one by one, like sharp blades against her skin. He thought she was too much. A lot. The one person she thought she could be her fullest self with, the person who had always made her feel safe to love so openly, to be unapologetically herself—he was overwhelmed by her too. She was his burden, the weight that followed him. Tears began to blur her vision, but she stayed frozen, rooted in place as she listened to them continue, laughing and talking about her as though she were some trivial inconvenience, as though her love was suffocating him.

She backed away from the door, her heart breaking with every step. The tears came fast and hot, her whole body trembling with the force of them as she stumbled back into the restroom. Locking herself inside, she slid down against the wall, burying her face in her hands, feeling her heart shatter into a million pieces. She had fought so hard to believe in her own worth, to convince herself that she was lovable and that her affection wasn’t too much for him to bear. But he agreed. He agreed with them, with the strangers who hated her, who thought she was too loud, too affectionate, too clingy.

She had tried so hard to believe that Franco saw her the way she saw him—as irreplaceable, as the very air he breathed. But hearing his quiet agreement, the confirmation that the one person she thought she could trust didn’t love her as she was… it left her feeling hollow, like a fragile shell of herself.

---

When Franco found her, he looked at her with that familiar softness, his arms coming around her as he held her close. She clung to him, not because it made her feel better but because she didn’t know how else to act, didn’t know how to pretend it was all okay. He asked her why she was crying, and she forced herself to smile through the tears, saying it was because of his crash, that she’d been worried. He looked at her with relief, gently pulling her closer, and she let him, even though his touch felt like fire against her skin, burning with the memory of his words. For the first time in their relationship, being near him didn’t feel safe.

In the days that followed, she withdrew into herself, letting Franco slip away piece by piece. She stifled her laughter, kept her voice low, spoke only when necessary. She still brought him snacks, still sat beside him as he debriefed with his team, but now she was a shadow, a shell of the girl she once was. She didn’t touch him as freely, didn’t drape herself over his shoulders or pepper his face with kisses. She gave him what the world wanted, the perfect, silent partner, standing just behind him, looking at him only when he looked away.

Fans noticed the change, taking to social media to praise her for finally learning her place. They called her refined, mature, supportive. They praised her “new maturity,” applauded her for “knowing her place.” They liked her better this way, in the background, quiet, subdued. For the first time, she fit the image of the F1 girlfriend they wanted her to be. She was a supporting character, there for Franco when he needed her but silent, never in the spotlight, never drawing attention.

But Franco hated it. He missed her laugh, the way her hands would find his at every turn, the way she’d rest her head on his shoulder while he spoke. He missed the way she’d light up a room with her excitement, her laughter like music that chased away the shadows of his stress. He tried everything to bring her back, brushing his fingers along her cheek, whispering little jokes, pulling her close. But she stayed quiet, her smile polite but hollow, her laughter a pale echo of what it used to be.

She wasn’t his girl anymore. She was someone else, a stranger wearing her face.

---

One night, after a particularly grueling day, Franco found her alone in their hotel room. She was sitting by the window, staring into the dark night, her reflection in the glass a ghost of the girl he had fallen in love with. He crossed the room, kneeling beside her, his hand finding hers.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice breaking with the weight of his worry. “Tell me what’s wrong. Where did you go?”

She looked at him, her eyes full of a pain he couldn’t understand, couldn’t reach. “I’m here, Franco,” she whispered, her voice soft and fragile.

“No, you’re not,” he said, his voice thick. “You’re… you’re gone. The girl I love is gone.”

Her lips trembled, and she pulled her hand from his, wrapping her arms around herself as though trying to hold herself together. She was quiet for a long time before she spoke, her words barely audible. “I heard you… that day in Brazil. I heard you tell your engineer that I was too much. That I was a lot.”

Franco’s heart dropped, a cold shock of realization rushing through him. He remembered the conversation, the way he’d laughed along, never thinking his words would reach her. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I never meant it like that.”

“But you said it,” she replied, her voice breaking. “You agreed with them. You agreed with everyone. You were the only person who made me feel like I wasn’t too much, like I was enough. But if even you… if you think I’m too much…”

Her voice trailed off, her shoulders shaking as she hugged herself tighter. Franco reached for her, his heart shattering as he saw the pain he’d caused, the light he’d extinguished. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I love everything about you. You’re not too much. I need you, all of you.”

He reached for her, but she drew back, her body a closed door, her eyes filled with a sadness that cut deeper than anything. “I love you with everything I have,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I would have given anything to be enough for you.”

He could feel his own tears burning, the agony of realizing that his careless words had stripped away the light from the woman he adored. “You are enough,” he said desperately, his voice thick. “You’re everything to me. I love you just as you are.”

But she only shook her head, her hand lifting to his cheek, her fingers brushing his skin one last time. “I don’t believe that anymore.”

1K notes · View notes

writetheidea · 6 months ago

Note

I love your fics so much! Your writing is absolutely incredible!

Your last fic with touch starved reader is exactly me. To scared to ask for affection but secretly really wants it. So I was really exited to read it and then I saw that you used my name😂 so now I’m wondering if you’re my FBI agent

Hello, twin. The theme of touch starvation comes from my own experience as well, much like my way of showing affection through poking and high-fives. Maybe you are me or I am you, but no FBI involved, I promise. Although, I am interested in the pay, and I would like to volunteer if they are hiring healthcare professionals.

I wrote the one-shot this afternoon between 3 pm and 6 pm and made a last-minute decision to change the name of the character. Initially, I had intended to name her "Ava," but while researching short names, I came across "Evie" and fell in love with it. Perhaps the universe was attempting to communicate with me.

I am so glad you enjoy my writing, after Shadows of the Past I had actually been second guessing what I write, as that one had been in the works for months and the following ones I have written in a few hours or days. So this is a very pleasant message to receive, thank you.

#ask me anything

2 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 6 months ago

Text

In the Quiet of Us

Hello, I had another idea for a fan fiction. This one was more of a spur-of-the-moment idea, but I hope you still find it enjoyable. As always, I have anonymous ask available for those who would like to express their opinion anonymously.

Pairing: Lando Norris x named!female character

Plot: Lando Norris learns to navigate his girlfriend's hesitation with physical affection, patiently helping her open up and show love in her own quiet, touch-starved way.

Tag: fluff.

Word count: 1697

The girlfriend has a name as I wasn’t able to write this without a name, I apologize, I made it a shorter name so it can be skimmed over. There is no physical description of them.

Lando Norris had always been an affectionate person, and anyone close to him would tell you the same. Whether it was a warm hug after a tough day or a playful nudge to break the silence, Lando found comfort in touch. Friends and family alike knew he’d be the first to throw an arm around your shoulders, squeeze your hand for reassurance, or wrap you in a bear hug when you needed it most. For Lando, physical closeness wasn’t just a part of life—it was his language, one he was fluent in and spoke without hesitation.

But when it came to Evie, Lando soon realized that physical affection wasn’t something she was used to. She wasn’t cold or distant—quite the opposite, actually—but there was a quietness to her, a shyness that kept her hands tucked in her lap rather than reaching out. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be close to him; he could see the way her eyes softened when he touched her, how her breath would hitch when he leaned in a little too close. But there was always a hesitation, a space she kept between them.

Their first date had been sweet and simple, a quiet dinner followed by a walk in the park. At one point, he’d offered her his arm, hoping she’d take it. But instead, she’d simply smiled and slipped her hands into her pockets. At the end of the night, as they said goodbye, he leaned in for a kiss. She blushed a deep pink, her hands clutching her purse as though it was the only thing keeping her steady. Her hesitation caught him off guard. He’d pulled back, a soft smile on his face to cover the moment’s awkwardness, but she didn’t move away. It was as though she wanted to be closer but didn’t know how to reach for him.

As the weeks passed, Lando began to notice the small ways Evie responded to his touch. She wouldn’t reach for his hand, but she’d linger if he held it. She wouldn’t initiate a hug, but once he pulled her into his arms, she’d hold on tight, pressing her face into his chest like she was grounding herself in his warmth. If he brushed her cheek with his thumb or let his fingers graze hers, her cheeks would flush, her lips parting in a soft, unsure smile. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be close—it was just that she wasn’t sure how to be.

It stung a little at first. Lando had always been so open with his affection, so ready to give, but he quickly realized that Evie just wasn’t used to it. And as he got to know her, he could see how deeply she cared for him in all the ways that didn’t involve touch. She’d make him laugh until his stomach hurt, stay up late just to talk about their days, remember every small detail he shared with her. He saw kindness in her every action, even in her hesitance. And whenever he held her, no matter how shy she seemed, she never pulled away.

She wasn’t rejecting him; she just wasn’t sure how to express her feelings through touch. But that didn’t stop him from being patient, from offering her the space she needed while still trying to show her how much he cared in his own way.

Then, as the months passed, Lando started noticing something else. A pattern, little signs that showed she was trying to be close in her own quiet ways. She’d poke his shoulder after a joke or hold her hand up for a high-five with a shy smile, only to linger a second too long. These gestures became more frequent—small touches, like a light brush of her fingers over his, the faintest hint of a hand on his arm. It dawned on him, in the sweetest way, that this was Evie’s version of physical affection. A high-five, a gentle nudge, an extra glance over her shoulder as he watched her laugh with his family. Each small touch felt like her way of reaching out, even if it didn’t look like much to anyone else.

And Lando loved it. Every high-five, every poke on his shoulder felt like a step forward, like she was learning how to show what she felt in her own way. He noticed that these gestures would come at the sweetest moments—after they’d had a laugh, or when she was watching him with that soft, shy smile of hers, or during the quiet times when they were just being near each other. He realized that Evie wasn’t distant at all. She was just... a little touch-starved, perhaps too used to holding back.

So he decided he’d help make up for all the love she hadn’t had, all the closeness she never felt she could ask for. He started pulling her close more often, wrapping her in warm hugs, brushing kisses over her temple whenever he could. She’d always hesitate at first, that little spark of nervousness in her eyes, but then she’d melt into his arms as if they were the safest place in the world. And every time, he’d whisper soft words of affirmation, making sure she knew how much he loved her, how happy he was just to hold her.

---

One afternoon, while they were sitting together in silence, Lando reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Evie’s ear. She looked at him, her eyes soft and a little uncertain, and he couldn’t help but smile. He liked the way she looked at him, like she was always just on the verge of saying something but couldn’t quite find the words.

“You’re so cute when you blush,” he teased gently, his fingers brushing over her cheek.

Evie turned pink, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I... I’m not good at this, Lando,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Being close... I’m just not sure how to... I don’t want to mess it up.”

Lando’s heart ached at the sadness in her voice. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “Evie, you don’t have to know how,” he said softly, his voice filled with love. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me love you. Let me hold you.”

She met his gaze, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and slowly, she leaned into his touch, allowing him to pull her close. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, as if he were the only steady thing in her world.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so soft, he almost couldn’t hear it. “For being patient with me.”

“You’re worth every second,” Lando murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He meant it with all of his heart.

---

As time passed, Evie began to open up in small, quiet ways. She started to initiate small gestures, things she’d never done before. She would reach for his hand when they watched a movie, her fingers gently curling around his. She would rest her head on his shoulder, her breath soft against his neck. Each small touch was a quiet declaration of her love, her way of showing him that she was learning how to trust in the closeness they shared.

One morning, as Lando was making breakfast, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind. He froze for a moment, caught off guard by the warmth of her embrace. But then he relaxed, covering her hands with his and smiling as his heart swelled. They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other, and for the first time, Lando felt like they had finally found a rhythm together—one that didn’t need words, one that was just about being there for each other.

Each day brought something new—a gentle touch, a small kiss, a hesitant hug. She would press a kiss to his cheek, rest her head on his chest as they lay together, ask him to hold her on days when she felt vulnerable. Every gesture made his heart swell, and he made sure she knew how much he cherished each one. With every forehead kiss, every squeeze of her hand, he let her know that her love was a gift, never a burden.

---

In the quiet moments that followed, Lando never stopped showing Evie how much he loved her. With every soft kiss on her forehead, every gentle squeeze of her hand, he let her know that her love was a gift, one he treasured deeply. And in return, Evie began to understand that love didn’t need to be loud or perfect—it just needed to be there, in every little gesture, in every quiet moment they shared.

One quiet evening, after a long day, they found themselves on the couch, wrapped up in each other and a warm blanket. The TV played softly in the background, but neither of them paid much attention. Evie was nestled against Lando’s side, her fingers tracing slow patterns over his hand, her head resting against his shoulder. He felt her breath even out, and he looked down to find her gaze soft and peaceful, a contented look he was coming to cherish. It was a peaceful silence, one that spoke volumes.

After a while, Evie lifted her head and looked up at him, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Do you think I’ll ever be as good at this as you are?” she asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.

Lando gave her hand a gentle squeeze, smiling at her with a warmth that held no expectation, only love. “You’re already everything I need, Evie,” he said simply, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Just as you are.”

She leaned back against him, her fingers curling around his as she closed her eyes, content. And for the first time, they didn’t need words to feel how much they meant to each other. They had found their own way, and it was perfect.

In that silence, wrapped in each other’s arms, they both knew that love could be quiet, soft, and yet, more than enough.

402 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 7 months ago

Text

A Promise to Hold

Hello, I had another idea for a fan fiction. This time, it involves Max. I hope you find it enjoyable. I think my brain just wanted a reason to scream at Jos. As always, I have anonymous ask available for those who would like to express their opinion anonymously.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x named!female character

Plot: Max has bought a promise ring, Jos disapproves.

Tag: hurt/comfort, fluff, happy ending.

Word count: 2326

The girlfriend has a name as I wasn’t able to write this without a name, I apologize, I made it a shorter name so it can be skimmed over. There is no physical description of them.

Max stood in the middle of his bedroom, a small velvet box resting in his hands, each moment stretching longer than the last. He had thought about this for weeks, imagining how he would present it, how he would capture the significance of his feelings for Ali. It wasn’t a proposal—not yet—but it felt just as monumental to him. The promise ring inside the box symbolized his commitment, a tangible representation of the life he envisioned with her—a life so different from the one he had always imagined.

With Ali, everything was grounded. Their relationship wasn’t filled with the glitz and glamour he had always known. She wasn’t a celebrity, she didn’t come from a rich family, but that was exactly what drew him to her. After years of navigating a world where every action was scrutinized and dissected, Ali had become his sanctuary. She didn’t care about red carpets or flashing cameras; she was content simply being with him. With her, he didn’t have to wear a mask. He could just be Max.

His previous relationship with Kelly had felt suffocating, a constant performance where he was expected to adhere to an image that didn’t entirely fit him. He had nothing but respect for Kelly, but their love had been overshadowed by the public’s insatiable curiosity. Every outing, every shared moment, had been fodder for gossip. In contrast, with Ali, he could breathe freely. She welcomed him into her world with open arms, a space where he could unwind after the pressures of racing and the relentless pursuit of victory.

Yet, even amidst this serene backdrop, there were shadows looming. His father, Jos, had never been shy about his opinions, especially regarding Ali. To Jos, she was too “ordinary,” too far removed from the high-octane world Max thrived in. Jos had painted a picture of success intertwined with fame and fortune, and to him, Ali didn’t fit the mold of a champion’s partner. Max knew this, but he also knew that his father didn’t truly see Ali—didn’t understand her fierce support and unwavering belief in him. She had taken the time to learn about his world, to understand the highs and lows that came with being a Formula 1 driver, yet she still chose to stand by him quietly, away from the spotlight.

“Max?” Ali’s voice broke through his thoughts.

Startled, he tucked the velvet box back into its hidden corner and stepped out of the bedroom. The sight of her curled up on the couch, a book resting in her lap, filled him with warmth. Yet there was a flicker of concern in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“You okay? You’ve been in there for a while,” she asked, her voice soft yet probing.

“Yeah,” he replied, forcing a smile. “Just thinking.”

Ali tilted her head slightly, studying him as if she could read the unspoken thoughts swirling in his mind. “You sure?”

Max took a deep breath, trying to shake off the weight of the impending conversation he knew would come. “Yeah, I’m good. Just... stuff with my dad.”

Her frown deepened, but she didn’t push him further. She understood the complexities of his relationship with Jos, the tension that always seemed to hang in the air whenever they were together. Instead, she reached for his hand, pulling him closer, grounding him in the moment.

“Come here,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around him.

In her embrace, everything felt right again. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the comforting scent of her hair. It was a brief relief from the storm brewing in the back of his mind.

---

A few days later, the tension in Max’s body was palpable as he sat across from Jos at the dinner table. This was meant to be a simple catch-up before the next race, but Max could feel the storm brewing, could sense the conversation shifting toward the topic he dreaded.

Jos had entered the evening in a mood that sent a chill down Max’s spine. The sharp comments started flying before the first course was even served, his father’s disapproval evident in every critique of Max’s recent races and lifestyle choices. As the night wore on, it became clear that it was only a matter of time before Ali would be the target of Jos' barbs.

“So, I hear you’re planning on giving Ali a ring,” Jos remarked casually, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Max.

Max froze, his hand halfway to his glass of water. He hadn’t shared his plans with his father and hadn’t wanted to. “Who told you that?” he managed to ask, though dread curled in his stomach.

“Does it matter? I hear things,” Jos shrugged, a dismissive wave of his hand. “I thought you’d have learned by now that nothing stays secret for long in our world.”

“Yeah, I am. It’s a promise ring,” Max said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his chest. “Not an engagement ring. Just something to show her I’m committed.”

Jos scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a condescending smirk. “Committed? You’ve only been with her for what? Two years?”

“Two years is enough time. I love her.”

The words slipped from his mouth more boldly than he had anticipated.

Jos' expression darkened, the gleam of disapproval in his eyes intensifying. “Love. Right. And what exactly is that love doing for you, Max? Is it making you faster on the track? Helping you win championships?”

Max felt his jaw clench, a familiar frustration rising within him. “This isn’t about racing. This is about my life.”

Jos’ smirk deepened, a condescending note taking over his voice. “Everything is about racing. You know that. You didn’t get to where you are by playing house with some girl. You got there because you’re focused. You don’t let distractions get in the way.”

Max felt the familiar ache of his father’s words dig deep. He had heard this narrative before, the relentless pressure to be perfect, to never let his guard down. But now, with Ali by his side, it felt even more suffocating.

“She’s not a distraction,” Max said, his voice a low growl, filled with quiet determination. “She’s the one who makes everything bearable. When I’m with her, I can actually breathe.”

Jos’ eyes narrowed, a challenge lurking within them. “And what happens when you start losing races? When you begin to slip because you’re too comfortable? Do you think Schumacher got where he was by worrying about some girl? No, he stayed focused. You think anyone cares about your love life if you start losing?”

Max’s heart pounded. He had always known that Jos' priorities lay elsewhere, but hearing it so plainly stung more than he could articulate.

“I’m not going to start losing,” he muttered, fighting back the anger threatening to spill over.

“Not yet. But give it time. This girl, Ali—she’s too soft. She doesn’t belong in your world. She’s going to make you weak. You need someone who can keep up with the demands of this life, someone who understands what it takes to be a champion.”

Before Max could find the words to respond, Jos pressed further. “You think I don’t know what I’m talking about? I’ve been through it, Max. I’ve seen careers go down the drain because of things like this.”

The familiar pang of disappointment settled in Max’s chest, his father’s harsh words becoming a dull throb in his mind. It wasn’t just his words; it was the feeling that no matter how much he accomplished, it would never be enough for Jos.

“I’m not like that,” Max said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m not going to fall apart because I’m happy. Ali doesn’t take away from my focus—she helps me stay grounded.”

Jos shook his head, his expression hardening. “Grounded? That’s the problem, Max. You don’t need to be grounded. You need to be relentless. You need to be hungry. That’s what makes a champion, not... this.”

Max stared at the table, the words catching in his throat. He wanted to defend himself, to shout that Jos was wrong, but all he could feel was the weight of disappointment—disappointment in himself for not living up to his father’s impossible standards. The bitterness in Jos’ voice cut deep, a reminder of everything he had endured to earn his place in the world. But this time, it wasn’t just about him. It was about Ali.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Both men turned to see Ali standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, fury etched across her face. Max’s stomach dropped as he realized she had heard everything.

“Ali,” Max started, but she cut him off, eyes blazing as they locked onto Jos.

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” she demanded. “Max isn’t weak. Matter of fact, he’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. And if you think I’m some kind of distraction, you clearly don’t know your own son.”

Jos blinked, clearly taken aback by her boldness. But he quickly regained his composure, his expression hardening. “I know exactly who my son is,” he said coldly. “And I know what it takes to be a champion.”

“Do you?” Ali shot back, her voice unwavering. “Because from where I’m standing, Max is the one with championship wins. All you’re doing is tearing him down. You’re acting like Max can’t be successful and happy at the same time, like he has to choose between his career and his personal life. That’s not fair, and it’s not true.”

Max sat frozen, heart swelling as he watched Ali defend him, her passion igniting a fire within him he hadn’t known he needed. She wasn’t just angry; she was furious, and it was exhilarating to witness.

“Ali, it’s fine,” Max muttered, wanting to ease the tension, but she shook her head, her expression resolute.

“No, it’s not fine,” she insisted, her eyes locked onto Jos. “Your father has no right to say these things about you. Max, you’re incredible at what you do. You don’t need to sacrifice your happiness to prove that.”

Max felt a rush of gratitude as her words washed over him, soothing the ache left by Jos' criticisms. Ali turned back to him, a flicker of vulnerability shining through the fire. “And I’ll never let you think you have to choose between me and your dreams.”

With that, she took a step closer, her hand reaching out to grasp his firmly. The warmth of her touch radiated through him, grounding him amid the chaos.

Jos stared at them, eyes narrowing, disbelief etched across his features. “You think this is the way to handle things? This isn’t how champions are made, Ali.”

“I’m not trying to make him a champion,” she replied, voice steady. “I’m trying to help him be happy. If that means standing up to you, then so be it. He deserves more than this. You are welcome to the door. I would appreciate it if you had left by the time we return.”

With that, she turned away from the table, pulling Max with her, leaving Jos speechless in their wake. As they walked toward the door, the tension of the night lingered behind them, but Max felt lighter, empowered by Ali’s strength.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly as they stepped outside, the night air cool against their skin.

Max took a deep breath, the weight of his father’s words still clinging to him, but there was also a newfound clarity. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

Ali turned to him, a small smile breaking through the tension. “You don’t have to thank me. Just promise me you won’t let him get to you. You know your worth, Max.”

He nodded, feeling the velvet box pressing against his palm, a promise waiting to be made.

“I know,” he said softly. “I love you.”

Ali’s eyes softened. “I love you too.”

---

The following evening, Max found himself sitting with Ali on the couch again, the tension of the previous night still lingering but fading slowly as they spent time together. He was ready to take the leap, ready to present her with the promise ring.

“Hey,” he began, his heart racing as he reached for the hidden box. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us and where we’re headed.”

Ali looked at him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What’s on your mind?”

He opened the box, revealing the simple yet elegant ring nestled inside. “I want you to have this. It’s not an engagement ring, but it’s a promise—a promise that I’m committed to you, that I see a future with you.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of the ring, her expression shifting from surprise to pure joy. “Max...”

“I know my dad doesn’t see it, but you’re everything to me. You’ve shown me that happiness doesn’t mean weakness; it means strength. You make me want to be better, to fight for what matters.”

Ali’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she reached for the ring, taking it gently from the box. “This is beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

He took her hand, slipping the ring onto her finger. “You deserve this and so much more. I don’t want to hide you, to hide us. You’re a part of my life now, and I want everyone to know that.”

With her free hand, she cupped his face, her expression softening. “I promise to stand by you, no matter what. You’ve shown me what love really means, Max.”

They embraced, the warmth of their connection wrapping around them like a cocoon. In that moment, everything felt right, the promise of their future unfurling before them like a bright horizon.

They sat there together in the quiet of their apartment, the weight of his world slowly fading away as they held onto each other.

274 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 7 months ago

Text

Shadows of the past - happy ending

Hello, You are now reading the happy ending of this fan fiction. If you haven’t read the previous parts, I recommend you do so in order to understand the context. The song “Shrike” by Hozier was involved in the writing process of this part. Many songs by Hozier were involved.

Part 1 || Part 2 |||| Sad ending

Word count: 2013

I would like to explain that I do not think that Oscar's family would behave this way. This idea came from watching Nicole's interview in which she spoke highly about Lily and an unrelated conversation that day about families still speaking about and with ex girlfriends.

The confrontation with his family was inevitable. His parents had always meant well, but they were so attached to the idea of him and Lily that they never fully accepted Mia. And now, Oscar was starting to see just how much their subtle comparisons had contributed to the rift between him and Mia.

They were sitting around the kitchen table when Nicole brought it up again. “I spoke to Lily the other day,” she said casually, as if it were normal to keep so closely in touch with his ex-girlfriend after all these years. “She said she’s thinking about coming to one of your races again soon.”

Oscar’s chest tightened. He set his coffee mug down, the clink of the ceramic sounding too loud in the suddenly tense room. “Mum, why do you keep bringing her up?” he asked, his voice strained.

Nicole blinked in surprise. “Well, she’s kept being supportive of your career, darling. I thought you’d like to know.”

“I don’t need to know,” Oscar replied, his voice growing sharper. “Mia didn’t need to know. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for her, hearing you talk about Lily all the time? You keep treating Mia like she’s not enough for me—like she’s not part of this family.”

His father frowned. “Oscar, that’s not fair. We’ve never said anything bad about Mia.”

“You didn’t have to,” Oscar shot back. “It’s not about what you’re saying—it’s about what you’re talking about. You constantly bring up Lily, and it’s like you’re waiting for me to go back to her. You act like Mia is just temporary, like she doesn’t matter as much.”

Nicole’s face softened with guilt. “Oscar, we didn’t mean it that way. We just—Lily was a big part of your life for so long, and we still care about her. But we like Mia too.”

“Then act like it,” Oscar said, his voice thick with frustration. “Because Mia’s gone now. She left me, and part of it is because of how you made her feel. She felt like she was always competing with Lily, and it broke her. And I didn’t see it until it was too late.”

Nicole’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Oscar. I had no idea.”

“I didn’t either,” Oscar admitted, his voice softer now. “I should’ve stood up for her more. I should’ve made it clear that she was my choice, and I didn’t. But I’m telling you now—I love her. And I need you to accept that, completely, if I’m ever going to be able to get her back.”

His mother reached out, placing her hand on his. “We’ll do better, Oscar. I promise. If—When Mia comes back... we’ll show her that she’s part of this family. Truly.”

Oscar nodded, but the weight of the situation still pressed down on him. He had a lot to make up for, not just his family. And he wasn’t sure if an apology would be enough to fix everything that had been broken.

---

It was a few days later when Oscar found himself face-to-face with Lily. They had run into each other at an event for one of his sponsors.

“Oscar!” Lily greeted him with a bright smile, her blonde hair swept elegantly over her shoulder. She looked just like she always had—polished, put together, the perfect image of the life he had once imagined for himself. But standing there, looking at her, Oscar realized how far removed he felt from that version of himself.

“Lily,” he said, his tone polite but distant.

They exchanged pleasantries, talking about the races and how things had been going for them. But Lily, perceptive as always, noticed something was off.

“I heard about you and Mia,” she said after a while, her voice gentle. “I’m sorry, Oscar. I always thought you two were really great together.”

Oscar swallowed, the mention of Mia making his chest tighten with guilt and longing. “We were,” he said quietly. “But I messed things up.”

Lily gave him a sympathetic look. “It’s not easy, balancing everything—family, relationships, your career. I would know firsthand. But Mia seemed like the type to understand that.”

“She is,” Oscar agreed. “But I didn’t give her the support she deserved. I let my family’s feelings get in the way, and I didn’t stand up for her when I should have.”

Lily nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “You know, Oscar, you and I... we had a good. But it’s clear you’ve grown since then. You’re not the same person you were when we were together.”

Oscar looked at her, surprised by her words. “I guess I have.”

“And Mia... she’s the one you want to be with, isn’t she?”

Oscar didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. She is.”

Lily smiled softly. “Then fight for her. Don’t let the past hold you back from what you really want now.”

Oscar nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He knew what he had to do.

---

Oscar stood outside Mia’s apartment, his heart racing in his chest. He had spent the last few days going over everything in his head—what he needed to say, how he needed to make things right. He had spoken to his family, seen Lily, and now he was ready. Ready to fight for Mia, for the future he wanted with her.

When Mia opened the door, she looked surprised to see him. She looked tired, like the weight of their separation had been as hard on her as it had been on him.

“Oscar,” she said softly, stepping aside to let him in.

He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding, before stepping into the familiar warmth of her apartment. Everything felt the same, but different. There was a tension in the air, a distance that hadn’t been there before.

“I’m sorry, Mia,” Oscar said, his voice breaking the silence. “I’m so sorry for everything. For not standing up for you. For not realizing how much my family’s words and actions were hurting you.”

Mia’s eyes softened, but she remained quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“I let you down,” Oscar continued, his voice heavy with emotion. “I didn’t see how much you were struggling, how much you were giving up to be with me. And I took you for granted. But I see it now. And I’ll never let that happen again.”

Mia swallowed hard, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “Oscar, it wasn’t just you. I should have spoken up sooner. I should have told you how much it was affecting me. But I didn’t, because I was scared.”

Oscar stepped closer, his heart breaking at the sight of her pain. “I know I can’t undo the hurt I’ve caused. But I want to make it right. I want to fight for us, Mia. I love you. And I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make you feel like you’re the only one who matters.”

Tears spilled over Mia’s cheeks, and she wiped them away quickly, her breath catching in her throat. “I love you too, Oscar,” she whispered. “But... I’m scared. I don’t want to go back to feeling like I’m not enough.”

“You *are* enough,” Oscar said firmly, stepping even closer. “You’ve always been enough. And I’ve spoken to my family. They know how much you mean to me, and they’ve promised to change. I won’t let them—or anyone—make you feel like you’re second best ever again.”

Mia looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for the truth in his words. And when she saw the sincerity there, something shifted in her expression. The walls she had built around herself began to crack, just enough for hope to seep through.

“Oscar,” she whispered, her voice exposing her fragility. “I don’t want to lose you. I never did. But I need to know that this is real. That you’re really ready to put us first.”

Oscar reached out, gently taking Mia’s hands in his, his grip firm but tender. “I am, Mia. I’m ready to put us first—above everything. I’ve spent too much time focusing on things that don’t matter as much as you do. My family, the past, the pressure of everything… none of it matters if I don’t have you.”

Mia’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time, they weren’t just tears of pain—they were tears of hope, of possibility. She let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of Oscar’s hands in hers, his gaze never wavering from her face.

“I want to believe you,” she whispered. “I want to believe that things will change, that you’ll fight for us. But it’s been so hard, Oscar. I felt like I was losing myself.”

Oscar’s heart ached at her words, the regret of all the times he hadn’t been there for her weighing heavily on him. He wished he could take it all back, all the moments he had been blind to her struggles. But there was no going back, only forward.

“I’m not perfect,” he said softly, his voice raw with emotion. “But I’m willing to try every single day to make sure you never feel that way again. I’m willing to learn, to listen, and to be the partner you deserve.”

Mia closed her eyes for a moment, the tension in her shoulders easing ever so slightly. She had spent so long feeling like she wasn’t enough, like she didn’t belong in Oscar’s life. But now, hearing his words, feeling the sincerity behind them, a part of her wanted to believe that maybe things could be different.

Oscar took a step closer, closing the small distance between them. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “And I’ll prove it to you every day, if you’ll give me the chance.”

Mia’s heart raced in her chest as she opened her eyes and looked up at him. For so long, she had felt like she was standing on the outside, looking in. But in this moment, with Oscar standing in front of her, raw and vulnerable, she felt something stir inside her. Something that told her maybe, just maybe, they could make it work.

“I love you too,” Mia whispered, her voice trembling. “I never stopped. I just… I just didn’t know how to keep going when it felt like I was always going to be second.”

“You’re not second,” Oscar said firmly, pulling her into his arms. “You’ve never been second, Mia. Not in my heart, not in my life. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that.”

Mia’s heart swelled at his words, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like they might actually have a chance. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that everything would be perfect from here on out. They still had work to do—on themselves, on their relationship—but for the first time in months, she felt like they were both willing to fight for it.

“I need time,” Mia said softly, her voice filled with vulnerability. “I need to take things slow. I don’t want to rush back into things and end up hurt again.”

Oscar nodded, understanding in his eyes. “We’ll take it as slow as you need,” he promised. “I just want to be with you. We’ll figure it out together.”

Mia smiled, and Oscar’s heart lifted at the sight. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed seeing her smile, how much it had hurt him to see her lose her spark. But now, standing here with her, he felt like they were finally on the right path.

“I’ve missed you,” Mia whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“I’ve missed you too,” Oscar replied, his arms tightening around her. “More than you know.”

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence between them now filled with the warmth of hope. It wouldn’t be easy, Oscar knew that. They still had challenges to face, wounds to heal. But for the first time in a long time, he felt like they had a real chance at making it work.

186 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 7 months ago

Text

Shadows of the past - sad ending

Hello, You are now reading the sad ending of this fan fiction. If you haven’t read the previous parts, I recommend you do so in order to understand the context. “All too well (10 minutes version) (Taylor’s Version)” by Taylor Swift was involved in the writing process of this part.

Part 1 || Part 2 |||| Happy ending

Word count: 2502

Oscar felt like he was suffocating. It had been weeks since Mia had walked out of their apartment. Her absence was everywhere—in the silence of his apartment that had just started to become their home, in the emptiness of his bed, in the way his days blurred together without her presence grounding him. He had thrown himself into his work, hoping the adrenaline of racing and the demands of his career would drown out the loneliness, but they hadn't. Nothing could.

Each time he returned home, it felt colder, emptier. And worse than that was the lingering guilt—guilt that plagued his every waking and sleeping second. He had let her go. He hadn't fought hard enough to keep her. The moments he could have spoken up, reassured her, held her... he had been too wrapped up in his own head to realize how fragile their love had become.

His family had always been closely involved in his life. At first, it felt like a blessing. He was close to his parents, especially his mother, and he appreciated their support. But in the last year, their involvement had crossed a line. It was as if his family couldn’t let go of the idea of him and Lily, his ex-girlfriend. They had adored her. And even though he and Lily had broken up years ago, it was like they couldn’t fully accept that she was no longer part of his life.

And Mia—his sweet, kind Mia—had endured it all in silence. He hadn’t seen how much it hurt her, how it chipped away at her confidence every time his family mentioned Lily at family dinners or invited her to races.

The confrontation with his family had been a long time coming. The final straw came when his mother, Nicole, casually mentioned that Lily had been in touch, congratulating Oscar on a recent race. It was meant to be a friendly comment, something insignificant, but in that moment, all of the frustration, the guilt, the pain he had been holding in came flooding out.

"Why do you keep bringing her up?" Oscar’s voice cracked as he stood in the middle of the living room, staring at his mother and father.

Nicole looked startled, her smile fading. "I—what do you mean, darling? Lily's just—"

"She’s not part of my life anymore, mum!" Oscar snapped, louder than he intended. "She hasn’t been for years. And yet, every time I’m with you, her name comes up. You talk about her like... like she’s the only one you’ll ever accept for me."

His father cleared his throat, trying to mediate. "Oscar, it’s not like that. We just—Lily was part of our lives for a long time. We liked her, that’s all."

Oscar shook his head, his frustration bubbling over. "You act like you’re still waiting for me to end up with her. Do you even realize how much it hurt Mia every time you talked about Lily like she was still in my life? Every time you brushed her off just to mention something Lily did?"

His mother’s face softened, but her confusion remained. "Oscar, we never meant to hurt Mia. We thought you two were stable, happy."

"We *were* happy!" His voice rose again, the hurt spilling out. "But she couldn’t take it anymore—constantly being compared to someone who wasn’t even in the picture. Do you know how that made her feel?"

Nicole’s eyes widened, and for the first time during that conversation, understanding crossed her face. "Oscar, we didn’t mean—"

"But you did," he interrupted, his voice cracking. "You made her feel like she was second best. And now she’s gone, mum. She’s gone, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get her back."

His father sighed, rubbing his temples, while his mother’s eyes filled with tears. "We never wanted that for you, Oscar," Nicole said quietly. "We just... we saw how happy you were with Lily once, and I guess we couldn’t let that go."

"Well, I did." Oscar’s voice was bitter. "I moved on. Mia wasn’t just some placeholder. She was everything to me. And I let her slip away because I couldn’t see what was happening right in front of me."

Nicole took a shaky breath. "Oscar, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—"

"Neither did I," he admitted, his anger draining into the hollow, aching sadness that he had become so familiar with. "And now it might be too late."

---

The next time Oscar saw Lily, it was by accident. He was at a sponsor event in Monaco, shaking hands and making small talk, when she appeared in the crowd, smiling at him like no time had passed at all.

“Oscar!” she called, moving through the crowd to greet him. Her blonde hair was brushed back into a stylish updo, her dress elegant and simple. She looked exactly like the Lily he remembered—poised, graceful, and completely at ease among the important guests.

For a second, Oscar felt a strange sense of disorientation, like he had stepped back in time. But then reality crashed back in. This wasn’t the life he wanted anymore. He had moved on. Or at least, he thought he had.

“Lily,” he greeted her, his voice neutral, hiding the discomfort twisting in his gut. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” she said with a soft laugh. “But you look good. Better than ever, actually.”

Oscar forced a smile, feeling the awkwardness settle between them. They exchanged polite conversation, mostly about racing, about her new job, but his mind was elsewhere—on Mia, on the ache in his chest that hadn’t eased since she’d left.

“I heard about you and Mia,” Lily said after a moment, her tone gentle, like she was trying not to pry but couldn’t help herself.

Oscar’s jaw clenched. “Yeah. We’re... taking some time apart.”

Lily’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Oscar. I really am. I always thought the two of you were a great match.”

The irony of her words stung, but Oscar didn’t say anything.

He excused himself soon after, the conversation leaving him more unsettled than ever. Seeing Lily had only reminded him of how much he had lost with Mia. How the future he had imagined—one with her by his side—seemed to slip further out of reach with each passing day.

---

Oscar couldn’t stop thinking about Mia. He knew he had to see her again, to try one last time to make things right. He had given her space, respected her need for distance, but now, the fear of losing her for good was growing in him. He needed to fight for her. He needed to prove to her that he had changed, that he had finally realized what truly mattered.

He showed up at her door on a rainy evening, heart pounding in his chest. It felt like everything was riding on this moment. When she opened the door, she looked surprised to see him, but there was no anger in her eyes, only a quiet sadness.

“Oscar,” she said softly, stepping aside to let him in.

He took a deep breath, his voice heavy with emotion. “Mia, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

She nodded, but didn’t speak, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve been a blind idiot,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I let my family, my career, everything else come between us, and I didn’t see what it was doing to you. I didn’t see how much you were hurting, and I should have. I should have been there for you.”

Mia’s eyes filled with tears, but she held them back, her expression unreadable.

“I love you, Mia,” Oscar continued, his throat tightening. “I always have. I always will. And I know I haven’t shown it, not in the way you needed me to, but I’m here now. I’m ready to put us first, to fight for us.”

Mia looked down, her hands trembling slightly. “Oscar...”

He stepped closer, desperate to close the distance between them, to make her understand how much he meant it. “Please, Mia. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what I need to do to make this right.”

Mia finally met his eyes, and in that moment, he knew. He could see the answer in her gaze, the finality he had been dreading.

“I love you too, Oscar,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But... I need to love myself more. And I can’t do that with you.”

His heart shattered in his chest, the weight of her words suffocating him. He had come here hoping to fix everything, but he had been too late. Too late to change what had already been broken.

“I’m so tired, Oscar,” she continued, her voice revealing just how broken she felt. “I’ve spent so long trying to be what everyone else wants me to be—trying to be enough for you, for your family—but I can’t keep doing it. I’ve lost myself, and I don’t know how to find her again while I’m with you."

Her words punctured through the air and hit Oscar like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of him. He wanted to protest, to tell her that she *was* enough—that she always had been. But he could see it now, in her eyes, the exhaustion, the resignation that had been building for months.

"Mia..." His voice broke, his heart shattering as he watched her struggle to hold back tears.

"I’ve been trying so hard," Mia continued, her voice steady but laced with pain. "I’ve been trying to convince myself that things would change. That one day, I wouldn’t feel like I’m in someone else’s shadow. But every time your family brought up Lily, I felt myself slipping further away. And the worst part is, I let it happen. I let myself believe I wasn’t good enough."

Oscar felt a lump form in his throat. He couldn’t deny any of it. He had let his family’s casual remarks, their lingering fondness for Lily, seep into his relationship with Mia. And now, he was paying the price for not standing up for her when she needed it most.

"I never wanted that for you," he whispered, his voice raw with regret. "I never wanted you to feel like you were anything less than perfect for me."

"But I did," she replied softly, shaking her head. "And I can’t keep living in a world where I’m constantly reminded that I’ll never be her."

Oscar took a step forward, desperate to bridge the gap between them, but Mia held up a hand, stopping him. "Please," she said quietly, her voice shaking, "don’t make this harder than it already is."

He felt his heart splinter even more, but he respected her request. He stood still, helpless, watching as the woman he loved slipped further away with every word she spoke.

"I need time," Mia continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need to reclaim who I am without all of this—without the pressure of being in your world, without the weight of constantly comparing myself to someone I’ll never be."

Her words struck him like a lightning bolt, and for the first time, he realized how deeply the cracks had run between them.

Oscar wanted to tell her that he understood now, that he would do anything to make it right. But deep down, he knew that understanding didn’t change the damage that had already been done. It didn’t erase the months of doubt and insecurity that had chipped away at Mia’s self-worth.

"I’m sorry," he choked out, his voice breaking as he finally let the tears fall. "I’m so sorry, Mia. For everything. I should’ve been better. I should’ve seen how much you were hurting."

Mia’s own tears spilled over, and she wiped them away quickly, trying to stay strong. "It’s not just your fault, Oscar," she said softly. "I should’ve spoken up sooner. I should’ve told you how much it was affecting me, but I was scared. Scared of losing you, scared of causing problems. And now... I think we’ve both lost."

The truth of her words hit him like a freight train. They had both lost. Mia had lost herself, and Oscar had lost her—the one person who truly understood him, who had loved him and stayed by his side despite the chaos his world entailed.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to accept the reality of the situation. "Is this really it?" he asked quietly, his voice trembling. "Is this goodbye?"

Mia’s eyes filled with sorrow, and she nodded slowly. "I think it has to be," she whispered. "At least for now. I don’t know who I am anymore, Oscar. I need to find that person again. And I can’t do that while I’m with you."

Oscar swallowed hard, his heart breaking into a million pieces. He wanted to fight, wanted to beg her to stay, but he knew deep down that this was what she needed—the space to rediscover herself, to heal from the wounds that had been festering in their relationship for too long.

"I understand," he said quietly, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue. "I don’t want to lose you, Mia, but I understand."

Mia gave him a sad smile, one that was full of love and regret. "You’ll always mean so much to me," she said softly. "But I have to do this. For me."

Oscar nodded, the weight of her decision settling heavily on his shoulders. He had always been so focused on keeping everything in his life perfectly balanced, but now he realized that some things couldn’t be controlled. Some things had to be let go.

"I’ll always love you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "No matter what."

Mia’s eyes glistened with tears as she stepped closer, her hand gently brushing against his cheek. "And I’ll always love you, too," she whispered back. "But love isn’t enough right now."

With that, she leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek—a goodbye wrapped in tenderness and heartache. Oscar closed his eyes, memorizing the feeling of her touch, knowing it would be the last time.

"I hope you find what you’re looking for," Oscar said, his voice thick with emotion.

Mia nodded, eyes filled with tears she couldn’t hold back any longer. "I hope you do too," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

And then, without another word, he turned and walked toward the door. With every step he took Oscar felt another piece of his heart breaking. When the door finally closed behind him, the silence was deafening.

He stood there, frozen, back to the door, willing it to open again. Hoping that she would come out, that she would stop him from leaving. But she didn’t.

Oscar drove back home and sank down onto the couch, his head falling into his hands as the reality of what had just happened crashed over him like a tidal wave. Mia was gone. And this time, he knew in his heart she would never come back.

163 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 7 months ago

Text

Shadows of the past - part 2

Hello, I had thought of this fan fiction as a one shot, since I only imagined the scenes I had written down. But it was more well-received than I expected and I was asked for a second part. I have written two endings, a sad one and a happy one, you will find links to the different options at the end of the shared introduction.

If you haven’t read the previous part, I recommend you do so in order to understand the context.

Part 1

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x named!female character

Plot: Oscar's girlfriend has walked out of his life after months of feeling inadequate. Now Oscar finds himself revisiting all the signs he missed, and hoping it's not too late to fix his relationship.

Tag: angst, hurt/no comfort, double ending.

Word count: 1237

Oscar stood frozen in the middle of the apartment, the quiet following Mia’s departure settling around him like a thick, suffocating fog. The echoes of their conversation still rang in his ears, each word slicing through him. He could still see the pain in Mia's eyes, the way she had looked at him not with anger, but with exhaustion, like she had been fighting on her own for far too long. And he had never even noticed.

For months, he had been too caught up in his career made of races and interviews and endless meetings, and he had missed what was right in front of him. He had missed the way Mia had slowly started to withdraw, piece by piece, until there was almost nothing left of the woman he fell for.

He had stood by, oblivious, while his family constantly brought up Lily as if she were still part of his life, his future. He hadn’t realized how it was slowly breaking Mia down, reminding her that no matter what she did, she would never be Lily.

He hadn’t fought for her the way he should have.

Oscar sank onto the couch, head falling into his hands as the weight of everything hit him all at once. The apartment felt cold, empty without her presence. Little reminders of Mia were everywhere—her book left on the coffee table, the scent of her perfume lingering faintly in the air, the sweater she had draped over the chair.

When had he stopped hearing her? When had he stopped seeing her?

The realization that it might be too late now twisted in his chest like a knife. He had been so sure that they could work through anything. He had thought that love would be enough, that Mia was aware of how much she meant to him. But now, he wasn’t so sure. He could still feel the finality in her voice, the way she had said she needed space, like the very air between them had become suffocating.

"I need to fight for myself first." She had whispered, tears in her eyes.

He hadn’t known how to respond to that. What could he say? He hadn’t realized how much of herself Mia had been sacrificing to keep their relationship afloat. He hadn’t seen how much his family’s constant reminders of Lily had been eating away at her confidence, making her feel like she wasn’t enough. And he hated himself for it.

His phone buzzed on the table, breaking through the heavy silence. For a brief moment, hope sparked in his chest—maybe it was Mia, maybe she had changed her mind. Maybe she was coming back.

But when he picked up the phone, his heart sank. It wasn’t Mia. It was a message from his manager, reminding him about a sponsor event later in the week. A cold reminder of how he had been putting his career first in the past months, neglecting his role in the relationship.

He tossed the phone aside, the hollowness inside him growing deeper. He had everything he had ever dreamed of as a child—the career, the fame, the success—but none of it mattered if Mia wasn’t there to share it with him.

Oscar leaned back, staring up at the ceiling as the memories of the early days of their love flooded in. Back when everything had felt so effortless between them. When Mia had been his biggest supporter, always there with a reassuring smile no matter how tough things got. She had been his rock, the one constant in the chaos of his career. And now, he had let her slip through his fingers.

"I love you too," Mia had said. But even those feelings hadn’t been enough to make her stay.

He thought about Lily, the woman his family couldn’t seem to let go of. He had loved her once, of course, but that love had long faded, and it was Mia who had filled the space in his heart. Mia who had understood him in ways no one else could.

Oscar stood and wandered through the apartment. He found himself standing in front of the drawer Mia had cleaned up all those months before. Slowly, he opened it, his heart clenching as his eyes fell on a small box in the back of the drawer, half-hidden beneath some old papers. The engagement ring he had bought years ago for Lily, but had never given her. He had forgotten it was even there, tucked away and gathering dust.

Oscar opened the box, staring at the ring inside. It felt like a cruel joke, a reminder of all the mistakes he had made, of how he had allowed his past to haunt his present. He had never given Lily the ring because, in the end, their relationship hadn’t been right. And now, he wondered why he even decided to keep it. It was a symbol of everything that had gone wrong, with Lily, and, now, with Mia.

He slammed the box shut, anger and regret battling inside him. How had he let things get to this point? How had he let the past interfere with his future, with Mia’s happiness? And why hadn’t he fought harder for her, for them?

Oscar sat back down, the ring still clutched in his hand, and for the first time in years, he felt truly lost. He didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t know if he even could.

---

Days passed. Mia’s absence was like a shadow that followed him everywhere, a constant reminder of what he had lost. He went to the races, did his interviews, smiled for the cameras, but inside he was breaking down. Racing had always been his escape, but now, it felt like a prison.

He found himself checking his phone constantly, hoping for a message from Mia, a sign that she was ready to talk, ready to come back. But there was nothing. Just silence.

The fans noticed, of course. They always did. They picked up on the tension in his interviews, the way his smile never quite reached his eyes, the way his performances on the track were just a bit off. He wasn’t himself, and everyone noticed it.

Every night, Oscar laid awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every conversation, every moment and hint he had missed. He thought about the small ways Mia had tried to tell him she was hurting—the quiet glances, the way her voice had softened when his family mentioned Lily, the way she had slowly stopped smiling the way she used to. He had been blind to it all, too caught up in his own world to realize that he was losing the one person who had done everything to show her love for him.

He thought about reaching out to her again, but every time he picked up his phone, doubt crept in. What if she didn’t want to hear from him? What if she was better off without him? The thought terrified him, but it was also a possibility he couldn’t ignore. He had hurt her, and maybe she needed more than just an apology. Maybe she needed to find herself again, just as she had said, without him in her life.

The days stretched on, each one more unbearable than the last. And with every passing moment, Oscar couldn’t shake the growing fear that he had lost Mia for good.

It is now time to choose your preferred ending.

Sad ending. This is the ending I actually envisioned, as you may have deduced from the way I concluded the original fan fiction. I believe this would be a more realistic outcome given the circumstances and my personal perspective on relationships.

Happy ending. This option was requested. While I personally find it less realistic, I understand the appeal of a positive resolution. I hope I have done it justice.

170 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 7 months ago

Text

I will be publishing the completed second part within the next few hours, provided I can stay awake to finalize it, or by tomorrow at the latest.

As an update for you all, I have successfully learned how to navigate both the synonym dictionary and the "Opposite Dictionary", and I am pleased to report a significant improvement in my English lexicon

Shadows of the past part 2 inquiry

Hello, I am currently working on the second part of my Oscar Piastri fan fiction, "Shadows of the past". After some consideration, I have decided to write two alternative conclusions to the story--one with a happy ending and another with a sad ending--to accomodate the preferences of different readers.

At this stage, I have completed the entired shared introduction, the sad ending, and part of the happy ending. Ideally, I would like to release both ending simultaneously, tomorrow.

With this in mind, I would appreciate your feedback: should I publish the shared introduction now, or wait and release it along with both endings at the same time?

12 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 7 months ago

Text

Shadows of the past part 2 inquiry

At this stage, I have completed the entired shared introduction, the sad ending, and part of the happy ending. Ideally, I would like to release both ending simultaneously, tomorrow.

With this in mind, I would appreciate your feedback: should I publish the shared introduction now, or wait and release it along with both endings at the same time?

12 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 7 months ago

Note

i so loved shadows of the past! absolutely crazy for your bf’s family to be praising his ex gf right in front of your face like oscar say something ?? 😭😭 would love a part 2 if you decided to make one

Thank you for the kind feedback, I am glad you found it enjoyable.

The idea for it came from a conversation I had with a friend about the appropriateness of a partner's family maintaining contact with their ex-partner after years of relationship. We had varied opinions about it as on one side we didn't find it necessary for the family to completely cut ties, while on the other we recognised the importance of establishing boundaries.

My brain then associated this concept to Nicole's interview. And given my personal preference for angst, the narrative gravitated towards that style.

#ask me anything

1 note · View note

writetheidea · 7 months ago

Note

would you consider making a part 2 to "Shadows of the past" with a happy ending🥹

I am considering writing a second part, as the fan fiction was more well-received than I expected. I would like to thank everyone who has commented and shared it with others.

I cannot guarantee anything about the ending, as I have only imagined the scenes that I have written. We will all have to wait and see if I am able to visualize more events.

If possible, I would like to write two different endings so that it can cater to the different desires.

#ask me anything

2 notes · View notes

writetheidea · 7 months ago

Text

Shadows of the past

Hello, I made this blog solely to publish this fan fiction I wrote because the idea for the plot has been tugging at the back of my mind for months. I tried requesting it from a few writers but since they didn’t write it I remained unsatisfied. Then I remembered I also do have the ability to write.

This was thought of as a one shot. Upon receiving positive feedback and requests, a second part has been written.

Part 2

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x named!female character

Plot: Oscar's new relationship is strained by his family's constant reminders of his ex, Lily, and he fails to notice how this is affecting his girlfriend.

Tag: angst, hurt/no comfort, sad ending.

Word count: 2989

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though. I also haven’t written any work of fiction since I was a teenager, so this could be bad, I just had a need to get this fan fiction out of my brain. And once I wrote it, it felt like a waste to keep it on my laptop.

The new girlfriend has a name as I wasn’t able to write this without a name, I apologize, I made it a shorter name so it can be skimmed over. There is no physical description of them.

Oscar sat in his motorhome, absentmindedly scrolling through social media notifications and posts. He wasn’t really paying attention to them. His mind was already on the track, anticipating the feel of the car and revising the strategies for the weekend. But, even as he tried to focus on the race ahead, something distracted him at the back of his mind. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on yet, something that had been running in his head for weeks.

Across from him, Mia sat quietly, going through her phone, though he knew it wasn’t holding her attention either. She hadn’t said much all day, her silence stretching thin between them like a thread on the verge of snapping. It wasn’t like her. At least, it wasn’t like how she used to be. When they first met, Mia had been a burst of energy, her laughter infectious, her smile like a safe heaven that had pulled him out of the chaos of being a public figure. But now… something had changed.

"Oscar, did you hear what I said?" Mia’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, her eyes searching his face for any sign that he had been paying attention to what she had been saying. But he hadn't.

Oscar blinked, eyes tearing away from his phone. "Sorry, darling. What did you say?"

Mia smiled, a small, strained smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "I was asking if you wanted to go out for dinner later. You know, somewhere quiet, just the two of us. I found this place…"

Oscar nodded absentmindedly, his attention already drifting away. "Yeah, sure. Sounds good."

Mia noticed his lack of attention, but she didn’t press the issue. She had grown used to his distracted responses over the past few months, so she just sat there, her fingers gripping her phone a little too tightly, and the silence between them growing heavier. It had been like this for a while now—Oscar lost in his racing, and Mia fading quietly into the background, unnoticed.

It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when his attention had been solely hers, when Oscar had looked at her with the kind of focus he reserved for the track. Lately, though, she had started to feel like she was slipping out of view, like she was losing her place in his world. And Oscar, so wrapped up in his career, didn’t see it. Not yet.

-----

It had started subtly, in ways Mia hadn’t been able to notice at first. When she had met Oscar, she knew this relationship wouldn’t have resembled her previous ones; she was stepping into a world of fame, pressure, and expectations. But she had been prepared for that—at least, she thought she had been.

The first time she had met Oscar’s family had been over a casual dinner. Nicole had been polite, her eyes studying Mia a little closely but never purely cold. And then there were his sisters, who seemed stuck between curiosity and indifference, their questions friendly but calculated.

It wasn’t until halfway through the meal that Mia first heard the name.

“Do you remember when Lily got us pizza in Monza?” Hattie had asked with a deliberate tone, her gaze flickering toward Oscar.

Mia had frozen for a second, her fork suspended midair. Lily. She had heard the name before, of course, Oscar had talked about her, the ex-girlfriend who had been with him through his early career. Mia hadn’t worried about her, assuming she was just part of his past.

“Oh, yeah,” Mae chimed in, laughing. “From that little family-run restaurant, right? God, I miss that place.”

Nicole smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Lily was always so thoughtful. She always knew how to make us feel at home, no matter where we were.”

Mia’s chest tightened, the casual and affectionate mention of Lily, compared to how she had been addressed throughout the evening, slicing through the conversation like a shard of ice. She forced herself to smile, to nod along, pretending it didn’t bother her. But it did more than she wanted to admit.

Oscar had shifted uncomfortably beside her, clearing his throat. “Yeah, Lily was great” he had said quickly, then tried to change the subject. But the damage was done. The ghost of Lily hung over the rest of the evening like a shadow, lingering at the edges of every conversation and Mia’s mind.

-----

As the months passed, Mia couldn’t shake the feeling that she was living in someone else’s place, that no matter how much Oscar claimed to love her, no matter how much she tried to integrate herself into his life, she was no comparison to Lily. It wasn’t that his family was blatantly rude towards her, they were kind, but there was a warmth in their voices when they spoke about Lily that they didn’t extend to Mia.

Every race weekend, every family gathering, even every private moment with Oscar was tainted in her mind by the weight of someone else’s ghost.

It wasn’t until one afternoon in Monaco, when Mia stumbled across the ring, that the full weight of it hit her.

She had been tidying the bedroom while Oscar was out, taking advantage of the free time to clean the apartment, cleaning up a drawer of old clothes when she found it—a small, velvet box. Her heart had skipped a beat as she opened it, revealing a stunning diamond ring.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She wasn’t unrealistic, Mia knew this wasn’t meant for her, her relationship with Oscar still too young to warrant a proposal. No. This ring wasn’t for her. It had been bought for someone else. For Lily.

Mia closed the box with trembling hands, her chest tightening as the realization washed over her. Oscar had been planning to marry Lily. He had been ready to propose, to make her his wife, to share his life with her in a way that as of lately Mia wasn’t sure he would ever want to with her.

She had never brought it up to Oscar. She couldn’t. How could she confront him about something like this? How could she admit that she had found evidence of a future he had once planned with someone else, a future that might have happened if things hadn’t fallen apart between them?

From that day on, the weight of it pressed down on her like a constant reminder. She tried to ignore it, to push the self doubt away, to remind herself it was all part of the past. But every time Oscar’s family mentioned Lily, every time they talked about her like she was still part of their world, Mia felt herself slipping further away from the confident, energetic woman she had once been.

-----

The Monaco GP was supposed to be a new start. Mia had somewhat convinced herself that her doubts were unreasonable, that her presence in Oscar’s life was concrete. She had been trying so hard to convince her mind, to smile through the subtle slights, to act as if Lily’s constant presence in conversations didn’t bother her. But Monaco was different. Monaco was where everything changed.

The paddock was buzzing with energy as usual, the yachts in the harbor reflecting the morning sun. Mia stood beside Oscar, her hand in his as they made their way through the crowd. Fans called out to him, snapping photos, but Mia barely noticed. Her attention was elsewhere—on the small group standing near the McLaren garage.

There stood Oscar’s family. And Lily.

Mia felt her heart skip at the sight. Lily was just standing there, laughing with Nicole, looking as comfortable and at ease as she had in all the stories Mia had had to listen to in the past months. She was so effortlessly beautiful, with an air of confidence that Mia had always admired but now found unbearable.

Nicole’s eyes found Oscar, lighting up as she waved him over. “Oscar, darling! Come say hello.”

Mia felt herself stiffen, her stomach twisting into knots. Oscar hesitated for a moment, glancing at Mia before offering her a quick, apologetic smile. “I’ll just be a minute,” he murmured, squeezing her hand before walking over to his family. To her.

Mia couldn’t bring herself to do anything but watch as he greeted them, his interactions with Lily casual but friendly, too friendly in her doubt filled mind. It was like watching him slip into an old role, a role he played with ease, with a counterpart Mia couldn’t quite replace.

They talked for what felt like hours, though it had only been minutes. Mia stood there, frozen as her heart pounded in her chest as she watched Oscar laugh at something Lily said, as his mother beamed at them, as if this was how things were supposed to be. As if Mia was the outsider, the intruder in a story that had never been hers to begin with.

-----

That night, the silence in their room was deafening.

Oscar had been talking about the race, but Mia hadn’t been able to focus. She hadn’t really said much all weekend, her responses short and her mind elsewhere.

“Mia?” Oscar called, his brows furrowed as he looked at her. “Is everything okay?”

She just stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to put her thoughts into words, unsure of how to explain the feelings that had made a home in her mind. “Oscar… Do you ever think about her?”

He frowned, confused. “Who?”

“Lily,” Mia whispered, voice barely audible. “Do you still think about her? About… what could have been?”

Oscar blinked, startled by the question. “Mia, no. Of course not. I’m with you now.”

She shook her head, as she fought her anxiety and tried to gather the courage to say what had been haunting her mind for months. "You say that, Oscar, but… it feels like I’m always competing with her, against her presence in your life. And I don’t know how to stop feeling like I’m constantly fighting against someone who’s not even here anymore."

Oscar’s expression softened as he stepped toward her, one of his hands reaching out to gently cup her face. "Mia, you are not. I don't think about Lily like that anymore. That part of my life is over."

"Is it?" Mia’s voice cracked, her eyes searching his for the reassurance she so desperately needed. "Because I’m not sure your family feels the same way. They still talk about her, still invite her to races. Nicole talks about her like she could still be a part of your life, like she is supposed to be a part of your life. And Oscar… I found the ring."

Oscar’s hand dropped from her face, his eyes widening in shock. "What ring?"

"The one in your drawer," Mia said, her voice trembling. "The engagement ring. The one you bought for her."

Oscar froze, his breath catching in his throat. "Mia… I didn’t mean for you to find that. I—I should have gotten rid of it a long time ago."

"Why didn’t you?" she asked. "Why didn’t you get rid of it if you had moved on? You kept it, Oscar, that has to mean something. And every time she is brought up, every time I notice her presence still somewhat in your life, I feel like I’ll never be good enough. Like I’m standing in her shadow, no matter what I do."

Oscar sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Mia, I didn’t keep the ring because I still have feelings for her. I kept it because… I never knew what to do with it. You are right, I did want to propose to Lily at some point, I couldn’t see that our relationship was dying, I was trying to deny it. But I didn’t propose in the end. I realized it wasn’t right. I never told you because I didn’t want to hurt you."

Mia hugged herself, staring at the floor. "But it does hurt now, Oscar. And it hurts every time they bring her up, every time they talk about how perfect she was, how much they loved her. It feels like I’m just… filling a spot that’s still meant for her."

Oscar stood up and reached for her again, his voice carrying an underlying urgency. "Mia, you’re not filling a space. I love you. I want to be with you. I thought you knew that."

"I thought I did too," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "But… I don’t know anymore. And I feel like I’m losing myself trying to live up to the memory of someone I’m not while you didn’t even notice how much it’s been affecting me."

Oscar’s heart sank as he took in her words, the weight of his and his family’s actions finally settling on his shoulders. He had known that they still cared for Lily, but he hadn’t understood how much it had been hurting Mia. And he hadn’t noticed how distant she had become, how her bright light had started to dim under the constant comparisons.

He sat back down, hands resting in his lap as he stared at the floor. "Mia, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize… I didn’t know it was this bad."

Mia took a deep, shaky breath, tears staining her face. "You didn’t. I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Oscar. I love you, so much so that I have been willing to hurt myself to be with you, but I can’t keep feeling like I’m not enough. Like I’ll never be enough."

Oscar looked up at her, desperation in his eyes at the implications of her words. "You are enough, Mia. You’ve always been enough."

She shook her head, wiping her eyes. "If I was enough, your family wouldn’t still be holding onto Lily. They wouldn’t be talking about her like she’s still the one for you… They wouldn’t make me feel like I’m always in second place in a one person competition."

Oscar felt his throat tighten, his guilt and frustration rising to the surface. He had been so focused on his career, on the races, that he hadn’t noticed how much this had been affecting Mia. And now, standing in front of him, she looked so lost, so hurt, that he wasn’t sure how to fix it.

"I’ll talk to them," he said, his voice firm. "I’ll make sure they understand. They can’t keep doing this to you—to us. I’ll set boundaries. I don’t want to lose you, Mia."

Mia’s gaze softened for a moment, but the pain in her eyes was still there. "It’s not just about them, Oscar. It’s about how I’ve been feeling invisible, like I don’t matter as much in your life. I don’t know if talking to them will change how I feel about myself now. I don’t know if it’ll be enough to fix this."

Oscar’s heart clenched. He could see the cracks in their relationship now, the ones he had been too blind to notice before. And he realized, with a sinking feeling, that this wasn’t something he could just fix with a few words or promises. This was deeper.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly, his voice almost breaking. "Tell me what I can do to make this right."

Mia stood there for a long moment, staring at him, the weight of the decision she had come to after months of suffering heavy on her shoulders. She loved him, she had given everything to this relationship, but the constant reminders of his past with Lily had killed her confidence, her sense of security.

"I think…" she began, her voice shaky, "I think I need some time. Time to figure out if I can keep doing this, if I can keep being in this relationship without losing myself further."

Oscar felt a chill run through him at her words. "Mia, please don’t say that. Don’t say you’re leaving."

"I’m not leaving," she clarified, though the look in her eyes betrayed her uncertainty of their future. "But I need space. I need time to think about what’s best for me, because right now… I don’t feel like I’m good for you. And I don’t feel like this is good for me."

Oscar’s chest tightened painfully as he stepped toward her, his hands trembling as he reached for hers. "I love you. I don’t want to lose you."

Tears spilled from Mia’s eyes again as she looked down at their hands. "I love you too, Oscar. But love isn’t enough if I don’t feel like I belong in your life. If I don’t feel like your family accepts me. Like I can accept myself."

He swallowed hard, fighting his own tears. "I’ll make them understand. I’ll fight for us."

She pulled her hands away gently, taking a step back. "I need to fight for myself first."

Oscar felt the floor drop from under him as Mia turned toward the door. She paused for a moment, her hand resting on the doorknob, before looking back at him with tears in her eyes.

"Please don’t hate them," she whispered. "I know they didn’t mean to hurt me. But… they did. And I don’t know how to fix that."

And with that, she slipped out of the room, out of the apartment, leaving Oscar standing alone, silence deafening around him. The weight of his family’s actions, of his own inaction, pressed down on him.

He had always thought he could balance everything—his career, his family, his relationship—but now, as the door closed behind Mia, he realized that he had been wrong. He had been so focused on winning races, on making his family happy, that he hadn’t seen the cracks forming beneath the surface of his relationship and in the heart of the woman he loved.

And now, he wasn’t sure if he would ever get her back.

394 notes · View notes