#I just got a text asking what RPF was……

[mycological-mariner]

My bff is so fucking funny, I need to study him. Dude just started reading more about the crew of the Terra Nova, found out about Jessamine, says he read that (apparently, I couldn’t find where he got this) Scott once referred to Deb as “she” and immediately followed this up with “It was the morning after. At least he got some before he died!” And I’ve just been running that back and forth inside my brain for a week

[katsu28]

lucky charm

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando finds comfort in your presence as doubt starts to creep in before a race (2k)

warnings: minimal swearing

a/n: hi i know i'm still super new here and i'm not even sure if i'm actually going to start writing rpf but i think about this motherfucker 24/7 now and this came to me in a dream <3 let's ignore the actual way he got his ring necklace okay? okay!

“No one saw you come in, right?” 

Lando let the door close behind him gently, a total opposite to the quickest few steps you’d ever seen him take across the small driver’s room, and he leaned over to kiss you, hard. 

You let out a squeak of surprise at the force of it, but had no hesitation in kissing him back as soon as your body caught up with your brain, arms looping around his neck to bring him down and closer to you.

Lando’s knees hit the cushions on either side of you, hands doing the same on the leather backrest, clumsy as all hell but twice as determined not to let his mouth leave yours. 

Your fingers knocked the McLaren cap right off his head as they moved into his hair, clutching at his chocolate curls on instinct like you’d done so many times before. But never here, never before one of Lando’s races, and certainly never at the risk of being caught by anyone in the facility at any given moment. 

It didn’t seem to matter to Lando, though, with the way he was kissing you like he was parched and you were the only thing that could quench his thirst. 

But given the rather frantic series of texts you’d received from him that got you here in the first place, you weren’t at all too surprised. You knew how nervous Lando got before races, and if there was something you could do, you’d never hesitate to be there for him. Especially since you were able to make it to this one. 

“Yeah,” He mumbled between kisses, panting against your lips. Somehow he’d managed to switch positions so he was the one on the sofa now and you were sitting on his lap, straddling his hips as you continued your rather sloppy makeout session. “Yeah, yeah, we’re good. ‘M sneaky like that.” 

“Had a lot of practice at this, have you?” 

“No!” It was almost comical how fast he pulled away from you to blurt out his answer. “No, not at all. I don’t know why I said that, I—” 

“I was just kidding, bub.” You chuckled, smoothing the pad of your thumb across his kiss-swollen bottom lip fondly. Lando grinned sheepishly, giving your waist a playful little pinch. You’d never get over the way he looked at you, like you were the only other person to exist in the world—especially when he was under you like this, and especially with those eyes. His baby cow eyes, you always called them. 

Even so, Lando was extremely tense, you could tell. He tended to get very in his head before races, probably why he asked you to come meet him so close to the green flag, to help him quell his nerves a little. He always said you helped him more than anything else ever could. 

“I have something for you.” You said softly. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” He leaned back against the cushion, happily accepting the chaste kiss you pressed to his lips before you bounced off his lap and over to where your bag was sitting. 

You rummaged around in it for a few moments until you found what you were looking for, a triumphant grin on your face as you made your way back over to an intrigued Lando. This time you settled next to him, throwing your legs across his lap. His hand came to rest on your knee immediately. 

“Open it.” You urged, pressing the small black bag into his waiting palm. He undid the drawstring carefully, beaming even before he got a look at what was inside. That smile only grew bigger as he poured the contents of the bag into his hand. 

A thin silver chain, joined together at the ends with two interlocking rings, sleek and silver just like the rest of the necklace. Upon closer inspection, he saw numbers etched into the inside of each one. One of them, Lando recognized instantly as the date of your anniversary. The other looked like a set of coordinates, but he wasn’t too great at geography, so he looked to you for an explanation. 

“The place we first met.” 

“You looked up the coordinates of that tiny little restaurant? Nerd.” He chuckled, artfully dodging the swat you aimed his way at his teasing remark.

“It could be, like, your new lucky charm or something.” You shrugged, watching him turn the rings around carefully between his fingers. 

Lando glanced up, bumping your shoulder with his gently. “I’ve already got one.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It’s you.” 

“Me?” 

“I like knowing you’re watching me. Even though I can’t see you, or even if you’re not here, knowing I’ve got you cheering me on from wherever you are helps. I think it makes me a better driver.” 

“Lan, you’re already a great driver.. You don’t need me for you to know that.” 

“I know. I just—it keeps me focused. To know you’re there.” He said softly, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “And now with this, I can have a piece of you with me whenever. Here, help me put it on.” 

“You can’t wear it under your suit, Lando, even I know that.”

“Alright, well, I’ll figure it out later. C’mon, put it on me.” Lando leaned forward, giving you space to bring the chain up over his head and around his neck. He even managed to sneak in another kiss whilst you followed the silver down to where the rings rested just below his collarbones. Your fingers stroked at the warm skin there, the cold of the metal contrasting.

“It looks good on you.” 

Lando melted like a popsicle on a hot summer day under your touch, smiling so big at you that you could hardly believe this was the same boy who had other drivers trembling in their fireproofs. He hoisted you back into his lap effortlessly, nosing at your pulse point a bit before smacking a kiss to your cheek when you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. “You look good on me.” 

“That was so bad. Like, really bad. I get why they call you Lando Norizz now.” 

“What?! Bad? That was so fucking smooth!” He huffed, going from looking completely smitten to entirely offended. “And I happen to have lots of rizz, thank you very much. I practically ooze rizz, love.” 

“I take it back.” You replied solemnly, patting Lando’s cheek. “That was worse.” 

“You’re so mean to me. I don’t know why I even put up with this harassment!” 

“Always so dramatic, you.” 

“I’ve got to be! How else would I be able to withstand this abuse?” 

You scoffed playfully and moved to climb off him, opting to keep a safe enough distance away so you wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him stupid. Then he’d really be late. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for, driver boy?” 

“I am,” He said earnestly, tucking his hands behind his head. You arched a skeptical brow, hands propped on your hips. 

“By hiding out in here with me?” 

“You know what they say—calm the mind, and the body will follow.” 

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that.” 

“Well maybe people should start!” 

You huffed out an amused chuckle, crossing your arms. “Are you ready?” 

A sudden silence  blanketed the tiny room, Lando’s non response giving you all you needed to know. 

He reached out for you with a pout that you’d never been quite able to resist, fingers beckoning you back over longingly, like you were too far away for his liking. You gave in almost immediately despite previously wanting to give him space, trudging over with an overexaggerated roll of your eyes and letting yourself be pulled back onto his lap yet again. 

“I’ll be alright.” He answered finally, taking your hand in his. He fiddled with your fingers, tracing along each digit languidly and then circling his thumb over your palm—once, twice, a third time. 

This, something you’d learned quite early on in your relationship with Lando, was one of his many versions of self-soothing. The repetition of his actions proved rather calming to him, and it certainly helped that he got to feel your skin against his. 

His brows drew together in thought, furrowed and tense until you pushed your thumb into the wrinkle between them, smoothing out the scrunch. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist loosely. 

“You’re gonna do great, you know.” You insisted. 

He offered you as good of a smile as he could muster. “Yeah. I know.”  

“You’re gonna do your best, and whatever happens, you’ve got so many people who’ll be proud of you no matter what.”

“I don’t know if it’s enough.” Lando blurted, scratching at a patch on his suit. “I’ve been racing for years, and I still have no wins to show for it. It’s not fair to my team, it’s not fair to the fans. It’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t have to have a boyfriend who can’t fucking drive for shit.” 

“Lando, I’m not with you because of your job.” You said shortly, pressing your lips into a thin, unamused line. “And quite frankly, I feel hurt that you could even think I was.” 

Lando was quick to soothe, shaking his head frantically. He took both your hands in his, squeezing. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry, it’s just—I get in my head a lot. And I start to overthink, and shit comes out of my mouth that I don’t mean. I know you’re not like that, I do. I’m sorry.” 

You softened, sighing. “You could never win a race, ever, and I'd still love you all the same.”

He snorted. “Well, I’d like to win one at some point.” 

“What I meant was, I can’t speak for everyone else, but my pride for you has nothing to do with how well you do on the track, my love.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I’m proud of you because you’re you. You’re kind and you work hard, and you try your best at everything you do. Even if the outcome isn’t what you expected, you keep at it. You keep going. That’s one of the reasons why I love you, that’s why I’m so proud of you.” 

“I’m stupid.” He groaned, tipping his head back against the couch cushions. You simply made a noise of agreement. “You’re too good to me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now, you really need to go back to the garage. I’m sure Oscar’s sent out a search party for you at this point.” You said firmly, giving his chest a sharp poke. Lando groaned again but made to get up, shifting your legs off him so he could climb to his feet. 

“Fine. Just kick me out of my own room, why don’t you?” He huffed dramatically, swiping his hat off the floor and jamming it back over his hair. You aimed a fake kick towards him, stifling a giggle when he caught your foot and pretended to undo your laces. “Kiss?” 

“You need to leave, Lando,” You whined, batting him away gently. “I refuse to be the reason you’re late.” 

“One more. Just one more for good luck and I promise I’ll leave.” He insisted, expression pleading. You grumbled something unintelligible, reaching up begrudgingly to bring him down for one last kiss. 

Lando smiled against your lips, snaking a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place a few beats longer than you intended. You practically had to unstick yourself from him, giving him a little shove towards the door so he’d actually leave. 

Immediately, he whirled around. “Wait, wait—”

“Lando! Go!” 

“No, no, hold on, it’s important.” He slipped his newfound chain over his head, rubbing his thumb over both rings before holding it out towards you. “Keep this safe for me?” He asked earnestly, pressing the necklace into your hands. “Can’t have my lucky charm getting lost already, can I?” 

“Give ‘em hell, number four.” You smiled, donning the necklace yourself. He beamed, blowing you a kiss as he backpedaled down the hall. "Number four on the track, number one in my heart!"

You could hear his infectious laughter echoing even as he retreated around the corner.

Lando would be fine. And if he wasn’t, he’d bounce back, like he always did. And you’d be there to support him every step of the way, like you always were. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[nayedoll]

sweet coffee

joost klein x reader

summary : joost shows up at your apartment drunk two months after your breakup.

genre: fluff

rpf ahead, do not read if uncomfortable !!!

────────────────────────

You checked the time, unable to fall asleep after god knows how long you had been trying for. The clock read 4:01 A.M, the bright light emitting from it overwhelming your eyes. You sighed as you stared at the ceiling, accepting your fate for yet another night.

You had never been one to suffer from insomnia, the sudden lack of sleep getting to you and ruining every aspect of your daily life. You tried to convince yourself that it was the work stress but deep down you knew that the real reason behind your sleep problems was your recent breakup with your boyfriend of three years.

You and Joost had met at the coffee shop that you worked at as a struggling student during your university years. Absolutely mesmerized by you, Joost would come by everyday and order the same coffee; a cappuccino latte. It didn’t take long before you both fell in love with each other, helping one another heal from the struggles of the past.

But what started as a sweet relationship ended in the most bitter way you could have imagined. When Joost was picked to represent his country in Eurovision, you knew that he wouldn’t spend as much time with you anymore due to the hard preparation for such a big contest, something that you respected.

However, with time you felt him distancing himself from you more and more, calling you once every few days and giving dry replies. You tried to stay patient so as not to stress him out even more but him going on tour immediately after the contest ended was the last straw for you. After multiple days of nonstop arguing and crying, you finally made the hard decision to break up with him one day before his flight to Canada for a festival there.

Two months later, you were now sitting at the floor of your apartment with the windows wide open as you let the chilly summer night breeze clear your mind. You grabbed your phone and scrolled through your old texts with Joost. The last conversation you’d had with him was the morning after you told him to end things.

may 27, 8:06 A.M

you left your hoodie here.

it’s ok u can keep it.

oh ok. thanks

Seen

You took a deep breath as you realized you were wearing the same hoodie right now, softly playing with the fabric to feel some kind of comfort. Seeing things from a different perspective now made you think about how stupid it had been of you to end a three year relationship just like that.

The guilt overtook your thoughts as you felt tears swelling up in your eyes. The sudden loud banging on your door made you flinch in fear, quickly wiping away any tears with the sleeves of your -or his-hoodie. You got up slowly to check who it was, carefully looking through the peep hole.

Your heart stopped at the distorted sight of Joost outside of your apartment door. You quickly opened the door and his face lit up at your presence.

“Mijn liefste,” he exclaimed and you pulled him into your apartment by his hand in a hurry before any of your neighbors could come out and realize where all the noise was coming from.

Closing the door, he immediately quieted down as he hugged you tightly. You reluctantly hugged him back, feeling how sweaty he was. He reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, obviously having come back from a night out.

“What are you doing here?” you asked and tried to pull back but he didn’t let you.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, his voice as sweet as ever.

“I didn’t know you were in Amsterdam. Aren’t you on tour?”

He tried to answer your question but gave up halfway, giving you an idea of just how drunk he was. You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the sight, reminiscing all the times you’d seen Joost in similar circumstances in the past. He finally let go of you and you grabbed his hand, caressing it.

“Let’s take care of this first,” you laughed and he nodded as you tried your best to keep him from falling with Joost being way taller than you. After some minutes of struggling, you finally managed to walk him to the bathroom and left him alone to take a shower.

Meanwhile you made your way to the kitchen to make him some food, in hopes to sober him up a little. Finally having some time to your thoughts, you smiled to yourself as you recalled him calling you liefste earlier, a word you had grown accustomed to hearing while dating him along with other pet names.

He shortly came out of the shower already looking a lot more sober and collected. He smiled at you as you passed him the food, the two of you holding eye contact for a moment longer. Your eyes trailed to his body and you noticed he was only wearing a towel, growing worried that he might catch a cold.

“Hold on,” you hurried into the bedroom that you once shared, searching for any of his clothes. Luckily you came across some baggy boxers you’d stolen from him a while back, finally returning them to Joost.

He thanked you, though he was still topless. You got the idea to pass him the hoodie you were wearing, since it was his to begin with. As you took the hoodie off without a second thought, you were left with nothing than a bralette on top, making Joost glance to the floor to hide his smirk. You playfully slapped him on the shoulder before putting the hoodie on him, your eyes meeting again under the warm kitchen light, at a closer proximity.

It was evident in your eyes that you had so much to say to each other but didn’t even know where to start. He briefly looked down at your lips and you would have kissed him right then and there if it wasn’t for the fact that he looked exhausted.

“You should get some sleep,” you advised him as you stepped away. He looked away from you mumbling something in agreement.

He lied down on the couch and you recalled memories from the past when he’d carry you to the couch after getting back home together as his soft lips littered your face and body with small, gentle kisses.

“Sorry for waking you up earlier,” he said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“It’s okay, not that I was asleep anyway,” you reassured him. Joost made a curious face at your last words.

“How so?”

“I don’t know, I just haven’t been sleeping very well for some time after we…” you trailed off and he nodded apologetically. Things went silent for a few seconds, leaving you both to your thoughts.

“Come here,” Joost whispered, you looked over as he patted the empty space next to him. You smiled and slowly lied down with him as he rested his hand atop your waist. He turned to face you, your faces now inches away from each other.

This time you couldn’t avoid it. You kissed him, reluctantly at first but with more confidence as you felt him kiss you back. It was a sweet and slow kiss, mirroring the unconditional love between you both.

He pulled away, your breaths shallow from the length of the kiss.

“I love you so much,” he said quietly as his fingers caressed your face and lips.

“I love you too,” you whispered. You felt yourself drifting off to sleep, Joost’s soft pants and the distant sound of the passing cars lulling you to sleep. The last thing you remember is the feeling of Joost wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer.

-

The bright morning sun woke you up, finding yourself still in Joost’s arms. You reached for your phone to check the time, the gesture making Joost wake up as well.

“Goedenmorgen,” he said in a raspy voice, placing a peck on your lips.

“Good morning,” you replied and got up from the couch, lightly stretching your arms to feel more awake.

“What time is it?” Joost asked, rubbing his eyes from the sleep.

“9:34 A.M”

He nodded, following you to the kitchen where the warm sunlight was emitting from the window. He sat on the chair, staring at you making breakfast.

“What?” you laughed noticing his smile and intense stare.

“You’re beautiful,” he responded, you turned around to hide the blush forming in your cheeks. His compliments felt like the warm rays of sunshine against your back as your face beamed with a smile.

“What coffee do you want?” you asked, voice still raspy from the sleep.

“Een cappuccino latte, please”

[exyrpf]

Exyblr Dashboard Simulator based on what I personally see on sportsblr:

1/?

👑 girlbossriko follow

how many bro jobs do you think it took before riko moriyama and kevin day realized that uh.....maybe this wasn't just a bro thing

👢exyinaphonebooth follow

how many times do they have to come out and say they're like brothers before you freakos stop shipping them

👑 girlbossriko follow

????? do i know u

#it's a tumblr post about two exy players that you'lll never meet in your life it really isn't that deep

558 notes

💃fox-me-up follow

ngl that newest fox is kinda 👀

#psu lb #exy lb

8 notes

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 talk-exy-to-me

The NARRATIVE that kevin day and neil josten have........son of exy! scouting the rookie-est of rookies from fuck knows arizona........no listen you dont GET IT winning is EVERYTHING TO KEVIN and he would risk it on the foxes? And NEIL? who has only played exy for a year! NEIL Gets his attention!!!!! And hes good and he's getting better every game and he keeps bitching about kevin's ex on live tv BUT WAIT!???? NOT QUITE WHAT YOU EXPECT! Bc then neil shows up with a number on his cheek BECAUSE WELL it turns out they've known each other since they were KIDS! how is everyone not insane w me THEY'RE LITERALLY PERFECT

#where r my fellow njkd truthers #how r u all not here with me this isnt even the start #kevneil #210 #psu #njkd

102 notes

☀️ usctrojanny

every smiley blonde striker (jeremy knox) needs a brunette wet cat emotional support backliner (jean moreau)

#jerejean #usc trojans #i'm just saying 🤷‍♀️

58 notes

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

did he just......

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

guys please tell me i'm not insane

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

HE'S NEVER BEEN????? SKIIING???? KEVIN WHAT DOES THAT MEAN ?????? KEVIN PLEASE

#i i'm going insane i will literally die if someone doesn't explain this to me HE'S NEVER BEEN SKIING?!!!!

407 notes

🧚 goalie-stan

oh....i'm feeling so weak......it'd sure be nice to have a big strong goalie (renee walker) hold me up (renee if you're free on tuesday i am also free on tuesday.........on tuesday this tuesday, any tuesday?)

#literally passing out just thinking about her holding me don't call don't text i'm busy

84 notes

🌄 softkevinday follow

do u think if u offered kevin day essential oils to heal his hand he'd beat you to death

#it'd be hard for him bc he only has one hand but he could probably do it #legally this is a joke don't do this

284 notes

🗣️ jeremyknoxes follow

feeling normal

215 notes

📜 realexyblog

actually exy rpf is fine, i asked kayleigh day herself and she told me it was fine

112 notes

🐋 sexyexy

'exy is a stupid name for a sport' have you considered that a) i don't care and b) it's named that solely so i can make sex jokes about it

11 notes

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

is he, ya know *mimes jerking off* an ncaa exy player

#i don't believe that straight exy players exist

56 notes

🙈 ittybittyminny follow

Andrew Minyard!!!!!!! 🥰🥰 short king!!!!🤏🤏😋😋 Awwwwwwww the scrunkly!!!!! 🤗🤗🤗 My boinky boy!!!!!🥺🥺 Crinkly doo,,,,shronkle scrimblo......🥺🥺🥺 rb if you'd scrunkle!!!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

📖 sapphic-exy follow

he literally killed someone

🙈 ittybittyminny follow

And? God forbid women do anything

#also no proof he did that #yeah there's proof his twin bro killed someone but that's not the same bc theyre different people #almost killing someone doesnt count

807 notes

🐦‍⬛ edgarallenexy

got told i'm problematic for liking the ravens? THAT'S LITERALLY MY SCHOOL OH MY GOD

2 notes

🌸 softexy

Kevin Day - A Study

#kevin day #psu foxes #palmetto foxes #exy #web weave #poetry #psu foxes #palmetto #edgar allen

378 notes

[wesstars]

touch

jenna ortega x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: jenna, your lovely girlfriend, has been away filming for far too long, in your opinion. she thinks so, too. wc: 2.6k tags: explicit, MINORS DNI. all characters are 18+. phone sex, masturbation, bad dirty talk lmao, this is basically all bad dirty talk, light D/s dynamics, name calling/slight degradation, praise, reader is a soft dom, strap-on referred to as “cock,” horribly excessive use of italics, feels a bit odd writing rpf… a/n: @crazyoffher :) returning the favor!

masterlist

6:01 pm

call u in a sec?

A grin lighting up your face at the text, you hurriedly type an affirmative reply as you unlock your apartment door. Dropping your bag, you kick your shoes off, sighing as you shed your coat. Making a beeline for your bedroom, your eyes slide shut as you flop down on your gigantic bed. You’d washed the sheets earlier, and they were feeling extra soft. If Jenna were here, she’d be rolling around in them, covering her own scent with one of fresh linen.

Usually, she was—you were lounging in your shared apartment, a wide open space near the top of a sleek, tall building. Every evening in LA, the two of you could be found here, the appeal of a night in far exceeding that of a night out. A bottle of wine and a packet of popcorn to share wasn’t rare either, the expensive drink wasted on you two young lovers. 

Everything had happened so quickly, but you loved it. A chance meeting on a plane had led to a long conversation about anything and everything, so common for new couples, and one-drink dates across busy nights had culminated into a fateful party invitation and an equally fateful blushing confession. Your relationship was wild, and crazy, and everything you could’ve wanted. A year later, Jenna had surprised you with a set of keys. It was a certain kind of promise that made those long nights, waiting for a phone call from half a world away, so worth it.

As if on cue, your phone buzzes in your pocket. Seeing the ID, you instantly pick up.

“Jenna?”

“Hey,” her familiar voice comes shyly through the speaker, a comforting sound. “Are you busy?”

“No, I just got home from work.”

Jenna hums in a way that tells you she’s plotting something, and her little stifled giggle just confirms your suspicions. You fake a sigh, happy to venture into her ploy.

“Jenna, did you have something to drink?”

“No.” She huffs a laugh. “I just miss you. Tired of me already?” She asks, with innocent veneer.

“Of course not,” you say. “It’s good to hear from you, you're so busy now, I had to talk to your secretary,” you teased. She was busy, but you’d already done the calculation of Jenna’s timezone to yours—for her, filming would’ve just wrapped up in the midnight hours. For you, the setting sun was just beginning to stream through the glass walls, and you pressed the button on the nightstand to draw the curtains.

“Well, if you’re not busy,” Jenna presses on casually, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Jenna,” you smile. It was a dialogue you two had often, something you never tired of. 

“Mmm,” Jenna’s voice tugs in your stomach, lilting into a whine at the end of her emission, “I miss you, baby.”

Your mouth goes dry; it’s an automatic reaction. Damnit, this girl—she knew what kind of effect she had on you. You were glad the room was dark, because if you had to face your own blushing cheeks in the light, you might’ve just collapsed. You pull the phone away from your ear long enough to take a deep breath. “Do you, Jen?” Keeping your voice composed, you roll the end of the duvet between your fingers to keep you grounded.

“Miss you so much,” she says, the rustling in the background telling you she’s rolling on the covers. She lets out a lilting laugh, the sound sending a swooping, giddy feeling into your stomach. Jenna’s trying to lure you in; it was her game: enticing you with that docile, persuasive tone.

You decided to play, though you held back just a bit. “How much?”

“Some of your clothes still smell like you,” she says in lieu of a direct answer. “So I’m wearing your big shirt, the black one.” You’d been wondering where that shirt went, one you often slept in. Even now, you can see in your head how Jenna looked when she stole that shirt: it cut off at her thighs, the kind of sacrilegious short that inspired crimes. It reminds you of countless times she’d surprised you, when you slid your hands up under the hem to find—

“What else, Jen?”

“No bra,” she replies sweetly, laughing lightly at the end. 

“No bra, huh,” you repeat. You can practically feel your pupils dilating, the heat around your collar. “Good.”

“And this,” Jenna sighs, “lace number I got here; it looks like the one you gave me last year.” 

Your jaw clenches, and you glance at the clock, looking but not seeing. You remember what she’s talking about—a pair of panties, an expensive little excuse for fabric that grew dark at the slightest moisture. Jenna’s birthday had ended in a long, long night.

“It’s red,” she says, “just like my nails.”

Fuck. Everything feels hot, and you can just picture her in that standard issue trailer, lights dimmed, alone in a way that should be illegal. “How much time do you have?”

“Not a lot… got an early morning tomorrow.” There's a trailing edge of disappointment in her voice, but you’re familiar with her—she’s looking, hoping for you to guide her, to push her in the way only you know how.

You breathe in, deeply, your own desire quickly falling prey to Jenna’s. She had you wrapped around her little finger, that’s for sure, but she trusted you to hold her down. “Hand in your hair, Jenna. Gentle,” you instruct.

You hear her sharp inhale, but you have no question that she’ll listen. When Jenna gets like this, playful but pliant, you know she’s willing to go with just about anything you ask. It’s torture for you, each second you wait. “Now pull.”

Her responding whimper sends a bolt of heat down your neck, and you let out a silent breath. Jenna loved it when you would touch her hair, even when it was as innocent as just braiding it. The haze in her eyes when you’d tug on her locks, telling her how good she feels, was your favorite. “Harder. Do you like it?”

She breathes out, “yeah.”

“Good,” you say. “Tell me what’s been on your mind to get you eager like this.” She’s shy, you hear it in her sigh, even though her hands are still running in her hair. “C’mon.”

“I miss your mouth on my neck.” The words tumble out of her almost immediately, and you dare to wonder if that’s been on her mind all day. The bruises you’d left there before filming started were long gone, no doubt. She’d begged you to make them darker, and you were all too happy to please. “I miss the car, before the airport…”

Those frantic, heated ten minutes you two were able to spare in the car before Jenna’s flight were chastised by her manager and makeup team, but you wouldn’t have traded them for anything. “That’s perfect Jen,” you coax gently. She liked your encouragement, you knew. 

“And…” it’s as if something snaps in the air on the telephone line, pushing both you and Jenna’s inhibitions to the ground. “I wish you were here,” she whispers, the cliche line sending equally cliche butterflies rushing through your lower stomach. “I’d be on my knees for your cock right now, and you’d pull my hair, so I’d-” she whines, a small and breathless noise-“suck it so good ‘cause I know where it’s going next—”

“Fingers in your mouth,” you interrupt, blood rushing in your ears. “And listen to me.” If you’d let Jenna keep going, you might’ve just booked a plane ticket right then and there. You can hear her obey you through the speaker, moaning softly. “Play with your nipples under your shirt. Be gentle.” It’s a warning, you know she knows, and a reminder that you control her pace.

“Mmm,” she hums, complying. It’s practically confession on bended knee, how her muffled whimper makes something shoot through your lower stomach.

“Press down on your tongue.” You hear her breath shaking, right in your ear. It makes you bite your tongue to keep from moaning out loud. “Don’t gag, don’t be greedy, Jenna.” She whines around her fingers, and you know her telltale little cry as she touches herself as instructed. You can hear that she’s not being as gentle as you wanted, but you had always been weak for your girl.

“You wanna put on a show for me, honey? Twist.” You wouldn’t know it, but Jenna instantly closes her eyes at the word show, her pulse spiking.

Jenna’s uneven breaths are pure song to you through the speaker, and it puts your every nerve on edge, remembering how she would sprawl on your sheets, just like how you were now, happy to be over or under you. She’s so vocal tonight, every exhale coming out with a small oh, and it makes you wonder if it’s because of something more than just the distance and time between you two.

The cadence of her breathing matches your stuttering heart. “For someone that likes having her mouth stuffed,” you mutter, “you sure wanna talk real bad.”

The whimper Jenna lets out is enough of an answer.

“Alright babydoll, you can take your fingers out.” Almost immediately, you can hear her panting. You keep your voice even, despite the heat on your cheeks. “I bet you’re soaked, aren’t you?”

Her voice is raspy when she speaks. “I am…”

“Two fingers in your cunt.”

“What about-” you can hear her swallow- “what about my underwear?”

“Push it to the side,” you say, dismissive. You could practically see Jenna like this, warm brown hair splayed on the pillows, shirt rucked up to her breasts, with enough want to end a war.

It’s silent on the other side of the line, save for the shallow breaths you hear her taking. “Are you waiting, good girl?”

She hums an affirmative. 

“Go ahead, I won’t make you beg right now,” you say with a nonchalance you absolutely do not have, “fuck yourself.”

Her breathy laugh in response would drive a saint to sin, and she’s only all too eager to comply. Jenna’s shudder comes out in her moan as she shoves two fingers in herself, shameless in her need.

You close your eyes, her quiet little moan telling you all you need to know. The impatient groan she gives you is just vulnerable enough to be desperate, and it makes your head swim.

Jenna’s voice is small. “You know…”

“What is it, darling?”

“Wish I could put this on a camera for you, baby,” she whines, breath hitching. “Wish you could watch me right now.”

The mere thought of it is enough to have you biting your lip, hard enough to bleed. With the way that Jenna loved to perform, the idea had occurred to you before, but you were always too hesitant to bring it up. “You want me to see you, don’t you? Blushing and wanting all by yourself,” you mock, your arousal overriding your rationality, “you need someone to fuck you, is that it?”

“I need you to fuck me, fuck me so hard that I don’t remember it all, and,” her voice breaks, “you’ll make me watch our video later, to make me like this again.” You close your eyes again, your knuckles growing white around the sheets fisted in your hand. 

“Like what, Jenna?”

“Messy, and-” her voice climbs higher with a gasp-“needy.”

The words cling in your mind, ivy on a terrace. It only takes half a moment for your mind to conjure her up again, flushed cheeks and two fingers deep in her pussy, framed by red lace.

“Is that what you are, mmm?”

She gives a moan, and you laugh because she’s embarrassed. It’s nearly pathetic, how bad you wish you could see Jenna’s face.

“Want…” There’s a hesitant pause. “Want your hand around my throat, too.”

God, no one knew how to play you quite like Jenna did. “Jenna,” you groan, your facade rapidly crumbling, “you’d look so pretty like that, baby.”

“Yeah,” Jenna agrees mindlessly, “I like it ‘cause…” her voice is strained in a way that you just know she has her head thrown back, strong and delicate, “you’re so gentle.” It’s with a bleeding intimacy that momentarily makes you forget you’re thousands of miles away from Jenna, and the only thing you can think of is her warm eyes on yours, just begging for you to touch her.

She quiets down, and in the damning silence that follows, you hear her fucking herself. And because you know your girl, you know she wants you to hear.

“That’s filthy, Jen,” you say, matter-of-factly. It makes your head spin, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“I know,” she whines, and you can hear her going just that bit faster. “Fuck-” she exhales sharply- “I’m—I’m close.”

“Already?”

“I’m sorry,” Jenna whispers, and you know with every hitched moan, she’s hitting that spot inside of her. She’s not sorry, and you certainly aren’t either. “I can’t help it…”

You hum noncommittally, feeling anything but. “Don’t come until I say, alright?”

Jenna moans right into the receiver, and you can tell she’s frustrated to high hell. You laugh lowly, something cruel, and it only serves to fuel the way your fingers crave the smooth of her skin, how your tongue wants for her taste.

But that’s when you hear it, blazing through the fog in your mind, of brown eyes and pink lips. “Please…”

“Please what?”

She falters, breathing ragged. “Please let me…” A beat.

“Let you…?” You press on. 

“Please,” her voice edges on the right side of desperate, the side that makes all of you pulse. “Baby, I’m so close…”

“I know,” you say simply. 

There’s a silence that hangs in the air, and you know without seeing that Jenna’s cheeks are so red with her embarrassment that you could’ve slapped her and not gotten that same glow. You wait, patiently, nails biting into your skin.

“Let me come, please.” Her voice comes out like a quiet sob, resistance broken by her desire.

Letting out a long breath, you press the phone harder to your ear, feeling your fingers tremble. “You’re such a needy slut, Jenna.” She whines again, pleading and keening.

“I know,” she’s soft with it, “I am… so, please?”

You bite your lip, mind swimming, letting her plea hang in the air. 

“Come for me, Jenna.”

It's quiet, at first, and then you hear it—a soft, little ah from where she’s clapped a hand over her mouth, and then muffled moans spilling out from behind as she tries so desperately to not let anyone else hear. You clench your jaw, wanting so bad to tear Jenna’s hand from her mouth just so you can take in every little whimper, quiet her with your mouth instead. But you whisper praises into the phone instead, coaxing her through her orgasm. She comes hard, you can hear it in the way she pants after she’s calmed down.

Jenna’s breathing evens out, and you know it before she does—she’s asleep. Your eyes close again, fist clenched in your bedsheets. It wasn’t the first time that she’d fallen asleep right after she came, and it makes a soft little grin play on your lips. The other end of the line is a loving, sated silence. You keep your voice low, not wanting to wake her.

“God, the things I’m gonna do to you, Jenna.”

--

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

[yapperblog]

Thought you'd hate me

but instead you called and said I miss you

Tags: unresolved feelings, a little big of angst, she fell first but he fell harder, smut +18 only, softdom!joost, fem!reader, fingering, riding, unprotected PinV.

RPF below don't interact if you are not comfortable with that

You sigh as you find yourself in front of his door. Again. In the message he sent at 3:15 AM he told you the door will be open, but you still ring the doorbell. After no one opens it, you feel a slight nervous shiver down your spine. You decide to leave the dilemma of your weak morals for tomorrow, you are already here, might as well see where the night leads you. You reach for the handle and open it.

"Hello?" you say as you enter his apartment.

You turn to twist the lock on the door, a familiar smell envelops you. Not much has changed since the last time you've been here. More often you have been rushed past his front door, already tangled in a kiss, tearing at each others clothes. This time you weirdly want to look around and take it all in, you are still not sure if this is the last time you walk past his doorstep, but you want to remember it.

You and Joost have a messy history. It all started so simple, you met through a mutual friend and found out you two have a lot in common. As soon as you started talking, you knew something special could brew from this. It was so easy to be next to him, every bit of attention from him was intoxicating.

You also found out you live a walking distance from each other, which led to you two hanging out more often outside of the friend group. After one drunk night out, just the two of you, one thing led to another and you ended up on his lap, hands wrapped in each other's hair, having the best sex of your life. Your relationship turned into friends with benefits, never crossing into anything more even after a year. You did everything a couple would do together, but never put a label on it. Due to him traveling a lot and focusing on music, you felt he didn't want a serious relationship, so when he asked what you thought about dating, you just brushed it off, not wanting to be a burden to him.

You did this often. You were so overprotective of your feelings, you wouldn't let anyone near, in case they hurt you emotionally, which from your past experiences - they usually did. So you learnt to end things before you get too attached. You knew it was too late, he was the best partner you've had. So thoughtful, caring, funny, incredible sex, but you could just not open up to him the same way he did to you. It hurt, but gradually you made an effort to see him less, you would decline his invitations to hang out, until one day you just simply ignored his message to come over.

Until today, when you saw him again at a friend's birthday party. You knew he got back from tour already and would be at that party. You were nervous to see him again, but to skip it would be even worse. You immediately spotted him, even in a room full of people, somehow you could always tell where he was, your eyes just gravitated towards him. When eventually, after mingling with different people, you ended up in the same circle, he made it seem so easy to see you again, like it was no big deal. You felt a sting of pain, but you couldn't be upset, you were the one to push him away. So, you came to a conclusion that you made the right decision, if it is so easy for him to move on, it is better this way. You stayed until the end of the party, everyone got pretty drunk, your heart still felt heavy knowing he is close, but at the same time so far away, and it was all your fault for pushing away the one good thing you had.

You got back home around 3 AM. You were ready for bed, until you got a notification. You checked your phone and saw it was a text from Joost.

"Come in." his voice brings you back to your current situation. You notice a warm glow from the nightstand lamp coming from around the corner, where his bedroom is.

Your legs start walking as if by themselves, you don't remember making that decision. His voice just draws you in.

You stop by the doorframe, leaning against it. You take in the sight of him. Only one nightstand lamp is turned on, you remember your shared hatred of overhead big light. He is laying on the bed, his legs swaying off the side of it. His jeans are halfway unzipped, low on his hips, the belt undone and shirt half unbuttoned, like he couldn't decide what to take off first and gave up on both. He must be as drunk as you are now, he should look like a mess, but he doesn't. He always managed to look clean, one of the many things you liked about him. He turns his head to look at you and you notice a cigarette hanging from his lips.

He got into a bad habit of smoking in bed, you used to joke he would end up living in one of those houses that have yellow walls from the constant smoking.

"You should start locking your door." you say, your arms crossed, leaning against the door frame. You want to look nonchalant, like your heart isn't trying to get out of your chest.

"I don't usually leave it open." he says, his voice raspy, like it usually got when he was drunk. "Only on special occasions." he puts one hand behind his head not to crane his neck to see you better.

"Have a lot of special occasions?" you ask. You do wonder if he was with anyone in the time you haven't seen each other.

He huffs in amusement and turns to look at the ceiling. You think he looks so pretty, just laying there.

"Come here." his voice barely above a whisper, but he knows you will hear. You always do, sometimes he thinks you can hear his thoughts, his deepest secrets.

You don't move from your place, your hands crossing tighter on your chest. The distance you want to keep breaks his heart, he needs to stop this feeling and distract himself. He reaches for the lighter in the pocket of his jeans.

"Joost, open the window at least." you say softly before he lights the cigarette. It is not your place to tell him what to do, but you still care.

He smiles and remembers your joke about the yellow walls. Always so quick with a funny remark. He misses it. He sits down on the bed, his movements slow. He zips up his pants and puts the belt back on, his hands fumbling trying to put it through the loops. With his shirt still half unbuttoned, he stands up and walks past you, around the bed and heads towards the window. There is a chair next to it already, you notice a sketchbook you got him on the windowsill by an ashtray. You never saw this little routine of his, you imagine him drawing next to an open window, a cigarette in his hand. You want to flip through it.

He sits on the chair, lighting a cigarette. "Will you come in now?"

You finally walk in and head towards the bed. You prop yourself against the bedframe. His bed is as comfortable as you remember, you even bought the same duvet and pillow set he has, but you swear it still doesn't feel as good his. Maybe you expected it to come with that familiar aftershave smell, which of course it didn't.

"What did you want to talk about?" you break the silence.

"Us." he says quickly. Always honest and straight to the point.

"What about us?" your eyes focus on him. His legs are crossed, a light breeze coming from the window tussling his hair.

"You have been ignoring me and I want to know why. I really don't understand what I did wrong."

"I told you we should have ended this a long time ago." you did tell him this in the last time message you sent him. But he wasn't going to accept that, so he walked to your apartment, when you opened the door, you could barely even look at him. Very abruptly you told him you need to stop seeing each other, it's not healthy for the both of you. He was so confused at the sudden change, he couldn't even come up with anything to say in defence. He thought you must have met someone else, you haven't promised each other anything, but he felt betrayed. So he turned around and left.

"Why did you come then?" he asks, looking at you intensely.

"I knew you were drunk after the party and would pass out on the bed, I didn't want you to sleep with the front door open." you come up with an excuse. He has always been like an open book with you, however you are now doubting yourself if you've read him correctly. It was you who was scared of the relationship and deeper feelings, not him. You realise the huge mistake you made all those months ago.

"You know..." he takes another drag of the cigarette. "I really used to think I had you figured out. And then you pulled that surprise on me. Really took me for a spin." he points to his head with the hand that has a cigarette in between his two fingers.

"Have to keep you on your toes, you know. You always said you wouldn't like the simple life." you try to joke. The room is silent for a second, you are worried, did you overstep, will he find it inappropriate. But he laughs with his whole chest, the tension resolving a little bit. If you can joke about it, he feels he still has a chance to fix things out between you.

"So why did you come?" his voice more relaxed now.

You both know the answer, he wants to hear you say it, but you are willing to drag this game a little longer. "You've got a great view from your apartment. I missed it."

He laughs again. You realise it might be your favorite sound in the world. He blows the smoke out of the window, then turns to look back at you. "You missed the view?"

"Yeah." you try to keep a straight face.

"It is a nice view." he looks out of the window. "I don't think you see it well from the bed though." he puts a cigarette in between his lips. "You should come closer to enjoy it." he beckons you closer with his hand. He tries to act cool, to hide the fact that you also still make him nervous, like it's the first time you met and he is trying so hard to win you over, to see you smile at something he said.

You stand up from the bed, and slowly make your way towards the window, you cross your arms to shield yourself from the breeze and lean in against the windowsill admiring the view. You can faintly see your own window from here, you wonder if he ever tried to see you. You can feel him next to you even without looking at him, your legs almost touching. You can almost feel the heat radiating from him, always so warm, even on coldest nights. You miss the feeling of him under your hands.

Slowly as if careful not scare you away, like a cat, he stands up and comes to stand next to you. Neither of you speak for a while, enjoying a silent night, it feels so natural to be next to each other. The months apart and previous tension slowly melting away. He notices you shiver.

He stubs out the cigarette in an ashtray and stands up to reach for a hoodie hanging on the back of the chair. "Here, put this on."

You turn to face him and he puts the hoodie around your shoulders. His hands brushing your exposed shoulders and arms in the process. A sigh leaves you, which he catches.

"Better?" he asks.

"I think this is the first time you put more clothes on me in this room and not the other way around." you joke.

"You are probably right." he laughs and you feel him physically relax. Humour has always been a common ground for the both of you to get more comfortable.

"I missed this." he confesses, his voice quiet. "I missed us." he reaches to put a strand of your hair behind your ear. As soon as he touches you, he studies your face, trying to see if it's okay.

You touch his hand. "I miss it too." you say and turn to look outside of the window again, you feel so stupid for the way you handled things. He moves to stand behind you, slowly wraps him arms around your waist, giving you space to retreat if you want. You don't. It feels so good to have him close again. You lean into his touch. He puts his head on your shoulder, next to your face.

"How did it take us so long to find each other again?" he asks, happy you didn't deny his embrace.

"I'm sorry" you say and you mean it with your whole heart.

He moves to sit back down on the chair and you turn to look at him. "So, is the view everything you remembered?" he says with a smirk.

"It might have become even better." you say and walk up to him, he spreads his legs to let you in even closer.

He looks up at you, his eyes are so blue even in the dim light. You place your arms on his shoulders. He hugs you around your middle, and puts his face on your stomach. You slowly brush his hair, enjoying the closeness of him.

"Have you been with anyone?" he asks, afraid to hear the answer.

You tried, you had a date planned with this guy you met at work, but you didn't end up going. It didn't feel right.

"No." you say honestly. "Have you?"

He is still holding you close to him, "I kissed someone." he says.

You shut your eyes. Your confidence slightly falling apart, the self-doubt creeping back in, he can move on and eventually will.

He feels you go solid under his arms and continues "But all I could think was you. It was not long after you broke things off with me. I was mad at you, I kept looking for things to distract myself with. I was mad that you wouldn't leave my head. Mad at the light I could see coming from your window" he looks up at you, his hands on your hips. "So I kissed this girl, who seemed interested in me, and all I could taste was you."

You look into his eyes, he looks so vulnerable like this, all you wish for is to go back in time and change everything, but you can't. You wait for him to continue.

A small laugh escapes him. "I ran away from her. I ran all the way home. It's embarrassing, I never figured out how to forget you." he hides his face into your stomach again, you smell just like he remembers. If he could freeze time and stay like this forever, you running your hands through his hair and so close to him, he would.

"Joost" you let out a breath you were holding. "You don't understand how sorry I am. The amount of pain I caused both us" you voice breaks and he looks up at you. "I don't know how I can ever fix this mistake I made."

"Baby." his hands on your hips move in soothing motions. "Come here" he says and this time you do, he moves you to sit on his thigh, your legs stay in between his.

Your face is right next to his, you can't stop looking at him. His stubble has grew in a little. You put your hand on the side of his face, he immediately leans into it, chasing your touch. All the walls you both tried to put up, crumbling completely. You close the distance between you, your lips moving against his, he wraps his arms around your waist, your chest now closer to his. One of your hands is holding his shoulder, the other is on the nape of his neck. He licks your bottom lip, asking you to open your mouth, you do and his tongue explores your mouth. He missed you in his arms so much, now he can't get enough, he can still taste the cocktail he saw you drink at the party. You feel him groan into your mouth as you pull at his hair, remembering how much he likes it.

You pull apart to catch your breath. You smile and wipe his lips, shiny with your lip gloss, it makes you throb between your legs, that it is your gloss on his lips. You close your legs looking for at least a slight friction, he moves his hand to your thigh, squeezing the soft skin, which startles a moan from you. It makes him twitch in his pants, you sound so much better than the scenarios he kept replaying in his head late at night, his hand moving in a fast pace under the covers, wrapped tightly around his dick, trying to imitate the tight squeeze of your pussy around him.

He moves his hand under your knee, moving you to sit on his lap your back to his chest. He spreads his legs, moving yours apart too.

"I want you." he feels so warm against your back, you can feel an outline of his hardening dick through his jeans pocking at your lower back.

"You have me." he says leaning closer to your ear. He stays close and leans into your hair, kissing softly. You swear you can feel him sniff your hair and moan quietly. This is not the first time you notice him doing it, he denied it the one time you asked him about it, but it turns you on even more. He leans in to kiss your shoulder, placing open mouth kisses to your neck. He bites gently on your skin, you hold his bicep by your side. You need something to ground yourself or you feel like you will float away, his mouth feels so good on you. His hands move from your thighs under your top.

"Is this okay?" he asks, you feel his hot breath on your shoulder.

"Yes." you reply. He smiles and places another kiss, his hands continuing to move under your top caressing your skin. He hasn't done anything yet, but you already feel how aroused you are, your panties sticking to you. His heavy breathing so close to you, only making you even more hot. The open window next to you is of no help. You feel him everywhere, but also want to speed things up.

"Touch me, please." you plead. Your needy voice feels like music to his ears.

"A little bit of patience." his hands move to cup you through your lacy bra. He massages your tits, feeling your nipples harden, you moan and cover your mouth with your hand. "So sensitive." he murmurs. He wants to watch you unravel for him just by touching your nipples, but decides to stash this idea for another time. He hopes there will be another. He moves your bra down to reveal you fully to him and continues his ministrations twisting and pinching your nipples, squeezing your soft skin, until you are writhing on top of him. Your ass moving right against his now fully hard dick, but he can wait.

"Let me hear you." he moves your hand away, which was covering your mouth.

"But the window" your voice is weak.

"Everyone else can also know how good I am making you feel." his hands move to the plush of your thighs, makes sure to push them apart. "Keep them like this, love" he tells and you nod. He pushes your skirt up, moving his hands higher up your inner thighs, your head falls on his shoulder while you let out a soft moan. There is already a wet pre-cum spot forming in his boxers from all the sounds he is pulling from you.

He swipes a finger in between your folds through your panties. "So wet." he says quietly, sitting up straighter, pulling you up with him by wrapping a hand around your middle. He moved his neck to see his hand in between your legs better. He spreads his legs even further, your hips are so wide apart, you feel a breeze touch your wetness, as he moves your panties to the side.

"Were you this excited to see the view?" he says feeling how wet you are. You can't even come up with anything to joke back as he finds your clit and starts moving his finger in slow circles around it, applying slight pressure.

You moan holding his wrist, your head still resting on his shoulder.

"Feels good?" he asks, you can hear him smiling.

"So good." you say and he speeds up his finger pulling even more delicious sounds from you. He wonders if anyone can actually hear you, would the neighbours complain, but decides it is worth it seeing that you don't mind. His finger moves lower through your folds, collecting the wetness as he circles around your hole. He feels it clench around nothing and you whine at his teasing.

"Shh, I've got you." he puts one finger inside of you. You feel so tight around him, he puts in a second finger and starts to make scissoring motions to stretch you for him.

You start to feel the pleasure building, moving to hold his bicep for support. You turn your neck to the side trying to find his lips. He lowers his head towards yours and you collide in a heated kiss. He puts in a third finger in and speeds up his motions, swallowing your moans.

"I'm so close." you turn to look at his fingers disappearing between your legs reaching deeper than yours ever could. Your skirt bunched up, legs spread wide, his hand that is wrapped around your middle is now applying pressure to your lower stomach, you must look a mess, but this is the most beautiful sight to him. His brows are in a frown, focused on a task at hand, so lost in bringing you pleasure.

"Cum for me. Cum on my fingers" he says and you feel the band snap and release on his fingers. Intense pleasure spreading all over your body. Your back arches, as he lets you ride your orgasm.

He pulls out his fingers, shiny with your slick and brings them to his mouth, licking it clean. You hear him groan, as you are still feeling aftershocks from your orgasm. It has been so long, you forgot how good he is at listening to your body, knowing exactly what you need.

He kisses your temple, as his lips slowly reach yours. The kiss is not rushed this time, tender. His lips feel soft against yours. You leave his tight embrace to stand up. Standing in front of him you take off your top, as well as your bra, which is still pulled down, revealing your chest to him and kneel in between his legs. You slide your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles tense under your touch and reach for his belt. You quickly undo it, unzip his jeans while looking into his eyes, he is watching your every move. You reach to take off his jeans, he lifts his hips to help you and kicks them off, leaving them in a pile next to your top.

"Take off this too." he points at your skirt as he reaches for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the windowsill. You stand in front of him, placing your hands on the zipper of your skirt and pull it down slowly, making a show of shimmying it down your legs. Your panties are next. His eyes never leave you as he sits with his legs spread only in his half unbuttoned shirt and boxers, he lights the cigarette and takes a drag blowing smoke away from you towards the window.

"So beautiful." he can't stop looking at you.

Meanwhile you are thinking the same about him. You want to take a photo right now. He is leaned against the back of the chair, you can see an outline of his hard and waiting dick, the collar of his shirt reveals his chest hair. He brings a cigarette to his lips, the end of it glowing as he takes a long drag. You want to remember this forever.

You come closer to him, he leaves the cigarette hanging between his lips, as he puts both of his hands on the backs of your thighs and brings you flush against him and looks up at you. You can't help but giggle at how good he looks and all for you. You start to unbutton his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders. Once again you kneel in between his legs, your hands reach the waistband of his underwear and you look up at him for confirmation. He nods and you take them off, his dick springs up free and rests against his lower stomach, leaving a wet spot of his own pre-cum. He looks like a dream come true.

"Show me how much you've missed me" he says, his voice raspy from the cigarette and his arousal.

You move to straddle him. You take his dick into your hand, he sighs at your touch immediately. He needs this he needs to know you want him as much as he wants you. You spread his pre-cum around his length, moving your hand slowly up and down, twisting your wrist on his head, moving your thumb through the slit. He groans loudly. "Yes, just like this." You always loved how vocal he is during intimate moments. One of his hands is holding a cigarette, the other is on your hip, holding tight. You lean in to kiss along his jaw moving down to his neck, listening to his soft moans, as you keep touching his dick. You continue kissing his neck, he feels you start to suck on his skin about to leave a love bite, but you stop abruptly.

"Can I?" you ask unsure if he would want you to leave marks. You both know each others bodies so well, but this feels new at the same time.

"Please do." his head falls back, giving you more space. You lick up his throat and leave a few marks along your kisses. You smile at your work, this will be a fun reminder in the morning.

You decide not to tease him any longer, you want to feel him inside right this second. You lift yourself up using his shoulders for support, he is holding a cigarrete in one hand, and puts the other under your ass spreading your folds apart, helping you lower yourself onto him. You hold his dick and hover above him, swiping the head a couple of time to cover him in your slick. You are still wet from your previous climax, so it's easier to take him in. You both let out a moan as you start to lower yourself onto him, your walls stretching to accommodate his length.

"You are so tight." he puts a cigarette in between his lips and starts to circle your clit carefully aware of your recent climax, not to overstimulate you. "Relax for me baby." the words coming out funny due to the cigarette hanging from his mouth. You take the cigarette and take a drag yourself. You inhale, keep it in for a while and then blow the smoke in his face slowly. He watches you and you can feel him twitch inside of you.

You pass the cigarette back to him, when he is fully inside of you. You start to lift yourself up and lower back down, setting a steady rhythm, trying to bring him as much pleasure as you can.

His pupils are blown wide, the blue irises barely visible, he is so hard, he could cum right now. But he wants this to last. One of his hands leaves your hips, he leans on the back of the chair and smokes, enjoying the view. Your head is thrown back, eyes shut, tits bouncing, you reach to pinch your nipple and clench around him. He thinks you look so good right now, lost in pleasure, this is what heaven must feel like. He can't ever loose you again.

"Good girl. Making me feel so good." he praises you and feels you clench even harder, as you continue moaning and moving on his length. He moves his gaze from your face, down your body and watches himself disappear between your folds, a mix of your arousal pooling at the base of him.

"I'm so close, Joost." you whine bouncing on him.

He wraps a hand around your back and reaches to put the cigarette out in the ashtray. Now both his hands free, he takes hold of your hips to help you move on him. He starts kissing your neck, and matches your moves with his own thrusts.

You feel him so deep inside of you, you scream in pleasure, as he starts to move you faster on him, holding you by your hips.

"Fuck. You feel so good." he is breathing heavy against your chest, his own climax getting closer. He brings his thumb up to your lips, you open your mouth and suck on his finger. "The things you do to me" he sighs at the picture before him. He hopes he remembers this forever. You swipe your tongue around his finger and he pulls it out, wet with your spit bringing it to your clit and starts to draw fast circles.

He leans in to whisper to you. "I think you were made for me." Somehow he always knew what to say to make you melt under him. It's like he knows exactly what you are worried about in that exact moment.

Your back arches, he puts an arm on your back to hold you. He feels you clench around him rapidly and with a loud moan you cum on him.

"That's it. That's my girl." his own rhythm becoming more sporadic. "Just a little longer. I'm right there." he starts to chase his own release.

"Where do you want me?" he asks feeling himself getting closer.

"Inside." you feel overstimulated, but still it feels so good. "Please." your nails on his shoulders are bound to leave red marks from how hard you are holding on to him.

After a few more wild thrusts, he pulls you flush against him and you feel him release into you. Some of his cum spilling out of you. You put your forehead against his, breathing heavily into each other's mouths, trying to come back to your senses.

He holds you close to him. "I'm glad you read my text today."

"Me too. And I really am sorry, Joost. I hope you can forgive me."

"Let's talk in the morning. We will figure everything out, yes?" he asks bringing your face closer to him, to look into your eyes.

"Yes."

"Can you stay over tonight? or do you want me to walk you home?" he asks.

"I don't think I can walk right now, Joost" you laugh.

"That was incredible, wasn't it?" he laughs too.

You start to stand up with a wince when he pulls out. He cleans you up and you fall asleep on his bed. The pillow still more comfortable than your own. You will try to figure your feelings for each other in the morning.

[icallhimjoey]

Define Close

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: What good are flatmates even, if they don't comfort you when you need it most? Or when you need it a normal amount? Or, you know, when you don't really need it, but just really want it?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, hurt/comfort i guess? idk we're sad a lot and joe cheers us up a lot

Author’s note: this sort of came about after taking small little bits from several requests that i combined and then shaped into what i wanted for myself, and for a minute, i thought 'what if i don't make this one extremely self-indulgent for once' but then... why the fuck wouldn't i? so...

Wordcount: 2.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

One of those days.

You weren’t going to wait until you got home to ask Joe what pizza toppings he wanted. Not today. So you texted,

“peperoni or chicken?”

And it took just a few seconds for Joe to open Whatsapp and to reply.

“those my only two options?”

You didn’t have the mental capacity to even think of any other pizza toppings, let alone get into some banter over text with your flatmate.

“joe”

There were a million ways for Joe to have read that, to have interpreted that. Yet, he got the tone of it just right.

“don’t worry, i’ll take care of it”

No playing. Just quick solutions to problems of which Joe didn’t even really know what they were yet. Then another text from him followed, asking you the question you’d just sent him.

“peperoni or chicken?”

“chicken”

You remembered exactly when this pizza tradition started. Could pinpoint the exact date, time, and place.

“no i was wrong.” “peperoni”

The first time you and Joe shared a pizza as new flatmates, was when you’d gotten home one morning, still very obviously in the outfit you’d left in the night before. Joe had been cooking up some breakfast in the kitchen and had his jokes ready, already grinning to himself when he hadn’t even seen you yet.

“Well, well, well,” he called over his shoulder as you took a moment by the front door to just... breathe. You would’ve tried gathering yourself, but there wasn’t much to gather.

“I know you said the plan was to go out and celebrate Friday, but you didn’t mention anything about Saturday morning,” you could hear the joy in Joe’s voice, all chipper and lively. He’d very clearly had a great night’s sleep, unlike you.

Joe heard footsteps, and when they stopped in the doorway, he turned his head to look. Spatula still in hand, eggs just about ready in the pan in front of him.

“Look at what the cat’s drag–...” the comment died on his tongue. “Jesus, are you all right?”

Joe had expected a tired, sloppy girl to have walked in. One with messy hair, eye make-up all smudged and sort of drunk a little, still.

He’d been right.

That was exactly what he was looking at, which should objectively be funny. Hence the smile that still lingered on his face as his brow slowly furrowed in confusion.

“You look like the inside of a shoe,”

Joe tried his hand at humour, but it fell completely flat.

What he hadn’t anticipated, was for his flatmate to look quite so sad in reaction to his comments. So very drained of life. You’d obviously been crying and looked like you hadn’t slept in weeks.

For a moment you just stood in that doorway, looked a little dazed because, um, why were you going into your shared living space again?

You needed your bed.

Without answering Joe, and without even really acknowledging him at all, you took a shuddering breath and slowly turned back around, only to ignore Joe’s question and disappear into the hallway.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Joe quickly turned the hob off and rounded the island to go after you. He was too late though, stepping into the hallway just as your bedroom door closed behind you. The immediate guilt that followed his poking-fun carried him over to stand in front of it, just enough self-restraint left to not just open your door and walk in right after you.

You didn’t seem like you needed to be pissed off any more than you already were.

From just outside of your bedroom door, you heard a very faint knock, followed by Joe’s voice, asking if you were all right once more.

“Did– did something happen? What’s going on?”

All you managed to do was sigh, just loud enough for Joe to catch it.

“What happened?”

But you didn’t want to get into it.

“Do you– hey,” Joe called your name, waited for a second, in case you wanted to answer him, but then when you didn’t, he followed it up with, “Do you want some breakfast?”

And honestly, breakfast sounded nice. But so did burying yourself into your duvet for a few days, where no one would try to look you in the eye, and where no one would try to make you talk. Were you going to listen to your rumbling stomach that wanted some food, or to the rest of your body that just wanted to be horizontal?

“Some scrambled eggs? Piece of toast?” 

You milled it over in your mind.

“Or, I could make you something else? You want some yoghurt? With some berries in?”

Joe tried. Was actively trying. But it didn’t seem to work, just didn’t seem to do the trick. It stayed silent on your side of the door.

“Some pizza?”

And it was meant as a careful joke. A hopeful small little thing to at least lift the mood, if nothing else. If you were even still listening to him at all, that was.

He was about to tell you that he’d be in the kitchen if you needed anything, that you could just let him know. No worries if not. But then he heard rustling. Stumbling footsteps, followed by your bedroom door slowly opening.

“Hey,” Joe cocked his head to the side at the sight of you, his eyes all soft, forehead crinkled with worry. “I’m sorry.”

You looked right past him.

“What... what kind of pizza?”

You focused on the important things instead. Didn’t really care to acknowledge Joe’s apology.

“Well,” Joe tried to hide his smile as he looked down at his feet before stepping aside and holding an arm out, inviting you to walk ahead of him, making your way back into the living area. “I think there’s a few to choose from in the freezer.”

You’d shared a pizza that morning, you sat at one of the stools of the kitchen island, and Joe stood on the side. He hadn’t asked you any questions then, but instead had just tried his hand at light conversation until suddenly, halfway through a slice, you’d started sobbing.

And it wasn’t like you and Joe had never hugged before.

But you’d never been hugged by him like that before.

Where Joe instantly dropped his food and stepped closer to fold arms around you. Where Joe got an arm around your head to press your face into his chest whilst the other curled down around your shoulders that pressed your chest into his stomach. Where he decided he wasn’t going to be the one to pull back first, and so you’d just embraced like that for over half an hour.

He hadn’t asked you any questions.

Not when you cried.

Not when you’d stuttered through breaths as you tried to recollect yourself after.

Not when you eventually pulled back and reached for another bite of now-cold pizza.

Not when you then silently frowned at the hardened cheese and softly sighed to yourself.

Not when you did eventually retreat back into your room but came out just a minute later and asked if Joe had any plans that day.

Even if he did have plans, Joe knew that he’d cancel them all for you.

“Want to rot on the sofa with me? Watch films all day?”

And you hadn’t meant to fall asleep all sagged into his side then, but you had. And Joe had played with the ends of your hair until the warmth and comfort had pulled him into a nap as well.

You’d never talked about what had happened then, why you had been so sad, because you didn’t need to. It was nice that Joe hadn’t asked for you to explain why you’d cried, and instead had just comforted you until you managed to smile for him again.

Joe thought that maybe, if you wanted to tell him, one day you would. But he didn’t need to know why his flatmate was sad when she was. He was happy just being there to help and fix it.

And now, here you were. Two flatmates who shared a tradition of having pizza and watching a film when you’d had a bad day.

And today had just been... long. Hard. Frustrating. You didn’t want to get into all the things that had nearly pushed you over the edge, and you were glad that you didn’t need to.

Joe didn’t ask questions. Never did.

Just went to get you the peperoni pizza you’d asked for.

Would cuddle you on the sofa all night if that was what you wanted.

It was what he wanted, anyway.

He was well aware that none of that was normal though.

You were flatmates.

If Joe referred to you in conversation with a friend, with a family member, or even with a stranger, you were his flatmate. The girl that he shared the living area of his flat with. The pantry, the fridge and the freezer. The coat closet by the door. A letterbox downstairs by the entrance.

Flatmates.

But if someone were to ask you if you and your flatmate were friends too, you’d tell them yes of course. You shared dinner more often than not. If you had friends ‘round, Joe would hang out too. And vice versa.

Normal.

Just normal friendly flatmates that also knew each other’s parents by their first names, but you know, those things sort of just came with sharing a living space together, right?

And no one ever really thought there was more to you and Joe, anyway.

Why would they even assume?

You dated other people. Went on regular dates with different men. Other guys. Would even sometimes sit and watch a film with someone, and Joe would join you for a little while. Have casual conversation with whoever you’d invited over.

Normal.

What wasn’t so normal was that the second it would just be you and Joe, you wouldn’t hesitate to touch if you wanted to touch. Wouldn’t hesitate to find him, wherever he’d be, and sling your arms around his stomach from behind, just to hold him for a minute. Would wait to get comfortable on the sofa until Joe would join you there and you’d wait for his arm to find its way around you before you’d settle in.

You never talked about it.

It was just what it was like. You were close. The affection was just a natural thing between the two of you. It didn’t need any words. Any explaining.

But Joe knew you both understood that this could be interpreted very differently through other people’s eyes.

It’s why you kept referring to each other as flatmates, and why you weren’t like that in front of other people.

Which was fine.

You lived together.

There was plenty of time without other people there.

When you walked into your flat that evening, the promise of a shared peperoni pizza combined with the contrasting warmth that immediately made you feel uncomfortably hot in your coat, was nearly enough to bring you to tears.

“Joe?”

“Hey, bad news,”

Oh no.

Joe appeared at the other end of the hallway.

“They didn’t have any Sprite left, so I got you a Fanta.”

You let your shoulders drop and let your head fall to the side in relief. That was hardly bad news. You didn’t love Fanta, but the bad news revealed Joe had gone out to get a pizza instead of throwing a frozen one into the oven.

“Fanta’s fine.” You smiled. Joe easily copied it.

“Good, okay. Now,” Joe continued, suddenly his face all serious again as you took your coat off and toed your shoes off. “I know that last time, I got to pick a film, so technically it is your turn... but, I’ve already chosen something to watch, and I did go out to get us the largest peperoni pizza London has to offer, so...”

You stilled and gave an exaggerated sigh, all mock frustration, because you honestly didn’t give a shit. If anything, it was nice that Joe had made the choice for you, seeing as you didn’t really have the mental capacity for any decisions right now. If it had been left up to you, you’d hav been scrolling through Netflix for at least half an hour until settling just to watch some celebrity panel shows on Channel 4.

“No sprite and I don’t get to choose the film?”

“I’m sorry,” Joe was trying stupidly hard to hide a smile.

You blinked at him a second.

“You’re not sorry.”

“No I’m not. You made me go out and it’s fucking freezing outside today.”

You made your way over to your bedroom to get changed, and just before disappearing, you said, “Cool way of letting me know you’ve not left the flat all day.”

Like Joe’s hair hadn’t told you as much already.

You wished your job would let you work from home too. Although, with Joe spending weird stretches of time just sitting around and reading, you didn’t think you’d get much work done. Would probably be a bit weird if you logged onto a zoom meeting from your spot on the sofa, half of Joe in frame.

“I did leave the flat! I just said!” Joe argued, leaving you to get into a more comfortable outfit.

You grinned to yourself.

Joe was an idiot.

In an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of joggers, you joined Joe in the living room where you found a large pizza box on the coffee table, two cans of Sprite next to it.

Sprite.

“Surprise.”

Joe had lied.

Then you looked at the TV screen, paused at the title of the film Joe’d chosen and, fuck all the way off, did he want you to cry?

“I know it’s not your genre...”

It was. It absolutely was. It wasn’t Joe’s genre, though. “But I promise you’ll like it.”

You didn’t know if you wanted to hook an elbow to his jaw or squeeze your nails into his cheeks, but you needed to do something to get this surge of emotion out.

You opted for swearing at him instead of physical violence.

“I fucking hate you so much right now,”

“Yea?” Joe sat down, pressing play on the remote and reaching for the throw blanket. “Come hate me over here.”

And so you did.

Sat down next to Joe, thigh to thigh, and let him sort the blanket so it covered the both of you before leaning over to grab the pizza box.

The heat coming from the pizza quickly found your legs through the blanket and through your joggers. It was a stark comparison to how cold your fingers still felt from your trek home.

You rubbed them together as Joe opened the pizza box and, shit, that looked good.

“You cold?”

“Just my fingers,” you replied, already putting both hands to use, ripping the pieces of crust that hadn’t been cut properly and lifting a slice out of the box.

Joe did the same, and then when he saw one of your hands lower down, he was quick to grab it, encasing your cold fingers into his large palm.

The act of being upset with him for being nice faltered, and you smiled at Joe as he smugly grinned whilst he chewed.

See, had someone else been there with you, you’d have gotten comments. If not jokes, at least you knew you would’ve gotten some judging looks. Some questions later, about what was going on between the two of you?

Nothing was going on between the two of you.

Just warm cuddles and comforting touches, which was fine when it was just you and Joe.

So what if Joe held your hand whilst you ate pizza and watched a romantic comedy together?

So what if a piece of peperoni was about to slide and fall to your chest, but Joe saw and got it just in time, and you thought he was going to pop it into his own mouth, but then instead he held it up in front of you and waited till you ate it from his fingers?

So what if, after finishing the pizza, Joe planted his feet on the coffee table and pulled you into his side a little? Grabbed your arm to lay over his stomach? Ended up with both arms slung around, his own fingers locking on your back to keep you in place whilst you watched actors older than the both of you act as if they were in their early twenties still?

Life was just more comfortable when it was filled with good snuggles, you and Joe both agreed.

But you never talked about it.

You were just close.

No questions asked.

Flatmates. Friends. Just, close.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[tkomptgoedluv]

watermelon.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.3

pt.1 here | pt.2 here | pt.3 | pt.4 here

joost klein x f! reader

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader still really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, angst angst and even more angst, did i mention angst?, tooth-rotting fluff, so fluffy it’s honestly a little cringe <3, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 3,493.

warnings: very brief + vague reference to SA, rpf.

notes: hello!! welcome to pt.3 <3 this is probably the part that i’m most proud of, probably because it weirdly hurt the most to write. a couple fun facts about this part: reader’s coat is heavily based on one i have in real life and absolutely adore. also, i genuinely couldn’t bring myself to touch this wip for two whole days because my personal life started to match up with this storyline and i did not like it! became a little too self-indulgent. anyways — enjoy!! lemme know what you think.

love you all lots 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

in a lot of ways, the whole situation was more or less your own idea of hell — ironic, considering it all started with literally the worst night of your life.

not once did you ever think that you’d be here, that this was how things were gonna go. the fun part? you don’t even know how you got here in the first place. for someone so in the middle of it all, you know surprisingly little about what actually happened, or what you must’ve done wrong.

all you know is that it’s different now. joost is different now.

you still text everyday, a few phone calls here and there, and you’ll see him in person a few times a month or more, but you can still feel it. the subtle lack of emotion in his messages, the only-ever increasing wait times in between responses, the missing details in his stories that you’d still end up hearing from your friends. something, at some point, shifted and joost just didn’t seem to be your joost anymore.

at first, you tried to think nothing of it. you weren’t exactly a stranger to anxiety; it’s always been just a little too easy for you to get lost inside your own head. this also wasn’t the first time that you had fallen down this rabbit hole, suddenly convinced that someone you love doesn’t even like you because they said something in a slightly different tone once.

but then those weird few days where things didn’t feel quite right turned into weeks, and it just didn’t feel like nothing anymore.

you thought it could’ve been the videos because, as predicted, entire montages of the fight found their way onto each and every little corner of the internet. joost could be seen clear as day swinging for him, landing punch after punch until one of his friends would eventually step in. though somehow, the backlash against joost never came. for every clip there was a ‘story-time’ to go right along with it, and every single one explained how joost was just defending ‘this girl that had been attacked by that guy.’

so instead you exhausted yourself asking if everything was alright, just in case there was something else going on that he also hadn’t told you. but there was only so many times that you could ask the same question over and over again, only to get the same answer back.

joost was fine; great even.

so it had to be you. nothing was wrong, nothing bad had happened, it was simply just you that had repelled him all of a sudden. and that was all you could think about whilst you sat in a room surrounded by your closest friends — joost included.

it was someone’s birthday, a friend of a friend who’s name was still unknown to you and yet somehow you still ended up with an invite. aspon was on your left, deep in a conversation with stuntje about some new anime you’d never heard of, and alanis was on your right, asking to see pictures of daan’s latest art piece.

you, of course, were there in between them all, just staring into space. all of the ice in your drink had melted as it sat forgotten about in your hands, and you were fairly confident that you had memorised each and every scratch in the wooden flooring. you were yet to find a better place to look other than the floor, because of course it was joost that had to be sat opposite you.

he had pulled the short straw really, because by the time he came back in from his cigarette outside, the only seat left was one of those awful, plastic fold-up chairs. like the others he too was wrapped up in a conversation of his own, only his included a girl that you’d never seen before, and he was making her laugh a lot.

you didn’t have a single right to absolutely despise what it was that you were seeing, but still your skin felt hot and itchy, and tears burned behind your eyes. despite arriving together in your group and being seated a measly three feet away from each other, joost was yet to even glance in your direction, let alone talk to you. the blatant avoidance was unbearable; the new ‘you’ that he was talking to was even worse.

but with the anger came the shame, because really, you had no excuse to be feeling like this. two strangers with mutual friends, talking with one another at a house party of all places, wasn’t exactly incriminating. they also weren’t touching or even flirting for that matter — from what you could hear, their conversation seemed limited to small anecdotes about the people in common they both knew.

you weren’t being fair, you weren’t being reasonable; there was no excuse for the tightness in your chest.

without a word, you got up and made a dash for the balcony; desperate for a cigarette. so desperate in fact, that you didn’t stop to grab your jacket despite the rain bashing against the windows. you just needed the fresh air, needed space away from whatever the fuck was going on in there.

the small roof that the balcony upstairs provided did little to shield you from the rain. your hair quickly fell damp around the sides of your face as the wind brought goosebumps to your arms. you really should’ve stopped to grab your coat, you were soaking now.

but the pure, unbridled relief that you felt when you breathed in the smoke of your cig made it all worth it, though. it was something else to focus on, something to help soothe all of your aches and pains. best of all, it gave you a reason to be by yourself for a while — a moment alone to think, to breathe, a chance to get a fucking grip.

you took another drag of your cigarette.

“think you forgot this, schatje.”

over the sound of the heavy-falling rain and the music from inside, you hadn’t heard the balcony door slide open and shut again.

from the corner of your eye you saw joost standing there, clad in a black gilet and the same adidas track-jacket that you had bought for him two birthdays ago. your coat was in his outstretched hands; a big, red furry thing that almost swallowed you whole every time you put it on.

“yeah…thanks.”

you wanted to cry.

the silence that followed was heavy and awkward; neither of you could even look at each other as you took your jacket from him and slipped it on. whilst you focused on looking outwards towards the skyline, blinking away any tears that threatened to spill, joost busied himself with lighting up a cigarette of his own. it felt like you were standing next to a stranger, and not someone who quite literally knew every single little thing about you.

someone who always picked up the phone when you called; someone whose bed you’ve woken up naked in just a few too many times to count.

“you, uh, you doing okay?”

you almost choked on your cigarette.

he’d barely even glanced your way all night, too distracted by other female attention to really care that you were there at all, and now he wanted to know how you were doing? oh he had to be joking.

you stubbed out your cig underneath your shoe and went to storm back inside, shoving past him with your shoulder as you did so. you had almost made it too, before he caught you by the arm and gently pulled you back. it really pissed you off how hurt he looked, like this wasn’t all his fault in the first place.

“hey, can we not just talk for a minute? i wanna know what’s been up with you recently. we don’t really talk anymore.”

as hard as you could you pushed him off of you, and then you pushed him once more for good measure. you couldn’t bite it back anymore, couldn’t keep it all from spilling out when your blood was already boiling. if you were to regret it in the morning, you would just blame it on the few drinks you’ve already had.

“and why the fuck do you think that is, joost? tell me.”

a small part of you that you really couldn’t quite understand, genuinely hoped that he would push you back. that he’d get all up in your face, yelling at the top of his lungs, just as angry with you as you were with him. you wanted him to shout, to scream at you about how wrong you were; you wanted to feel crazy for even thinking that something could ever go wrong between the two of you.

you didn’t want him to just…stand there with his tail tucked between his legs, looking like he had already given up on you a long time ago. you found yourself shoving him again, only hard enough to knock him back a step or two this time.

“tell me!”

now more than ever you wished that you could stay angry, that you knew how to hold onto the outrage instead of always just breaking down into pieces. it made you feel so small the way that your voice was cracking; your shouts quickly shrinking into cries. you felt like a child again, begging to understand why everyone always left in the end.

“i just needed to work some stuff out, okay? none of this was meant to happen. i never wanted to make you cry.”

you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, the state of your mascara becoming an afterthought, before raking your fingers through your hair. thin strands stuck to the corners of your face and the back of your neck.

“please, tell me what i can do to make it better.”

joost was panicking now, looking a lot like an old dog that somehow knew it was about to be left behind at the shelter. you could see it in the way his hands were shaking and how he couldn’t quite seem to stand still, shifting from one leg to another.

“you can tell me what happened; what changed or what i did wrong. i don’t care.”

from the look on his face, you never would have guessed that all you’d asked him for was the truth; ‘panicked’ was no longer the right word.

“i can’t. i promise, i’ll tell you later but i can’t tell you here. not like this.”

you laughed — you couldn’t help it. three months ago, when you asked him why he was so insistent on doing anything and everything for you, he gave you the exact same line. either he forgot that he’s already used it once before, or he thought you were stupid enough to fall for it all over again; either way, you knew now that ‘later’ was never coming.

before you really knew what you were doing, you were back inside and weaving your way through the small huddles of your friends. a few stared as you began to tread water through the house, a long line of watery footprints following behind you on your way out. you muttered a quiet ‘i’ll see you guys later’ to whoever was listening and in one smooth motion, grabbed your bag from one of the tables and disappeared through the front door, slamming it behind you.

no one tried to stop you. probably for good reason, too, because you could feel the makeup running down your face.

the only good thing to come from looking so sad and drenched from the rain was that nobody on the street stopped to bother you either. not many people were out in this weather anyway, so at most you felt their eyes on you as they passed, a look of pity on their faces. pity for a girl all dressed up for a nice night out, just to be walking home early in tears.

you didn’t want their pity, you just wanted to go home. you wanted your bed and your pyjamas. you wanted a nice warm shower and to try and forget that today ever fucking happened.

you didn’t want joost to be chasing after you.

you didn’t want to hear your name being yelled from down the street by the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“cmon you always do this! stop running away from everything.”

that was the thing to get you; the one thing that made you stop and turn on the spot.

“oh i’m the one running away? you’re the one that left!”

you met him halfway with steam coming out of your ears, your hands trembling and nose all scrunched up. you were fuming and it seemed as though he was now, too.

“i never went anywhere! you’re making it sound like i disappeared off the face of the earth or something.”

“well that’s what it felt like! what about that don’t you understand?”

you were each taking turns yelling now, oblivious to how loud you were actually being. people were sticking their heads out of their living room windows, morbidly curious about the scene that was unfolding right outside their homes. those that walked by did double-takes and even contemplated getting their phones out to record.

“but i’m here now! and i was ‘here’ back there and you just ran away like you always do!”

“did you really expect me to just stand there and listen to you lie again? all this ‘oh i’ll tell you later’ crap, it’s just bullshit. ever since that night you’ve been different and if what that guy did to me changed how you see me then maybe you’re right, maybe we should stop being whatever the fuck we are.”

joost physically recoiled at your words, his entire demeanour changing to one of hurt.

“what are you..? schatje no, no, it’s nothing like that. fuck, please tell me you don’t really think that.”

how could you not? it was the only thing left for you to think. it wasn’t like you wanted to come to that conclusion or that it was the first one you jumped to, but joost never gave you any other choice. as much as it hurt, it was better than simply not knowing.

something died in him when you nodded — you saw it in his eyes. tears of his own spilled down his cheeks as he rubbed his hands up and down his face, wiping his nose with the inside of his elbow.

“i…i would never; that guy…that wasn’t your fault.”

“then tell me the truth, joost.”

all that adrenaline, all that energy from before was long gone. you weren’t two people arguing in the rain, full of love and anger like something straight out of a romcom anymore. you were just two people standing out in the cold, soaked to the bone, just trying to hold on for a little while longer.

you were still waiting for joost to say something, trying to prepare yourself for the worst. if he was to say that same shit again, that he couldn’t tell you now but would later on, that would be it for you. you’d walk away and not turn back again, not for anything; just like that it would be game over.

but joost wasn’t saying anything, and you couldn’t decide if that was any better or not. he was silent as he took a couple steps towards you, the palms of his hands suddenly cupping either side of your jaw. the pads of his thumbs wiped away all the tears and rain from your eyes and tucked the odd strands of hair behind your ears. not once did he glance away from your gaze, not once did he say something.

it was driving you crazy.

“joost?” you were pleading with him now, desperate for him to say something — do something. the way he was looking at you, it was like you were the only thing he could see. “say something.”

“i love you.”

you blinked, and all of sudden you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands anymore. it wasn’t the first time joost had said that to you because he says it to everyone, every single one of his friends. but he had never said it to you like that before, with a look in his eyes so heavy you feared that they might fall right out of his head.

“what?” your voice cracked as you spoke. “i don’t understand…what?”

“i love you. that’s what changed.”

a headache was coming, you could feel it. right behind your eyes, you felt a twinge, and then a subtle thumping that made your eyebrows twitch. you just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and the more you tried to make sense of it the more your head hurt.

“i swear to god if this is a fucking joke, if you’re just making this up -”

he shut you up with a kiss.

it wasn’t exactly for the first time or even close to being so, but it felt as though it could’ve been; all soft, gentle, careful. the hands that held either side of your face did so as though you could’ve cracked and shattered at any second. he moved slowly, almost hesitantly, until he felt you turn into mush beneath him. only then did he pull away, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

but you couldn’t let him have it though, could you? couldn’t just let him have the upper hand, just like that. you had to chase it, had to pull him down to your height by the collar of his jacket until your lips could meet his. by the time you were finished, both shaking and breathless, there were faint smudges of red all across his mouth.

“that was so hot; do it again.”

you laughed at his words for not the first time tonight, but now it was only out of pure joy instead of anything else. you laughed because of how out of it joost looked now, his eyes glossed over and lips parted ever so slightly as he panted. you laughed because of how much you did want to do it again and how you felt giddy knowing that joost wanted you to do it again too.

so you did. only this time joost was ready and pounced on you hard enough to knock you back a couple of steps, almost making you slip on the wet pavement. his fingers lost themselves in your hair, gently tugging at the roots as yours gripped onto the nylon of his jacket for dear life, too afraid to let go and risk letting him slip away.

you would have stayed like that with him all night if it wasn’t for the wolf whistle you heard from one of the windows above, followed by the rumble of thunder. the rain was starting to fall harder now, the storm only growing and you didn’t like knowing that people were watching you now.

“we shouldn’t be doing this here — people are looking.”

with his forehead resting against yours, joost simply groaned as he struggled to catch his breath. his hands still cradled the back of your head and his eyes were still squeezed shut.

“don’t care. need you.”

he may as well have been one of the puddles at your feet, the way he couldn’t even form proper sentences anymore. the things you were doing to him right now were criminal, almost cruel, and you were loving every minute of it. proud of it, actually. you might have been mush in his hands, but he was like putty in yours.

“well…maybe you should take me home then, yeah? then you can need me as much as you like.”

joost groaned again, muttering something about how you were ‘going to be the death of him’, and leaned back in. from your nose to your cheeks, to your chin, every inch was peppered with very sweet, very wet kisses.

“have i told you much i love you yet?”

he had, at least a handful of times by now, but not nearly enough as you would’ve liked. so you shrugged, a shit-eating grin plastered across your face as you did so, and stepped back, lacing your fingers with his.

“it’s okay, you can tell me one more time.”

apparently that was way too far for you to go, because after one singular step you were tugged back again and kissed as though joost’s very life depended on it. ironic, considering you were certain that you were both about to be struck by lightning at any moment.

“i love you.”

you figured if that were to happen by some chance, it’d be worth it if it meant staying here with him for just a little while longer.

“i love you too.”

[f1cflcfic]

Just Because I Called You (Carlos Sainz) - part ii

pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem!reader

summary: y/n knows there's a reason for his contact details to be saved under 'do not interact', but one call does not mean you miss him.

genre: 2.7k words, written au, angst, mentions of alcohol

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

part i

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It’s been ten days. Ten days since you broke your one month streak. Ten days since you slept with your ex. Ten days of constantly oscillating between anger and sadness, of lying to your friends, and trying desperately not to let Carlos Sainz Jr. occupy your every thought.

At least it’s off-season, so the chances of accidentally coming across his face on social media or on billboards in town are a lot less high.

You’re meant to be over him. You were the one that broke up with him, after all. And yet, you can’t seem to get him out of your head.

“Oh come on,” your colleague nudges your shoulder, leaning in to make sure you can hear him. “I thought we would crush this quiz, but you’re not even paying attention!”

Slammers is loud on any given day, but it’s their monthly quiz night that really makes the whole place feel just a tad overcrowded. Normally, it’s something you look forward to, winding down from long office hours – and finally letting loose with colleagues.

Normally, you’re the first one to shout the right answers down the table to whoever’s in charge of writing them down.

Normally, you don’t mind the no-phone policy that lets you actually focus on spending time together, rather than sending off a final email or text.

This time around, you’re just trying your hardest to not zone out completely, give into the irritating urge to grab your phone and obsessively check it for messages, or – worst case scenario, cave and send a message yourself.

You can justify it, too. There’s the hoodie he’d left in your room, after all.

And your key. He still has your spare key.

It’s not because you miss him.

When your coworker pokes you again, you give him a half-hearted grin. “Sorry, I’m just a little bit distracted,” you apologise, making an effort to look over the answers that have been given so far. There’s quite a few items still left wide open, question marks crowding the margins.

“Well, we can’t have that. We kinda need your brainpower to win, as you can see,” he winks.

Wendy pipes up to defend you. “Don’t bother her Dean, she’s still recovering from a breakup. Takes about one-third of the time you were together, so she's got a couple months left to go.”

She means well, but it’s also an invitation for people to jump on the opportunity to talk to you about Carlos. You can’t help but internally roll your eyes when inevitably, someone indeed pipes up to ask for details. “What would really cheer me up is if we’d win this quiz and receive a,” you lean forward and squint your eyes to read the prizes listed on the screen up front. “A dinner voucher for Amù. Good food nurtures the soul, right?”

It’s a good restaurant. You’d been there twice with Carlos, once with his family in tow. That had been a good night. Until you’d gone and ruined it by freaking out afterwards. Everything had seemed a little too serious, his parents being a little too nice, and his sisters wanting to hang out with you. You hadn’t even said “I love you” to each other, and yet they were treating you as if you were already their daughter in law.

Carlos hadn’t understood your reaction, and had gotten upset over you not liking his family. It’d been one of many moments that had inevitably led to your decision to break things off.

Wendy smirks, then raises her eyebrows at the rest of the group. “You heard the woman – no to more personal questions, yes to more pub quiz questions please!”

You’re four drinks in now, and while the pub food has certainly helped stave off full intoxication, you’re definitely well on your way to being drunk. Add to that a pretty challenging quiz, and the zero-phone policy, and you actually were having a great time – finally feeling unburdened by confusion, guilt and lingering hurt.

Of course, it doesn’t last forever. When the last round of questions is announced, it’s clear that your blissful bubble of ignorance is about to burst. First, it’s the fact that the category is none other than Monaco itself. Immediately, you know that’s code for at least one Formula One reference.

Second, it’s the way in which Dean has apparently taken the news of you being single as a green light to getting very comfortable around you. His arm is draped around your chair, and every time you lean back a little, his fingers ghost across your skin.

You wish it wouldn’t be unwelcome. Dean’s hot, and maybe in another life, under different circumstances, you’d be flattered. As it stands, all it does is remind you of the fact that just ten days ago it was Carlos’ lips trailing down your shoulders and you still don't know how to feel about it.

Sighing, you lean forward again, trying to pay attention to the questions instead. Sure, your skin craves contact, but not at the cost of poor decision-making. You’ve done enough of that lately.

The quiz goes exactly as you’d expected, as your ears perk up at the next question. “What did the podium in Monaco look like for its iconic F1 race in 2024? Bonus points if you can name both the drivers and their constructors."

It’s impossible for everyone in Slammers to know that you’re right there – or to even be aware of the fact that you’d been dating a driver up until recently. Still, the question leaves you wanting to run and hide, and you cling to the numbing taste of alcohol on your tongue as you answer the question for your team. “Charles P1, Piastri P2, Carlos P3. Ferrari, McLaren, Ferrari."

At the time, it’d been so exciting. Two Ferraris on the podium, Carlos shifting up in the Driver’s Championship standings. You shiver at the memory of the epic celebration sex that had followed and – no.

You shouldn’t be thinking about him like that, you chastise yourself.

“Hmm. Shouldn’t be thinking about who, like what?” Dean murmurs in your ear, his hand sliding down your back to settle at your hip.

Embarrassed, you twist to look at him, effectively putting some space between the two of you. “Did I say that out loud?”

He nods, smiling as his gaze flickers down to your lips. “I’d be happy to take your mind off of whoever else you’re thinking of.”

You blink once, then twice, as you process what Dean’s offering. “That’s very kind of you. But I – need the bathroom,” you slide out of your seat and hurry away.

The sight that greets you in the bathroom mirror is not one that you recognise. Your skin’s flushed, and empty eyes stare back at you as you try to make sense of what had just happened.

Did Dean really try to come onto you? You sprinkle some cold water on your face, trying to bring some relief and ground yourself.

Maybe Carlos was right, when he said you were so difficult to read sometimes. You can't even read your own reflection.

How fucking infuriating.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

Alarmed, you immediately shift your expression into something a little less fragile – shutters closing again as you paste a happy smile on your face and turn around.

It makes no sense whatsoever, but you find yourself hugging none other than Carlos’ youngest sister Ana just seconds later. “Que suerte!”

“What are you doing here?” You ask, hoping that it doesn’t come across as accusatory as it sounds in your head. Most importantly, you hope that she knows you’re no longer together with Carlos. That news should not be coming from you, and definitely not delivered in a random bathroom in Monaco’s decidedly not-finest establishment.  

“My boyfriend and I are visiting,” Ana starts, but her smile fades a little as she rolls her eyes. “But my brother’s been in a mood, so we’re out here while he gets to be miserable by himself tonight.”

Something about how at ease she seems, makes you all the more uneasy to hear whatever comes next. “How great that I run into you here! Of course, great minds think alike when it comes to escaping one of Carlos’ sulks.”

She definitely doesn’t know, you conclude, as you try not to think too much about the fact that he’s apparently miserable and alone. “It’s good to see you, I hope you’re well,” Ana continues blithely, and you’re torn between telling her the truth or revelling in the lie for a little longer.

“Yeah, I think so. Just out with colleagues now, we do our monthly pub quiz here,” you say, testing the waters a little bit. Maybe this is fine. Maybe pretending for a little bit won’t hurt at all.

Excitedly, Ana claps in her hands. “What’s your team name? Are you winning?”

“Smartinis. And I think we are – last question was about Formula 1, so,” you note with glee. Weirdly enough, there’s a lick of satisfaction that runs through you as Ana smiles at you widely. It’s a genuine smile. At least she doesn’t hate you. Yet.  

Maybe it’s the fact that she looks so similar to her brother, or it’s the alcohol that’s still coursing through your veins. But all of a sudden you feel a lot closer to crying than three seconds ago. The wave of emotion is only further accelerated by Ana’s smile falling from her face as she watches you get more and more upset.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Can I help?” Ana gasps, “did you and Carlos have a fight?”  

A miserable laugh bubbles up from the back of your throat, and the sheer concern in her brown eyes make it easy to decide between the truth and the alternative. “It’s fine,” you squeak. “My co-worker just came on to me, so I fled here to try and figure out how to navigate that. But I can’t even think straight, because I’m drunk and confused.”

It’s not something you’d ever hoped to discuss with Ana, of all people, and definitely not given your current state. She seems a little thrown at the mention of someone else being interested in you, but recovers quickly. “Tipaza, you didn’t do anything wrong - it is okay, no? He made you uncomfortable, that is not okay. But it’s stupid either way. Everyone knows the rules, you don’t date colleagues or exes. Que idiota.”

Who is the real idiot here, you wonder briefly. Had Dean made you uncomfortable? Sure, a little bit. But had you really not done anything wrong? Guilt pools in your stomach as you glance at her, and think of Carlos.

She doesn’t know.

Why did she not know, when Carlos is so close to his family?

“I guess it’s okay. He hasn’t crossed my boundaries, yet. Just hasn’t caught onto the fact that I’m not interested, I suppose. ‘m not ready,” you mutter the last bit. Ana doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m just tired and overwhelmed,” you tack on for good measure. “As soon as I know I’ve won this thing, I should probably just go home.”

Ana smiles at your renewed resolve, and squeezes your arm briefly. “Ah – of course my cuñis is just as competitive as my brother.” She pauses when her phone buzzes, and she glances down briefly before shooting you an apologetic smile. “We’re headed to the next pub. See you?”

She’s gone before you can properly respond, make up your mind about telling her you probably won’t ever see her again, or ask her what cuñis even means.

It’s probably just another nickname, you figure, then splash some more water on your face before making your way back to the table. The whole group is shouting, debating what the answer is to the last question of the night. “Monaco is French! So it must mean something in French,” one of your colleagues says. “No, it obviously comes from monarchy,” someone else argues. “Actually,” you start, and everyone turns to listen. “it comes from Mon Oikos, it’s Greek – Hercules passed through and a lone temple was built to honour him afterwards, as he’d turned away the old gods. It means single/lone house.”

As someone feverishly writes it down, just in time for the quizmaster to collect the team’s answer sheet, Wendy smiles at you. “Truthfully you’re the only Smartini in this entire team. When we win, you’re so getting that voucher, girl. Now go treat yourself to another drink!”

You laugh, and dutifully walk over to the bar to order another martini for the both of you. Maybe it’ll help drown out the lingering guilt towards Ana, or the rest of the night that still awaits you, you think wryly, as you back a shot.

When you return to your table, you make a quick pitstop to deliver Wendy’s drink to her, before realising there’s nowhere else to sit than your original seat next to Dean.

“Whether or not we get that voucher, I’d love to take you out sometimes,” he says, before you can even get a word in otherwise. Part of you admires him for being so bold, but another part is irritated at the presumptuous nature of his request, and the fact he cannot seem to read the room.

“Actually,” you turn to face him properly, shaking your head in an unspoken apology. “I don’t think it’d be a good idea. You’re one of my favorite coworkers, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’m not – I’m not really into dating right now.”

He seems a little taken aback by your answer, and frowns. “I thought you and that driver were done?”

You shrug. “Doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump into the next best thing.”

Dean’s smile returns at that. “I’m not really looking for that either. But I wouldn’t mind spending some more time with you. Alone. Casually. As your next best thing.”

It’s hard not to cringe, and you desperately want to look anywhere else. However, the liquid courage from earlier makes you stare straight at him as you shake your head once more. “I’m going to have to say no to that offer as well.”

He tries to smooth over the dejected look on his face when he realises you’re serious. “Alright, fine. Guess I misread things. You seemed chill this evening.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, but he shrugs as his arm pulls away from your chair. “I mean, we were getting cosy. We’re both attractive, and for the first time in weeks you’re not distracted by this goddamn phone of yours.”

Where you’d previously been pretty hopeful that Dean would handle the rejection well, that changes in an instant. “What do you - why do you have my phone?” You ask sharply as soon as he slides it across the table towards you.

He shrugs. “It went off while you were in the bathroom, and I was closest to the basket. Had to make sure we wouldn’t be disqualified.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then look down at your screen. There’s two missed calls, and your stomach sinks when you see who they’re from.

“It seemed like you didn’t want to talk to the person who called you anyways,” he adds, as if it’s no big deal at all and he’s actually done you a favour.

Sure, you might have saved Carlos’ contact under “x do not interact x”, but it’s not up to anyone else to decline his calls. And most of all, that warning had been put in place mostly to keep you from reaching out. Not the other way around.  

“That still gives you no right to pick up my phone.”

Immediately, Dean backpedals, “I didn’t answer – just told him you were busy.”  

It only makes things worse.

“Fuck,” you swear under your breath.

As much as you want Carlos to know you do not miss him, this isn't the way. Feeling queasy all of a sudden, dread settles into your gut as you read the text thread again and again.

She's busy.

Who is this?

Dean.

Why do you have Y/Ns phone?

Hello?

I’m coming to pick you up.

And then, on your third read through, a new text bubble appears. "Outside." “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

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Let me know what you think <3 Likes, comments, reblogs, asks are all appreciated. part iii will hopefully be posted in the next five days again.

Update: part iii is available here now.

[burn-before-reading]

blue is the colour of your eyes

joost klein x artist! reader

The overwhelming need to paint him. just fluff and rambling and being a nervous mess.

now has a prequel! read here

word count: 2.3k

a/n: supposed to be short blurb but it got away from me soooo anyway i haven’t tried to write anything in a hot second but Joost is inspiringggg so enjoy. Definitely wanna come back to this idea later possibly who knows. i don’t proofread anything btw so good luck

warnings: none except awkwardness, google translate Dutch, and a titanic reference.

RPF BELOW. PLEASE SKIP IF UNCOMFORTABLE. DONT REPOST TO OTHER SOCIAL MEDIAS OKAY PLS AND THANK YOU

You can’t seem to stop staring at him today. Two hours of putting pencil to paper trying to come up with literally ANY other idea and now your left with a pages full of Joost doodles.

He, of course, has no clue. drawing on his ipad on the other side of the couch. a movie playing in the background as the two of your got engrossed in your own work. who knows what he was doodling.

You were supposed to be brainstorming ideas for a painting for a group show coming up. The theme was vague and open ended. Love, in every sense of the word. Platonic, romantic, the secret third kind you didn’t even wanna think about right now.

You shouldn’t be thinking about Love and staring at Joost. You two were friends. He just sees you as a friend. Purely platonic.

Turning the next page over you give yourself a fresh start and start working on a couple thumbnails for possible paintings. You start scribbling a figure in the center. moving quickly to the background you add scribbles of flowers and leaves. making a short list to the side of plants to study later: Daisies, Sage, tulips.

Satisfied enough with the first thumbnail you scribble a few more in different poses. hands folded in their lap, resting on a table, holding a cigarette….wait.

you go back to the last sketch and notice you added a bit more details than intended. chunky glasses and a sharp haircut. you look back up at your accidental muse. He is still engrossed in his own art, but you manage to catch his eye after a minute when he looks up from his work.

his eyes pierced into your soul in that moment and the painting flew together in your head. Splashes of yellow and orange contrasting with the green of the plants. And his eyes. bright blue.

Why are his eyes so blue…

“you good?” he asks.

you dont know how long you were staring at him before you submitted to your own subconscious desires. Pencil tapping repeatedly on your sketchbook you muster up the courage to ask,

“can I paint you?”

his mouth gaped open slightly as that wasn’t exactly what he was expecting. He straightens his posture and shifts slightly in his seat.

“like… now?”

“No not now.. I just keep getting stuck on this idea and,, can i?” you gesture to the space next to him and he shimmies over slightly to give you permission to move closer. Now sitting next to him, you lean your book over for him to see.

“I just keep thinking about this idea of someone in a boquet of flowers, or just surrounded by flowers, and I want it to feel warm. I would be looking off to the side, or maybe smoking, i don’t know yet, but around you I imagined some Tulips and maybe sage to contrast your hair and..” you stopped as you felt yourself rambling and you look up. Bright blue staring back at you, full attention, hanging on your every word.

Comforting, yet still intimidating. You feel yourself want to shrink back into your half of the couch. explaining your ideas and baring your soul to this creature next to you that stole your attention and won’t give it back. This Fae that you gave your name to and now your theirs. At his beck and call at 9am when he texts you to hang out all of a sudden, so you cancel your own plans. Fae with bright blue eyes. stupid blue eyes.

what shade of blue are they?

his face looked interested, but still confused and hesitant, so you start to backtrack.

“You don’t have to agree, it was just an idea I had..” your pencil nervously taps the edge of your paper again and you look down and away from his face.

tap tap tap tap tap tap

Joost grabs your hand to stop your nervous tick and you glance back at him.

“No i want to, but… do i have to be naked?” his question breaks the tension and you burst out laughing.

“No. what? No! why would you think that?” you ask. he laughs as well.

“Ive seen your other studies of people, I didn’t know if this was gonna be like that one scene in titanic or,”

“Titanic? no no, I just want it to be you. We can agree on an outfit later if you are down for it but I just want you to feel like yourself.” he smiled and from this close you could see and the beautiful little details of his face. crows feet, dimples, each individual eyelash. His perfect blue eyes.

———

the next week you met up again, but this time you had arranged your studio up so you could sketch and photograph your model as needed. You had gathered your other needed models, a bouquet or two of flowers you had spent the last few days over analysing and studying. pages and pages of flower studies to make sure you had all the right angles needed when it came to the final painting. This next step you were slightly dreading.

It much easier to draw something when its not starting straight back at you.

Joost showed up later that day wearing a white button up short sleeve shirt, a black tie, and his usual chunky frames. his hair not as neat as it usually was but styled to suit the overgrown mullet look he had been sporting lately. Yellow roots growing in. He had badgered you all week about what he needed to wear and even though you said you trusted his fashion choices to pick a suitable outfit he insisted on a guideline. So you gave him one.

“Well people usually get flowers on a date, right? so i dunno, what would you wear on a date?”

“ Have you gotten flowers on a date before?”

“well… no, but typically thats a thing sometimes. it seems nice.”

“… Is this a date?”

“…its a collaboration.”

You guided him over to the corner you had set up as the make shift backdrop for him to model in. An old love chair you thrifted years ago sitting on rolled out black paper for the backdrop. some flowers in a pile of the floor for you to mess with later.

He sits down on the chair as you gather your needed materials to sketch. larger pieces of paper, charcoal and an assortment of graphite, watercolour paints, and your camera for when he can’t sit still any longer.

“okay i think im all set. lemme know whenever you’re comfortable and we can start okay?”

“okay.. do I just stare at you or..” he fidgets with a ring on his finger.

“find something to focus on right behind me. and just try to sit naturally. I just want you to pose in a way that feels naturally.” you state and pick up a piece of charcoal and bring it up to the easel.

Posing came a little naturally to Joost. He had done plenty of photoshoots before but he felt 100% more nervous about this one. It was more personal, more intimate. He had never really watched you work before, fully in your element, and it was so fascinating to him. yet… boring. He wondered how rich people in the past could stand for so long to get their portrait done, it had been two minutes and he was dying of boredom. His only entertainment was stealing glances at you and the faint music in the background.

“Can I talk?” he asked, careful not to move he head as he glanced at you. he saw you nod in his peripheral vision.

“Yea that should be okay, Ill let you know if i need you to stop for a second.”

“So… do you have people model for you usually?”

“No not really. most times I paint from life outside or just have to look for references online. Ive drawn friends before, but never for a bug painting. This one needed to be more personal tho.”

“more personal? How-“

“Wait can you turn back?” He had moved his head towards you fully with that last question. throwing off the perfect angle you had for his hair. “Sorry I’ll answer in a second just tilt your head a little..” you gesture with your hands and he tries to go back into position, but its not the same. He is still looking at you, that perfect shade of blue haunting you, staring you down. you look at the first sketch you had and now it just feels boring. “Maybe lets try a different pose.” the pencil tapping starts again as you think.

“Sorry, did I mess it up?” he looks away from you and runs in hand through his hair, giving it a new look. It urks you how much can change in a person with just one moment. With one turn it feels like an entirely new image.

“You’re fine, I just want something more interesting. Maybe if your hands were… can I?” He nods and you walk over to analyse his pose at a closer distance. Wiping your hands on your pants to eliminate any charcoal and sweat, you carefully pose his arms to rest on the armrests. You step back, to view your work.

“You were saying, what is this for again?” he asks. You are too engrossed in your project at this point to feel embarrassed talking about it.

“A group show between me and some old college friends. Ive been struggling on something to pick for the theme and it finally came to me the other day.” You fidgit with his left arm, deciding if it should be resting under his chin or falling from the armrest into his lap. “I just want this to be perfect..”

“Whats the theme?” You look at his and feel your face grow a little hot with what the answer is.

“uhh,, flowers! thats what we’re missing!” you avoid the question by running to grab one the fresh boquetes you bought this morning.

“I think maybe if you just hold these then you can-“ you foots catches on a pencil that had fallen, sending you crashing down and into Joosts lap in the chair, where he catches your arms to help you regain balance.

“are you okay?” You are growing more frustrated by the second and you don’t want to look up at him.

“yea, fine. Just gimmie a second.” Your eyes stay down at his lap where the bouquet now laid in a shaken mess of petals and leaves. still usuable, but not your perfect vision like you wanted.

“Maybe you should take a break for a second?” he insists and stands up the switch places so now you sit in the chair, and he is hovering above you. “You are getting really worked up over this, are you okay?”

“yea yea, im fine.” you take a deep breath to try and regain yourself. Looking up, the blue is now inches from your face as he stares are you with worry. For some reason, in this moment, you just feel like bursting. “Its your eyes. I can’t focus with em.”

“what?”

“You’re always so distracting, you know that?”

“If im so distracting then why ask me to model?”

“Its just for the theme. Like i said it came to me the other day and i can’t let it go now.”

“ what can’t you let go?”

“I think I might be falling in love-“ you stop yourself as the words fall out, but the confession is already spoken. Your eyes fall to your lap as you can’t bare to look at him in the moment.

“Lieverd…” he bring a hand up to delicately grab your cheek and tilt your head up so you look at him again. With the two of you staring again you glance between his eyes and his mouth, and he seems to understand. “can I?” he asks and you rise out of the seat to meet him halfway.

Lips meeting and moving together as you bring one hand to his hair and the other grabbing at his shirt collar to bring him closer. His free hand pulls your waist in as your lips move in sync, each of you waiting for the other to break the moment.

You pull away first and are immediately met with your foe, blue staring you down but now feel softer. You pull your hands away slightly and wince at the damage you had done.

“Shit! Your shirt!” His looks to see smudges of charcoal staining the collar from where you grabbed it. He laughs and just shrugs.

“I kinda like it.” he replies and leans back in to kiss you again. You kiss back and lean into it before breaking again.

“As fun as this is, ai do really want to finish the sketch.” Joost laughs and nods, giving you space to get up and he sits down once again.

“Can I take you on a date after this?” he asks.

“mmm maybe,” you tease,” Ive never dated one of my models before.” you pick up the charcoal one more time and put a new piece of paper on your easel.

“Im more than just a model, right? Im your muse.” he smirks and gets into a dramatic pose that he is surely going to complain about holding for more than a minute. “Now, Lieverd, Teken mij als een van jouw Franse meisjes.”

You two did not get much more work done that day.

[storiesforallfandoms]

all the mistakes ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2866

request?: yes!

“I just started reading your stuff and I'm in love with the Colson stories!

I was wondering if you could do Colson x reader. Reader finds out she's pregnant by Colson and he doesn't think he's ready to be a dad again and abandons reader but then realizes a couple months later that he's truly in love with her and does everything he can to win her back?

If not, it's okay.. thank you ❤️”

description: in which he comes to apologize for all the mistakes he’s made leading up to the birth of their child

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, child birth (not in detail obviously), lil angsty and sad but it ends happy, rpf (if you don’t like it don’t read)

masterlist (one, two, three)

Colson always said he wanted another kid. Especially once Casie started to go through her pre-teen years and he found himself wishing she was still a baby again. He and (Y/N) had talked about it so many times, and they had both agreed that they wanted to have a baby together.

So why did he run away when she actually got pregnant?

Colson could still remember it all so vividly: the look of happiness on (Y/N)’s face when she showed him the positive pregnancy test, the heavy feeling in his stomach that turned to panic that rose into his throat, the sound of (Y/N)’s voice as he grabbed some of his things and left without another word. He could remember the sound of his phone constantly chiming as (Y/N) tried to text and call him, until finally he had to put her contact on mute. It didn’t take her long to give up trying to contact him, though.

He didn’t know why he did it. He had been asked by so many people - his boys, his mom, Ash, even Casie herself - but he had no answer. When (Y/N) first told him she wanted to have kids with him, he had been so excited. So where did his sudden panic come from when it actually happened? Why was he suddenly so doubtful over his ability to be a father again?

He couldn’t bring himself to go back. He was embarrassed for the way he reacted, and he thought (Y/N) wouldn’t take him back anyways. Not that he blamed her. How could she take back the man who got her pregnant and then ran out on her? Because of his reluctance and fear of rejection, Colson didn’t see (Y/N) for months. And he would’ve kept it that way if it wasn’t for Casie throwing his car keys at him and forcing him out of the house.

“You have to go see her,” Casie said as she slammed the door in her father’s face and locked it.

“You gave me my keys, Cas, I can get back in,” he pointed out.

She held up the house key that usually hung on Colson’s keyring. “I took it off. You’re not getting back in until you go see (Y/N) and apologize for being stupid.”

“She’s not gonna wanna see me.”

“You don’t know that! She’s carrying your child, and I’d doubt she seriously wants that kid to grow up without a dad.”

Colson didn’t want to admit that he thought (Y/N) probably got rid of the baby the second he walked out on her. “Cas, come on, just let me back in.”

But Casie just crossed her arms and glared at him. After a few minutes, Colson sighed and rolled his eyes. There was no use in trying to get back in unless he did exactly what Casie wanted, so he went to his car and drove the familiar route to get to (Y/N)’s place.

At least I can get the rejection over with quickly and get back into my own house, he thought to himself.

Pulling up to her house, Colson started picturing the night he left again. He wanted nothing more than to turn his car around and go back home, but he knew Casie could tell if he was lying to her. His hands were shaking as he shut his car off and put the keys into his pocket. He was almost hoping that (Y/N) wasn’t home. Maybe if she wasn’t, Casie would drop it and let him back into the house without having to actually deal with the situation.

But her car was in the driveway, so she had to be home.

Colson made his way up to the front door and raised his hand to knock. He hesitated, unable to make his hand move. His brain was still screaming at him to turn around and go home, but he had come this far. He couldn’t just back out now. At the very least, maybe he could give (Y/N) some closure so they could both move on from this, since he knew there was no way that she was going to take him back.

He finally moved his hand to knock. It didn’t take long for him to hear the sound of footsteps coming towards the door, and when the door opened it felt like the floodgates within him had opened.

(Y/N) was stood there, her belly big enough to tell him that she was still carrying his child. She had never looked so beautiful to him before.

Her eyes were wide, almost like a deer caught in headlights. He was the last person she expected to see on her doorstep, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slam the door in his face or throw herself into his arms and beg for him to never let her go again.

“Hey,” Colson finally said. “Uh...I’m sorry to surprise you like this. I probably should’ve called first or something.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten through. I blocked your number,” she told him.

Ouch, he thought. I deserve that, though.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “If it’s to finally get the last of your stuff that you left here, I have it in boxes in the spare room. I can bring it all down and send you on your way within five minutes.”

There was a lot he wanted to say in response to that, but instead he found himself saying, “You probably shouldn’t be lifting too much or going up and down the stairs a lot in your condition.”

Her face darkened as she glared at him. “Don’t pretend you give a shit now.”

Colson sighed and shook his head. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Can I come in? I just wanted to talk, to apologize.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “You leave me when I tell you I’m pregnant - with a baby that you wanted, might I add - and you leave for months, with no calls or texts or anything. And now you think you can come back and just...apologize for all of that?”

“I know, I fucked up - ”

“No, you don’t know,” she cut him off. “You really fucked up. You beyond fucked up, actually. You don’t understand how much it hurt me when you just walked out. You didn’t answer any of my calls or texts. I thought you were going to be happy when I told you I was pregnant. We talked about starting our own family for so long, and I thought you’d be overjoyed for this. But you just walked out and didn’t come back. You do not understand how hard that was for me to deal with, how hard it still is to deal with, while also trying to deal with this pregnancy all on my own!”

She was starting to cry. She mentally cursed her pregnancy hormones for making her so much more susceptible to tears lately. She didn’t want him to see her cry, especially not over him.

When he extended his arms to her, though, she gladly took the comforting hug. She sobbed into his chest, trying to take in his familiar smell and warmth without letting him back in too much. He couldn’t just come in and demand a second chance like this, but she also couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t relieved to see him on her doorstep.

Colson guided her into the house, closing the door behind them and bringing (Y/N) to her living room. They both sat down on her couch and (Y/N) wiped the tears from her eyes. She reached for a tissue from a box on one of her side tables and blew her nose as well.

“I had to start leaving tissue boxes in every room,” she sighed. “Stupid fucking hormones. I cry at everything now.”

“At least you’ve managed to prepare yourself for it,” Colson said.

She sighed and wiped at her face again. She felt so puffy and gross, and not just from the crying. The pregnancy had made her feel so many negative emotions. Even now, when she was supposed to be mad at Colson, she found herself self conscious about her round belly and how it made her look to him.

“Why did you leave?” she asked him. “I thought you wanted another baby.”

“I do,” he responded. “I should’ve been so goddamn excited when you told me you were pregnant. I think I would’ve felt that way if I wasn’t such an idiot instead and started feeling doubt about being a father again.”

(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...I panicked when you told me. I found myself thinking about if I was cut out to be a dad again. Like, what if I ended up missing so much of the baby’s life the same way I did with Casie? I wasn’t ready to be a dad when Emma was pregnant with Casie because I was so young, and I found myself back in that mindset when you told me you were pregnant. Just this sudden panic and self doubt.”

“But we talked about this. You said you wanted another baby.”

“I know. I don’t understand it either. It’s just my fucked up brain ruining everything again.”

(Y/N) placed her hand on Colson’s in a comforting gesture. “You’re not fucked up, and you are an amazing dad to Casie. I have no doubts that you’ll be even better with this baby, especially now since you’re older and have experience.”

Colson shook his head and let out a humorless laugh. “I can’t believe I was so stupid to let myself get worked up like that, though. I should’ve been so excited. We should’ve had a big ass fucking party to celebrate, and then you should’ve been moving into my house so we could start this family together. I shouldn’t have run out the door and left you like that.”

“Why didn’t you ever call or text me before now?”

“I felt embarrassed and stupid for my reaction. For the longest time, I just felt like I couldn’t face what I did, or face you. And then the more that time went on, the more I felt like coming back was a mistake. I figured you would kick me to the curb and tell me to never speak to you again. I thought...I thought that...if you even still had our baby, that you’d never let me see them anyways.”

(Y/N) found herself running her fingers along the back of his hand. What he was saying all made sense, and she felt like she believed him. She didn’t think he was malicious in leaving her. He didn’t do it because he was an asshole, he did it because he panicked suddenly and made a bonehead move, then his embarrassment got the better of him and made him overthink the situation even further. It didn’t completely heal the wound that his leaving had left inside of her, but it was enough to make her think she could possibly forgive him.

“If you had shown interest, I would’ve let you see her,” she said. “I would never keep you from your daughter if you wanted to be in her life.”

Tears were forming in Colson’s eyes as he looked up at (Y/N). “It’s a girl? You know that for sure?”

(Y/N) could feel herself welling up again, too. She nodded and got up to get the ultrasound she kept on the fridge. She passed it to Colson and sat down next to him.

“That’s her,” she said. “She was once the size of a peanut when I got my first sonogram, and now she’s a fully formed baby.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have another daughter,” Colson breathed.

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“Definitely a good way. I would’ve loved to have a son, but if there’s anything that being Casie’s dad has taught me, it’s that I love being a girl dad.” He placed the ultrasound on the coffee table and turned to face (Y/N). “I love you, too. More than anything, (Y/N). I was such a fucking idiot to ruin us the way I did, but I never stopped loving you in that time we had apart. I wanted nothing more than to call you or to show up on your doorstep like I did today, but I was terrified of what your reaction would be if I did.”

“I love you, too,” (Y/N) replied. It was the truth. She hadn’t stopped loving Colson, no matter how angry or upset he had made her. She loved him so much, and she felt like carrying his child had made her love him even more. “But you hurt me a lot. I meant what I said, you can’t just come in and say you’re sorry and suddenly everything goes back to normal.”

“I know, and I’ll do anything to win back your trust. Whatever you want, (Y/N), I’ll do it.”

“Right now, I want you to be here for the rest of my pregnancy, and I want you to be there when your daughter is born. We can take things from there.”

Colson nodded. “Will you come stay with me and Casie at least? I intended on asking you to move in with me anyways, and I know that’s a big ask right now, but I want you to be there and to start making it your home, because eventually it will be. Your home, and hers.” He put his hand on her bump, thinking about how his baby girl was growing in there.

(Y/N)’s eyes lit up as she nodded. “Give me a few minutes to pack a few things, and then we can head over. I want to see Casie anyways. I’ve missed her so much.”

~~~~~~

A few months later, Colson and (Y/N) were on the way to the hospital in the middle of the night. (Y/N) had woken up to pee and ended up having her water break. She woke Colson with her surprised shriek and he got everything together for the two of them to go to the hospital. Casie was at Emma’s, so Colson texted Emma to let her know that the baby was coming and to let Casie know that she would be a big sister by the time she woke up.

The labor pains weren’t as bad as (Y/N) expected, but they were still certainly the worst pain she had ever felt. Colson stayed by her side through the entire process, just like he promised. He let (Y/N) use his hand as a stress ball, crushing it with every contraction pain she felt. He stayed in the room after the doctor’s announced it was time to push and, even though he did feel a little lightheaded during the birthing process, he stayed to hear his baby girl cry for the first time.

The doctors let him cut the umbilical cord before they washed the baby girl and wrapped her in a soft, pastel pink blanket. The doctor passed Colson the baby and Colson sat next to (Y/N) so she could see her, too.

“She’s so beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed. “Besides the fact that she looks like a little prune.”

Colson chuckled. “Yeah, she definitely needs a day or two to look less wrinkly, but she’s gorgeous. You really did it, baby.”

(Y/N) mustered enough strength to reach out and lightly graze the baby’s cheek with her finger. “She was definitely worth all that pain and the exhaustion. Although, to be honest, I don’t think I can fight the sleep much longer.”

Colson leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Get some rest. When you’re feeling up to it, we’ll get Casie to come see her baby sister.”

(Y/N)’s eyes started to close, but Colson could see that she was trying to fight her fatigue. “We haven’t named her yet.”

“We can do that when you wake up. We have so much time to get everything figured out. You already did all of the hard stuff, let me help out with this side of things.”

She smiled, sheepishly, and forced her eyes open for another moment to look at Colson. “I love you.”

He smiled back at her. “I love you, too. More than you could ever know. Now, get some rest. We’ll both be here when you wake up.”

(Y/N) nodded and finally closed her eyes. It didn’t take her long to drift off to sleep. Colson stood so he could put the baby in the bed that the nurses had brought in to put next to (Y/N)’s bed. She had already stopped crying and had also been lulled to sleep in Colson’s arms. When he had her laid down, he stepped back to look at his two girls. He smiled and couldn’t help the tears that started to well up in his eyes. He couldn’t be any happier than he was in that moment.

[crimsonicarus]

GR RPF FIC REC MASTERLIST!!

Long post!

Big shoutout to @arsenalgbt for suggesting i made a list, here are my fave GR fics, im a multishipper so it will be a couple or ships here, anyway, enjoy!

I wanted to also thank all the authors here listed for their awesome contributions to this lovely fandom, im really grateful for all your work <3333333

If any of the authors here listed would rather have their work taken down from this list please let me know .

new year's resolution by @wormeo-and-juliette

Pairing: OT3 Fernando Alonso/George Russell/Lance Stroll

Lance gets the text from Fernando well into the afternoon on the first day of the year: I slept with George.

Um. What?

eagle eyed by @prettydangrotten

Pairing: OT3 Alex Albon/George Russell/Logan Sargeant

“He’s watching, you know,” Alex says, voice level and conversational, like Logan being in the room is a normal part of this experience, “he’s hard.”

i’m your number one (it’s so obvious) by @63historian

Pairing: OT3 Lewis Hamilton/George Russell/Max Verstappen

“Tell him what you want, Georgie.”

He clenches his hole just as he starts begging, “I need you to come inside me, please, Max, please, I want it so bad.”

And who is Max not to obey such beautiful cries?

positive negatives by @ctimenefic

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

George doesn’t regret that shoot, exactly.

He had for a long time. After the first high of seeing the rushes wore off; after overhearing a murmured warning in general casting, days too late; after he woke up at three am to reread the release he’d blithely signed without thinking, and spent the next four hours staring at the ceiling hoping to wake up. He’d regretted it then.

For years after, the memory of it could hit like an ice cube sliding down his spine. Always, of course, at the most inconvenient moments. When he was working, or networking, when he needed his wits about him, couldn’t afford to stutter over his words. They’d put him in white silk, or offer him wine, or he’d walk into a room with slow, warm jazz playing, and the whole excruciating mess of it all would come back. He’d learnt how to smile through it, then how not to blink at all.

June is the coldest month of the year by @beabnormal24

Pairing: Max Verstappen/ George Russell

“Just don’t be a stranger, yeah?” It doesn’t sound as empty as George would’ve expected.

Max disappears in Monaco’s breeze with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket and his head turned to the side to look at the coast following him, or it’s him who follows the coast. It’s not that simple to guess when George feels the way he does about him.

He stares at the broad expanse of his back until he’s nothing more than a distant figure just like any other person around and he can pretend that he’s no one in the middle of the world.

The blessing of anonymity, he muses, gripping at the hems of his sleeves.

All of a sudden, his chest feels quiet.

nobody else by ginnydear

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

The Mercedes garage is almost overwhelmingly busy when Alex walks through the crowds of officials there.

or... what if the world was suddenly plunged into omegaverse and everyone started presenting at once... pt two.

 table in the back by @janinaduszejko

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

“Okay, here’s the offer." Alex says. "I’m going to make you something and if you don’t like it, you don’t pay. How does that sound?”

“So I get a good meal or a free meal?” George asks. “Sounds like a no-lose scenario.”

“Keen eye, George,” Alex grins. “Figured out my terrible business sense on the first try. Alright, take it or leave it.”

 all green lights

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

Sorry mate I think you've got the wrong number

chrome wheeled, fuel injected, and steppin' out over the line

Pairing: OT3 George Russell/Lance Stroll/Fernando Alonso

Lance and Fernando have been together for over two years and it is great. It is great apart from one minor detail. They are both dominant tops and the irritation is starting to grind them down. Enter Lance's ex-whatever, George Russell.

But George is not going to be as easy to get on board as Lance and Fernando think. He will give his whole heart but you have to open it up first.

DISCLAIMER: THE FIC IS NOW ON PERMANENT HIATUS

Very common crisis (series) by crimandclove

Pairing: George Russell/ Lance Stroll

January 2024 - George finds himself single, stressed, with a set of tits & one Lance Stroll in his home.

Calls and Cats by @raewritesf1

Pairing: George Russell/Max Verstappen

Things go awry when George’s video call with the quartet is interrupted by the form of a familiar half-naked Dutch driver wielding a Bengal cat in the background.

spread before you like a picnic by @janinaduszejko

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

Now, weeks later, he thinks that was probably the reason he’d said it, why when he came back to himself and noticed that Alex had manhandled him on his stomach and was in the process of peeling George’s jeans down, his first instinct was to say, panicky: “You can’t fuck me.”

it's not about having someone to love me anymore by linearity

Pairings: Alexander Albon/George Russell, George Russell/Toto wolff

George is an omega. He kind of hates himself for it.

Brake Balance by @russilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

"Why don’t you come dance?” With me goes unspoken, and George is eyeing him with a familiar look, like he’s sure Lewis will brush him off again, but he still wants to try.

Maybe it’s the buzz of alcohol. Maybe it’s the shiny skin of a tanned collarbone showing through George’s three open shirt buttons. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline of the whole day in general, but for once, Lewis thinks that sounds like a pretty good idea.

Stop overthinking, just go with it.

Bono’s words echo pointedly around his mind. Fuck it

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by @prettydangrotten

Pairing: Alex Albon/George Russell

They’d agreed on friends when Alex had come to collect the last of his things from George’s flat. George had been adamant about it, all uncomplicated smiles, like they hadn’t just spent six months living in each other’s pockets and having some of the most bizarrely intimate sex of Alex’s life.

And friends is a noble intention, but. Alex still only has one friend who’s sucked him off in their driver’s room.

Allow yourself this happiness by Sonnenscheintraum

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

i can barely breathe (when you're here loving me)

When Lewis wakes up he knows he's going into rut. He will be able to get through the rainy and cold race in Spa if he takes enough suppressants.

But what if George by his side is actually making it worse for him to keep the rut in check?

How is he supposed to keep himself under control when George looks and smells like the most delicious way and makes him want to claim him?

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

Lewis Hamilton may be the sweetest person who ever stepped on earth and choose not to see the truth, but he deserves so much more than a broken, thirteen years younger college student.

So George does what is best for him.

 See my Vision (tell ‘em) by @russilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

“Feeling a little desperate, sweetheart?” It’s clearly rhetorical, but George nods anyway, and bites his lip at the conflicted emotions he sees cross Lewis’ face.

He knows it’s late, closer to Monday morning than Sunday night, but it’s been so long since they’ve had freedom to do whatever they want. He loves racing with his entirety, he even loves the intensive training and strict schedules, but he doesn’t love how the need to keep his body in perfect function for a race keeps him from Lewis.

George and Lewis have three weeks break between Monza and Singapore, and they just can’t wait anymore.

[ingydar-phan]

My question is why is everyone just chomping at the bit for a "hard launch"? These are human beings I just want them to be happy whatever that means to them, we shouldn't be theorizing about whether or not they are gonna announce their relationship whatever it is

Genuinely confused at what this is asking or trying to get at but I’ll try.

Why? Because, as I wrote about in my big text post, everything is intentional. No matter how good of actors they are, when in front of a camera, (only 1% of their actual life), they are making content. They are curating their actions. When in front of a camera they are content creators.

Recognizing that being in content only makes up 1% of their life is the boundary that creates this comfortability. You’re so right, they are human beings. Human beings with 15 years of experience in public relations. Whether you like it or not, realize it or not, their content is based around them. If we only saw their gameplay screen recorded, their content wouldn’t be their content. They are where they are because of how they interact. Because of who they are as people.

I also want to point out that the hard launch thing didn’t come out of nowhere, as of right now, it’s come from pattern recognition of them leading up to something coming. Us watching them isn’t having a hidden camera in their house, it’s them intentionally choosing to put out what they want to put out.

We all want them to be happy. I want them to be happy. What is this weird, coping mechanism defense tactic style, of idea that hard launching (whatever that means) is at all a bad thing? Where do people get the idea that it would suddenly make their life hell, or that we or they would somehow be “losing” in some made up battle?

“We shouldn’t be theorizing” yes we should. I’m taking this lightly as I suppose this is a subjective opinion, but Dan and Phil are RPF enjoyers to their core. Dan got with Phil by obsessing over him online. Like I said, the internet is only 1% of their life. What seems majorly catastrophic to you or us is minuscule to them.

“Their relationship, whatever it is”. Sorry? I genuinely don’t want to be mean, so I’m going to laugh. What a silly little jokester you are. But no, I cannot comprehend people who are intentionally or unintentionally obtuse to the point of boggling when having to think of what DNPs relationship is. To take some sentiments from @dysthoepiadaily, what more can they possibly do? Are people really this dense? They’re husbands, soulmates, more than just romantic, more than friends, 4000 year old tortoises, companions through life, a ranch metaphor, gay uncles, whatever. Sorry it’s not handed to you on a silver platter because you’re terrified of using critical thinking skills out of fear of….judgement? Insult? I don’t even know.

As far as it goes with Dan and Phil as “human beings”, they have done all they can to show us, like any other couple on earth, what they are to each other.

As far as it goes with Dan and Phil as a commercial brand of media, it’s not all about that. The buildup, the complexity, is what makes them interesting. No matter how talented and interesting they are, they undeniably profit off of their romance and relationship to one another, no matter the topic of content. That’s obvious, and it’s a positive aspect, not a negative. Taking that final step of hand feeding or “hard launch” would definitely change the way they’re viewed, but it wouldn’t change who they are. You’ve had the illness even before it got diagnosed, to use a metaphor. We’d just be proud. We wouldn’t change, we’d just be proud of them.

[singsweetmelodies]

a little while ago, i got this ask asking me if i could make some sort of introduction to the pierre/charles ship and all its lore. and since they are, without question, my f1 rpf OTP, my answer was oh my god yes of course. it's taken me a little while to compile all that lore - because boy, is there a lot - but it's been one of the happiest research projects of my life, without question. and i think it's finally ready to go!! so, with no further ado...

ABOUT PIARLES: a (not-so-brief) introduction to f1 rpf's french friends to lovers ship

so the first thing you need to know about piarles is that they're childhood best friends. not that uncommon in a sport like f1, to be fair - most of the drivers grew up together, racing against each other in karting. but pierre and charles are a little different in that they aren't just karting acquaintances: the two of them (and their entire families) are genuinely good friends.

in fact, if you ask either pierre or charles about the other (and interviewers often do) one of the first things they'll probably say is "we've known each other for a long time," quickly followed by "we used to go on holiday together when we were kids." and they ALWAYS say this with the fondest expressions 🥰 even if you take shipping completely out of the equation, it's clear that these two have a very long-standing and very close friendship, with many fond memories which both of them seem to treasure very much.

in charles' own words:

"Pierre! We know each other since... a long, long time. We used to go on holidays together when we were children with our parents, and uh... we did quite a bit of mess together when we were children, but (laughs) very good memories. And the relationship never really changed throughout the years, even though we have taken different paths, because he was a bit older, so we weren't always in the same categories. But we would always call each other, text each other, go on holidays together... and yeah, I just have so many memories." (source - watch from timestamp 2:06)

pierre tells a very similar story:

"He's definitely one of my best friends. Charles is a very nice person and an incredible driver. We met when we were 9 years old and created a very strong bond. Our parents are very close, and we went on vacations from when we were 10, so we created lots of memories. We were teammates in karting when we were 12, and today we find ourselves in Formula 1. It's a pretty incredible story. But for me the most important part is to see the person he's become, and he hasn't changed since he was young." (source)

i think it's important to note that these aren't the only times pierre and charles have spoken about each other in glowing terms like this - no, it happens quite frequently. pretty much every time they're asked about each other, tbh. (i'm not going to add quotes from every single time here, though, because we would be here for the rest of the month if i tried. 😅) the point is, piarles are pretty damn close, and think very highly of each other.

but it's not just them that are close: like i mentioned in the first paragraphs of this post, their families are close, too. they really are childhood friends in that "your family is practically my second family" sense, which i think is something really special.

here, for example, is pierre's father jean-jacques talking about charles:

Charles is part of the family. We've known him since he was nine and when he started in karting with Pierre. (...) When the races were in England Charles was sleeping at our place, and when the races were in Italy, Pierre was sleeping at Charles's place. Then Pierre moved to F4. I don't think there have ever been a big rivalry between them even though their careers were similar. Charles is part of the family probably even more since Hervé passed away. Our door will always be open for him and he knows.” (source)

🥹

what's more, charles has also said numerous times that it's hard to maintain true friendships in f1 - but his bond with pierre is one of those rare exceptions:

It’s rare I think, it’s very rare to have a sincere friendship in F1, because there’s a lot of competition. So yes there’s friendship, but it’s not always entirely sincere - but with Pierre it really is, and it has always been. (source)

they're friends. they really are friends, not just friendly coworkers, like many of the other f1 drivers are. pierre and charles genuinely like and appreciate each other's company very much - which, even if you put shipping completely aside, is just such a wonderful thing, and always makes me smile so much.

one of my personal favourite moments was when pierre talked about charles on the beyond the grid podcast in 2023:

"That's why I really like these chats that I can have with Charles, because I know with Charles, discussing about both our lives, we won't judge each other... because we know what it's like and we just speak very openly about various things. And I know it's almost like a happy place or a comfortable place where you really feel you can open up. He'll understand, I'll understand him..." (source - listen from timestamp 32:01)

if that doesn't make your heart melt at least a little bit, then i don't know what to say to you.

... no, actually, i do. if this kind of sentimentality won't do it for you, how about a bit of silliness and humour?

that's right. like any good childhood friends, pierre and charles also have an embarrassing nickname for each other: "calamar," which is french for "squid." (we know that they call each other that courtesy of charles' insta).

what on earth is the origin of this nickname, you may be wondering? well, according to pierre...

"It goes back to a long time ago when we were kids, like... nine, ten years old. We would go on holidays together and spend more time. I don't know. It just came, like one day we decided to call each other calamar, which is not really such a beautiful nickname, but yeah it was just for fun. We were kids and we were laughing. And actually, we have many other nicknames because we were teammates also in karting and we spent a lot, a lot of time together. So, a lot of nicknames came alongside all this time. And this kind of stayed with us." (source)

as pierre said in this quote, "calamar" is not even the only nickname they have - pierre sometimes calls charles "charlito" and also "charlo," while charles calls pierre "mon petit."

and as if that's not enough, they're also that pair of boyfriends friends who always have to bring each other up in conversation. if there's ever an interview question along the lines of "which f1 driver would you...." then you can pretty much bet pierre will answer "charles," and charles will answer "pierre."

for example, here is pierre choosing charles as the one f1 driver he'd take for a drink. and here is charles naming pierre as his best friend in the paddock. oh, and here is pierre saying he'd choose charles as one driver to take with him to a desert island. there's more, but i think you get the idea 😆❤️

so yeah! that's a quick(ish) overview of the background/context of piarles - AKA the french (yes, i know charles is monégasque, but he SPEAKS french) friends/boyfriends on the grid.

(if you'd like to know more details about their friendship, especially about their pre-f1 years, then i recommend this post and its follow-up compiled by the incredible @vegasgrandprix. these posts really are a treasure trove for piarles history & lore!)

but now that i've painted a pretty clear picture of their friendship, let's move on to some more shippy moments, shall we? the "lovers" part of friends to lovers <3333

believe it or not, eveything up till now was just the background information about piarles. it's more than enough to build an OTP on already, i'd say - but wait, there's more!

the thing with pierre and charles is that along with being friends, they are also french (or....french-adjacent. close enough) which means that they have absolutely zero problem with being very openly affectionate with each other.

this has given us some very delicious shipping moments, which i will now try and give an overview of. (my fellow piarlies: if i've left out one of your favourite moments, please forgive me - they have so many moments with each other, and tumblr has a post character limit, so there was just no way for me to include everything, much as i wanted to. but i do think this is a good introduction!)

let's start with perhaps the most iconic piarles moment of them all: monza 2020, aka pierre gasly's first win in f1.

that was a crazy, wonderful day in so many ways - first of all, the race itself was insane. pierre started 10th on the grid, and with a lot of luck + a safety car that really worked out for him, ended up leading the race and defended from carlos sainz with DRS to get his maiden win. this was almost exactly a year after he'd been dropped from red bull, so the win was pretty much the biggest fuck-you to everyone @ RBR and comeback moment for pierre that was possible. it was also a dream come true (every f1 driver dreams about winning a race!) and you only need to look at any interview pierre did afterwards to see how much it meant to him.

what makes it even more insane, though, is that charles was right there to congratulate him and watch his podium. keep in mind that, in the same race, charles crashed out - both ferraris did, in monza of all places. i don't think anyone would've been surprised, or held it against him at all, if charles just kept his head down for the rest of that day.

but no. even though he wasn't medically cleared after the crash yet (!!) charles went to parc fermé anyway to congratulate pierre. remember that thing i said about them being french and very open with affection? well:

here are some pictures of the monza piarles congratulations hug. (am i the only one who thinks it looks like charles wants to kiss pierre in that second pic?! god....) here and here are some more angles of the hug to go insane over, if you like.

you can also watch it in video format here - and yes, charles really did pull pierre out of his hug with romain so that he could congratulate him himself. i know. (also, yes, pierre does pat charles' ass just before they go their separate ways. what can i say? french.)

as if that's not already insane enough, charles also stayed to watch pierre's podium despite not being medically cleared yet after his crash. (we have to thank netflix FOREVER for providing us with that specific behind-the-scenes shot 🙏 drive to survive - you did well that time, you really did.)

and afterwards, charles said:

It was just a dream for one of us to get into F1 one day. In the end we’re both in F1, we’ve both won a GP, both of us in Monza. (...) I was really happy that day, even if my race went wrong, his win made it a good day. (source)

your honour. who says that about another driver's win, especially on a day where you yourself had an awful race? if that's not love in a sport like f1, i don't know what is!

i really could talk about monza 2020 and how much it means for a very long time, but i will rein myself in to just one final comment: isn't it rather beautiful to think that pierre & charles' names will always be next to each other in the monza winners list? charles won there in 2019, and then pierre won there in 2020. talk about soulmatism ❤️💙

now, moving on to another absolutely iconic (and delightfully gay) piarles moment: baku 2021, aka that time pierre and charles had an awesome last-lap battle for the P3 podium spot.

it was very close racing, with them swapping positions several times down the straight - but they kept it clean. in fact, they kept it so clean that someone remarked it's like they know each other by heart. yup. totally a normal thing to say about two men racing.

equally normal was charles' comments after the race:

"The last lap was my favourite part of the race. It was crazy and had a lot of actions. With Pierre it was hot. I'm happy for him for his podium." (source)

and as if that's not enough, he also GRABBED pierre into a hug in parc fermé, and then held him incredibly close while congratulating him.

you can watch this hug in video format here and gif format here, if you want - and i really recommend doing so, because it's insane to see how charles quite literally crashes into pierre's personal space and yanks him into a hug. (here is a close-up of their helmets during said hug - and you can just say it with me. GAY.)

that's still not all, though: charles congratulated pierre twice after the race. once on the outlap (with a thumbs-up and a middle finger as pierre's car drove past his, LMAO) and then on social media as well (with a nickname and a kiss emoji).

he ALSO commented on pierre's instagram post about the race with another kiss emoji:

so, apparently, charles was thinking about kissing pierre quite a lot in baku 2021. 🤭 an iconic day all around!

and as it happens, 2021 brought us another iconic piarles moment - though this one is a whole less happy. i'm talking about styria 2021, aka that time pierre and charles had contact in a race, and pierre had to retire from that grand prix.

here is the official f1 news article about the incident - the long and the short of it is that charles misjudged on lap 1 and crashed into the side of pierre's car, ending pierre's race. naturally, pierre was furious and upset, especially because the alphatauri was actually a good car in 2021, and he'd stood to score really good points that sunday.

now, for most f1 girlies, an incident like this between childhood friends immediately brings up vivid brocedes flashbacks. and, to be honest, it wouldn't have been that much of a surprise if this had indeed soured pierre and charles' friendship - we saw exactly this happen with pierre and esteban, after all.

but no. charles went to see pierre post-race to clear the air between them, and although pierre was furious with him, he didn't let it ruin their friendship. in fact, when he was asked how the incident affected their friendship, pierre had the following to say:

"Yeah... I was really sad to end 15 years of friendship. He is no more my friend (laughs). No, no, it's... honestly, it was really painful, you know, you work so hard the whole weekend for Sunday to score points, and then after literally like 20 seconds, the whole race was over. So, quite a difficult one to swallow, but, you know, we know each other, with Charles, we have a lot of respect for each other. He came to see me after the race - I was still pretty pissed off with him, but, uh, we knew before last Sunday, nothing ever happened between us on the race-track, and we knew one day it would happen. Unfortunately I paid the price more than him, but yeah, it's racing, unfortunately. (...) It's painful, it's racing, it happens sometimes - I just told him to make sure it doesn't happen another time, and... we're fine." (source - watch from 17:01)

i think that styria 2021 is vital piarles lore not because it's a fun shippy moment, but rather because it shows the strength of their connection. an incident like this could easily have destroyed their friendship, but they didn't let it. they mean enough to each other that they let what happens on-track stay on-track and not affect their closeness off-track. and that, i think, is something truly special - they were tested in a way which has destroyed f1 friendships before, and yet they still came out stronger.

iconic indeed.

on a happier note again, now, there is also montreal 2022, which many piarles fans consider one of THE seminal piarles moments. the race itself was not so memorable for our boys this time, but what they did off-track is.

that is to say: pierre and charles went on a dinner date. then, they were spotted driving around the streets of montreal in a white ferrari. and THEN, as if that's not mind-blowing enough already... charles posted, to his public instagram story, a video of pierre wearing his charles-leclerc-16 branded ferrari hat.

these screenshots are peanut quality, i'm sorry, lmao... but all of montreal 2022 feels a bit like a fever dream in the best way, so i think the blurriness just captures the vibes, tbh.

we're not quite done with montreal 2022 yet, though - earlier on the same day, charles also had a very sweet hello with pierre's parents. you can just SEE how much pierre's parents love charles, and isn't that just the most heartwarming thing 😭❤️

now, one final thing about montreal 2022: pierre never posted his infamous photo dump after that race. that might not seem particularly important, but... this is the only race of 2022 for which pierre DIDN'T post a photo dump.

there are a thousand and one theories about why he didn't - maybe he just forgot, maybe he had a busy weekend, maybe he didn't have any photos he wanted to share. or, in a more shippy interpretation... maybe he does have photos, especially photos of charles, but he doesn't want to share them/wants to keep them all to himself. we don't know!

one lucky piarlie got to meet pierre in london in 2022 at an alphatauri event, and actually asked him about the montreal photo dump thing. here is what he said (courtesy of the lovely @they-call-it-traffic 💞)

the descriptions there... you can just picture pierre's expressions & smirks SO perfectly, right? he is insane. they are insane. #investigatemontreal !!

anyways. moving on one year again: 2023 brought us pierre and charles' basketball date:

as well as two tennis dates:

(i call them "dates" because pierre and charles spent a significant time together during them, hanging out & enjoying each other's company and looking at each other with major heart-eyes. obviously, irl, they aren't officially dates - in fact, both pierre and charles had their irl girlfriends along with them when they attended wimbledon. but who cares too much about irl -- this is a rpf post 😉)

i'm not going to spend too long explaining the lore behind these, because i'm already flirting with the tumblr post character limit 🙈 but basically, what happened is that on all 3 these occasions, pierre and charles chose to hang out together at events completely unrelated to f1, simply because they are friends and like each other's company. (that, to me, is always a measure of how much f1 drivers actually like each other - whether or not they choose to spend time with each other when they're not forced into proximity by f1. pierre and charles pass this test with flying colours.)

the basketball date is particularly insane, because that day was actually an event which charles, pierre and esteban attended. but you wouldn't know THAT from charles' post about it. charles fully cropped esteban out of his post - he really said "esteban who? i only spent time with my friend pierre 😌" and he said it with his whole chest.

ALSO, while we're on the subject of the basketball date and social media - pierre and charles co-posted a reel about it on instagram. yes. CO-POSTED. you know, like a couple co-posting about their date.

piarles basketball date, you will always be famous!!

(P.S. - a lot of piarles fans refer to this 2023 basketball date as "basketball date 2.0" - and this is because pierre and charles have actually done this before, in 2021. i really can't talk too much about that date - character limit, my beloathed - but let me just say that pierre draping his arm round the back of charles' chair is something that lives rent free in my mind. rent free.)

another thing that lives in my mind rent-free is charles being interviewed at their first tennis date, and calling pierre his best friend <3333 love is friendship set on fire, etc etc!

... so, okay, when i said i wasn't going to talk too much about the lore behind the tennis & basketball dates, i lied a little bit. but in my defence - they were insane for these, they really were!

anyways. now, let's skip back in time a little - because i would be very remiss if i didn't include pierre and charles' 2016 joint championship celebrations.

in the year 2016, pierre was the GP2 champion and charles the GP3 champion (GP2 and GP3 are the old names for F2 and F3). in a very pretty twist of fate, they both clinched their respective titles at the same circuit, in the final race of their respective series - and then, of course, they celebrated together.

here is an adorable gifset of them celebrating together after the final GP2 race. and here are some more pictures from the official Prema photoshoot for the GP2 & GP3 champions (yes, they did a joint photoshoot together. even Prema ships it, apparently!)

actually, while we're on the subject of celebrating together: pierre and charles almost always congratulate each other for their significant achievements in f1. see: charles making a point to congratulate pierre on his podium in baku, as i discussed earlier in this post, and again in zandvoort 2023. (both times with a kiss emoji, mind you). similarly, check out pierre seeking charles out in parc fermé to congratulate him for his bahrain 2022 season-opener pole, and then congratulating him for his win twice over on social media. (and these are just a few examples out of many!)

this is one of those things that sets them apart from many other f1 rpf pairings: they both seem genuinely happy when the other does well. and like. they are COMPETITORS - but they're good enough friends that they can still celebrate each other's achievements genuinely and happily. that is insane!!

yes, sure, it's good sportsmanship to congratulate other drivers for wins/podiums - but that is usually done with a handshake in person or a copy-paste "congrats to XYZ" in the post-race interview, or something like that. one rarely gets the sense that it comes from a place of genuine, deep happiness for the other driver being congratulated.

pierre and charles are just on a whole different level. they specifically seek each other out in parc fermé, hug each other with so much enthusiasm that it looks suspiciously gay, and also post about each other's achievements very fondly on social media.

again, this is something you might see a driver do for their teammate - for example, charles congratulating "carlos and the team" for a win in singapore - but almost never with a freaking KISS EMOJI. and a pet name. and so much genuine joy.

just... yeah. they care about each other so much, and are each other's biggest supporters ❤️

it's not just in good times that they're there for each other, either: 2019 was a truly difficult year for both pierre and charles (pierre especially) but they were still there for each other when it mattered.

the prime example of this is monza 2019, which was one race after pierre's demotion from red bull, and also one race after anthoine hubert's death. because the fia has no sense of basic kindness or decency, naturally they put pierre into a press conference that very weekend.

the video of that press conference is very hard to watch - every time pierre is asked a question, you can hear how much he is struggling to hold it together. honestly, the sole good thing from this presscon is that at least pierre had charles beside him.

here is a post i made where i discuss this in a bit more detail, but essentially: charles sat as close as possible to pierre for the entirety of that conference - close enough that their shoulders were practically touching - as a non-verbal gesture of support. you can see the difference in space between charles & pierre vs all the other drivers, and there's no way that was accidental. charles might not have been able to voice his support for pierre out loud right then, but it's there in every part of his body language.

another very meaningful moment is also from 2019, when pierre went up to charles pre-race in spa:

"I told Charles before the race, please win this race for Anthoine." (source)

and charles did. 💙

then later in 2019, when pierre got his first podium in brazil, guess who was right there to hug and congratulate him? that's right.

this was another case where charles' own race fell apart - he had a crash with his teammate, in fact - but he still made a point of going to hug pierre after his P2, and going on social media to tell pierre and also the whole world that pierre deserved that podium. that's what i call supporting your best friend.

now, at this point, you might be thinking... well, pierre and charles have it all. whether you're looking for happy moments or deep emotional moments or suspiciously gay moments to fuel your shipping fire, it's all there.

and you'd be right! they do have it all. though i will say this - one of the complaints i've heard whispered around this fandom is that piarles is a fun ship, but they don't have any content videos together like teammates do. so it's harder to ship them, because you don't get to see them actually interact with each other aside from like 5-second video clips...

to that i say: well. they might not have any teammate videos together, but oh boy. as of 2023, they do have something else: the squeezie video.

i could talk about the squeezie video for MONTHS, i really could - but let me try and keep it brief. so, squeezie is this french youtuber who has this "who's the impostor?" video series in which he gets a couple of celebrities to join him on the show, plus some people from a certain profession, and then they have to guess who actually does that profession and who's the impostor.

the day that pierre and charles were guests on the show, the professions were "firefighter," "midwife," "flight attendant" and "school counselor." this resulted in absolute chaos of the best kind - ah, man, i cannot even begin to describe to you what a glorious mess it was. that video had everything from charles & pierre cradling fake babies, to charles & pierre extremely dramatically accusing each other of lying, to pierre making dirty hand gestures while charles blushes profusely, to charles & pierre play-acting being naughty schoolkids (feat. charles saying he fell asleep in class and woke up from a nightmare screaming "box box" 😭)

here are some screenshots of some of my favourite moments:

the way they LOOK at each other... GOD.

anyways! you can watch the video here. my recommendation is to watch it with the original french sound track - there is an english dub available, but it sounds incredibly strange to hear american accents coming out of pierre & charles' mouths, off-sync with what they're actually saying. it's a MUCH better experience to watch in french, so you can hear what they actually said, and enjoy how they interact with each other. (english subtitles are available!) alternatively, you can find some translated highlights here, courtesy of the incredible @sedicii <3333

aside from all the still-can't-believe-they-actually-did-this-on-camera content, one of the things that makes me feel the most insane is that pierre and charles both chose to appear on this video. there was no contractual PR requirement saying they both had to participate in it, like with teammate challenges - no, they did it in their free time, because they wanted to.

i mean, sure, that video was definitely good for PR for both of them, but the point stands that they didn't have to do it, and they certainly didn't have to do it together. they CHOSE to - and what's more, they said at the end of the video that they'd do it again.

that's so central to pierre and charles, i think: they choose each other, time and time again. they freely choose to spend time with each other, because they genuinely like each other and enjoy each other's company. so much so that you will find them together at least once on almost every race weekend.

no, seriously. it's a very unusual race weekend if pierre and charles aren't spotted together at least one time. whether it's being glued to each other's sides on driver's parades, or chatting in the background of some or other interview, or just walking through the paddock together... they will find each other.

there are SO many instances where this happens that i would be here for over a month if i tried to list them all - and i'd still probably miss some. but here are some of my personal highlights!

pierre and charles finding each other pre-race in jeddah

pierre and charles chatting in the media pen in the background of one of alex's interviews

pierre and charles walking together in vegas (feat. fond smiles)

pierre and charles being baby gossip girls in 2018

more baby piarles in 2018

even more baby pierre and charles chatting in 2017

and just to round things off: most recently, pierre and charles walking together in jeddah 2024

and many, many more... including a whole bunch of moments we'll probably never know about.

that's another thing that makes me more than a little insane about these two: pierre has actually said, in so many words, that they'll never share everything about their friendship.

In the end we have the same life, we grew up together. We've done many things together, but you won't hear about all of it. (source)

all these moments that we see, that we go insane over... that's probably not even the half of what they've actually done together. and that makes me feel some type of way. if this is just the small pieces of their lives & interactions that they choose to share with the public, then just imagine what else there could be...

....buuuuut that'll start becoming a fanfic if i let myself carry on with that line of thinking too long. (can i just say one thing about that, though? the piarles fanfic community is absolutely INCREDIBLE. such talented writers, such wonderful people... just, chef's kiss all around!!) but, yeah! i think this post has gone on for more than long enough now, haha.

so, to conclude: pierre and charles really are the epitome of a friends to lovers ship: they get along famously, they genuinely seem to love each other's company and are always laughing together - and they can very often be found giving each other the heart-eyes/looking at each other like they're in love. if it's warmth, joy and friends to lovers feels that you're after, then look no further <3333

thank you so much for reading! and i do hope that after all this, you're at least a little bit in love with piarles, too ❤️

[outofmydepthatapublicbeach]

could you do fluff abc's for Naomi? tysm <3

jj chats: yes omg!!! fluff abc's are so fun!! i've been dying to do another one so tysm for this request!!! love you anon! <3

warnings: RPF, no use of y/n

feedback is encouraged and i'd love to get some just please be kind!!!

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

So Naomi basically adores everything about you, but if they had to choose something it would probably be your personality. They love it when you make cheesy jokes, or when you do something good for someone else even when you don’t have to.

B = Beauty (what do they find most beautiful about you?)

Naomi finds your face the most beautiful, the way it scrunches up when you smile. If you have freckles/birthmarks I could see you laying with your head in their lap while they trace over your face. If they woke up before you in the morning they would just watch you while you sleep (not in a weird way) and just commit each detail of your face to memory.

C = Call (how often do they call/text?)

I feel like with Naomi they would text you a million times a day with whatever thoughts pop into their head, and at the end of the day they would facetime you and it would be like a four hour call.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

I feel like dates with Naomi could be like either side of the scale. Like really chill eating out at a cool sushi restaurant and then the next day you are skydiving. And I feel like with y’alls busy schedules whenever you find time to go on a date you do, so they’re all very spontaneous.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

I feel like Naomi wouldn’t exactly hide their emotions, but wouldn’t like to express them unless warranted. Like if you noticed them upset and asked them about it they would fully unload on you but otherwise they’d kinda keep it to themself.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Honestly, I don't know. But they are pretty content with it just being you and them for a while. Maybe a dog or cat or two.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

I think they’d honestly love it,  like you get them little knick knacks to decorate their office or like stickers!!! For laptops or water bottles or wherever else you put stickers. I feel like they would be one to get you flowers a lot. 

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

I feel like it kind of depends on the day. Sometimes they are all over you like holding hands, sitting really close, hands around your waist, yk the works. But then other days it's less touch but they show their love through words or actions. 

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

If someone hurts your feelings, be prepared to restrain Naomi because they will beat them up. But if you get physically injured they will not be leaving your side until they know you are 100% fine. And even then they will still watch, just from a distance.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Naomi for sure jokes a lot, and sometimes in situations that don’t require it. But I think they’d do it as a way to cheer you up when you're down. And any pranks that they’d do would be relatively harmless, and never in public. I could see one time they pranked you and it went wrong and you wouldn’t talk to them for a day so they vowed to never prank you like that again.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Naomi would def do like little pecks on your forehead when walking in and out of a room or around friends. But when y’all are alone they’d spend their time kissing you, making sure you knew how much they loved you.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you/love languages?)

To me Naomi’s love languages are words of affirmation and gift-giving. They would def get down with love letters too. I headcanon that they’d leave you little notes around your guy's place if they have to leave early in the morning. Also they’d love it when you praise them or show you love for them through your words.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

Naomi’s favorite memory with you was when you guys first met. I’m thinking it was an blind date that Jo set up or something and she sent you and Naomi off in this older aquarium. I could see you two taking a bunch of photos of the fish and of one another and you both really hit it off and have been dating ever since. It’s Naomi’s favorite because it was your first memory together and it was also very fun.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

I think they’re worst fear would be you leaving them. 

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

Naomi loves bowling!!! Almost every time you find yourselves free they suggest you go bowling… 9 times out of 10 you say yes because you love seeing them get all happy. Omg and say when MUNA and you hang out sometimes it's bowling, Naomi gets really competitive and it is very hot.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I think they’d call you the typical ones like babe and baby. But a favorite of theirs is honey, they say it's because you are “so sweet!” They also call you boo bear- ask a joke kinda!! Or like when they tease you about getting angry at something- “Aww if my little boo bear angry?” With like a pout on their face.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

I feel like Naomi likes spending any time with you, whether it be walking around a grocery store together or browsing through the aisles of a record store. But in all honesty, they much prefer you when it's just you and them. Like early morning when you both have just woken up, or cooking dinner together in your kitchen, subtly dancing to whatever song is playing.

R = Rhythm (have they written any songs about you?)

Naomi has written songs about you, but they are mainly ones they have kept to themself. They love you so much, so much they don’t want to share you with the world. Not even letting Katie or Jo see them, let alone sing them.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

I feel like for the most part there would be no secrets, maybe the things that would take the longest for Naomi to open up about are their fears of you leaving, or anything that is super serious.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

On the second date you made it official, you both decided on a movie to go see and then 10 minutes in decided you both hated the movie and left. You spent the next couple hours walking around and just talking. Then they asked you to be their partner…

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

I think one thing about Naomi is that they always want to know how you are. So if you come home upset and want space they will grant it. But they’ll stay close by to keep an eye on you. And if you start crying they’ll come out immediately and hug you, letting you sob in their arms. Then they’ll ask you what happened.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

They show you off every chance they get!!!! I think they’d keep a photo of you in their wallet, and one time at some award show party or something you caught them showing some random person a picture of you and saying something like, “I’m the luckiest person on Earth.” 

W = Wild Card (random!!)

Okay so… they suck at cooking… Like one time you walked into the kitchen and they were using a pot to cook like eggs or something because they “didn’t think it mattered whether i used a pan or pot” You have since taken over cooking. Or have enrolled both of you into cooking classes.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

They can read you pretty well. But they leave it to you to say what you’re feeling. They don’t want you to think they are overstepping.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

I feel like Naomi would go all out, like at the beach at sunset, a huge long speech planned. Or it would be very spontaneous, like they wouldn’t even have a ring and all the sudden they would be asking you “Marry me!” and you’d be like “What?!” and they’d be like “What?!!” because they wouldn’t even believe they said it.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Being in your presence. When they can see you and know you are safe.

[inchidentally]

replying to asks abt the Drama today so pls skip if you're fully over that salfgjlagf (and bl 'tricky asks' to not see me respond to stuff like this - but I always put under a cut as well!)

oh my god this is a whole epic jfc and I'm p sure I repeat myself a lot I'm sorry <3

and for anyone who sees the walls of text below and is like pls tl;dr it for me bitch: today is one of multiple examples proving that Lando and Oscar are exceptionally able to maintain perspective and genuine consideration of each other given their situations and their ages. and that while they, like all teammates, will have ups and downs that they are FAR from the kinds of teammates to ever let the bad times linger or fester. I'm not going to be participating in flipping out or overreacting to it when it does inevitably happen but that it hasn’t even happened today! so I just don’t see a point in projecting the rare examples of melodramatic teammates onto Lando and Oscar as teammates. esp today when they both could quite easily have sniped at each other a bit even indirectly and yet they didn't! Lando at the team? absolutely! but like for anyone feeling sad or upset in terms of the landoscar of it all, I'm genuinely baffled ?? bc I'm personally out here impressed yet again at how well they've handled this ?? so yea <3

just to say, if you're someone who truly loves the Epic Highs and Lows of Formula One then good on you and continue having fun! some people live for The Drama and obv I'm not addressing or criticizing that at all!

but since I'm out here being regularly openly insane about landoscar and I've gotten these asks and seen people feeling upset, I def feel like it’s fair that I bring reality and reason into my posts as well being stupid akfgsalfg

so I've grown up with F1 passively in the background of my life (as in on the main TV in my house) and I'm still mostly a fake, but I've picked up some things over the years and one of them is that the average set of teammates aren't the melodrama ones. most teammates who enjoy genuine competitive closeness on the track just tick each other off sometimes but mostly like each other and hang out a bit - overall the average dynamic ranges from mildly indifferent to good buddies. 

(brocedes and sebmark are outliers for a reason. and they did NOT just turn bad overnight. that toxic soup was brewing from the very start. but more about that later in this gigantic ass essay)

so once I realized last season that Lando and Oscar genuinely like each other and weren't gonna pop off over everything, my assumption has always been that they would have their tiffs and snipe to the press or avoid each other for periods but then get over it and go back to liking each other again - rinse and repeat! from a driver’s pov it's way more enjoyable and preferable to NOT be fighting w the guy you spend so much time and share a car with.

but !! that didn't happen and hasn't happened! with Lando and Oscar it very quickly went beyond just passively okay w each other - they've made active choices to show respect and fairness and consideration that for me has truly been exceptional.

and while I'm insane about them for narratives and rpf, the not insane part is how these two fit together so beautifully? like, Lando knows and says how his feelings and his brain can just take over sometimes and he struggles - that includes his feelings of anger and resentment. Oscar's primary trait is being calm and being able to be circumspect even under stress. Lando's actually said that he's learned from Oscar remaining calm. then you've got Oscar's 'hearteyes' and genuine admiration of Lando that shows up not in loud PR ways* but in quiet respect and standing back for Lando to shine and giving Lando his full dues. over time, Lando's come to 'hearteyes' right back bc of the respect and ngl genuine affection he feels for Oscar's fairness and respectfulness and his persistence in showing up and being happy for Lando no matter what. like, none of that requires embellishment and it's said by pretty much everyone including each other!

so to me, that means that when they do inevitably have 'moments' at the front of the pack together in future they'll ofc be grumpy w each other or resentful but it'll all be okay once they've cooled off. 

but !! that was not today !! my entire day of reblogging is just a nonstop bam bam bam of them looking out for each other in the face of this drama and taking care to not feed the media who have been dying for them to hate each other since day one. Oscar apologizing and if anything being less celebratory today than he was in Monaco for his second place. keeping the post race short and simple** and not going over the top celebrating after the team photo. Lando repeating in his post races that Oscar deserved the win and that he didn't want the issues with team orders to overshadow that and literally reaching out to Oscar to say 'we're okay' right out of the car <3

so yea in the years they are teammates they will definitely have their off days and probably that'll happen at certain points this season - but genuinely ! it should not be taken for granted how mature and considerate and kind they've remained w each other since basically Austria last year ! that counts for a hell of a lot in terms of not assuming they're "over" every time team strategy screws one or both of them, or that they will become different people and suddenly cultivate melodrama.

and sure, anything can happen etc etc but I don’t see a point in just aimlessly waiting for the absolute worst to happen unless you actively want them to hate each other which seems like a huge waste of time but to each their own ldgfjlagfljsfg

guys… things like "why didn't he spray Oscar with champagne first" and "they had a moment where they weren't smiling" or "the cool down room was awkward" "Oscar didn't thank Lando like Lando did in Miami" “Oscar hasn’t liked such and such on instagram” is not only pointless self-torturing it's also all pretty easy to debunk by someone like me who follows a lot of teams and drivers and sees a ton of different sides to these things every weekend:

- as for the comment likes, Oscar hasn't liked everyone's comments that he should have - I did a quick pass and the standouts are he still hasn’t liked the comment from opeightyone (his own brand company!), still hadn't liked the Australian GP comment last time I checked, or Kym Ilman, literally a fellow Aussie who he talks to at every single race and who left a heartfelt comment. we need to give this poor guy a break and not ignore how much he was laughing and smiling with Lando just bc he’s struggling with the alerts on his phone !! (and as always, we have absolutely no way of knowing anymore when we can say how much the driver is doing vs what their sm team is doing. I saw in a story the other day that Lily had stopped doing her usual emoji replies to his posts for a while (she started up again after quali this weekend) and clearly there's been no issues between them so it's safe to say Oscar's sm officially isn't the true measure of his current relationships!)

- Lando and Oscar were already joking and smiling together before the champagne! so why would Lando then get mad and show it by not spraying him first? (EDIT: as an anon pointed out, when Lando runs over to the McLaren team member Oscar is laughing and follows him! so the plan was to drown the poor guy all along lol.) Lando and Lewis have a special bond from long before Oscar and Lewis and McLaren have had a bond even longer. if I hadn't seen ppl be upset about this I wouldn't have thought twice about Lando running to Lewis after having spend the first half the podium chatting to Oscar!

and just a quick side note, Lando had NO problem showing how mad he was before Oscar came into the cool down room when he threw down that hat and got huffy with Lewis when all Lewis did was say how fast the McLaren is! but every time Lando interacted with Oscar, he made sure to keep it together and be happy for him bc as he strenuously made clear in his interviews, his upset was at the team's directions but he didn't want it overshadowing Oscar's well-earned win. so if anything, view Lando rushing over to Lewis as an apology for somewhat biting his head off over a compliment lfgjflgsalf

- the drivers are exhausted and their default mode after a race is to be not smiling, like not even Lando smiled the entire time following his win. add to today that Lando hasn't been happy with second place for a long time and Oscar isn't an effusive guy and it's weird to think they'd be laughing and smiling nonstop.

- cool down rooms are literally always awkward ?? the drivers hate that there are cameras and conversation is always stilted. it’s where they go to … y'know, cool down, not get hyped lol

- Lando thanked Oscar in Miami bc Oscar showed what the car could do w his overtakes, guys. it was VERY sweet but it wasn't like 'thank you for my life Oscar' or even 'thank you for my win'. but even apart from that, Lando has fully taken on the rightful 'I'm the more established F1 star and the face of McLaren and it's my job to let the new guy know when he's done well' even back before he and Oscar had much of a relationship. but… and I’m about to spin off on this topic now… Lando does very well with this sometimes yes, but remember that the majority of his own feeds are also solely focused on himself like Oscar's and like most driver's are! and that he and Oscar both forget to like McLaren's content most of the time!

but also like……….

please let us please remember Oscar has the same rights to putting himself first as every other driver !! he may be remarkably mature and respectful to Lando and McLaren and exceptionally able to get over being set aside or even screwed over, but he's not a worm!

as far as questioning if him not 'thanking' Lando somehow negates his literally non-stop hearteyes-so-blatant-that-casuals-comment-on-it that he has for Lando every single week... guys.. Lily. like I'm positive he'll make a special post or story with her soon but he only said a quick "hi" to Lily after Ted brought her up and then did a generic thank you to everyone LIKE ?? the guy isn't even effusive about his beloved long time gf !! his love language is not in words* !!

but I also feel the need to bring smth up here bc there is a definite lean happening in some quarters of fandom into fully expecting and taking for granted Oscar's patience and maturity and ability to be happy for Lando no matter how much he's hurting or upset for himself. and I've got to raise everyone who says that the fact that Oscar is allowed to be like every other driver including Lando! he is allowed to feel frustrated or not be a perfect saint! in the earlier part of last year, Lando openly said he was uncomfortable being 'the older guy' and he frequently left Oscar in the lurch not knowing where to go or ignored Oscar to talk to or about his previous teammates. when Oscar hadn't been told the correct time for that major meeting shown in DTS, Lando was not hiding feeling fairly smug after Oscar said "is Lando already here?" and in Australia this year, Lando fully forgot to have anything to do with Oscar in what was literally Oscar’s home town and home country race to the point ! that in the podium drivers conference when a reporter brought up if Oscar was bummed about missing out on a podium, Lando stiffly said that he guessed anyone would want a podium on their home race - but he was far from sympathetic!

now before anyone thinks this is me having a go at Lando, I am not. I'm literally reminding the people who are reading too much into Oscar not saying thank you specifically to Lando in what was a much shorter and less exuberant overall race win celebration and post race video than Lando’s win was: it is not a big deal !! it is not some huge thing that Lando would even notice and that Lando has frequently chosen to not include or show gratitude to Oscar at times when we expected him to and !! it's fine because it really is fine !! 

but when Oscar is seen to not cover every single base of gratitude and inclusion for Lando, for some fans it's A Problem or A Worry. and for some people, a broader thank you to the team and not specifically to Lando** is reason why Lando should despise Oscar forever and even consider leaving McLaren like the comments sections are insaaaane bro

these are two Normal Guys who are each living their Own Careers and while it's wonderful to enjoy the things that bond them and are special about them, they are still going to be Normal! and they will not view these tiny insignificant moments where they didn’t fully acknowledge the other with any magnitude at all! they are not expecting a level of devotion to each other that certain fans are! Oscar didn’t notice or care that Lando didn’t make anything special out of his home race and their pre-race fan stage was funny and sweet! Lando didn’t notice or even assume that Oscar should thank him specifically for team orders when Lando himself didn’t thank Oscar for team orders!

like I just cannot emphasize enough the importance of separating fun rpf narratives from reality. Lando tried to mess up Carlos’ parking job before the race as a joke to get back at him over the sign the day before - and then Carlos very firmly said that Lando absolutely should have given Oscar his place back and he even commented on one of Oscar’s posts despite not following him. this does not mean Carlos and Lando are beefing or that Carlos is being mean by going out of his way for Oscar! will I run with that single comment for carcar fodder absolutely - but that is fiction! nobody's mad at anybody!

and then there's the things that don't exist in Formula 1: "Oscar shouldn't have accepted the orders" "McLaren are out to get Lando" "Lando already gets too much hate"

- Oscar apologized for his pace and complications and he gave a very subdued little speech over the radio which was very big of him (and very wrong of McLaren to put him in that position) but if someone thinks any driver including Lando would even slightly imply "nah give the win to my teammate not me" then they’re categorically living on another plane of stan-ism that I can't comprehend. Lando literally said multiple times after this race how he has been the one to benefit from strategy working in his favor - both by McLaren and other teams. he's many many times made a cheeky face or made a joke when he's gotten away with something that fans of a rival driver or team were rightfully furious about. and if a person thinks it was mean when some ppl criticized the role that serendipity played in Miami then maybe that same person shouldn't start biting chunks out of Oscar about the same thing idk !!

Lando repeatedly said how much Oscar has done for him and if his Oscar-hating stans choose to think he's wrong or lying then idk !! he's being mature and fair so like, live n learn from your idol !

and can I just echo everyone saying 'please stop comparing this to brocedes or sebmark' or honestly even charlos? I'm doing bullet lists apparently so I'll do another one lafgljsafgsa

- brocedes is entirely due to their complicated and abnormally intimate lifelong history together leading up to F1. they were already Not Normal Friends and that made for the tinderbox that was their F1 careers together. literally they were destined to have to rupture that level of intimacy if they weren't going to just like get married to each other. they always needed to turn that relationship into something milder and less intense and it would always have exploded no matter what adult lives they had. F1 just made the explosion more violent and public. there’s truly no comparing them with anyone else.

- Oscar bears no resemblance to Mark and Lando bears no resemblance to Seb. Seb as he was in his heyday was... not shy or bashful about being a madman. sebmark never once looked like landoscar and it wasn't this huge revelation that that relationship would end up where it did !!

- Charles and Carlos have a negligible career/experience gap compared to Lando and Oscar and their temperaments are as much primed for friction as Lando and Oscar's are complimentary to each other. not to like 'they're so continental!' charlos but like, their already passionate natures got thrown into a rolling boil of Italian heritage racing and it's why the whole love/hate being sides of the same coin thing always happens with them. their families are even houses alike in dignity etc etc. it's Pure Drama and Intensity and always has been, both good and bad. they’re as terrible at using PR to smooth things over as landoscar are at not even bothering with PR. when Charles and Carlos are good together they’re passionately all over each other and when they’re mad at each other it’s messy and all over the press like a warring celebrity couple. Lando and Oscar are still delicately pawing at their relationship to know what it is and they still shyly touch as if seeking permission. Lando and Oscar are so not PR friendly that even Netflix gave up on them as a narrative entirely. Charles and Carlos are Shakespeare. Lando and Oscar are Jane Austen. Ferrari is the Capulet/Montague pride before the fall. McLaren is Mrs. Bennett trying to social climb using her daughters as bait.

as someone who follows blogs for multiple diff teams and drivers, trust me I see a lot of "my opinion of him is gone forever after this!!!" about something their own fave driver did even just a few races ago and absolutely will do again. same with "the team is destroying him and favoring his teammate!" like I straight up will see that said by each teammate's fanbase of the same team about the same race. this happens at different times throughout the season in every single team I follow - it even happened w Williams of all teams (tho so far that's just the once).

I'm a fake so obv I'm not going to weigh in myself but my cousins and their friends who watch F1 on the app at my house - and who aren't represented ethnically by any driver or team so they don't have bias - always have a much more calm and nuanced take. they assume every driver is out for themselves and by that very fact alone, teams have to take sides when the gap closes. and !! that millionaires doing an elite sport aren't experiencing mental distress over this sport the way common people experience distress over real life !! they go and bury their "woes" in extravagant luxury and an entire army of hugely biased family, supporters and fanbases all of whom think said driver deserves everything.

and that it takes truly heinous betrayal or outright evil to make these guys hate each other with any serious level of depth bc they all know they're The Selfish Asshole just as easily as the other guy. 

so I personally trust their takes on things and it's probably why I've always assumed Lando and Oscar would be Normal and have their little tiffs like everyone else does. bc it's rule one of making it to this level of the sport that you have to think selfishly. straight up I'm astounded at how quickly they've both been able to shake that 'visors down' mentality that Andrea referenced in the post race video and see the bigger picture and not be The Asshole to each other. 

and overall I don’t mind my dash being a warzone of wild accusations immediately after a race bc everyone usually calms down.

but there are certain things I just do not want on my dash and it's actually not related to what driver a person hates or not....

because while it's silly to see any of these privileged little princes as A Victim and Would Never Do That To Their Teammate (which would honestly get you laughed at by said driver) it's pretty common biased fan behavior. even tho Lando literally kept reminding people that Oscar's swallowed his own pride over things for Lando's benefit many times and that he (Lando) has been on the receiving end of podiums that came from strategies working in his favor (McLaren’s and that of other teams).

and like the idea that Oscar is now some heinous human being bc he's behaving like every other driver including Lando by Lando's own admission is hysterical. the idea that F1 teams are ever in any way benevolent kindly forces or that F1 drivers have anything akin to 'selflessness' over race wins is hysterical.

but where I draw a line is stanning for men in this sport so hard to the point of insane amounts of agonized doomposting and biased venomous rage. sorry but most of us don't want our precious time wasted agonizing over which self-confessed selfish millionaire in a sport founded on and maintained by pure elitism is feeling So Bad and So Sad! that he runs off to be comforted by a beautiful woman/women and adoring family and coddling hangers-on and legions of worshiping, wholly biased fans and millions of dollars on gigantic yachts because the absurdly unnecessary sport he gets to do isn't "looking after him well enough" or "prioritizing his happiness" !!!!?????? 

like fuck I'm a callous bitch ig but I'm not feeling an ounce of genuine upset whenever one of these men experiences a level of "my sport makes me sad". "oh but it's all they've known !! it's all relative !! money and privilege don’t equal happiness and privileged men suffer too !!" oh stfu no it doesn't and no they're not like stockholm syndrom victims and if they're so unhappy then they can put on their big boy boots and take their money and go fucking do something else holy SHITTTTT 

am I not here for allowing any portion of my human empathy to go to a fuuucCKING F1 driver jeeeeeeesusss. all of these men fully have the potential to get metoo’d or exposed about smth bc they're all capable of doing awful things by the time they're in F2 -male pro athletes are NOT objectively safe spaces to hang human morality or to assign automatic grace and good intent - let alone bleed pain or feel sadness for their race results or issues with their teams.

there is no acceptable moral relativity for me and these men and this sport are only of interest to me as a hyperfixation that gives me enjoyment in the form of narratives and a very specific, surface degree of enjoyment.

it’s fine if Lando or Oscar feel their feelings of frustration or anger etc but no way in hell am I going to feel remotely sad for them ??? they’re fine ?? there are genuinely sad things in my life and in the world and millionaires wanting trophies and points isn’t among them !! I’m not entwining my day-to-day happiness in any way with what they get up to and I’ll take what I can enjoy from them and ignore everything else.

and to wrap up this epic which I’m only indulging in bc I do feel like my blog sometimes seems like I’m pushing my own silly narratives on others and genuinely I’m not intending to - most of the reason I actually got drawn to landoscar and wanted to engage in fandom about them is precisely because their real life non-rpf dynamic is so unusually mature and considerate and not toxic or like, at all even overtly masculine. yea I originally got drawn into f1blr for the usual bromance rpf types like carland0 and dand0 etc but I didn’t rly care enough to engage in any way. 

but I think this is why I know that the ppl wanting Lando and Oscar to become this insane toxic mess are going to keep raging with disappointment - kind of like how I knew Lando and Max would be perfect again after just a few days while so many ppl hoped it was the start of some battle royale to last years that would end their close friendship. and why I knew Logan and Alex would end up with a genuine, heartfelt friendship when so many ppl assumed Alex would see Logan as one foot out the door and just wait to bond with a more worthy teammate. now we’ve got Alex saying how he and Lily casually talk about Logan for no reason at all and their friendship surviving Alex being given Logan’s car <3

I genuinely don’t bullshit myself into enjoying dynamics unless they feel real - so whatever friction I ever sense between Lando and Oscar as a result of them pushing each other to be the best they can be and helping to bring McLaren from the back of the field to WCC contender, isn’t at odds with them being gentle and unusually private and earnestly aware of each other. bromances were always Lando’s PR insurance with his other two teammates - a nice bandaid to cover moments where cracks showed or Lando didn’t hide his emotions enough. it’s something a lot of teammates use for the same purpose. but Lando and Oscar deciding to forgo that and have their little privacy door to shut out everyone else but each other from their drivers rooms, and how they will be doing interviews and then get distracted talking to each other over things that only interest them, and traveling and hanging out together without giving McLaren PR any material to use… like that’s a lovely, tender little unpretentious narrative to enjoy. watching them tiptoe so cautiously around an almighty cockup on McLaren’s pitwall side and Lando trying to pull himself up out of murky defeat for Oscar and Oscar deciding to celebrate so modestly because what a mess that ending was for them both. 

like I just don’t see a need for trying to invent ways to be unhappy or miserable or fabricate a doomed anything when they’re both still so sweet <3 <3 (and honestly it’s the same old tune of McLaren’s strategy needing a swift smack around the head)

tysm babe and I hope this one helped as well <3<3