#SOBS FOREVER AND EVER OH MY GOD

[tending-the-hearth]

rewatching "prince caspian" and what if i just lose it right now over the fact that "where" (the song that was used in the first movie for the opening credits while the pevensies are leaving the train station + london to go to professor kirk's house + essentially narnia) is used at the start when the pevensies are LEAVING THE TRAIN STATION + LONDON TO GO TO NARNIA

[helpmyinterestsareverywhere]

"Where's Unagami?"

"Where he belongs. He's home."

[triona-tribblescore]

HUG!?!

IM- IM- IM- *SOBS*

[jemmo]

that final scene in this ep of utsukushii kare. it feels like someone just ripped out my gut, slashed it open and trampled over the bloody remains. i want to sob. I want to out loud, fat tears, shaking my body sob. but all im stuck on is hira’s brokenly confused face, kiyoi on top of him grabbing onto his clothes and crying, an absolute tornado of emotion the likes of which he’s never shown, all to hira, all because of hira, and yet hira sits there and it’s like the storm covers him but he’s inside this impenetrable building and not a single drop of rain hits him. he knows it’s raining, he can hear it battering down on the roof, but it’s just rain. he doesn’t understand the full extent, doesn’t know the wind is ripping down trees and lightening is cracking the sky in two. and because he’s inside, he doesn’t need to know, doesn’t care to know, doesn’t want to know. hira will happily stay inside, in his bubble, in his constructed world, and he will be alone, and he will suffer, but that’s alright bc he’s not out there.

it’s like he’s gotten used to the internalized problems he faces, and they stick with him, almost a comfort to him now, in that he’ll see them when they’re not there. the external things that make him worried and anxious now, they’re less so, but hira still is that high school kid, getting picked on for his stutter, that faded into the background. he’s stuck there, and he’s never grown past it, and there’s almost a security in not growing, not changing, even if the thing you’re stuck as is worry and anxiety and invisibility and self doubt and constant internal doubt and criticism and lack of confidence. at least he’s used to it. at least there isn’t anything new to challenge him. and it shows, bc whenever he is challenged, in the sense that something that doesn’t fit he’s established world and role happens, he puts himself down and apologizes, like it’s a practiced, default reaction. that’s how he got through before, it’s how he learned to get through. but now, in the place he finds himself, in the situation and relationship he’s in, this is not a place for that reaction. the people he’s around, kiyoi, he doesn’t need hira to put himself down. he doesn’t need apologies. he wants understanding. and hira just resolutely refused that, said that he not only doesn’t understand hira, but that he doesn’t want to, and he’s not going to attempt to. and I don’t think he could have said anything more heartbreaking to kiyoi. all he has ever wanted was for someone to see him and understand him and love him for it. hira gives him love, unendingly and uncritically. he’s love is irrespective of anything kiyoi does or says or feels. it’s love of an idea, of a theory, of a concept in a pretty shell. it’s not love of the human inside, it can’t be, bc he just said he doesn’t want to understand that person, and without that there can’t be love. you can’t love something you can’t see or comprehend, that there’s a person kiyoi that isn’t the god kiyoi there is in his universe.

and the thing is, I think hira could’ve understood kiyoi, back when he saw a side of kiyoi that no one else did and still showed him love. I think down the line he could’ve gotten to know that person more and liked him, but the thing is, it’s different bc of kiyoi’s feelings. bc kiyoi’s feelings contradict so much what hira believes about himself that he can’t understand him. it’s easier to not know kiyoi that way and stick to his established universe, rather than understand kiyoi fully, bc in that he has to reevaluate everything, about himself and his place in the world and kiyoi’s place too. that is not an easy task. and it’s not that hira wouldn’t, I don’t think. I think there is a feasible future where hira recognizes that choice he can make and chooses kiyoi, chooses to challenge himself out of love for kiyoi and a want to understand him, and maybe even a want to understand and love himself. but bc he doesn’t recognize that as a choice he can make, he can’t do it. and I think that’s what hira needs to face, which I think is more than kiyoi and his feelings and care for hira can manage to accomplish. hira’s mental dissonance is gonna be a work in progress, it’s just a matter or him realizing it and getting to a point of actually working on it. the only thing is, in the meantime, can kiyoi be patient with hira, and the hurt he makes him feel? should he? bc when hira outright refuses to understand, when it feels that rigid and definite, when there’s no feasible future where he will understand, what’s the point? that’s the heartbreak. that hira is constantly worrying about forever, but he just denied a forever with kiyoi. and the problem is him, just not for the reasons he thinks he is. he needs to realize there is no forever with kiyoi the god, bc gods don’t last forever, they’re ephemeral, they’re fleeting. there can be a forever with kiyoi though, the man, the person, the human being, he just needs to step outside, into the storm, and let it soak him. bc when he gets to stand with kiyoi in the rain, he’ll see it’s worth it.

[aromanticasterisms]

THE ANIMATION KEEPING THE SAME LINES AS HER TRAILER AUUUUGH AGH AUGH

[itsalwaysdark]

loveee when a character is crushed under the weight of someone elses expectations for them love when a character dedicates their entire life to something they never even wanted for themself love when the only reason a character keeps going is because theyre Supposed to and bc theyre supposed to make another person happy/proud. YES !!! CLAPPING !!! YES !!!!!!!!

[kiwichaeng]

Can't fucking believe it's been an entire year of tarlos being married what the fuck

[crescentmp3]

''I have no purpose.'' what if i CRIED!

[chromatasia]

@charalol @radioroxx @snowwgravve

A DOODLE COMIC? AFTER 10000 YEARS? yes! and only made possible by the huge help of collabing with ECHO (thank you echooooo); find them on socials here! https://bsky.app/profile/echobsilly.bsky.social https://x.com/echoBsilly

the rest of the comic is below the cut, OR you can read the whole thing at full size right here on my website which is. better than tumblr viewing just syk ANYWAY ENJOY

[sakuraidomain]

Dottore sighs, looking at you before he took his mask off. "Deimos. You do know that I will always stay by your side, right? You won't ever get rid of me anymore.", he spoke while staring into your eyes.

The Doctor was a hard man to read, and even this time you couldn't tell if this was a threat or something positive. He stepped closer to you, until the tip of your shoes touched.

Suddenly, he grabbed your chin and made you look at him even more. ".. it is because I love you. .. I know I don't say that often but it's still.. something new to me."

".. but I am glad I get to make this experience with you together."

~ 💐

POINTS AT YOU INTENSELY

you YOU YOU YOU

GDKSGDKSHDKS

...if you'll excuse me, i'm going to kiss dottore all over his face until he turns red.

[quimichi]

↳ CALLING THE FONTAINE BOYS YOUR GOOD BOY ༉‧₊˚✧

Fontaine boys x Creator!Reader

Lyney

"You're my good boy Lyney aren't you?" Lyney nods, barely able to repress his excitement. He smiles widely and scoots a little closer to you. "If I weren't your good boy, what else would I be?" he says softly. Your perfect little magician, putting in a show for you daily if youd asked, Lyney thinks to himself. He leans into your touch, relishing the sensations. Your hands on his cheeks are like a warm, reassuring hug, one that he has long pined for.

To hear you say those words— my one and only good boy— is his greatest joy, enough to make him think of nothing more. He forgets his past and future when he's with you. All he sees, is his grace, no one and nothing else matters.

Lyney smiles brightly. "Your Grace, I think— no, I *know* that I am your one and only good boy," he says confidently. He looks up at you, his gaze soft and adoring. He reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand as you had done for him moments before, and gently strokes your face.

"You have no reason to doubt that I am yours," Lyney says softly, what a charmer "I will always be yours, and no other's. I have sworn it to myself"

"Oh, have you now?" "I have," Lyney replies with a warm, almost smug grin. "I have sworn to be yours forever," he says confidently. "No other God is more important to me, no other...powerful being, and no other love will ever supersede the one I feel for you, my love."  

The great magician's expression and tone are both soft and tender. He gazes at you like you are the single most precious thing in the world. "And no one could ever dare take me from you...I will put up the fight of my life for you"

(Clearly not me thinking of Arlecchino here nouuu)

Freminet

"You can come as close as you want, Freminet" Your soft voice is enough to make Freminet obey, lurr him in like the depths of Fontaine.

He moves closer, his hands clasping the fabric of your robes. As he does so, he meets your gaze for a moment, before his eyes slowly start to drift shut. The closer he gets, the warmer he feels... and the less painful his life is.

He remains silent for several precious, peaceful moments, before finally whispering, "Have I pleased you, Your Grace?"

"My good boy always pleases me" Freminet feels tears well up in his eyes. To be called 'good' by you, to please you, to belong to you, to belong to someone who actually loves him...

Freminet closes his eyes as tight as he holds Pers close to his chest, and bites back a sob. His entire body shakes with happiness and emotion. He grips your robes tighter, and buries his face into your lap, unable to stop himself. You let your hands go through his hair, to comfort the distressed boy. Your fingers are enough to calm him. Freminets tears dry up and his body slowly calms beneath your gentle touch, his breathing growing quieter and his heart slowing. Maybe the ocean isn't his only comfort anymore?

Eventually, Freminet peeks up at you. He tries to form a smile, but it's only tentative... and it breaks apart almost immediately. He glances away, ashamed but also wanting to make you proud.

"I— I'm sorry for crying, Your Grace," he mumbles. "Never apologize for having feelings"

You're exactly what he needs, and craves.

Neuvillette

"My good boy, please come to me" you coo the moment he stepped into the hall "Y-Y-Your Grace...?" Your voice, full of warmth and love, causes him to startle. It almost feels as if his heart has skipped a beat. A small smile creeps onto his face that only you can see. "What is it you require of me?"

Neuvillettes voice is soft, filled with affection for you. This is no different from how he treats his people in Fontaine, yet your position makes it all the more special. Your commands cannot be ignored. "My, you look stressed are you well?" Your voice is gentle. You have always been gentle with him, caring and loving. This has not gone unnoticed.

Your words seem to cause him to pause. He thinks for a moment before nodding slowly. "Y-Yes, Your Grace... I am well but stressed"

He swallows, glancing back up at you. He can never hide anything from you, which is why he's always so honest. "I... am worried for the state of our nation, and our people."

"Does my good boy need a hug?" a simple thought, but it made his heart skip. "A hug... I suppose a hug could help ease my worries, Your Grace."

After he's spoken, you can see him shift in place. You can't be sure if it's nervous energy or genuine anxiety, but he seems uncertain. Perhaps he's afraid to approach you after your last few weeks away. He would never admit it, not even to himself, as he's too prideful. But every night you don't spend in his chambers leaves him restless. Your presence eases him. You have always been his comfort.

Like the softest summer rain.

Wriothesley

"Oh good, youre back. Come here now" He does so without a second thought, and his eyes fix upon yours. He is close enough to touch you, if he so chooses. He has no fear— he is loyal, devoted, and a fanatic. And maybe hes a simp. "What is it, Your Grace?" he murmurs, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. "I just wanted my good boy in my presence or am i to greedy?"

His entire body seems to relax as soon as you speak. He nods immediately. "I am here, Your Grace. Nothing you do would ever seem to greedy." He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with an almost unhealthy amount of devotion. When you call him your "good boy," his ears prick up and his cheeks flush with the heat of passion.

"Then stay with me please"

Wriothesley nods again, and remains on his knees at your feet. His hands clench tightly together, and his blue eyes watch you with something close to reverence.

"Your wish is my command, Your Grace."

(I'm bad at writing him I'm so sorry)

[pucksandpower]

Used to be Mine

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Arthur Leclerc x ex!Reader

Summary: Oscar stole everything from Arthur … his hopes, his dreams, his family name, and you

Arthur slumps in the hard chair across from Jock Clear’s desk, the Ferrari Driver Academy director’s words echoing in his mind. “I’m very sorry Arthur, but we’ve decided not to renew your contract for next season. You’ll be released from the program at the end of this year.”

Arthur feels like he’s been punched in the gut. This can’t be happening. He’s poured his heart and soul into racing for Ferrari’s junior program for years. His dream has always been to follow in his older brother Charles’ footsteps and race for the Scuderia in Formula 1.

“But … why?” Arthur manages to choke out. “I know my results this season haven’t been that great but fifteenth in the F2 standings-”

Clear shakes his head solemnly. “Your pace and racecraft simply haven’t developed at the rate we need to see to justify keeping you in the program, Arthur. I know how hard you’ve worked, but there are other young talents coming up behind you showing greater potential.”

The word “potential” hits Arthur like a dagger. Ever since he was a kid, that’s what he’s heard over and over — unfavorable comparisons to Charles’ unlimited potential. He always knew his big brother was special behind the wheel, but he’d clung to the hope that he could make it to F1 through sheer hard work and determination if not raw talent.

Clearly that hope was misguided. Arthur feels the sting of failure wash over him.

“I … I understand,” he forces out, struggling not to break down in tears right there. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

He stands up shakily, the room spinning. He needs to get out of here.

The drive back to his family’s home in Monaco is a blur. Arthur’s mind races, years of sacrifice and struggle swirling in his head. Endless days and nights on the simulator. Grueling hours in the gym, pushing his body to its limits. Tormenting himself over endless data traces, looking for even a tenth of a second to gain an edge.

All for nothing. The harsh truth is he’ll never be good enough. No matter how hard he tries, the Leclerc name will always belong to Charles. Arthur will be forever known as his little brother, the one who couldn’t quite cut it.

He slams his fist against the steering wheel, angry tears now streaming down his face. Why did he ever think he could do this? Why didn’t he just pursue something, anything else with his life? He’s wasted years chasing an impossible dream, and now he has nothing to show for it.

His phone rings, almost slipping out of his trembling hands before he can answer. It’s you.

“Y/N ...” Arthur chokes out, trying and failing to hold back his sobs.

“Arthur? Oh my god, what’s wrong?” You ask, panic in your voice even through the tinny speaker. Of course you can sense something is desperately wrong. You’ve always been there for him, the one person who truly understands what he’s been going through.

Arthur can barely get the words out between ragged breaths. “The … the FDA ... they’re releasing me ... it’s over ...”

There’s stunned silence on the other end of the line.

“Arthur, I ...” You trail off, at an uncharacteristic loss for words. You know how much this has meant to him. How much of himself he’s given to this endeavor. “I’m coming over right now, okay? Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You hang up before Arthur can respond. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Part of him wants to wallow in despair alone. But mostly he’s grateful you’re coming. He’s not sure he can handle this by himself right now.

Sure enough, you burst through the front door only a few minutes later. Arthur has collapsed on the couch, head in his hands as the tears continue to flow.

“Oh Arthur ...” You sit down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. He turns and buries his face in your shoulder, no longer trying to hold anything back as ragged sobs wrack his body.

You just hold him, making soft hushing sounds and stroking his hair. You’ve seen him distraught before — after tough losses or crashes. But never quite like this. This is the cry of someone whose dreams have been shattered.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Arthur’s sobs begin to subside into hitching breaths. You grab a tissue box from the end table and hand it to him.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, blowing his nose loudly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just … I don’t know what to do. What am I going to do now?”

You take his hand and give it a squeeze. “First, you’re going to breathe. This isn’t the end of the world, I promise. We’ll get through this.”

Arthur lets out a shaky exhale, trying to calm himself. You always have been the level-headed one. He leans back against the couch cushions, keeping your hand grasped tightly in his.

“I really thought I could make it, you know?” He says quietly. “I’ve given everything to this stupid dream ever since I was a kid. But I’ll never be good enough, will I? Not like Charles.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Arthur barrels on, unable to contain years of self-doubt and insecurity any longer.

“Don’t try to argue. We both know it’s true. Charles was always the special one. The one with the generational talent. I was just … there. Doing my best to keep up, but always a step behind no matter how hard I worked.”

You shake your head vehemently. “Arthur, that’s not true at all. You’re an incredible driver. Your work ethic and determination are-”

“Meaningless without the talent,” Arthur interrupts bitterly. “That’s all that matters in the end. And I don’t have it, not like Charles does. I’m just … normal. Ordinary. That’s why Ferrari has moved on.”

You move closer, taking Arthur’s face in your hands so he has to look you in the eye. “You listen to me, Arthur Leclerc. You are anything but ordinary, understand? You’ve accomplished more by the age of 23 than most people could dream of in their entire lives. Making it all the way to F2 and the Ferrari Driver Academy is incredible, no matter what happens next.”

Arthur tries to turn away, but you keep his gaze locked, your voice rising in intensity. “If you were ordinary, you wouldn’t have been able to push yourself so hard for so long. Ordinary people would have given up a long time ago. It’s your extraordinary drive and passion that have taken you this far.”

Tears are welling up in your eyes now. You can’t stand to see him diminishing himself like this.

“Besides,” you add, managing a small smile. “I may be biased, but I’ve always thought you were the most extraordinarily kind, caring, and hilarious person I know. That’s a kind of specialness in itself, you know.”

Arthur lets out a choked laugh, wiping at his eyes again. Leave it to you to know just what to say to raise his spirits, even a little. “You always have been weirdly good at these pep talks.”

“Well, someone has to keep your head from getting too big,” you quip back with a grin.

Arthur mock-gasps in feigned offense. “Why, you little ...”

He lunges at you, starting to mercilessly tickle your sides. You squeal with laughter, trying in vain to fight back as you quickly devolve into a giggling, flailing mess of limbs.

You’ve been reduced to teary hiccups when Arthur finally relents, allowing you both to catch your breath. He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“You’re the best,” he murmurs softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You rest your head against his shoulder contentedly. “Let’s just take things one day at a time for now, okay? We’ll figure out what’s next together, like we always have.”

Arthur nods, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love for his girlfriend. No matter what curveballs life has thrown your way, you’ve always supported and uplifted each other. He knows that won’t change, even if his racing dreams don’t pan out.

“Together,” he echoes, giving your hand one more tight squeeze. Whatever the future holds, he can get through it with you by his side.

Maybe his path won’t lead to Formula 1 after all. Arthur feels a pang of sadness and disappointment at that realization. But as long as he has his family — has you — to lean on, he knows he’ll be okay. That love and support is what has always truly mattered most, not chasing some impossible dream.

“You know, we should see if Charles wants to come over later,” Arthur says, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I haven’t roasted his abysmal fashion sense in way too long.”

You burst out laughing at that. Only Arthur could find his way back to laughing and joking so soon after having his world turned upside down. It’s just one of the many things you admire about him.

“Oh my god, yes please,” you reply once you’ve caught your breath. “His outfit at the last race was literally a crime against humanity. Someone needs to intervene before he traumatizes us all again.”

The two of you spend the next little while cheerfully trading escalating insults about his big brother’s admittedly questionable clothing choices. The mood has lightened considerably, at least for now.

Arthur knows the sting of his failure will return, the questions about what he should do next weighing heavily. But you’ll be there for those hard moments too, just like always. As long as he has you — his best friend, his other half — he can face any challenge life throws his way.

The uncertain road ahead is daunting. But Arthur meets it with determination burning in his eyes. If he couldn’t make it as a Formula 1 driver, he’ll simply have to find a new dream to chase. A new mountain to climb. Whatever it is, he knows you’ll be alongside him every step of the way.

***

Six Months Later

The roar of the engines fades as the cars return to the pits after qualifying. Arthur can’t tear his eyes away from the timing screens:

1. C. LECLERC

2. O. PIASTRI

A Leclerc front row lockout at their home race. Except one of them isn’t really a Leclerc at all.

“Nice one, Piastri-Leclerc!” One of the McLaren mechanics calls out as Oscar climbs from his car.

Arthur’s gut twists.

Oscar just grins and plays along. “Thanks, it’s all in the family name!”

A few of the Ferrari mechanics chuckle at that as Charles emerges from his own car, beaming. He pulls Oscar into a hug. “A Leclerc one-two in Monaco, who would have thought?”

“There’s just something about being a local,” Oscar laughs. “Thank you for giving me yet another home race.”

You appear then, throwing your arms around Oscar with a squeal. “My two favorite Leclercssss!”

Arthur has to look away, his face burning. He knows he has no right to be jealous. Oscar is one of his best friends. And you … you made your choice a long time ago.

“Arthur?” Fred Vasseur appears at his side. “You okay?”

Arthur forces a smile. “Yeah, all good. Just … focused.”

“No need to be so tense,” Fred squeezes his shoulder. “You did a great job in the sim this week. That data helped Charles and Carlos a ton.”

“Glad I could help,” Arthur says automatically.

But his gaze is drawn back to where you’re still hugging Oscar tightly. You look so happy, so carefree. It wasn’t that long ago that your smiles were for him.

“You know,” Fred says conversationally. “I’m getting a lot of questions about what you’ll decide to do next. Every time you’re in that sim or out on track-”

“I’m fine being test driver,” Arthur interrupts, maybe a little too brusque. “Really, I am.”

Fred studies him for a beat. “If you’re sure. Just saying, the doors are opening ...”

The team principal moves off then, leaving Arthur alone with his swirling emotions. He can’t get swept up in maybes about his future. Not when his past is standing right there, laughing at some joke Oscar made.

You’d think after all this time, the sight of you wouldn’t affect him so much. You broke his heart so thoroughly when you ended things, he didn’t think there were any pieces left to shatter. But here he is, a mess of jealousy and longing, just because you gave Oscar a hug.

“Arthur! There you are!”

He turns at the sound of your voice. You’re hurrying towards him, Oscar and Charles trailing behind with indulgent smiles.

“We’re going to get some dinner if you want to join?” You ask brightly.

He has to swallow hard before he can speak past the lump in his throat. “I … don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Of course it is!” You grab his arm, utterly oblivious to his discomfort. “We’re all friends here, right?”

“Some of you were a bit more than friends once upon a time,” Charles points out with a wicked grin.

You shove him playfully. “Oh shut up!”

Arthur feels like he’s being stabbed in the heart. Your break up turned his life upside down. Hearing you joke about it so casually now is excruciating.

“Seriously, Arthur,” Oscar cuts in. “Come celebrate with us. We promise not to get too crazy.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Arthur tries again, harsher this time.

You frown, tilting your head in confusion. “Why not? I thought we were all past the whole ex thing?”

“I am,” he lies through gritted teeth. “I just … have some stuff to work on for the race tomorrow.”

“Oh come on,” you wheedle, giving him that smile that used to make him melt. “Take a break! Live a little!”

Arthur can’t take much more of this. He needs to get out of here before he says something he’ll regret. Or worse, does something stupid like pull you into his arms and kiss you senseless.

“Seriously you guys, I’ve got work,” he says, forcing himself to take a step back from you. “I’ll … catch up with you later, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just turns on his heel and stalks away. He can’t bear to see the hurt, confused look on your face.

Why did he think this would be okay? That he could spend day after day around you and it wouldn’t still hurt? Every smile, every laugh, every touch you bestow on Charles and Oscar is like a white hot poker in his chest.

He thought he was over you. He really did. It’s been months since you ended things, months since you shattered what was left of his heart into a million pieces.

He’d been so shocked, so heartbroken, that all he could do was sit there numbly as you walked out of his apartment. When he finally found his voice, hours had passed, and you were long gone.

“But I love you,” he’d whispered into the empty room.

He’d been so sure you felt the same. That what you had was forever. But you made your choice, as simple as that. Arthur never came first.

And now, half a year later, here he is. Living out some twisted version of his dream … but only just. A test driver for Ferrari instead of a race driver like he always imagined. Like Charles, who had achieved everything they both wanted.

Arthur leans back against the wall of the cool, dark room he’s found himself in. It feels like the pain of your rejection is never going to stop haunting him. Like no matter how much time passes, it will never be enough to make up for losing you.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying and failing to block out the memory of your face, your smile, your laugh. All the moments of pure joy you two had shared. The dreams you’d whispered to each other late at night, tangled in the sheets.

Is this his lot in life from now on? To watch you move on, all smiles and teasing jokes with Oscar and Charles? To see everyone welcoming Oscar into the family while Arthur is shut out in the cold?

He’s startled from his spiraling thoughts by a knock at the door. “Arthur? You in there?”

It’s Charles. Arthur flinches, swiping a hand over his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he calls back, grateful that his voice doesn’t shake.

There’s a pause. “Can I come in?”

Arthur considers sending his brother away. He’s in no state for a heart-to-heart right now.

But he can’t bring himself to refuse Charles. Not when they’ve been through so much together, from the karting tracks of their childhood to the highest levels of motorsport.

“Yeah, okay.”

The door opens and Charles slips inside. He stops short when he sees Arthur, brow furrowing in concern.

“Hey … you okay?”

Arthur can’t even find it in himself to fake it. He just shakes his head mutely.

“Is this about Y/N?” Charles asks gently.

And just like that, the dam breaks. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut again, but he can’t stop the tears from spilling over.

“I thought I was over her. I really did,” he chokes out. “But seeing her with Oscar … celebrating like that ...”

Strong arms wrap around him then, pulling him into a hug. Arthur goes boneless, sagging against his older brother as the sobs take over.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Charles murmurs. “Let it out.”

Arthur does. He cries and cries, shoulders shaking, as months of pent-up heartache pour out of him. Charles just holds him through it, rubbing soothing circles across his back.

“I’m s-sorry,” Arthur finally gasps out. “I’m being so stupid ...”

“You’re not stupid,” Charles says firmly. “Love isn’t stupid, Arthur. Especially your first real heartbreak. That shit hurts like hell.”

Arthur lets out a watery chuckle, finally pulling back and swiping at his eyes. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

“Well, I am the wise older brother,” Charles grins. Then he sobers, studying Arthur carefully. “Seriously though … you know Y/N loved you, right? What you two had was real.”

“I know.” Arthur shakes his head. “Doesn’t make it any easier seeing her move on so quickly.”

“She’s not over you either,” Charles says gently. “That’s why she keeps trying so hard to act like everything is normal between you two.”

Arthur scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me with all the cuddling up to Oscar out there.”

“Oh come on, you know that’s just a joke,” Charles says with a roll of his eyes. “Oscar is like family to us, same as you. That’s all it is.”

“Yeah? Well it didn’t look that way to me.”

“Arthur ...” Charles puts a hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to have an actual conversation with Y/N. Clear the air once and for all. This lingering stuff is only going to keep eating you up inside.”

“What if she really has moved on?” The thought is like a vise around Arthur’s heart. “What if she tells me she’s dating Oscar for real or something?”

“Then at least you’ll know,” Charles says simply. “It will hurt, yeah. But not knowing, constantly wondering … that’s so much worse. Trust me.”

Arthur is quiet for a long moment, turning Charles’ words over in his mind. Maybe his brother is right. Maybe it’s time to rip off the bandaid once and for all.

He nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll ... I’ll talk to her.”

“Good.” Charles pulls him in for another hug. “No matter what happens, you’ve got me, okay? We Leclercs need to stick together.”

Arthur manages a small smile at that, feeling just a bit lighter. “Yeah. We do.”

As he follows Charles out of the room, he catches sight of you across the paddock, laughing at something Oscar said. A familiar ache blooms in his chest.

But this time, he doesn’t run from it. This time, he’s going to face it head on. His heart may end up in even more pieces … or maybe, just maybe, it will finally start to mend.

Either way, at least he’ll know. No more lingering what ifs. Just the truth, whatever it may be.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, then starts making his way towards you.

***

Arthur’s steps falter as he rounds the corner of the McLaren garage. There you are with Oscar, bodies intertwined, lips locked in a heated kiss.

It feels like all the air has been sucked from Arthur’s lungs. He can’t breathe, can’t think. He just … freezes, rooted to the spot, watching in numb horror as the two of you make out shamelessly right there in the open.

This can’t be happening. It has to be some kind of twisted nightmare. But no matter how hard he blinks, the scene before him doesn’t change.

You and Oscar are really kissing. Properly sucking face like loved-up teenagers, hands roaming over each other greedily. Oscar has you backed up against the garage wall, bodies pressed flush together from chest to thigh.

Arthur feels like he’s going to be sick.

Finally, mercifully, you two break apart, foreheads pressed together as you both gasp for air. Arthur should look away, he knows he should, but he can’t seem to make himself move.

“So much for keeping it professional in the paddock, huh?” You murmur, voice husky.

Oscar lets out a breathless chuckle. “Who cares about professional? Not when I’ve got you all to myself for once.”

He leans in to kiss you again, but you put a hand on his chest, stopping him. “We should find somewhere more private if we’re gonna keep this up.”

“My driver’s room?” Oscar suggests, already palming at the small of your back.

You shiver, pushing up onto your tiptoes to brush your lips against his jaw. “Lead the way, Piastri-Leclerc.”

And just like that, you’re gone, disappearing into the depths of the McLaren garage, hands roaming and giggling like lovesick fools. Arthur watches until the door swings shut behind you, cutting off that haunting sound of your laughter.

Then he’s moving without conscious thought, staggering back around the corner and out of sight. His back hits the cool concrete wall with a thud, but he barely notices. Barely notices anything except the ragged, gasping breaths being torn from his lungs.

He doubles over, hands braced on his knees as he struggles not to vomit right there in the paddock. It feels like someone has driven a white hot poker straight through his chest. Like his heart is being crushed into a million pieces all over again.

Oscar and you … together? Actually dating? How … how could you do this to him? To yourself? Everything you two had built together, every future dream you had shared … tossed aside so easily?

Tears burn at the corners of Arthur’s eyes. He wants to scream, to punch a wall, to unleash the searing agony and fury ripping through him. But he can’t make a sound, throat locked up tight with unshed emotion.

He should have known, really. Should have seen this coming. It’s not like you and Oscar were hiding your connection. The loving looks, the inside jokes, that easy intimacy and affection … Arthur had just been too blinded by jealousy and heartbreak to see it.

But to find out like this? To literally walk in on you two wrapped around each other? It’s a whole new level of pain, lancing through him over and over. He’s always imagined that you would have the decency to at least tell him first if you moved on with someone new.

Unless this has been going on for a while already, hidden from him in plain sight. Every laugh, every hug, every teasing comment … was that all a lie to cover up your dirty secret with Oscar?

Arthur’s stomach churns violently again at the thought. He swallows hard, fighting back the nausea. He can’t lose it here, can’t draw any attention to himself. He needs to get it together, block out the image of you and Oscar swapping spit.

Easier said than done when his brain keeps unhelpfully replaying the way Oscar’s hands were roaming over you, groping at you like you belonged to him. And that laugh … god, that beautiful, carefree laughter that Arthur would know anywhere. A sound that used to make his heart soar whenever it was aimed at him.

Now it’s like a knife in his gut to hear you giggling that way with Oscar, no doubt blissed out after a hot and heavy make out session. Arthur’s jaw tightens, a muscle ticking furiously. He would give anything not to have walked in on that, not to have that sound burnt into his brain forever.

At least now he knows the truth. The humiliating, gut-wrenching truth that you’ve well and truly moved on from him. And with Oscar of all people, like the ultimate slap in the face.

What kind of cruel joke is this? Arthur wonders, still fighting to steady his ragged breaths. He loses the girl he wanted to spend forever with … only to have one of his mates swoop in and take her from him?

It’s not just you that Oscar has stolen either, Arthur realizes with a sickening jolt. It’s everything. With you on his arm, Oscar is welcomed into the family, called a Leclerc at their home race. Arthur’s own last name, treated like some kind of lighthearted joke while the real thing is ripped away from him.

Oscar even gets Monaco as a home race, just like the actual Leclercs who grew up here. All because of some dumb joke about Charles adopting him. Arthur had laughed along with it at the time, never imagining the underhanded truth.

Oscar Piastri has wormed his way into having everything Arthur wanted more than anything. The career, the family, the girl … all of it, just handed to him on a silver platter.

White hot fury flares in Arthur’s chest, momentarily burning through the heartbreak. How dare Oscar do this to him? How dare he make a mockery out of Arthur’s dreams, out of everything the name Leclerc stands for?

Arthur barely registers that he’s moving until his fist connects with the concrete wall with a sickening crunch. He lashes out again and again, pummeling the unforgiving surface over and over until-

“Arthur! Hey, whoa!”

Suddenly there are hands on him, strong and insistent. Arthur starts, accidentally slamming his abused knuckles into a firm chest as Charles appears, grabbing hold of his shoulders.

“Easy, easy! What the hell are you doing?” Charles meets his gaze, eyes wide with concern.

Arthur blinks dazedly, pain finally registering from his torn up, bleeding knuckles. “I … I didn’t ...”

“What happened?” Charles presses, lowering his voice when Arthur winces. “Did you get into it with someone? Talk to me, please.”

Arthur opens his mouth, fully intending to tell Charles everything. About walking in on your incriminating embrace with Oscar. About the way it felt like his entire world shattered all over again. How Oscar has stolen every single thing that should have been Arthur’s by birthright.

But when he tries to vocalize the words, to unleash the storm of emotions battering him from the inside out … nothing comes out. His throat remains locked up tight, breath wheezing harshly.

Charles is watching him, eyebrows knitted with worry. “You’re really freaking me out here. What’s going on?”

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head helplessly. He feels like he’s drowning, lost in a whirlpool of jealousy and despair that’s slowly suffocating him.

When he opens his eyes again, Charles is still waiting, patient and steady as always. Something in his brother’s calm, anchoring presence helps Arthur regain just a little bit of control. Enough to grit out a few words.

“Oscar. And Y/N.”

That’s all he can manage. But judging by the dawning comprehension on Charles’ face, it’s enough. The older Leclerc lets out a slow breath, gaze turning sympathetic.

“You saw them together,” he says, not a question.

Arthur nods jerkily, jaw locked.

For a long moment, Charles is silent. Taking it all in, no doubt. Then … “I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur’s breath hitches harshly before he can stop it.

“Hey, hey.” Charles pulls him into a tight hug, tucking Arthur’s head under his chin. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you, little brother.”

Arthur stiffens for just a second before melting into the embrace, squeezing his eyes shut once more. He takes a shuddery breath against Charles’ shirt, then another, just trying to hold himself together.

“I’m here,” Charles murmurs, rubbing his back soothingly. “We’ll get through this together, yeah?”

Arthur doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nods against Charles’ shoulder. He clings to his brother like a lifeline, grateful beyond words that Charles is here to anchor him when it feels like his world is crumbling all over again.

He has no idea how long they stay like that, locked in that tight embrace. Long enough for the sharp edges of Arthur’s anguish to dull, at least a little. Long enough for his ragged breaths to even out into something closer to normal.

Finally, Charles gives him one last squeeze before gently pulling back, keeping a firm grip on Arthur’s shoulders.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, eyeing Arthur’s bloodied knuckles with a wince.

Arthur follows his gaze, grimacing at the sight. “Shit, I ...”

“It’s okay,” Charles says quickly, sliding an arm around Arthur’s back. “I’ve got you.”

He guides Arthur through the paddock, shielding him from view with his body. Arthur is grateful for the discretion — the last thing he needs right now is prying eyes and questions about his meltdown.

They make it back to the cool shadows of the Ferrari motorhome without incident. Charles sweeps them into one of the private rooms, locking the door securely behind them.

“There, just us,” he says, squeezing Arthur’s arm reassuringly. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?”

Arthur sinks down onto the worn sofa, feeling numb and drained. He stares at his mangled hands as Charles darts away, returning a moment later with a first aid kit and a damp cloth.

“This might sting,” Charles warns, taking Arthur’s hands with surprising gentleness.

Arthur barely flinches as his brother starts cleaning away the blood and grit from his torn skin. He’s retreated deep inside his own head, memories from that hellish scene on an endless loop.

You and Oscar, tangled together so intimately. The way you looked at each other, breathless with desire. The easy intimacy and obvious hunger in every heated caress.

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, but it does nothing to block it out. He’s never going to be able to unsee that, he realizes with a sick lurch. It’s seared into his brain forever, a brand new source of unrelenting torment.

“Arthur?” Charles’ soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. “What happened? Talk to me.”

Arthur blows out a shaky breath, forcing himself to meet his brother’s concerned gaze.

“I went to find Y/N,” he starts in a dull rasp. “To … to get some closure, I guess. Finally rip off the bandaid like you said.”

Charles nods in understanding, staying quiet to let Arthur continue at his own pace.

“But when I turned the corner of the McLaren garage ...” Arthur’s throat works convulsively, the memory surging back in vivid technicolor. “They were there. Making out like a couple of horny teenagers.”

He falls silent again, the words cutting off as a wave of fresh agony washes over him. God, the visual is never going to stop haunting him, is it?

“Oh, Arthur ...” Charles murmurs, squeezing his hands gently. “I’m so sorry.”

Arthur lets out a bitter huff. “Sorry? Don’t be sorry for me, Charles. Be sorry for yourself.”

Charles frowns in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Oscar,” Arthur grits out, white-hot anger flaring once more. “He stole her from me, sure. But he also stole our name. He gets to be a Leclerc now, a mockery of our home streets. Just because you stupidly joked about adopting him.”

He surges to his feet, unable to stay still with all this wrath and hurt burning through him.

“Everything that was supposed to be mine, Charles!” He shouts, prowling the room like a caged animal. “The career, the family, the girl … Oscar has taken it all! With a few laughs and some dumb jokes!”

“Arthur, that’s not fair ...” Charles tries, but Arthur barrels right over him.

“No? Well how about this — let’s see how funny those jokes are when Oscar decides he actually wants to be Charles Leclerc!” Arthur snarls. “He’ll take your career next, you watch! Take away everything that makes you special, everything that’s yours by right!”

“Arthur.” Charles is on his feet now, reaching out to grip Arthur’s shoulders firmly. “Listen to me. You need to calm down, okay? Oscar isn’t trying to take anything from us. He’s our friend!”

“How can you say that?” Arthur demands, anguish cracking through the rage. “Don’t you see what he’s done? What he’s taking from me?”

He’s breathing hard now, vision swimming as tears of mingled fury and heartbreak prick at his eyes.

“That was supposed to be my future, Charles,” he rasps. “Y/N and I … we had plans. Dreams of a life together.”

Arthur swipes angrily at the tear that escapes, blurring his vision. “Oscar doesn’t get to take that from me. He doesn’t get to make it all a mocking joke.”

“Arthur ...” Charles looks stricken now, shaking his head slowly. He pulls Arthur into another fierce hug, tucking the younger man’s head under his chin.

“I’m so sorry,” Charles murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry he hurt you like this. You don’t deserve that … any of it.”

Arthur lets out a choked sob against his brother’s shirt, all of the fight abruptly draining from him. He’s just … tired. Wrung out and hollow, aching down to his very core.

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, Charles,” he whispers brokenly. “Oscar was my friend … how could he do this to me?”

Charles doesn’t seem to have any answers. He just holds Arthur tighter, rocking them gently from side to side as Arthur finally gives in to his emotions. He buries his face in Charles’ shoulder and weeps — for his shattered dreams, his shredded heart, and a future that now feels impossibly out of reach.

As the sobs gradually subside, a final bitter thought takes root in Arthur’s mind. If Oscar is going to steal away the girl Arthur loves, the family he was born into, and the future he had mapped out for himself ... then Arthur hopes to god the Monaco curse falls on Oscar just as harshly as it ever has for a Leclerc.

Maybe then Oscar will finally understand just how much he’s taken from Arthur. How many dreams and pieces of Arthur's very identity he’s carelessly crushed in his quest to make himself a Leclerc on everything but paper.

Arthur’s tears have dried, leaving his cheeks chafed and eyes swollen. But the hollow ache in his chest remains, throbbing in time with his ragged breaths. He stays huddled against Charles, taking what little solace he can from his brother’s presence.

It’s all he has left now. Oscar has snatched away everything else that ever mattered to Arthur. His future, his past, his home ... all of it, gone in a spiral of heated kisses and breathless laughter.

If the cost of having it all is the Monaco curse bearing down on him, then so be it. Arthur finds himself almost hoping Oscar gets everything he so greedily took, the consequences be damned. Maybe then, just maybe, he’ll finally understand an ounce of the anguish and heartbreak he’s inflicted on Arthur.

It’s a dark, vindictive thought, one that makes Arthur's gut twist with shame. But he’d too drained, too devastated to truly care. He just presses closer to Charles, craving the simple comfort of family as reality crushes him from all sides.

His dreams, his heart, his identity ... all stolen by a former friend turned ultimate betrayer. If the Monaco curse is all Arthur has left to cling to, then so be it.

[seiwas]

i maxxed the tags (what did i expect) but!!

what a soft piece ari 🥺 thank you for sharing this hurt/comfort piece w us!! i think satoru will always be a figure of strength—but i think it’s in part because that’s how he brands himself to be around the people he cares about. he’ll never truly share how he thinks and feels about things, will almost always downplay it really. but he’s always worrying, always aware and cautious, overthinking 🥺 and i felt that loads here!!

there’s a shipwreck stuck between your ribs ; satoru gojo

synopsis; three times satoru sees you cry, and the understanding you gain of each other from it.

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, the synopsis speaks for itself i think, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, i just think he’d be so good at comforting u :ccc, also fluff!!, he’s addicted to calling u ”baby,” satoru gojo vs human emotion (he loses)

a/n; pls ignore the fact that 90% of my gojo fics are hurt/comfort ok we dont need to get into that <33 the writing in this one might be a lil rusty but im pretty fond of this gojo :’3

dim lights, buttery popcorn, and boredom.

the senses invading his mind are mellow, coaxing, a little tedious. all he can see are the buzzing lights before him, all he can hear is the insistent chewing of the people around him, and all he can feel is just that:

boredom.

satoru stifles a yawn, resting his cheek on the heel of his palm. he’s trying to pay attention — really, he is. trying to pay attention to the movie he picked out himself, after thoughtful consideration, one he’s been looking forward to watching with you all week. he’s trying his best. but, gosh, it’s just so boring.

or maybe he just doesn’t have it in him today — with all these too-dim lights, too-loud popcorn-chewers, and the too-convoluted plot playing on the big screen in front of him. he has no idea what’s happening, anymore, what scene this is supposed to be. some sob-story? he clocked out a while ago.

so, with nothing better to do — satoru decides to savour another view.

that’s how it always goes. no matter the movie, no matter the snacks, whether you’re watching at home on the couch or a nearby movie theatre — eventually, when his eyelids begin to grow heavy, or when his attention span begins to falter, that blue-soaked gaze of his shifts. a moth to a flame, following his instincts. constantly looking over to see what kind of face you're making. 

after all, your reactions are far more entertaining than any movie could ever hope to be. little sighs of exasperation, jolts and shivers down your spine, or a laughter so bubbly he can’t resist leaning in for a kiss or ten — he loves it. adores it. lives and dies by it. 

so satoru turns his head, and looks at you, knowing you’ll save him from the boredom clutching at his subconscious. 

and something in his chest constricts.

at first, he doesn’t notice it. hungrily lapping over the expanse of your jaw, to your cheekbones, his gaze drinking in everything he can see. scanning your eyes for a hint of emotion; and he finds it. he finds it in something that glimmers in the dim lighting of the theatre, something that has his breath drawing back to the depths of his throat.

tears.

crystalline, dew-drawn, a fresh set of tears clinging to the edge of your lash line. they’ve yet to fall, but satoru sees them — he sees them and he doesn’t know what to do. 

tears. 

tears?

you’re crying.

in the depths of your glassy eyes, he sees a fractured scene — playing against the scope of your iris, as the movie reflects off your pupils. there’s a turmoil there, a sadness, one that has you covering your mouth with the front of your knuckle. and you’re crying.

satoru wants to tease you. he wants to lean over and purr against the shell of your ear, poke fun at you for being so emotional. such a little baby. what else is he supposed to do?

the tricky part is that he can’t. he can’t move, can’t shape his voice into a purr, can’t even speak. he’s frozen in place like a bug trapped in amber, stuck to his seat, unable to do anything but blink at you in what he thinks might be bewilderment.

his breath hitches — and that’s all. 

something about the sight of you makes him falter, makes him stop in his tracks. catches him off guard. he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t recognize the feeling stirred deep within his chest, something discomforting and foreign. doesn’t understand why his heart feels so itchy, all of a sudden.

then your eyes meet.

and you blink. once, then twice. eyes just a little wide, an embarrassed kind of surprise. he thinks you must be flustered, and he’s proven right when your gaze flees from his.

a mingle of words clog up at the base of his throat. say something, say something, say something. but he doesn’t know what. 

he wets his lips, preparing to part them, but before he can get the first syllable out you're leaning in. close. close enough that he feels your breath ghost against the shell of his ear, close enough that his heart starts skipping the way it always does when you press yourself against him like that’s where you belong.

a whisper. it’s small, hushed, a little frail. but there’s something else, too, laced together with the vowels — amusement. 

”you didn’t tell me this was a sad movie.”

a pout plays at your lips, as you murmur your grievances. but then there’s that amusement; it’s there when you pull back, in the crinkle of your sparkling eyes, the curve of your smile. 

and satoru’s shoulders relax. stiffened bones melting. he exhales a breath he had no idea he was holding, and his heart feels at ease. a grin finds it’s way to his lips, wide, teasing, cheshire and sweet. 

he leans a little closer, bumping his head against yours. gently. ”i think you’re just sensitive, baby.”

his teasing is rewarded with a little huff, as your elbow meets his side. soft. everything you do is soft. 

”oh, shut up,” you scoff. smiling. he’s so relieved that you’re smiling. 

a moth to a flame, following his instincts, satoru brings you closer. an arm around your waist, pulling you into his orbit, until you’re practically sharing seats. searching for your hand — and he finds it, intertwining his long fingers with yours, just to give it a little squeeze.

(for some reason, he feels more protective than usual.)

he feels your gaze. questioning, maybe. but you melt into him quickly, with your head slumped against his shoulder, and his heart settles back into a sleepy rhythm. just watching the movie pass you by.

the dim lighting of the theatre casts a hazy shadow over your face, a tender desaturation, and his eyes stay glued to it when you aren’t looking. the smell of popcorn hangs heavy in the air, salty and buttery, warm and sweet, and he’s almost grateful to feel that familiar boredom tug at his veins.

anything is fine. anything is better than that discomfort, that irritating itch. 

satoru watches the movie flicker by, scene by scene, whispering commentary into your ear and stealing your popcorn with a satisfied hum. chuckling when you whisper-shout at him to cut it out!

he tries not to think of the glittering tears at your lash line, and almost succeeds.

rain clouds, cups of chamomile, and frustration.

it seeps out into the open air, engulfing your living room in a feverish haze. thick and suffocating; the scent of heavy rain, lukewarm tea, and that ugly, ugly feeling underneath his skin.

it pulses. it itches. and oh, how it aches.

satoru hates it. he hates feeling angry, feeling upset — hates when either of those emotions are in connection to you. hates it, hates it, hates it more than anything.

he does everything he possibly can to avoid it; his eyes are keen, always have been, and he can see when that thin line he shouldn’t cross crawls a little too close for comfort. when the rubber band of your patience just snaps. he sees all your buttons, knows which ones not to push. he knows you.

and, more importantly, more than anything — nothing you do could ever make him angry at you. 

(well, at least that’s what he thought.) 

satoru’s anger is a fickle thing, controlled, kept under wraps. it’s a slow process; it simmers, boils, a cup of chamomile brewed too long. and then it all but invades his senses. it never gets the best of him, never, but right now he can feel it — little pinpricks against his skin, a frustration that stirs his guts and has his eyes going cold.

satoru towers over you, like this. full height on display. not slouching or draping himself over furniture, but standing tall, and proud, and menacing. he isn’t smiling, and that’s all you need to know that he’s upset with you. his eyes are layered over with discontentment. 

a sigh spills from his lips, a little gruff, unmistakably annoyed. it slices the silence of the room in half, and a shiver travels down your spine. he doesn’t notice it. his voice has a rough edge to it, something firm. something that doesn’t sound like it could come out of his mouth at all.

”don’t act like such a child.”

a flinch. or maybe more like a jolt; this time, he notices, but it’s too late. he’s in too deep, boiled water licking at his ankles, pulling him down. frustration nips at his skin, and he can’t quite seem to push it away.

and you’re just so, so unaccustomed to it. unaccustomed to seeing him wear anything but a smile, unaccustomed to that cold gaze, usually nothing but warm and fond when it meets your own. this isn’t like him.

it’s not like him at all.

swallowing thickly, you do your best to calm down. but before you can make any attempt to contain it, wetness begins to gather in the corners of your eyes. pooling, little droplets yearning to fall.

satoru notices them instantly. he sees that sad glimmer, framed by the murky darkness seeping in from beyond the curtains, accompanied by the symphony of pitter patter against the windowpane. tears, much like the rain beating down outside.

and his chest goes cold.

a tiny sniffle pushes past your lips, and the dam inside you begins to break — tears tripping over your lash line, rolling down your cheeks. cascading across your pretty face. the air fills with a sense of dread, and both of you seem to be thinking the exact same thing.

(oh, fuck.)

satoru notices, belatedly, that his throat has gone dry. that his heart feels itchy, again. it itches and itches but he can’t do anything to soothe it, and your tears continue to fall. 

his heart begins to crack. right down the middle, like a gash in the reflection of a puddle, right across his chest. it hurts.

an inhale, then an exhale. you’re still trying to keep it all together, grasping for control over your emotions, but it’s not going too well. the little breaths that escape your throat are shaky at best, hands trembling as you wipe the tears away with the front of your wrists. and your voice sounds a little like it’s about to crumble away. 

”sorry,” you squeak, taking a step back. there’s a silent panic in the gesture, one that makes satoru want to get down on his knees. ”i’ll just — i’ll leave —”

he wants to stop you. he needs to stop you. but he does nothing, nothing at all, even as you stumble out. leaving the haunting echo of tiny sniffles and tear-stained cheeks behind you. 

satoru just stands there. once again, the sight of your tears seems to render him completely helpless. useless.

and he's frustrated, honestly. frustrated by the argument, by your tears, by his own guilt. he’s so frustrated he wants to claw his eyes out. he scratches at his forearm, but it does no good. all he can think of is your frightened little expression.

(he scared you.)

satoru slumps down on the couch, head in his hands, running rough fingers through his soft hair. it’s unruly by the time he’s done, and his bottom lip is bruised with teeth marks, and everything in the world feels so meaningless. so out of tune.

(he made you cry.)

a sigh. drawn out, tinged with exhaustion, bitter and battered like the swing of a baseball bat. he feels a little like he could throw up. it’s foreign, this emotion, suffocating. how long has it been since he genuinely felt this kind of shame?

the crack in his heart grows deeper, while you’re gone. more severe. every moment you spend outside of his vision makes him falter more and more, makes his desperation grow. desperate to plead for your forgiveness, to convince you not to leave. to wipe the tears away from your cheeks, delicately, the way you deserve. but he can do nothing but sit there, useless, repeating the same old phrase inside his mind.

he’ll make it up to you.

and when you finally come back, having calmed down a bit, he does just that. you’re embarrassed, he can tell, a little meek. it makes him feel that discomforting emotion, again, that ache. the crack that only ever seems to deepen.

but he covers it all up with a smile. a little sheepish, more than a little forced, but he hopes you understand. hopes you can see his remorse, see a man who loves you, because he does. 

so satoru takes you into his arms, softly, hands finding the small of your back. delicate, protective. a little whisper spilling from his lips. 

”’m sorry, baby. i didn’t mean it.”

and it’s not enough. he knows it isn’t. but he does what he can — even when it just ends up clumsy, teasing, bordering on something that most would interpret as insincere. all he can do is coddle you. shower you in hugs and kisses, gifts and praises. he hands it out like candy, eager hands finding yours, everything spilling out of his chest all at once. 

there’s a desperation to it that isn’t lost on you.

but it works. he’ll make it up to you; he swears. and he dotes on you until you’re too embarrassed to be sad anymore, apologizes until his throat runs dry. until he’s sure you believe him. 

he brews you another cup of chamomile, stirred to perfection, warm enough to make up for the shiver he sent down your spine. the rain beating down on your windows serves as a constant reminder of his failure, and satoru does his best to ignore it. swallowing what’s left of his frustration, focusing on you.

anything to see you smile again. anything to wash away the red tint to your eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. anything to hear you laugh, to get you to feel safe around him again. 

(anything to make him forget the sight of those tears rolling down your cheeks.)

panic, panic, panic.

it’s all he can feel, all he can think, the only emotion his muddled mind can cling to. he’s in pure, sincere, genuine panic, and you aren’t saying a thing. can’t bring yourself to.

arms wrapped around his waist, tightly, you hide away in the crook of his neck. clutching the fabric of his shirt, burrowing your face deeper into his warmth — and you’re not just crying.

you’re downright sobbing.

satoru knew something was off the moment you fell into his embrace, suddenly, tackling him into a hug so desperate it left him reeling. a kind of desperation he isn’t used to, from you.

he knew something was wrong. 

he knew even before he heard it; your choking sobs, those shaky, heaving breaths. muffled into the cotton of his shirt, his uncertain arms around you.

they break his heart.

”hey, hey…” there’s a soothing lilt to his voice, awfully delicate. sweet like molten honey, almost enough to hide the panic. ”what’s wrong?”

satoru holds you to his chest, safe and secure, cradling you protectively. as if shielding you from the world — from whatever or whoever got you like this. as if you’d crumble into dust, otherwise.

he tries to calm down, but his mind is spinning like a broken clock, and your silence doesn’t help. you’re trying to respond; he knows you are, but you just can’t get the words out. any attempts only make you cry harder.

a shake of your head is all he gets — and it’s not much, but satoru’s learned to make a lot out of a little. 

so he continues to hold you, hiding his worry, tucking his anxiety away somewhere you won’t be able to see. he curses, inwardly, grasping blindly for conclusions — for some divine guidance. how is he supposed to deal with this?

(how long has it been since he felt so very useless?)

gentle. that’s the approach he takes, finally, hiding his nervosity. he rocks you back and forth, just a little, like he’s lulling you to sleep; his warm hands finding the small of your back, the back of your head. cradling you so close you hear his rapid heartbeat by your ear.

soothing whispers. murmured into your hair, so soft they seem to melt once they slip from his tongue, all honey and devotion. affection so palpable you taste it in the air, from the breaths he exhales. 

”it’s fine. i’m here, i’m here… i’ve got you.”

he doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really, but it seems to work. because you calm down, after a while, just sniffling into his neck and letting him soothe you. sobs and unstable heaves, turning into whimpers and shaky breaths. clinging to him all the while; so desperate for comfort, for him.

it makes him feel so, so desperate to protect you, to wash every single one of your worries away.

it’s unbearable, this aching desire. like a great, insatiable, unnamed something deep within the caverns of his chest, clawing at his ribcage, snarling and hissing, itching to break out so it can open its maw and devour you both.

(it’s ugly. it’s grotesque. it wants to keep you safe so badly it might kill him for it.)

a coo. sad, dripping with care, a comforting tone that he hopes you’ll find soothing. he smooths his palm down the back of your head, heavy, doting. it hurts so much to see you hurt.

”my baby….” satoru exhales, a little shaky. but he smiles, and he hopes you can hear it, hopes it’ll help mend the pain in your chest. ”what’s got you this upset, hm? you're worrying me, here…”

a broken sniffle. the guilt eats at you, gnaws at your bones, and all you can do is hide away in the crook of his neck. apologizing, your voice no more than a tremor of a breath.

”’m sorry…”

and satoru thinks his heart shatters. he can practically hear the crash, feel the broken, useless little pieces dig into his skin.

his arms travel down to your hips, steady, and he lifts you up. just for a second, just so he can plop down on the floor with you in tow — keeping you snuggled into his neck. seated on his lap with your legs around his waist, like you’re his baby koala.

”shh, it's okay,” he soothes, a grounding rumble of his chest right by your ear. he’s got you enveloped, wrapped up in his buzzing warmth, and all you can feel is him. ”you’re okay. no matter what it is, i'll take care of it, alright? you can rely on me.”

a moment passes. 

satoru clears his throat. nervous, suddenly. ”you know that, right?”

all you can give him is a shaky nod, but it’s enough. he sighs, in palpable relief, still rubbing circles into your back. ”okay,” he sneaks a hand underneath your shirt, tracing little shapes into your bare skin. ”good.”

he isn’t sure how long you spend there, on the floor, entirely focused on comforting you. washing away all your sadness, with every gentle caress, every soothing murmur of there, there… every little stutter of his heartbeat next to yours.

and when you’ve finally calmed down, melting under his touch and into his skin, arms going lax around his neck — satoru takes a breath. collecting himself, so you don’t have to. acting like his heart isn’t still a mess of crushed glass.

”you okay now?” he coos, drawing absentminded hearts into the skin of your back. his voice is teasing, but warm, spilling from his tongue and into your ear. deep and smooth. ”almost gave me a heart attack, baby.”

he feels the way your grip around him tightens, just a smidge, and he hears the weak little breath you draw in. your voice is still shaky, and it makes him want to rearrange the world, stitch those broken vowels back together. 

(he doesn’t like how irrational it is, this insatiable something. how it makes him want to bend the rules of the universe, just to see you smile. a dangerous temptation.)

”i’m sorry,” you croak, clinging to him like a shipwreck to a shore. ”it’s not — not a big deal, ’m just…” 

satoru pulls back. just a little bit, making sure your arms and legs stay in their rightful place, curled around his neck and waist. making sure the two of you stay connected.

then he pinches your cheek.

”don’t apologize,” he quips, a playful frown on his face. soft, a vague furrow of his brows. like he’s scolding you. 

it makes you wince, your eyes downcast. you look so meek. a little like a kicked puppy, glassy eyes glancing up at him in search of comfort.

satoru clicks his tongue. ”and don’t look at me like that, either.” 

he boops your nose, playful, doting, and you exhale weakly. it’s small, more breath than a real laugh, but you’re almost smiling, and —

it’s a start. it’s something.

satoru coos, voice dripping with warmth, sickeningly sweet. it seeps from his fingertips when he cradles your cheek in his palm, rubbing circles into the puffy skin beneath your eyes. there’s a mirth in his own, crinkled at the edges, tucked into that blue shade, something glazed over with pure adoration.

”there’s that smile.” 

he leans forward, closer, to press a kiss against the bridge of your nose, eyelashes fluttering. tickling your skin. you fall further into his embrace and he makes no move to resist, wouldn’t do it even if he physically could. even if he had the strength to let you go.

then he broaches the subject. hesitant. tactful, careful, delicate — he tries to remember how it works. how to handle something fragile. he thinks of those boxes you carried last week, little porcelain cups. heavy in his arms. he thinks of the way you jab his side with your elbow; gentle, always gentle, even though there’s never any need.

he thinks of you, and it all comes easy. that’s how it always goes.

”wanna talk about it?” he asks, softly. fingers treading through your hair, scratching softly at your scalp. it makes you melt, a little. clearing your throat.

”it’s nothing, really,” you mumble, tiny, seeking respite in the warmth that seeps from his body. speaking with a raspy voice, a hoarse throat, all tired out after crying. ”nothing big, anyway…” 

a moment passes, before you continue. ”i guess it's just been a rough week,” you admit, a sigh slipping from your lips, tinged with pure exhaustion. ”just little things piling up. ’m okay now.” 

a hum. satoru clears his throat.

”anything i can do?”

(please let me help.)

but you only shake your head. ”you’ve already done enough,” you assure him, leaning into his touch. ”think i just needed to get it all out, y’know?”

a beat. an itch. satoru holds you tight, a little tighter than he should. gentle, he reminds himself. but he needs you close enough to feel the flutter of your heartbeat, close enough to delude himself that you’ve merged together. closer isn’t close enough.

he gnaws at his bottom lip, teeth sinking into the flesh. pulling words out from the back of his throat, uncertain. ”i’m always here,” he settles on. ”if there’s anything you need, come straight to me. okay?”

a frown plays at your lips. you’re silent, for a while, until he hears you mumble beneath your breath.

”i don’t want to bother you so much, though…”

”— it’s not a bother.”

the words spill into the air, a little more firm than he meant to sound. but he means them.

”i’m serious. if you ever need help, with anything, come find me. i’m yours,” satoru inhales, deep, his chest moving in tune with the breath. you’re carried along with it, as if being lulled to sleep, following the steady pattern of his lungs. 

then he exhales. in, and out, and with it comes a promise. ”if anyone makes you cry, i’ll get rid of them.”

he says it casually, so casually that you assume it’s a joke, a bout of breathless giggles pushing past your lips. the sound has his own curling up, and he doesn’t have the heart to correct you. has enough tact to know that this might not be the best moment to let you know that he’s honestly a little terrified of how far he’d be willing to go to keep you safe and happy. 

but you’re smiling, finally, laughing. and that matters more than anything. when he closes his eyes, he thinks he can even feel the telltale signs that his heart is picking itself back up, gluing jagged shards into a shape that resembles you.

"that's scary!” you gasp, amusement bubbling up inside your throat. ”you’d go to jail for me?”

satoru huffs. ”bold of you to assume i’d get caught,” he tuts, a smug smile on his face. it makes you giggle, again, and he feels like a god.

”okay, okay,”  you nose at his neck, breathing him in, strawberry lotion and laundry detergent filling your senses. ”please don’t kill anyone on my behalf, though.”

”no promises.”

”satoru…”

slowly, steadily, his heart begins to stitch itself together. it helps that you’re there, he thinks. helps that you’re pressed up against him, that you’re holding him, like he’s the safest thing in the world. like you trust him.

(the word tastes like molten honey and luscious berries, sickly-sweet on his tongue. he gulps it down hungrily.)

it’s healing. the weight of your arms around him, the breaths that brush against his neck. he holds you to keep you together, intact, to keep himself together. a shipwreck and a shore — he just isn’t sure which one of you is which. but your jagged edges fit just right with his own.

”i don’t like seeing you cry.”

you blink. gazing up at him, with a contemplative look in your eyes. it melts into something a little too close to guilt for his liking. shame.

”— but i still want you to let me see you like that.” satoru smiles, with a tilt of his head. snowy tufts of hair falling across his face. ”is that weird?”

a moment passes. then you hum.

”no,” you exhale, a little breathless. smiling, somewhat weak, but still enough to have his heart skipping a beat. ”i love that about you, satoru.”

”huh?” he gapes at you — blinking dumbly. ”love what? that i want to see you sob into my chest?”

”that you try,” you stifle a yawn, sleepily nuzzling into him, all tuckered out from crying. ”even when it makes you a little uncomfortable.”

satoru stills. 

silence fills the space between you. there’s nothing more to say. his tongue isn’t really cooperating with him, anyhow — all tied up. so he leaves a kiss on the top of your head, and doesn’t say a word about the tremor running through his chest. 

he hates seeing you cry. hates how powerless it makes him feel, how useless. hates the fact that he can’t always protect you from the world, from himself.

but you let him see you like that.

he thinks of your tears, crystalline and glassy, like translucent marbles on a summer shore — and sees the trust instead of the sorrow. he thinks of your tearstained face, meek and feeble, and knows it’ll always be enough to break his heart to pieces. 

he thinks of you, and tells himself that it’s worth it; just as long as he gets to bring that pretty little smile back to life. 

[daisymbin]

too handsome! - kim mingyu

warnings: alcohol & a bantering boogyu

pairings: kim mingyu x reader

genre: silly drunk confessions? friends to lovers!

wc: 1.1k

a/n: i can't believe this is the end of the drunken confessions series. I hope you had as much fun reading the series as I did writing them!! 🤍

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist!

you didn’t know what was more of a surprise: the sight of kim mingyu sprawled out on the living room floor, head resting against a pillow that had somehow found its way under him, or the fact that he was currently singing—if you could even call it that—an off-key rendition of a song you were pretty sure didn’t exist.

“mingyu?” you called out, stepping inside and carefully setting down the takeout bags you’d brought. “what... what happened here?”

seungkwan, who was sitting cross-legged on the couch with a resigned expression, gave you a look that screamed exasperation. “oh, thank god. finally. please come take care of your pouty big baby.”

you let out a laugh, glancing between him and mingyu. “what’s wrong with him?”

“what’s wrong with me?” mingyu repeated, his voice slurred but full of mock offense. he pushed himself up onto his elbows, glaring at you through half-lidded eyes. “you’re what’s wrong with me! you took forever! i almost died waiting.”

seungkwan let out an exaggerated groan. “he’s been whining for the past hour,” he said, waving a hand at mingyu. “going on and on about how you abandoned him and how the world is unfair and how he’s too handsome to suffer like this.”

“i am too handsome to suffer like this,” mingyu insisted, turning his pout on seungkwan. “look at me! i should be cherished, not left here to rot.”

joshua, who had been watching the whole scene unfold from the armchair, chuckled. “well, you know what a good bottle of whiskey does to him,” he said. “he doesn’t know how much he’s drinking until it’s too late.”

mingyu dramatically clutched his chest, letting out a loud, theatrical sigh. “betrayed by whiskey, yet again. the tragedy of my life.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, stepping closer to your overly dramatic best friend. “mingyu,” you said gently, kneeling beside him. “you’re not dying, okay? i’m here now.”

he looked up at you with wide, glassy eyes and a pout that would have melted even the coldest heart. “you’re finally here,” he whined, folding his arms. “but you were late! so late. and i was lonely.”

“i was gone for, like, an hour,” you pointed out, trying to keep your voice steady despite the giggles threatening to burst out.

“an hour is basically a lifetime,” mingyu shot back, flopping onto his back with another dramatic sigh. “you’re lucky i’m forgiving. but just so you know, i expect you to grovel.”

“grovel?” you repeated, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips. “for what?”

“for breaking my heart,” he declared, pointing a shaky finger at you. “and leaving me here with seungkwan and his terrible attitude.”

seungkwan gasped, placing a hand over his chest as if he’d been mortally wounded. “my terrible attitude? excuse me, i’m the only one keeping you from full-on sobbing and ruining the carpet. show some respect, kim mingyu!”

mingyu stuck out his tongue, earning a scandalized gasp from seungkwan. “you see this?” seungkwan turned to you, his expression as dramatic as ever. “this is what i have to deal with. he’s insufferable.”

“you’re insufferable,” mingyu shot back, though his words came out slightly slurred. “and mean. so mean. you should be nicer to me, seungkwan. i’m fragile.”

“fragile?” seungkwan repeated, looking like he might burst out laughing. “you’re built like a damn tank. the only thing fragile here is your ego.”

mingyu groaned, pressing his hands over his face, leaning closer to you. “ugh! see? he’s so mean. you should comfort me.”

“okay, okay,” you said, fighting back a smile as you knelt down beside mingyu. “i’m here to comfort you. no more bullying.”

mingyu peeked at you through his fingers, his lips forming a pout. “you always know how to make me feel better,” he mumbled, his voice soft. “even when i don’t deserve it.”

“what do you mean?” you asked, your smile fading slightly at the seriousness in his tone.

mingyu sighed, lowering his hands from his face. “you’re always there for me,” he said, his eyes growing glassy. “even when i’m annoying and whiny and... and so obviously in love with you.”

your breath caught in your throat. “what?”

his eyes widened in horror, and he immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. “what,” he mumbled through his fingers, panic flashing across his face. “uh-”

“mingyu,” you said, your heart pounding. “what did you just say?”

seungkwan’s jaw dropped, an "oh my god, he's stupid." slips out before he clapped a hand over his own mouth to keep from screaming. joshua leaned forward, eyes wide with disbelief.

mingyu, looking utterly betrayed by his own mouth, let out a strangled laugh. “um... surprise?”

you stared at him, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions flooding through you. “you... you’re in love with me?”

he groaned, dropping his head back onto the pillow. “i didn’t mean to say that,” he muttered, his voice muffled. “this is the worst. the absolute worst.”

“mingyu,” you said softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “do you really mean it?”

he lifted his head just enough to look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope. “yeah,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i really mean it. but if you don’t feel the same, please just pretend i never said anything. i can’t lose you.”

your heart swelled, and a smile slowly spread across your face. “you big, dramatic idiot,” you whispered. “how can i not?”

mingyu’s eyes lit up, and a slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face. “wait... really?”

“really,” you said, laughing as you cupped his face in your hands. “i like you, too.”

he let out a joyous, relieved laugh, grabbing your hands and pulling you into a tight hug. “this is the best day of my life,” he declared, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

“even though you embarrassed yourself in front of seungkwan and joshua?” you teased, pulling back to look at him.

he shrugged, a sassy grin spreading across his lips. “worth it,” he said, winking at you. “besides, i’m too handsome to be embarrassed for long.”

“oh my god, yeah and you're too handsome to be this oblivious yet here we are.” seungkwan groaned, throwing a pillow at mingyu. “get a room, you two! or better yet, get him to stop being so annoying & shut his mouth.”

mingyu caught the pillow and smirked, hugging it to his chest. “never,” he shot back, winking at you again. “being annoying is part of my charm, right?”

you laughed, feeling your heart swell with affection. “right,” you said softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

and as mingyu beamed at you, looking happier than you’d ever seen him. he's too handsome not to be loved, right?

[chaostudee]

i love you i'm sorry, charles leclerc + jude bellingham

summary : y/n y/ln and charles leclerc are the it couple in the f1 universe and when they aren't spotted together for some time hell breaks loose all over the internet. it's not long before y/n starts soft launching a new relationship but unbeknownst to her charles is still keen to get her back. faceclaim : cindy kimberly a/n : pls lmk if u want part 2 because i have so many ideas hehe

y/nusername a girl who is going to be just fine because she has her two boys.

liked by charlesleclerc, kikagomez, landonorris and 2,729,920 others.

charlesleclerc forever mon amour ❤️

y/nusername forever and always x

f1fan829 this is who i want to be when i grow up

user9292 no wag has ever wagged like she has

y/nfan91 crying because why are they acc the cutest ever 😭😭

user_0082 mom and dad

f1lover4eva id acc die if they broke up

username127 the hottest couple to ever exist and i will stand by that ✋️

kikagomez you have me too girl ;)

y/nusername love uuuu

forzaferrari56 love themmm

user11133 idk who im more jealous of actually

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

text messages between y/n and charles

yk i love u right ? charles

ofc i do you only tell me like a hundred times a day 😭 y/n

ik ik i just don't want u to ever forget it, god im going to miss you sm over the next few weeks charles

oh baby we'll be okay and besides the monaco gp is less than a month away y/n

ik but i'm really going to miss you charles

such a simp y/n

🙄 charles

i'm really going to miss you too y/n

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

charlesleclerc tough race for us as a team, hopefully we can bounce back at the next one 💪

liked by f1, y/nusername, carlossainz and 1,182,929 others.

user182 it's okay pookie we still love you 🫶

f1fan totally not your fault ferrari are to blame again

username67 wtf was that strategy....

f1lover plsss a podium in monaco we believe in you <3

user728 stopp he looks so sad

y/nusername love you always x

charlesleclerc 😘

forzaferrari they are actually just screwing up this whole championship for him

y/nusername 🌟🐇

liked by charlesleclerc, carmenmundt, lewishamilton and 2,018,528 others.

username_89 oh charles i get it

user00 she is literally the prettiest everrrr

f1fan it's giving disney princess

ln4_7 WE NEED Y/N IN MONACO OH PLS I BEG

charlesleclerc i'm so lucky

user116 atleast he's aware f1lover 😭😭

carmenmundt the prettiest angel <3

user728 omgg i need that lip combo rnnn

f1lover yes i am indeed jealous of charles leclerc

f1 monaco gp this weekend !!

liked by charlesleclerc, y/nusername, maxverstappen and 1,302,628 others.

user88 the girls that get it get it

f1fan this is my superbowl

user7202 i've waited all year for thissss

f1lover hoping that charles can acc get the winnn

user728_7 yesss ferrari pls don't mess up his strategy i beggg

user11 hehe can't waittt

y/nusername monaco ✈️

charlesleclerc it feels like a fever dream bit i couldn't be happier, the best weekend on my life. i love you all so much thank you for supporting me.

liked by y/nusername, maxverstappen, carlossainz and 5,728,929 others.

maxverstappen congrats :)

charlesleclerc ❤️ f1fan never beating the lestappen allegations

user78 so we can all collectively agree we all cried when charles crossed the line??

y/nusername so incredibly proud of you my sweet boy i love you so so much

user728 i can't im so emotional rn

username y/n's comment omg im sobbingg

f1fan never ever getting over this

f1updates highlight of my year actually

user266 his smile 🦋🦋

*y/nusername has just uploaded a new video*

》 oh my queen

》 her vlogs are acc my comfort

》 stopp the clip of charles playing piano to her im sobbing

》 her reaction to charles' win is everything

》 her voice is so soothing

》 i got the notification and screamed

y/nusername a quick stop in paris 🥐🇫🇷

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, pierregasly and 1,819,729 others.

pierregasly are u happy to be in paris

y/nusername oui

user845 "a quick stop in paris" oh girl u rich rich

username ugh to be leo leclerc like that dog has a better life than me and it's sad honestly

f1fan awww the cutest family

landonorris where was my invite :,(

f1lover whenever y/n posts ik it's going to be good

user78 i don't think i'd be okay if they ever broke up

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

texts between charles and y/n

was this whole relationship just a joke to you y/n

did i ever even mean anything to you y/n

fuck of course you did baby i love u charles

you love me?!?! y/n

yes yk i do charles

we have been together 6 YEARS 6 YEARS CHARLES y/n

if you are not ready now, you are never going to be y/n

thats not true charles

yes it is charles y/n

if u don't want to marry me after 6 years of being in love with me you never want to it's as simple as y/n

i'm sorry but i just can't be with someone who doesn't want the same things y/n

charlesleclerc summer

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen, danielriccardio and 7,192,111 others.

landonorris ☀️

user828 i'm speechless

username11 looks like charles got leo

f1fan i miss them

user718 this breakup just can't be real

f1lover he's already replaced y/n with lando 😭

username_55 unless i see a statement or them dating other people i'm just going to try to convince myself it's rumours

anon delulu is the solulu

y/nusername i've never been happier :)

liked by charlesleclerc, carmenmundt, kikagomez and 5,299,551 others.

username_67 👀

user28 this is so petty of her and i love it

f1fan help not charles in the likes

f1_wag i refuse to believe they broke up....yes i'm that delulu

user727 that post breakup glow 😍

f1lover oh charles defo regrets losing her like omggg how can someone be this gorgeous

charlie_7 these pics are so aesthetic i could cry

user51 ik everyone only cares about the drama but GUYS Y/N IS SERVING CUNT

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

texts between charles and y/n

please y/n charles

please charles

i can't take it anymore charles

i regret everything i said and i wish i had never even said it i wish i could take it all back charles

fuck i love u sm charles

i don't deserve you one bit charles

yeah you don't y/n

leave me alone charles y/n

we're done y/n

move on y/n

but i can't

*this user has blocked you*

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

judebellingham

liked by y/nusername, football728, realmadridfc and 7,929,728 others.

user828 he fine asfff

f1fan guys y/n is in the likes....

username728 what a player 🤍

user_27 great game today jude keep it up!!

f1lover waittt are y/n and jude like dating

user25 omgg stop she just liked his post get over it weirdo

anon charles is better

username_12 great game, but y/n y/ln come on man

y/nusername finally found someone who treats me right 🤭🫶

liked by judebellingham, oscarpiastri , maxverstappen and 4,729,519 others.

user727 BRO WHAT

username i just opened instagram-

f1fan im shooketh

oscarpiastri glad you're happy ❤️

y/nusername thanks x user828 I KNEW IT I KNEW OSCAR WAS TEAM Y/N

user999 oh charles

f1lover f1 wag to football wag is crazy like girl what crystals are u using?????

user_27 ik this was probably supposed to be a soft launch....but girl you just broke the internet

username616 ik y/n is giggling just reading all these comments

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

texts between lando and charles

did you see y/n's post? lando

yup charles

are you okay? lando

ha i mean no not at all charles

like its only been like 5 months and i have told her that i want her and i love her and now she's with him charles

sry mate but jude is actually sound lando

shit ik he is that's what makes this worse charles

maybe he is better than me charles

oh charles mate don't be thinking like that lando

lando she's never going to take me back charles

you don't know that lando

she blocked me charles

oh lando

like how am i supposed to sort everything with her charles

maybe you still can lando

how....wdym? charles

write her a song lando

......are u being fr charles

well yes i was but forget it just trying to help lando

no no wait you might actually be right charles

ha your welcome lando

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

vogue model y/n y/ln confirms relationship with footballer jude bellingham

liked by f1fan7282, kikagomez, georgerussell and 5,910,011 others.

user9292 ik we all knew BUT WHAT

f1fan charles is probably dying rn

user0 imagine fumbling the y/n y/ln

user0101 jude is one lucky guy

username78 she's still the IT girl in my eyes idc what ya'll say

f1lover girl it's only been a couple of monthssss like chilll

user627 ugh if only i was a rich model living in monaco

y/nlover wait this is acc so iconic

charlesleclerc my first single "i love you i'm sorry" from my debut album comes out tomorrow at 12pm est. i have put alot of work into this and i hope you guys enjoy it just as much as i enjoyed making it. music has always been an escape for me and a way for me to express my feelings so i felt that it was right to put this album out. love you all ❤️

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 10,729,819 others.

user879 this is actual insanityyyy like sir wdymmm

f1fan oh he's hurtttt

user929 okay okay ik we all know its about y/n but can we talk about how that is literally SIR LEWIS HAMILTON IN THE SECOND PIC TF?!

f1lover i feel like im living through a moment of history rn

lewishamilton love u brother had the best time working on this with you 🙌

16_charlie what can't u do???

user000 my divorced parents

anon screw y/n what a bitch

landonorris your welcome everyone (i encouraged him to write this album)

user727 ha this is why we love u lando !! username22 omgg no wayyy f1fan pls this is so on brand for him

taglist ⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn

@llando4norris

@hadidsworld

@sweetestgirlintown111

@mxryxmfooty

@heavy-vettel

[blu3n]

You felt tired, exhausted, because that kept happening. Jason never showed his emotions no matter how much you said you loved him, that you were there for him, that you would understand him, that you tried hard for that at least.

It wasn't that simple for Jason, not for someone like him who felt like he didn't deserve that feeling (love). Seeing families smiling, houses being perfect. He couldn't believe that something so magical and pure could be his.

You were so perfect, so perfect that he didn't think he deserved you. He would catch himself in the middle of the night looking at the goat discreetly seeing his wonderful woman lying in bed in the middle of the night. "Oh God...how I love her..." he would say so quietly that not even he could hear.

But when you were here, looking at him saying how hurt you were because he didn't show you how he felt... he felt panic, his heart was beating desperately. How could his... his... his beloved leave him? He couldn't. He couldn't.

"Look... I'm sorry but I-" You tried to continue but what you heard made you stop... were those? sobs?, looking at Jason you saw him crying. Kneeling at his feet. That six-foot-tall man was crying at his feet. He looked so broken that his chest immediately twisted.

"Please choose me. Nobody ever chooses me. Please.." he said as he sobbed, his chest felt crushed so hard that he didn't know how to describe it, knowing that his beloved, the love of his life was leaving him was like losing his breath.

"Please, please, I...I love you, I know I'm hard to deal with, I have my crises, I'm terrible at showing affection, but please, stay, please love me. I would hate to lose you."

You held him in your arms, so tightly that he felt safe that night. You felt that this time he would know that someone would be there with him. Forever.

😭- oh my god I just cried over this.

I will be doing the asks, yes, I will, but I wanted to do this so much

@blu3n - my authorship