#i need to delete this after i calmed down

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reacting to their s/o giving birth

Request: Hello!! Can I request a Seventeen OT13 fluff/crack/comfort reaction to reader giving birth? Like for each member the member and reader react differently? Like reader having a hard time with wonwoo’s child because of his wide shoulders, Vernon being unfazed as usual as his wife screams at him, reader having no tolerance for pain and is panicking so Mingyu panics too, etc

A/N: I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting, anon. This took much longer than I expected. I actually finished writing it yesterday, but my draft got deleted, and I was so frustrated that I nearly cried. I had been working on this for a week while juggling other writing projects and a busy, stressful schedule. Instead of breaking down and giving up, I sat down and rewrote everything from memory. Since it was my second time writing it, I at least had a clearer idea of what I wanted to do. I knew that if I didn’t finish it now, it would end up delayed for another week or more, and I didn’t want that. Also, I pushed other queued requests back to finally get this one out since it should've been out earlier but I wasn't done with it. I really hope I did justice to your request! Thank you for your patience 💓

Seungcheol: To me it feels like his leader instincts kicking in like it’s a group comeback 😭 You’re physically drained and can barely push anymore, so Seungcheol will be holding your hand tightly, his voice steadying you: “Just one more, baby, you’ve got this. We’ll meet our little one soon.” On the inside, he’s panicking but doesn’t let it show because he knows you need his strength, "Breathe, babe, breathe!” Wait, should I breathe too?! Once the baby is born, he’s in tears, holding your hand like, “You did so well. I’m so proud of you.” and kissing your forehead. Then proceeds to take the title of Best Dad very seriously.

Jeonghan: “This is YOUR fault!” you scream at him as another wave of pain hits, and Jeonghan, instead of being offended, just grins cheekily, “I know, I know. But look at me—I’m right here. You’re doing amazing.” He is unfazed and mischievous, even while you're snapping at him but don't get me wrong. He's like, "It’s okay, just a little more!” while secretly panicking and muttering, How does one raise a tiny human? He just doesn't want to look panicked in front of you and scare you. When the baby arrives, he jokes, “Wow, this kid’s already prettier than me. Must’ve gotten it from me.” Yes, he's like that—but in a moment of seriousness, he looks at you with so much love, “You were incredible.”

Joshua: You’re crying softly, scared and overwhelmed, and Joshua immediately cups your face gently, “I know it’s hard, but you’re so strong. You can do this. I’ll be here the whole time.” He's very soft and attentive, the perfect mix of calm and emotional. He never leaves your side, murmuring prayers under his breath. Holds your hand and whispers comforting words the whole time, “You’re amazing, you’ve got this.” When the baby cries for the first time, he literally cries too, “This is the best day of my life.” He lets out a laugh of pure relief and joy as his face says, This is our miracle. He insists on singing the baby a lullaby immediately. Sunday morning rain is falling in form of lullaby

Jun: Wait, I think I need to sit down—oh no, wait, you’re the one doing all the work! Chaotic but sweet, Jun is trying his best to be strong for you, but his emotions are all over the place. You’re gripping his hand tightly, shaking your head, “I can’t do it, Jun. I really can’t!” his heart clenches at your words but he then immediately leans in, his eyes wide but sincere, “You’re already doing it. Look at me. One more push, and we’ll meet our baby.” The sheer trust and love in his gaze give you the last bit of strength you need. After the birth, he’s SO emotional, holding them like the most delicate thing in the world in complete awe with wide eyes, “Wow… they’re so small. Are you sure they’re ours?” He traces a careful finger along the baby’s tiny hand, his eyes softening even more. “They’re perfect… just like you.” His lips press a lingering, grateful kiss to your forehead before pulling back, his eyes shimmering. “I love you. Both of you.”

Hoshi: He's excited and maybe a little too energetic. Freaks out every time you make a noise, “IS IT TIME?!” even if you’re just asking for water. During birth, I feel like, his s/o will be yelling from the pain and accidentally yell at him too lol. “STOP TALKING, SOONYOUNG!” you shout during a particularly painful contraction, and he freezes, wide-eyed. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’ll be quiet—but I’m still here!” When the baby is born, he’s crying harder than you are, clutching your hand, “WE DID IT! I mean, you did it! I’M A PAPA TIGER! Look at our little cub!” while also jumping up and down yelling.

Wonwoo: Wonwoo is the reliable rock you need. You’re biting your lip, trying not to scream, and he notices your trembling. He leans closer, his voice soft, “It’s okay to let it out. I’m here for you, always.” He stays by your side, holding your hand, his thumb gently rubbing the back of it to soothe you. Every now and then, he murmurs, “You’re doing so well,” his voice laced with admiration and respect for his beloved. When the baby is finally born, he doesn’t say much at first—just stares in awe, holding them close with a small, amazed smile. After a long pause, he finally whispers, “So this is what pure happiness feels like.” Theb he looks at you, eyes full of love, and promises, “I’ll be the best dad. For both of you.”

Woozi: Stressed but trying not to show it. Internally writing 15 songs about his emotions while saying, “Do you need anything? Water? Ice? A new husband?” all while trying his best to keep his emotions in check for your sake but low-key failing. “It hurts so much!” you cry, and Jihoon, though visibly worried and internally panicking, keeps rubbing your back, “I know, love, I know. Just a little more, and it’ll be over. You’re stronger than you think.” Once it’s over, he’s stunned silent, staring at the tiny life in his hands in awe, whispering, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write anything more beautiful than this.” Then he looks at you, his voice soft: “You’re incredible.”

Dokyeom: Your overly enthusiastic cheerleader is trying his best. But when you let out a scream, “AUGH!” Seokmin yelps even louder, “ARE YOU OKAY?!” despite knowing full well that you’re not. He’s gripping your hand so tightly—probably too tightly and almost crying with you. “YOU’RE DOING GREAT. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Then, mid-contraction, he suddenly panics, “Wait, do you hate me right now? I think you do.” You glare at him between deep breaths, and he flinches, “Okay! No talking! Got it!” When the baby is finally here, Seokmin completely loses it, his happy sobs are the loudest in the room. “We did it! Well, mostly you, but we did it!” He’s melting, practically sliding to the floor as he holds the baby, overwhelmed by joy. Someone has to hold him up before he turns into a puddle of emotions.

Mingyu: He’s the definition of chaos with a side of tears. “Why is it taking so long?!” you cry out, exhausted and frustrated, and Mingyu, who has been pacing non-stop—pauses for a second before nervously responding, “I don’t know, but I’m here! We’ll get through this together, I promise.” He’s trying so hard to be helpful, but his clumsy ass is in full force. “Do you need water, baby? A towel? Oh no, I dropped the towel! Wait, where’s the doctor—should I call someone?!” The moment the baby arrives, Mingyu’s emotions explode, he’s full-on sobbing, barely able to form words. “You’re amazing! Our baby is amazing!” He cradles the tiny newborn like the most precious thing in the world, holding on so tight that the nurses have to coax him into letting them check the baby. “No! They’re so tiny! So perfect! I’m NOT letting them go.” spoiler: he doesn't. they have the check the baby from his hold.

Minghao: Zen but emotional deep down. He’s by your side, reminding you to breathe like a yoga instructor, “Inhale, exhale, you’ve got this.” But you are still exhausted and losing focus during labor, “I can’t do it,” you mumble weakly, and Minghao immediately takes your hand, his calm voice grounding you: “Yes, you can. Focus on me. Deep breaths. You’re stronger than you know.” After the baby’s born, he holds them with the gentlest hands, his eyes full of tears. “You did so well,” he whispers, brushing hair out of your sweaty face. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.” His face is all smiley with streaks of dry tears down his cheeks as he kisses your nose, “This is the start of a masterpiece. You’re amazing, my love. I love you”

Seungkwan: The most emotional and slightly dramatic of them all. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Am I okay?!” He’s running on pure nerves. The situation escalates quickly when you reach the peak of labor, and it’s similar to Hoshi’s. “STOP TALKING, KWAN!” you snap, breathless from the pain. He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest, “I’m just worried! But okay, okay, I’ll shut up!” He’s jittery, constantly checking on you, the doctors, and the monitors, whispering prayers under his breath. The moment the baby is born, all his anxiety vanishes, replaced by unfiltered joy. He holds the baby, bawling his eyes out, voice shaking as he says, “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Then, looking at you with pure adoration, he sniffles, “I’m going to spoil them so much.”

Vernon: Surprisingly calm but mostly because he’s in shock. You’re gripping the bed rails so hard your knuckles turn white, trying not to scream, and Vernon, who notices how much you’re struggling, leans down, holding your hand. “You’re doing so great,” he says. “We’re so close, babe. Just a little more.” He doesn’t say much else, just keeps his grip firm, standing by your side like an unshakable pillar until you give birth while internally thinking, This is wild. When the baby is born, he stares at them for a long moment before finally saying, “Wow… we made this. That’s crazy.” But then, as he holds the baby, his normally neutral expression softens into something breathtaking. His heart eyes are fully showing— completely smitten, both with the baby and with you.

Dino: Our Dino is flustered but super supportive. “Do you need me to do anything? Tell me what to do—I’ll do it!” He’s hovering, heart racing, watching you struggle through the pain, and it’s breaking him. When you sob, “I can’t do it, Chan!” he nearly panics himself, but he quickly shakes his head and crouches beside you, rubbing your back. “Yes, you can,” he says firmly, “You’re the strongest person I know. Just a little more, I’m right here!” The second the baby arrives, his stress vanishes, replaced by pure joy. His grin is so wide it almost hurts. “I’m officially a dad! We’re parents now, love! Can you believe it?” He holds the baby with so much pride and tenderness, already making promises. “I’m going to be the fun parent. You’re going to have the coolest childhood ever, little one.” and holds their pinky.

[ganondoodle]

(currently getting extremely emotional over seeing pics of my lil brothers top surgery realizing i havent actually fully come to terms with the fact it will never be possible for me-

where i live the process to get to that point is extremely invasive and difficult; plus i am not trans enough anyway (nonbinary basically doesnt exist- theres only one or the other, i dont want T either even if id love to have some effects of it, i do not want other changes it causes) so that alone makes it pretty impossible already, and i am incredibly scared of anyone seeing or touching me in certain places and of surgery .. and hospitals .. everything basically.

(please dont try to give me hope about that, it will only make it worse in the end, i just need to deal with these emotions rn and get back to where i was, sorry)

[yourlonelydream]

I'm a bit unmotivated, but i have a question:

How many people would actually like to see me make a bunch of sanses as dolls?

As of making this, I have Dream, Passive, Cross, Fatal_Error completed & Ink (remaking), Error, Killer, and Horror in progress.

I am willing to continue making these dolls on a bi-weekly/monthly basis, but only if people really want it

[mr-urple]

Sometimes I hate having the latest timezone because I get really insecure at night but everyone's asleep so I can't ask for a hug from my family and god it kind of sucks

[marinerainbow]

I just experienced my first ever flirt from a fellow woman at 1 in the morning. And she was very obviously an extrovert, which idk if this is how all extroverts communicate, but- her flirting literally made me go 😳😶‍🌫️😳😶‍🌫️😳😶‍🌫️😳😶‍🌫️😳😶‍🌫️😳😶‍🌫️

[corrodedcoughin]

hi anna i hope you're doing well <3 i wanted to share a bit about my experience with burn out from your recent post. last year I was attending school and a lot of big moments were happening in my personal life. all of that plus the workload, commute, etc. left me feeling burnt out to the point of severe depression :/ your body is constantly tired and you just feel empty regardless of how your try to surround yourself with good things. could be people or food or music or a show but once you feel utterly wrung out, it's hard to feel much of anything else. i know for me it kind of manifested in unhealthy habits to just kind of quickly get through the day, a shot sleep schedule, and for me to start obsessing over little crap that really wasn't all that important. all my time was being used to work or overthink myself into a panic and it just made me feel completely isolated from family, friends, peers, and i left that term feeling stupid and useless.

the best way i try to go around my burnout is for one, to not push myself through it. yeah it all seems hopeless now but is my problem today gonna be the same in a month? a year? i try to think outside the present moment because sometims you might not even realize you have tunnel vision until you actually get out of the tunnel.

my hobbies are still gonna be there when i want to enjoy them but my body and health are what need to be my first priority. a lot of my hobbies were related to tumblr/ao3 or just being online in general so I decided to quit. for around three months I stayed off my socials and deleted apps like tiktok and instagram and decided to stick to the least attention grabbing apps i like. even then i made an effort to stay off my phone as long as i could. it may sound kinda dumb but lowering screentime actually really does help reduce anxiety and i find i don't miss those apps at all.

and for me my burnout was largely being caused from school and I realized that this wasn't the right path for me at all. so i quit because nothing, no matter how seemingly important, should make me feel so horrible. I mean it's not even sadness or exhaustion it's emptiness. you feel nothing and everything and it aches and you just end up ruining all the good things you have by trying to ignore it and push through.

another thing that helped was finding stuff for me to do in my personal life whether that was getting a new job, cleaning the house, cooking a meal, or finding a new love for movies. I prioritized myself and i feel good. It took me about 6 months but I got there and it's worth it. I don't feel isolated or as exhuasted as before and life feels good again, my hobbies feel good again.

I hope you know you're not alone when it comes to feeling this way and i hope you take care �� happy easter or just have a happy april

Hello! I’m going to put a bunch of stuff under a read more but before I do that I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for taking the time to even notice/read the things i posted and then writing this. I’m so, so glad that you are feeling better now and that you were able to do that for yourself. It sounds like you really figured out what you needed and it worked and knowing that it does work is so reassuring. So just thank you. For being kind to me and to yourself and sharing. I’m so glad you are here and if you ever want to talk be it silly or serious, my dms are always open.

You are so completely right about social media. I’ve had Facebook, Instagram and Snapchat deleted for a couple of years now. Covid pushed me over the edge with them and the relief of not having them there anymore is incredible. I have tiktok but go on it maybe for a week straight then don’t touch it for a few months. Idk it’s not great at holding my interest.

But yeah tumblr has been a bit of a difficulty for me, hence the dropping out for days at a time. Keeping up with things/engaging and needing to do it ‘right’ is so much more mentally straining than you realise until it’s just one more thing to push you over the edge. Even when I wasn’t replying to messages/asks I would be online trying to keep at track of things so I could ‘do my reblogging duty right’ when I eventually did feel good enough mentally to come back and it’s so STUPID. like!!! Nobody cares if I interact with their posts!! Nobody!!! I just internalised and spiralled a bunch of things from other parts of my life into here too!

Work has been really bad for at least six months now and it’s so hard. Then self doubt over looking into Autism and other mental health stuff as well as gender and trying to keep up with the gym and step targets and feeling bad for not being social every single hour of my day like my very extroverted brother has just really pushed me down into a hole. You don’t realise how many things are going on until they smack you over like a wave and then it’s like ‘oh boy, I can’t get up. And I don’t want to because I’ll just be pushed down again’

Eventually I started just taking my car down to the sea and reading a physical book instead of being online. It’s helped. It’s not sorted things but it’s helped.

My hobbies are primarily online too so I have an idea of where you are coming from, won’t say I understand because everyone is different but I get it. The temptation really IS to push through. I actually said to my only coworker ‘I just need to make it to the end of April. Then I can think about getting signed off if I /really/ need to but I won’t. It’ll be fine’ I don’t know why!! The job doesn’t care back!

I won’t bore you with all the details but it’s been Wild and knowing that you got through the other side is genuinely a light at the end of the tunnel. So thank you for sharing your experience. School is so hard, the first time I went I had to leave for mental health reasons or face hospital admission. I mean it when I say I’m so proud of you for making that decision. Truly. I wish you nothing but ease for the next section of your life, you deserve it. I hope you’ve found a new favourite movie or genre or just general joy in the new hobby! Would love to hear more about that or absolutely anything you have to say, your words are very easy to read and hold a lot of happiness in them. Thank you again and good luck with your new job if you have one or the search if you are looking!

[oflgtfol]

i am honest to god so fucking sick of 97% of men. i am so fucking sick of any discussion of feminism being derailed by "men's issues." what fucking issues? the male loneliness epidemic? bitch everyone is fucking lonely nowadays you're not unique, this is a symptom of late stage capitalism, point the blame where it actually lies. oh you mean the male loneliness epidemic isn't actually about not having friends, it's about how you can't get a girlfriend? have you considered not being a raging fucking sexist in the first place and maybe a girl can talk to you without cringing?

just fucking. "the left's lack of discussion about men's issues pushes men to the right" ARE YOU A FUCKING IDIOT. THE RIGHT DOESN'T CARE ABOUT MEN'S ISSUES EITHER. and as always, it boils down to, just because you feel you are facing societal issues doesn't justify pushing bigotry and prejudice against another group. just because men are being left behind doesn't justify stripping women of all our rights.

and again - also, what issues do men face that are on the same par as women's rights right now? we are losing our bodily autonomy, we have a not insignificant portion of men in power who are toying with the idea of revoking women's right to vote, and all of this is fairly recent. even beyond the recent issues, we still have the fact that women are not as financially supported as men are, women are more likely to face domestic abuse and rape, etc. we have made significant strides in women's rights this past century (recent years not withstanding) but that still doesn't mean that we are treated equal just yet. and even then there's still the weight of centuries and millennia of women being treated like property and cattle and babymaking machines with no autonomy forever tainting people's views and behavior even outside of government policy. it just seems so inescapable

and in comparison... men's issues are. what. that they can't get a girlfriend? just fucking get over yourselves i honestly want to rip my fucking hair out. how utterly selfish and entitled you must be to whine and bitch and moan over how you can't get your dick wet so you're gonna go vote to disenfranchise half the population

i don't fucking CARE about how "men are being left behind" and how the "left is ignoring men's issues" i literally don't CARE. I DONT CARE I DONT CARE I DONT CARE. men dont fucking HAVE issues beyond basic life inconveniences, and even then those inconveniences exist either due to capitalism or DUE TO MISOGYNY!!! MISANDRY DOESNT EXIST!!!! AND WHY IS IT ALWAYS WOMEN'S FAULTS FOR EVERYTHING! WHY MUST IT BE UP TO US TO FIX EVERYTHING.

why is it women's faults that men cannot empathize with us as fellow human beings! why is it our job to plead and beg them to realize that we're people too! and why are men's issues, that are CAUSED BY OTHER MEN, ALSO WOMEN'S FAULTS, AND DUTY TO CORRECT?!?!?!?

im LOSING MY MIND

[folaireamh]

broooo i got up because i thought i wanted to doodle a funny comic but i hate my art and i'm tired i'm going back to sleep

[globodamorte]

why can't I stop being crazy

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Max "If It Weren't For The Baby" Verstappen | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Max and George show no signs of stopping anytime soon and poor y/n is stuck between a rock and a hard place. but soon things escalate when Max accidentally opens his big mouth.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

y/n_russell posted:

y/n_russell: Habibi come to Abu Dhabi✨

Comments:

user: SHE’S BACK, EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!! 🔥🔥🔥 user: MOTHER RETURNED TO THE GRID AND IT SHOWS. user: Abu Dhabi isn’t ready for her!! 😍 user: Not to be messy, but is that a bump or just the angle? 👀

user: Delete this before you embarrass yourself further. 🙄 user: You do realize that’s body-shaming, right? Yikes. user: Maybe it’s just the dress, maybe it’s none of our business. Either way—don’t. user: Imagine logging onto the internet just to get ratio’d in the comments. Couldn’t be me.

georgerussell63: Wow. 2 whole photo in front of Lewis’s garage? Feeling betrayed right now.

y/n_russell: omg george, do you want me to write "george is my favorite" on my forehead or something? relax. georgerussell63: I’m just saying, where’s the support? y/n_russell: maybe if your garage didn’t feel like the waiting room at a dentist’s office, I’d consider it. georgerussell63: That’s because we’re professional. y/n_russell: nah, it’s because you have the personality of unseasoned chicken. user: 💀💀💀 SHE CAME FOR HIS LIFE.

user: MAX. LIKED. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

user: Not Max creeping in the shadows like that. George, sweetie, you seeing this? user: Netflix doesn’t even need to make a script this season. The show’s writing itself.

landonorris: MOTHER.

y/n_russell: 🔪🔪🔪 user: The knives are out. Lando, RUN.

lewishamilton: Always great to have you around. Thanks for showing up and supporting me this weekend. Much love ❤️

y/n_russell: Wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know I’m rooting for you Lew! Big things ahead 💪🏽

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: Okay, F1 fans, we’ve got a hot one for you! Max Verstappen and George Russell’s sister, Y/n, were spotted on a hotel balcony together, and it’s seriously got people talking. 👀 Y/n was supposed to be at a totally different hotel with George, so why is she with Max—especially with all the drama going down between them? 🤔

Is there something going on between these two? Or is Y/n just making it clear that she’s Team Max in this ongoing feud? You know we’ll be watching this one unfold closely... 🔥

Comments:

user: Yooo, what’s going on here?! Y/n is in Max’s hotel?? 😳

user: Is this a secret relationship or is Y/n just picking sides? I need answers!! 😬

user: So Y/n's team Max now? This is messy. 👀

user: Max and Y/n are lowkey dating and no one’s telling us?! I need the receipts ASAP. 😩🔥

user: Sis really out here with Max?? I can’t believe this. George is gonna flip. 😬

user: Okay, but like... is she betraying George by cozying up with Max right now? Or is she just done with the drama? 👀

user: Nah, this can’t be real. She’s out here looking all comfy with Max while George is literally her brother?? What kind of betrayal is this? 😱

user: Is this the kind of power move we’re witnessing?? Y/n dropping George for Max?? 🤯💥

user: Ok, but lowkey, I ship them so hard. Max and Y/n would make the hottest couple. 🔥🔥

user: No, fr. Max and Y/n are EVERYTHING. They look so good together, I’m lowkey obsessed. 😍👀 user: Can we just take a minute to appreciate how they’re literally radiating chemistry? I don’t care if they’re not dating—they should be. 😩💅

user: The way she’s just chilling with Max tho... George must be somewhere crying right now. 🤣💀

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: “If it weren’t for the baby.” Three words that sent the paddock and the internet into absolute mayham today after Max Verstappen dropped the bomb during an interview. 👶💣

Fans are already in detective mode, dissecting every second of this wild moment. Whose baby? Is Max a secret dad? And what does George Russell have anything to do with it?

Interview Transcript:

Journalist: Max, earlier this week George Russell referred to you as a “bully” in his recent comments. Do you have any thoughts on that?

Max: (chuckles awkwardly) Well, you know, George always has something to say. I’m not going to get into it.

Journalist: But do you think his characterization of you is fair?

Max: (sighs) Look, I’m just here to race. I’m not interested in petty drama.

Journalist: It doesn’t seem like George is letting it go anytime soon. Are you planning to address it with him directly?

Max: (visibly annoyed) I really don’t see the point in—

Journalist: But isn’t it important to clear the air, especially since the tension is so public now?

Max: (snapping) If it weren’t for the baby, I wouldn’t even bother trying to make peace with him!

(A beat of stunned silence. Max’s eyes widen in realization.)

Journalist: The… baby? What baby? Max, can you clarify—

(Max mutters something under his breath and walks off, leaving the journalist baffled.)

Comments:

user: BABY???? HELLO? MAX, EXPLAIN YOURSELF.

user: What baby, Max?! WHOSE BABY?! I haven’t been this confused since Abu Dhabi 2021.

user: Can someone please check if Max even knows what he said? He looked so panicked when he walked off.

user: “If it weren’t for the baby”??? Sir, we’re not in Panem; calm down.

user: Peeta Verstappen has entered the chat. Someone hand him a loaf of bread. user: Peeta Mellark walked so Max Verstappen could run user: I just KNOW someone’s editing Max into a Peeta scene as we speak. Can’t wait.

user: Okay but what baby would involve George? George is childless?

user: Guys, hear me out: What if Max is secretly dating George’s sister? That’s the ONLY way a baby ties them together. user: Nah, there’s no way. George would’ve punched Max into next week already. user: Okay but think about it. Max. George’s sister. A baby. Uncle George. THIS IS LORE. user: I’m just saying, George’s sister has been looking very glow-y lately… 👀 user: Not a theory, just facts: Max is babytrapping George into a truce. 💀 user: Wait... isn’t George’s sister in Abu Dhabi right now?? 👀 user: omg and they were seen together on his hotel balcony jskjsk user: I’M SCREAMING. THIS THEORY IS TOO GOOD. user: Max... the man, the myth, the secret brother-in-law.

user: F1 fandom today: trying to figure out if Max has a secret family or if we’re all just collectively hallucinating.

user: Bro, if this is true, Netflix better dedicate a whole episode to Uncle George. user: “If it weren’t for the baby” is my villain origin story now.

user: GUYS. What if Max meant baby as in, like, his cat or something? We’re spiraling.

user: Okay but why would George care about Max’s cat?! Use your brain. user: Honestly, the only thing that makes sense is Max dating George’s sister. Uncle George confirmed. Case closed.

user: Y’all, the way I will actually SCREAM if Max and George’s sister are together. This is better than any race drama.

user: Max Verstappen?? A baby daddy?? In THIS economy??

user: Everyone’s fighting over the baby, but I’m just here wondering how Christian Horner is gonna spin this in interviews.

user: Plot twist: The baby is Christian Horner’s with Toto 😭

user: STOP. This is the most chaotic F1 season ever, and I love it.

Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @tremendousstarlighttragedy @grussellsprout @dannyespinosa06 @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz @96mcobo

[galariangengar]

I am doing horribly mentally tonight and my jaw hurts 😢

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: 𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝

𝙷𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: dom!rafe, possessive!rafe, softbf!rafe, pet names, swearing, dirty talk, icky “boy talk” at the beginning (not by rafe), protective rafe, boys tease the reader when she's not there, they see a picture of her in lingerie, they start a video of rafe and the reader having sex but rafe takes it from them, ownership kink, kissing, unprotected public p in v, butt plug, praise, cum tasting, wet and messy, squirting, cockwarming

All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! After a few drinks at a hockey party, Rafe gets teased about what a good girl you are, but Rafe knows the truth 💋

Masterlist

Reader's POV:

The basement of the hockey house is alive, post-game with a rowdy crowd. Cheap keg beer spills from red SOLO cups, the packed basement wall to wall with a mix of jerseys and ugly sweaters.

Rafe kicks his feet up, relaxing on the oversized couch with the boys, half-watching some hockey game as they shoot the shit. “Damn,” Alex groans, his wicked smirk glowing in the light of his phone. He zooms in on the screen, smiles, and tosses his head back.

“Jesus Christ,” Kemper hums as he looks at the message Alex got, lifting his phone to “snap” a picture of his—just givin’ Alex hell. “Get outta here,” he shoves him away with a laugh.

“She looks better in that jersey than you,” Kemper shoots back.

“No shit,” Alex pulls it up again, adjusting himself a second later. “She stole my jersey yesterday… Sent me that pic as a congratulations, I guess,” he smiles proudly.

“Where’s Max?” Kemper asks, eyes scanning your group before looking over the back of the couch into the crowd.

“Left about five minutes ago with Lexi,” Rafe adds. “He’s gone for the night.”

“Lucky bitch,” Kemper mumbles against the lip of his can before draining his beer.

“You that desperate, Kemp?” Rafe taunts, lifting an eyebrow in his direction, half-hiding his smirk with his drink.

“Fuck you, Cameron,” he clips as he crumples up his can, tossing the empty drink at JJ. “It’s his fuckin’ fault,” he gestures to Maybank, giving him the finger. “He stole her.”

“Stole her my ass. She wanted me. Not my fault either. You're a goalie, man. Maybe you could switch positions and get pussy from time to time-”

“I get pussy!” Kemper cuts JJ off, cracking another beer open.

“Sure you do,” Rafe taunts, just stoking the fire. Attention naturally falls back to him, the boys ramping up to knock him down a peg. He stretches his big arms along the back of the couch, just waiting for the shit-talking to start.

“Yo, Rafe,” Alex calls out, and Rafe snorts out a laugh, rolling his eyes at the predictability.

“Yeah, man. Get on with it,” Rafe chuckles between sips of beer.

“What about your girl? How long has it been… three, four, five months?” Alex slurs.

“Since what, bud?”

“Since what?” He barbs, mocking Rafe like he knows the first thing about you. “Since you got your dick wet. What do you mean, ‘since what’?

The group erupts in laughter, Rafe's lips curling into an amused smile. He doesn't bat an eye— not hurrying to respond, either.

"She's perfect; that's all you need to know," he replies smoothly. He takes off his cap and runs his fingers through his hair before turning it to the back.

"Come on, man," another chimes in, clearly not letting it go. "That’s it… That’s all we’re gettin’? Is it that fuckin’ bad?”

“M’sorry, Rafey,” Kemper chuckles, shooting him a crooked look.

The teasing continues, but Rafe just leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares them down, the picture of calm confidence. “You guys have no clue what you’re talkin’ about,” he speaks, his voice calm and smug.

“Sure we don’t,” Kemper laughs. “You tuck her in after the game or what?”

“She’s around here somewhere,” Rafe smiles, glancing at his phone again before setting it on the counter. He smiles to himself, recalling how you sucked his dick on the car ride home from the game; the man fucking you five inches from your life in the shower when you got back.

As much as you loved the side he showed you when no one was watching—soft and sweet. He loved the side of you that no one else got to see as well… filthy and insatiable, your sex drive giving Rafe a run for his money. Rafe didn't need to defend you—or himself. He knows the truth.

“What are you thinkin’ about, Cameron?” JJ asks, catching Rafe smilin—your boyfriend shrugging before he takes a swig of beer.

“None of your fuckin’ business, Maybank,” Rafe laughs.

The conversation drifts back to the topic of conquests, JJ bragging about the girl he snuck on the bus on the last away game, the two fuckin’ in the backseat all the way home.

Rafe’s phone lights up, buzzing on the coffee table. The screen with your name plastered on the front of it shines like a beacon.

"Uh oh,” Kemper pipes, “lover boy's got a text?”

Rafe unlocks the screen and smiles, spreading a little wider. “What the fuck?” He clips as Alex picks the phone out of his hand.

"Let's see what kind of cute little texts your girl sends, huh?” His voice trails away as he looks at the screen, wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open as he catches you in nothing but black lace.

"What?" The others clamor, pushing towards Alex to get a better look.

”C’mon,” Alex whines as JJ plucks the phone off his hands, taking it for himself.

“Goddamn,” Maybank groans as he zooms in.

“Enough, man. What the fuck,” Rafe scoffs as he reaches for it. JJ quickly slides his finger across Rafe’s screen, skimming through the camera roll to find more.

Before Rafe can grab it, JJ lofts it to the next boy, slightly out of Rafe’s reach. Kemper flicks his fingers as well, his eyes doubling when he finds something new.

"Fuckkk, there's a video!" He responds excitedly, one hand gripping the phone, the other extended, fighting Rafe off as he tries to get the device back.

Your sweet moan rips through the phone’s speakers, sending the boys into a frenzy. Rafe's easygoing expression changes in an instant. His smile remains in place, but a razor-sharp edge of possession colors his movements as he stands up, snatching the phone back before they could play any more than a few seconds.

“You like that?” You breathe—your soft, sultry voice echoing faintly through the device before Rafe locks his phone.

The group falls silent, eating their words, struck dumb and speechless as they see a side of you they didn’t imagine existed.

"Like I said," Rafe drawls as he pops another beer, "you've got no idea what you're talkin’ about."

Before the boys can recover, a voice breaks through the haze. “Hey, baby,” you hum. All eyes shifting to you.

The group turns together, watching you step toward the party; your beautiful eyes lock on Rafe’s. He shifts slightly, extending a hand, quickly pulling you onto his lap with a smile. You drape your arm around his neck, Rafe’s arms dressing around your waist, his eyes matching yours, making your stomach flutter.

"Ready to go, baby?" You ask playfully, your intentions for the rest of the night clear in your tone.

“Always,” Rafe smiles as he wets his lip, leaning in for a kiss.

He doesn't hesitate, following you through the crowded hallway, his hand resting on the small of your back to keep you close. The two of you climb the stairs, ducking under tacky Christmas decorations and weaving around people playing beer games at the kitchen table.

Rafe grabs two Coors, popping open one for you and one for him. He sets it down and grabs you by your waist, lifting you onto the counter, moving between your thighs, tilting closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart. You know that?” He asks, his voice low and sweet.

“So are you, baby.” You lean in, pressing a tender kiss against his lips.

“Would you kill me if I told you they saw that picture you sent me?” He asks.

“Rafey…” You laugh gently against his lips, pecking at them again. “You’re givin’ away all my secrets, baby.”

“M’sorry-”

“ I don’t care,” you smile, gently brushing your lips against his. “Let ‘em know what a slut I am for you…”

“You are, aren’t you, princess?”

“Mhmm,” you hum against his lips before sucking off the bottom, making him groan against your lips.

“… You still wearin’ it, baby?” He drawls.

“You told me to be a good girl and keep it in... What do you think?” You flirt.

“Fuckin’ love you,” he hums.

Rafe wraps his arm around you, lifting you off the counter, pulling you through the packed living room: bodies upon bodies, wall to wall, the air thick with heat and booze—music blares from the speakers, pulsing in your chest.

Rafe crashes down on his favorite chair, the two of you snuggling up in the dark corner. His big hands slide up your thighs immediately, gripping your hips as your lips meet.

“I’m the luckiest man here,” he hums as his hands shift your ass, squeezing tight. One of his hands falls lower before rising again, drifting under your skirt.

Rafe rubs his fingers over your pussy, teasing your entrance over your lace panties, soaking them thoroughly. His rough hands trace up your ass, pressing against the plug, making you whimper against his lips.

“Mmm… Good girl,” he breathes. Rafe draws back enough to meet your gaze, making chills run down your spine. "You got no clue what you do to me,” he hums.

Your fingers scratch into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe you should show me.”

His eyes fall to your lips—his lusty smile spreading, matching your own. Rafe moves closer, burying himself in your neck, kissing higher and higher. His heavy breathing hits your ear, making your pussy throb. “Right here…” Rafe mumbles. “Let me put my cock in, princess.”

“You’re gonna fuck me right here?” You giggle dizzily, making him chuckle as well, pulling you in tighter.

“You gonna let me?”

“You know I will…” You coo.

“Thought so… Fuckin’ though? Maybe that's a little risky, even for us. You're just gonna keep me warm for a while…” He lies.

“That’s it?” You ask teasingly as you slip your hand between the two of you, cupping his stiff bulge, making him moan in your ear.

“What—you want more?” He taunts, giving it right back to you.

“I always want more,” you whisper. You slip out of his lap, turning around, facing the crowd, the lot lost in their own worlds. Rafe grabs your chin and turns your face, claiming your lips as he adjusts, pulling his pants down enough to release his aching cock.

His thick dick slaps against his shirt. You reach behind your back, wrapping your hand around him, stroking slowly. Rafe throws his head back on the chair, letting you work him in your fist, thumb skimming over his fat tip. You look over your shoulder, meeting his gaze as you put it between your plump lips, sucking it clean.

Rafe lifts your skirt slightly, pushing your panties to the side. You rise slightly as Rafe seizes his dick in his big hand, swirling around your soaked hole. You claw at the armrests, listening to Rafe hiss out a breath as you sink on his long cock inch by inch.

“Shit,” you whimper as you release your hands, fully sat, adjusting your skirt, feeling Rafe throb inside you.

He moves closer, wrapping strong his arms around your body, tucking himself in your neck. “Pussy’s just made for me, baby,” he breathes, hot against your neck.

You look out into the crowd, but no one is the wiser. Rafe turns your face again, pushing his lips against yours. Your clench around his cock, and he moans against your lips. His hands shift along your body, brushing over your tits, moving down your stomach, slipping just under your shirt.

He presses down on your stomach, making your thigh draw in. “M’so fuckin’ deep,” he whispers as he pushes again, making you gasp against his lips as he feels his own cock.

Rafe’s other hand moves lower, his two long fingers finding your clit over your clothes. Your eyes scan the crowd; the two of you are still in the clear as Rafe starts spiraling his fingers on your sex.

You know you should stay still, not wanting to give yourselves away, but you can help but circle your hips ever so slightly, grinding your wet cunt on Rafe’s lap with his cock buried so deep.

Rafe grabs your hips, his biceps, and forearms, flexing as he pulls you down as hard as he can, making your nails drive into his skin to keep from crying out as he splits you apart. Your head falls forward from the pressure between your thighs.

Your wetness drools from your tight hole, wetting the place between the two of you, making you both a sticky mess. He lifts your hips slightly, fucking up into your slick center, making your eyes roll back.

Rafe belts his arms around your waist, pulling you into him again as you feel your pleasure about to erupt; pussy tightening around him.

“Me too, baby. Me too,” he pants. “Do that thing you were doin’, huh? Grind f’me. Make a fuckin’ mess,” he mumbles. You roll your hips into him, panting against his lips, not caring who sees at this point, more concerned with your pleasure and his.

Your movements start to get sloppy as you lose control. Rafe grabs your hips, coaxing you to the edge. You gush around his cock, creaming and cumming with him, swallowing each other's moans between deep kisses.

The two of you breathe rapidly against each other's lips, little whimpers falling from yours in sensitivity as you feel his pulsing cock move deep in your guts, his cum and the plug making you feel incredibly full.

Rafe pulls you back on his chest, the two of you exchanging sweet kisses as you come down from your bliss. You giggle against his lips, and he smiles against yours at what the two of you just did. You’re shameless display of affection doing nothing but bringing you closer.

He helps you off his cock, buttoning up his pants before guiding you to stand. Before you can step away, he binds his arm around you, pulling you in, lips finding your neck. A sharp gasp and a throaty moan leave your mouth as you feel a loss.

“Why don’t we say goodnight to the boys and head to bed, yeah?” He asks as he tucks the butt plug in his back pocket. You feel the sensation of his warm cum slipping out of your puffy hole and your ass, dripping down your inner thigh. “I wanna be leakin’ out of you when we do, princess.”

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ don’t embarrass an angel (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : charles leclerc x fem reader

summary : a Victoria secret model in love with a formula-1 driver, ofc there will be rumours

tw : little hate, could be a little suggestive as reader is a vs angel !

fc: Taylor Hill *she is so pretty-*

a/n : thank you so much to @xshazxx for suggesting this ! lysm 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by charlesleclerc, fransisca.ngnomes and 678,456 others

y/nhill the girlies are back for 24! @ victoriasecret

view comments

user1 PREACH THE HOLY PRINCESS 🙌🏻

user2 oh to have a pretty friend group 😞

user3 are we just ignore the cheating rumours ?

user4 and charles in her likes !?

user5 I really don't know who to believe 👀

charlesleclerc ❤️

user6 she didn't even like his comment-

user7 so it's true 💀

fransisca.ngnomes the visuals are serving as usual 🫴🏻

y/nhill all your love bbygurl 🫶🏻

realbarbarapalvin I think I need to marry you

y/nhill we both already are married hun 😞

user8 this girl has the audacity to post naked pictures but not address the rumours 💀

user9 wtf

user10 calm down brother

user11 they really were not made for each other, one is a model and other is a driver 🙌🏻

user12 and the fact both travel a lot

user13 it was never meant to last 🫡

victoriasecret our gorgeous 💌

liked by y/nhill

user14 but lord perceval got perceval jr out of hand

user15 💀

user16 charle's fans are entertainment fr 💪🏻

liked by sabrinacarpenter, carlossainz55, arthurleclerc and 1,233,121 others

y/nhill Heartbreak is one thing , my ego's another, I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker ✨

view comments

user1 holddup, THE LIKES !?

user2 CHARLES BROTHER IS LIKING THIS !?

user3 SO IS CARLOS !?

user4 SO IS THE WHOLE GRID !?

user5 what in the f1 tea did just happen -

arthurleclerc downloaded the song for our next karaoke session 💪🏻

y/nhill best brother right here

user6 the interactions and rumours are killing me 💀

sabrinacarpenter much love and also congratulations ❤️

y/nhill thank you love ❤️

user7 CONGRATULATIONS FOR WHAT !?

user8 her comeback bro-

user9 u sure ?

charlesleclerc my angel

y/nhill who will gladly kill you 🤭

user10 umm 🤔

lilihye akex is telling you to unblock her

y/nhill only if he gives you ring like mine 🤭

lilihye 🤭

liked by charlesleclerc, arthurleclerc, carlossainz55 and 678,839 others

y/nhill Leclerc’s since 24 🫶🏻

view comments

user1 wha-

user2 WHA-

user3 WHAT-

user4 so the rumours were false 🤔

user5 and they are still together 🤔

arthurleclerc MA SOUER

liked by y/nhill

pascaleleclerc lots of love ma fille ❤️

y/nhill mama leclerc ❤️

user6 excuse me, SISTER AND DAUGHTER !?

user7 we skipped a whole season here -

user8 IF THEY ARE ENGAGED -

user9 GUYS HURRY SEE THE F1 NEWS

user10 THEY ARE MARRIED !?

user11 fhffhhffhfh

user12 even the official ferrari posted-

user13 charles proposed after her first show of the year !?

user14 the best denial to cheating rumours 💍

liked by charlesleclerc, y/nhillleclerc, and 2,378,789 others

scuderiaferrari the pictures are blurry because admin was also crying 🫶🏻

view comments

user1 it's time I delete my insta

user2 me too

user3 DADDY MARRIED HER !?

charleslecerc ❤️

liked by scuderiaferrari

y/nhillleclerc ❤️

liked by scuderiaferrari

user4 it's ok admin, we are also crying because of the onion rings 😭

liked by scuderiaferrari

user5 they look so pretty -

landonoriss congratulations!!! 👏🏻

oscarpiastri mum and dad 💪🏻

user6 that's why charles adopted oscar-

lilihye I WAS MAID OF HONOUR

arthurleclerc I WAS THE BEST MAN

carlossainz55 it was fun watching the rumours at their wedding

user7 carlos 💀

maxverstappen1 he got his muse to win now

charesleclerc see you in spain 💪🏻

lewishamilton it was an amazing wedding !!

charlesleclerc you were only invited because of roscoe and the fact I might have to race with you next year 😀

y/nhillleclerc *have

y/nhillleclerc you are always invited, Team Hammer since d1

lewishamilton ❤️

user8 THE USERNAME CHANGE -

user9 let me go and bawl my eyes out

user10 what's the point of being bisexual if both my man and girl are married

user11💀

liked by charlesleclerc, lilihye, realbarbarapalvin and 3,678,362 others

y/nhillleclerc my first and last kiss as your girlfriend ❤️

comments on this post have been restricted

[saduko]

HARD TO MISS

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader 7.9K words

Summary: You had driven sick many times before, but never sick enough to retire from a race. Now Lando was worried about you and how the media was going to react. But maybe this was just about the best thing that could of happened to him. Or in which, reader gets sick during the Spanish GP race and has to face the looming media presence after retiring early with a newfound anger she's never experienced. She was a mess of emotions, acting so different, or maybe it wasn't just her being strange.

Teammates, established relationship, an unexpected surprise?? Note: this unfortunately is a re-upload because my dumbass literally deleted the post the first time I posted it despite it being up for days. Yes I'm mad, and no this isn't edited because of it.

The heat of the Spanish sun beat down on the track, the asphalt shimmering with a relentless intensity that seemed to seep through the cockpit. You gripped the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening as you fought to keep your focus on the race ahead, hot, fast breaths heaving through your helmet like a symphony. The familiar roar of the engine, usually a comforting sound, felt more like a distant hum as yet another wave of nausea rolled through you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d raced under less-than-ideal conditions, but today felt different. The adrenaline that usually sharpened your senses now seemed to amplify the queasiness in your stomach, every bump and turn on the track making it harder to push the discomfort aside. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising bile as you powered through another corner, the car responding to your every command despite the growing turmoil within.

The twisting and turning of the track seemed endless, each lap blurring into the next as your vision narrowed, tunnel-like, around the path ahead. You knew you needed to speak up, to let your team know something was wrong, but the words felt heavy on your tongue, weighted down by the fear of admitting weakness. Finally, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"I'm not feeling very well."

The twisting and turning of the track was making it hard for you to settle your stomach enough to find your voice, but when you had, there was a long silence on the other end. Ears alert with anticipation as nothing came through, before the thick accent of your engineer, Marlow finally sounded in with a panicked voice, "Are you feeling faint?"

"Not really.” You huffed. “I feel quite nauseous though. My stomach is not cooperating."

There was a short silence through your head piece before a shuffle was heard on the other side, followed by a concerned, "Should we retire the car?"

The suggestion shakes you and a quick puff of air leaves your mouth in order to hopefully settle the turning in your stomach, though you think it might have translated more as annoyance to your team despite the intention. You couldn't help but hope it hadn't come off too harshly, however the forceful tone of your next words certainly didn’t do much to calm the idea. "No! I'm not retiring the car... No, I'm okay."

"Please love, If you can't finish there's no shame in retiring. You're not letting anyone down, we understand-!" He knew how stubborn you were and he really didn't want the question to feel like the hit to the ego he knew you would take it as, but it was hard when everyone knew this race was what was separating you from top 3 and the rest in the championship. They knew it wouldn't be that easy, quickly corroborated by the frustrated grunt you let sound through the line.

Your foot braces against the accelerator, bearing down full force as you take the straight right after corner 4 at full speed, you weren't retiring. Subjective to your own harsh perception of yourself, retiring - no matter the circumstance - was one of the most culpable failures you could commit. It was never a rewarding feeling, and whether or not to retire from a race like this was an indisputable no. Six years into the sport and you had never retired from a race on your own accord. Today would not be the first.

"I'm okay for now."

There was no arguing with a driver going over 300 kilometers an hour, and so the team let your decision chart as they sat back and kept on with their roles, no different than before. Except for one thing, noting the conversation, they all made undisclosed motions to keep an extra close eye on the driver cam.

And so the race continued as 10 laps went by, 10 very shaky laps with countless immoderate wobbles, a few oversteers around a couple corners and a very close call with Carlos who made quick work of letting the communal radio know how exactly he felt about that, words that were quickly relayed to you. Though his accent was warm, his words were anything but kind and usually you would have taken it on the chin, laughed at his profanities and apologized with a quick witty comment to follow, but your team watched as you only let out a harrowing breath and shook your head. You obviously were not on your A-game and your entire team could see that.

So with all this, it came as no surprise when the silence in their headphones was abruptly interrupted with the blaring sound of your wheels against the track, followed by your voice, quick yet strained, echoing through the radio.

"I think I'm gonna be sick, guys."

With not a moment to spare, Marlows eyebrows furrowed down at your words, worry clear in his voice as he pressed down on the radio button. And though his words were mostly phrased as a question emphasizing the choice as your own, it was still hard to miss the pleading tone in his voice as he spoke loudly into the headpiece, "Are we retiring? It’s your call, love."

Your end of the radio was silent as the words rang through your headset, though not for lack of connection as the sound of your wheels barrelling against the tar never ceased. They knew you were still there, just not vocalizing your thoughts. They had no doubt this was a tough decision. A huge part of this sport was pride; pride in your team, pride in your car, pride in your abilities. And being the only woman on the grid meant your pride was strong and the backlash was inevitably more harsh when things went wrong. 

It was already hard enough for a driver to admit they needed to back out of a race, let alone for a driver who had something to prove and everything to lose. It was a decision they knew you were avoiding complying with. You had been complaining about feeling ill for days leading up to the race and yet insisted on racing regardless. They knew this was important to you, and to back out now, after making it so far already? Your heart was strong, and your head stronger. But for this one time, it seems your stomach was the strongest, and your nausea was taking the reins of this particular race. And so you bit your lip, hoping to keep the bile from rising for just a little while longer. “I need to stop. I’m retiring the car. I can't help it.”

As disappointing as ending a race early was, your team couldn’t deny the shred of relief that washed over them as you, for once, chose your health first. As fun as racing was, and as rewarding as a race in points felt, none of it was ever worth the increased risk to your safety. They would much rather you all woozy up in the medic bay with a DNF, than halfway to unconsciousness with a p8 finish. This certainly wasn’t your best race anyways, probably one the lowest you’d been in points this season. 

As you began your way around your last lap towards the pit lane, your mind raced with all the dreadful thoughts a DNF brought, the pit in your stomach rearing into a sizeable hole which would of left you feeling melancholy if the twisting and turning hadn’t trumped the discontent. 

As each second passed, you could feel whatever it was you had eaten for lunch earlier with Lando rising higher and higher. High enough in fact, that you found it necessary to press the radio button once more with a request. “Have a bag ready for me when I pull up, please.”

To which a compliant, “Copy.” sounded suit.

It wasn’t too much longer until your orange car could be seen sweeping down the pit lane, no hesitation in your steering as you made a harsh turn into your spot by the garage door. The pit team were prepared to make haste in their actions, ready to prop your car onto the jack in order to wheel it into the garage only to be stopped when two quick hands extended up as you braced yourself up against the halo and pulled yourself out of the seat.

At this point, you were hyper aware of the all the people surrounding you, as well as the multitude of cameras pointing directly at you, recording your every move for all the judgeful eyes to see, and yet you found not a single cell in yourself which cared as you leaned over the car and called out for your assistant, who quickly met you with a large black bin in tow. 

You quickly grabbed for it, pulling your front over the side of the car as far as you could in order to hide yourself from the view of the cameras. And out it came, a slurry of lunch which you had been so looking forward to at the time, and quickly regretting now as it all escaped your stomach.

What in the world had you feeling so ill in the first place? It felt like it had been lightyears since you had felt sick enough to actually puke, and god did you not miss this feeling. Had you eaten something bad earlier in the day? Maybe. But everything you ate Lando had eaten too, so wouldn’t he be sick as well? Well, it’s not really like you could ask him, you thought as you looked up just in time to see him overtake George on the big screen. He looks a little busy. And you should be busy too.

The thought seared through your mind as you spat into the bin, you should be racing too, but at least you feel a little better now that it’s come out; though not completely. Your stomach still churned a little and now your throat burned but you guessed it was better than crashing. You had already nearly done that just by being on the track a little too long and now you were definitely going to receive an earful from Sainz when he finally crossed the checkered flag and found you inevitably moping. 

However, you quickly realized that Carlos was actually the least of your worries and the only person you really had to fear was Lando, for when he heard about the outcome of your race, you were sure to face the lecture of your life. He had been warning you for days leading up to it not to participate. You were obviously unwell and he was aware of the dangers an unwell driver faced under the taxing conditions of a race but you were stubborn, insisting you would be fine. Look at you now. Head in a bin with cameras all around and a bruised ego. 

There was only a little time now until the race ended to recover before everyone came pummeling at you with questions. 

The wheel was starting to feel heavy in his hands and the rubbing of the HANS device against his neck was really starting to hurt. They were approaching the end stretch of the race and as the last 15 laps commenced, Lando couldn’t help but feel a little relieved knowing this would be over soon. This was undoubtedly a tough race. 

From lights out till now, he’d managed to pull from P5 to P4 and had every intention of passing Lewis for a podium position, soon enough he’d be in DRS range but for the time being, he was focused on catching up. The world around him had become mute, he hadn’t even looked up at the grand screen once, all he knew was the car.

So he had almost jumped in his seat when the chime sounded. Just as he began slowing around the final corner leading up to the line for his next lap, the sound of an incoming radio signal had his ears perking in anticipation. Were they planning on pitting him again? Sure he was definitely pushing a little too hard against his tires- not really doing his best at conserving them but he was so close to a podium position and he just needed a little bit more force-

“Lando mate,” Will’s voice sounded through his ears, his tone a little hesitant which left Lando biting his lip with anticipation. Please don't box. “I’ve just been informed by Marlow that y/n has retired.”

Lando's heart nearly fell into his stomach as the words registered in his brain. You retired?! Now thinking about it, you did start only a single position behind him and he hadn’t really seen all that much of you during the race. What happened? “Did she crash?!”

“No Lando, she's okay, it was voluntary. She wasn’t feeling well, I don’t think.” 

“You don’t think?”

“She’s okay Lando, just under the weather.”

Not feeling well? Under the weather? You’d raced a multitude of times before whilst under the weather. Each time he’d advise you not to race, and each time you’d ignore him, swearing up and down you’d be fine- and to Lando’s consolation each time you were fine. You’d come out the other side with a smile, no qualms or grievances and you would save your complaints for him afterwards, when no one else was around to judge. As you had done before, he expected the same this time. You’d never let a little ailment set you back, especially not let it affect you enough to retire. Not unless it really was bad.

Lando’s thoughts were soon interrupted by Will’s voice once more, his tone dismissive, implying the conversation had reached its end and no more discussion would be had about it. “We will contact you again if anything happens.”

And despite Lando’s dismay, he complies. There were still a good 15 laps left of the race ahead and he had a lot of catching up to do, a lot of competitive driving to be had. His focus couldn’t be elsewhere, but what was he supposed to do knowing his sick fiancé has just pulled herself out of a race? What was he supposed to do when he knew you well enough to understand how prideful you could be, and how poor you had to feel to choose to retire?  

He really tries to not let it bother him. During the next lap, he tries to not let it bother him as he forces himself to look anywhere else but the jumbo screen in hopes of a possible update on your condition. He tries to not let it bother him in the lap after that as the team radios in to discuss possible strategies regarding the oncoming overtake he will perform, and he tries to not let it bother him during the lap after that one when he finally passes Lewis. Now 3 laps have passed but he just can't get the questions about you off his mind. It is bothering him. He shouldn’t be distracted, especially while he’s in a podium position but he can’t help it. 

So as he crosses onto the next straight, he finds himself radioing in with the question that had been eating away at him since the news broke. “Uh.. Any updates on y/n? Is she alright?”

There's a considerable moment of silence on Mclaren’s end of the line, the team were honestly tied on what to tell the man and what not to. You weren’t exactly in optimal condition, and word around was slightly worrisome regarding your state. You were okay, but definitely not well, they knew because they had caught the treacherous sounds of your gags a few more times since the first echoing through the mclaren garage. 

As your fiance, he deserved to know these details, but as a driver, they knew it wasn’t smart to worry him. What were they to say as to not stress him out in an already extremely stressful situation? They could tell him a few of your team members were discussing taking you to the hospital. Or they could keep him from driving the car through the wall in order to meet you there. The decision was clear, they needed him to focus on driving. “She’s okay, she's currently being looked at by the medical team.”

“She has the medical team on her?!” Will’s eyes shut hard as Lando’s reply came through. Definitely not the right choice of words.

“Just a precaution Lando, she isn’t well at the moment.”

Lando’s bottom lip catches between his teeth as he ponders his engineer's words. He finds himself over analyzing every syllable, every infliction with intentions of unpacking whatever truth was seeping between the lines, and he notices that he’s biting his cheek as he rounds the 8th corner with a little less precision than usual. “Is she bad?”

Landos team take quick note of this change in pace, latching onto the clear oversteer he performs around the corner. They quickly find themselves trying to pull away from the topic in order to keep him both figuratively and literally on track and so Will concludes the conversation with a stern tone. “Please Lando, you can see her when you're done racing. We need you to focus on the race.”

He almost wanted to curse the man out purely due to frustration despite knowing deep down that he was right. But what else was he supposed to do when he knows his fiancé is sitting in the medic bay and all he can do to support her is… well, nothing. He just has to finish this race.

Despite your protests, your team was adamant on a visit to the med bay in order to possibly come up with a reason for your sudden onset of race ending symptoms, and after a quick trip down the hall that took a little longer than usual due to your need to stop once more, you were simply told there wasn’t much they could do long term to crack the bilous case. Shocker. They did however hand you something to ease the nausea which you were beyond thankful for.

You had spent so long counting down the seconds until the anti-nausea medication kicked in that you hadn't even noticed that the race had ended, nor did you notice the approaching sound of hasteful footsteps until the door to your driver's room came barrelling open with a thud.

“I told you not to race.” Lando’s voice was so stern it had you stiff. There was a slight indication of anger lingering behind his words but ultimately his face was a dead giveaway to the worried intention etched behind his tone. 

“I thought I’d be okay.”

“You threw up?” His eyebrows came down as he said it, and you noticed it was less of a question and more as if he was trying to confirm a suspicion. Someone from your team must have snitched on you already. No damn loyalties.

“Only a little.” Your words were sheepish.

“You stink.” He deadpanned and you found yourself scoffing, slightly exasperated at the bluntness of his words. The statement had you petty with offense. 

“You don’t smell very good either-”

“-I don’t smell like vomit.”

Finally you let out a sigh, already tired of the back and forth over something so menial, and unworthy of an argument. You were sick. Shit happens. “Lando, I wasn’t feeling well and I’d been feeling it all week with no real problem so I didn’t think there would be a reason to sit this race out. I didn’t think I would actually need to pull over. It’s done now.”

There was a loud silence between the two of you as he onced over your body with intentful eyes. You seemed okay enough and he guessed this really wasn’t the time or place to start an argument, especially over something as stupid as him being worried about you, you were on the same damn side. So instead he just sighed, bit his lip and nodded at you. “Alright.”

“Guys.” Charlotte suddenly peaked her head through the cracked door to glance at you both. “Come on, we need you at Media now.”

This wasn’t going to be easy, that you knew. The media had given you a hard time for things way less than this so you could only imagine what they had in store for you after throwing up on live TV for half the world to see moments after a voluntary DNF. It just about felt like you were being led to your execution with the way you knew they were about to tear into you. But there was no avoiding this, and the grimaced look etched into your features left Lando very aware of this fact.

“I know you don’t wanna do this but you have to go out there, you’ve got no choice. Not unless you’re willing to cop a fat fine.”

You stuck an eyebrow up at Landos voice, the sides of your lips extending out as you conceptualized his words but your expression quickly had him shaking his head alongside a hearty laugh. “No, no. Don’t even look like you’re considering it.”

Your laugh to match his own soon sounded throughout the room, and his hand swiftly found its place at the nape of your neck, to which he gave a quick squeeze and began leading you out the door into the McLaren garage hallway. “We have a wedding to plan and that means a lot of money to spend. You will not be wasting money trying to get out of media duties.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at how exasperated and sarcastic he sounded.

You both found yourselves trailing along Charlotte's path until the hallway quickly opened up into a large room where a few other drivers had already begun their own separate interviews towards the camera crews which littered every corner. The media pen; may as well be your death site.

Whilst waiting for the race to end; and for the nausea to subside, Charlotte had given you a rundown - more like a lecture; regarding what to expect and how to approach the inevitably condescending questions that would soon be thrown your way. 

This was going to be brutal, you knew that. You had finally made a mistake that the male media could exploit to reinforce their stereotypes about damned women in motorsports. Just another day facing the misogyny of the position, except this time, it was your own carelessness that put you in this position. The only damned thing you’d be was a damned liar if you said the upcoming articles tearing into you weren’t already gnawing at your mind. You could just picture it;

‘’Mclaren Princess’ Just Might Throw Her Way Up and Out of Competitive Driving,’

‘Speed Queen’s Weak Stomach Shows Why She’s Better Suited for Other Races,’

‘Too Glamorous For The F1 Track? or Maybe Not Glamorous Enough; - maybe we should leave the fast cars to the men that made them.’ 

This might just be worse than the ‘Revving Engines, not Emotions,’ article from last year when you teared up in Australia after what was the most frustrating race of your career. This was going to be horrible. 

Your actions were always hyper-criticized, but maybe just once you were being too imaginative for your own good. You needed to calm down because words tended to stick with you. A fact that Charlotte knew all too well, because she was sure to speak words she knew would ring through your ears during those interviews; Take it on the chin, stay composed and certainly don't be snappy. One of those was doable.

The moment you passed the threshold beyond the doorway, officially crossing into the media pen, it's as if every set of eyes and every lens of a camera had turned to watch you move. The room hadn’t by any means gone quiet, but there was definitely a shift in volume as the noise settled from a near unbearable buzz to a tolerable chatter, just enough to notice the change. The influx of attention almost had you doubling over once again, especially when you felt the nausea begin to slowly creep up for the second time that day. But you made notable efforts to keep your head high, hoping that a strong demeanor would at least soften the blow which would soon be dealt.

Lando’s arm had split from your neck not long after entering the room. You guys were always light on your PDA, trying to keep as much of your personal relationship as private as possible; as private as an already public relationship could possibly be. But he still managed to give you a small, reassuring squeeze on the hip before you both set off, being led in opposite directions.

A flurry of reporter eyes seemed to trail your path as your personal PR manager led you to a spot right in between Carlos and Charles, and as you started setting yourself up, you unavoidably overheard their journalists trying to wrap up their interviews, which you could only imagine would be to get a shot at you faster. 

However unluckily for those journalists, it seems your first adversary had already taken the stand just directly across from you with a large, heavy mic and aged, gleaming eyes; eyes that had your own widening in alarm. You were quite familiar with this journalist, very familiar with him actually as he had always been quick to criticize you and your skills on many occasions in the past. He was quite ill-mannered towards you, definitely holding a target out with a gun aimed directly for your career, making it clear he was disapproving of your presence as a woman on this grid. You just knew he had been waiting for you. This was going to be hell.

The journalist quickly began setting himself up, the cameraman behind him pointing the lens directly at your sour face, which you admittedly were not doing a great job at masking. Though, if your interviewer had noticed, he thankfully hadn’t commented on it. However that didn’t stop him from wasting any time beginning to comment on the other mistakes you had made today.

“Always a pleasure to speak with you, Speed Queen.” His gravelly voice spat. “Though I think ‘Pit Princess’ may be a little more fitting after today's race.” A sly smirk quickly spread across his mouth, an act that had your hands bracing against the railing separating the two of you from one another. Charles had quickly taken notice of this from his position just beside you. He admittedly felt he was doing quite well at remaining professional and ignoring the exchange between you and the infamous journalist, but now he was on high alert, ears perked in your direction with the intention of intervening at any given moment.

Despite your peeved sentiment, you did well at keeping your face straight and head high at the insult, feeling it necessary to not crack in front of the person trying to get a reaction out of you. Don’t prove his point. 

“I appreciate the creativity, but I think I would prefer to focus on the race itself rather than nicknames. I’m quite happy with the one I have.” There was a moment in which he tried to intervene, however you were determined to move past the subject. “-And, you know, today’s challenges were significant, but that’s a part of the sport, I guess.” Despite the lingering nausea, you still managed to force a professional smile.

“Is it?” He curled an eyebrow condescendingly, a look which nearly had a scowl slipping past your placid facade. But instead you held strong, that sickeningly sweet smile dripping like honey with disdain. “Part of the sport is the unpredictability of it. So I’d say so.”

The man's eyes gleamed on, a small hum escaping his lips as he nodded absently. “It’s just that no other driver seems to have this issue. Do you think maybe your choice to retire has to do with particular limitations a female might have that the men in this sport don’t?”

And as expected, the indirectness wasn’t so indirect anymore, the true misogynistic intentions of his words slowly crept out with ferocity. 

“No.” Your tone was final, like it hadn’t ever crossed your mind, because it really hadn’t. “No I really don’t. Many men before me have gotten sick during races, I guess I just preferred to voluntarily take myself out of the race than spend the rest of it wiping pesto off my visor.” You snarled. 

A small tap against your arm quickly alerted you to the contention of your PR manager, a disapproving gesture silently advising you to reel it in. But god was it hard when his face was so smug. She should understand that being passive aggressive was much more admissible than being violent, so she may as well let you get your anger out in the socially acceptable way, though you admit it was strange of you to feel so angry. You were usually better at keeping your emotions in check. Hm. But alas, you complied, correcting your face and letting him speak; even if you wanted so badly to interrupt him with your thoughts of how horrible a journalist he was. 

“Well, I think a lot of people agree when I say that this sport tends to reward determination and resilience, not quitting.”

Were you hearing this correctly? Was he really implying that you should have thrown up right into your helmet and just continued through the race like nothing? It was getting really hard to remain socially acceptable. What was this new found anger? “Racing may sometimes reward resilience, however, being sharp minded is more important sometimes. I noticed I was unwell enough for it to affect my performance, so I decided it was smarter to take myself out of the race. Especially after nearly taking Carlos out of the race too.” 

Just as you finished answering the (absurd) question, a suave laugh sounded to your left as Carlos suddenly stepped up beside you, sliding his arm across your shoulder. “I did have some choice words prepared for you earlier Mija, but then I learnt what happened and now I forgive you.” His eyes suddenly turned to the journalist, a glint of exaggerated pity in relation to the topic seeping into his expression, almost as if he was speaking with experience to someone who wouldn’t understand; because he was. “Driving whilst sick is not for the weak.”

The journalist's cold eyes squinted slightly as Carlos’ condescending tone registered in his head, yet he kept his expression neutral and mic high as he nodded. “I’m sure it isn’t.” And nothing was said after that. No rebuttal, no argumentative comment, just a plea of agreement. God, how you wished interviews were that easy for you.

A few voices echoing out from somewhere behind had caught the attention of the trio, and it didn’t take long for you to realize it was Carlos’ team instructing him to move onwards to his next position. So with a reassuring smile towards you and a quick quirk of a brow towards the reporter, he was off to his next interview without another word, taking your fleeting moment of security along with him as he left.

Now it was just you and the reporter once more, and you could tell he wasn’t feeling as cordial with you as he was with Carlos, evident by the slight snarl that had crept onto his face by the interruption in your defense. “Friendly words from Sainz there, as always.” he began, his tone dripping with insincerity, “Do you find it degrading that other drivers always have to come to your defense in order to keep your positive reputation, because there are a lot of people that believe you perhaps, ride off the success of others.” 

Your stomach twisted, and if it was from the nausea growing once again or from the sheer audacity of his words, you couldn’t tell. He was essentially implying that the only reason people liked you was because other likable people vouched for you, and not because of your own hard work and valiant achievements. It seems he wanted defense, you were about to show him just how defensive you could be. 

“With all due respect,” you began, voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge, “I don’t defend myself because I don’t have to, because the genuinity of my character extends far past my words.” you paused, thinking about your next words carefully. “My peers defend me because I’ve proven my capabilities time and time again, and they know that one incident doesn’t define my career. However, I don’t think you share the same sentiment, hm?” 

The taunting in your voice was quickly caught on by your PR manager who swiftly grabbed your arm in yet another warning, except this time you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as much. The journalist's eyes narrowed at your words, clearly not expecting such a discourteous response and the tugging of your PR manager's grip against your arm was an obvious nonverbal message to wrap it up but you weren't finished, oh no. That new found anger that had been gnawing at you all race was just beginning to trickle out.

“‘Riding off the success of others.’” Your quoted, voice riddled with humor, “And yet you somehow manage to find me every post race interview. Do you write these question’s down in your little notebook while you watch my multi-race winning car fly past you? Or do you wipe the dust from the camera lens instead?”

He quickly opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, your PR manager intervened, her grip on your arm tightening slightly as she stepped forward. “This interview is over,” she announced firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. “McLaren will be utalizing the next few days to help Y/n recover for next week's race. If you have any further questions, you can direct them to our media office.”

Your eyes widened in shock at the intervention. You had overstepped your media training a few times before and yet none had ever led to the end of the interview. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little surprised at your PR manager's swift movements as she tugged you back and away from the journalist. “Let’s move on.” Her voice was disapproving but she was obviously trying to remain calm and professional, understanding there was a job to be done. But your anger wasn’t discriminatory, everyone was a potential outlet, and you weren’t having this. “No, I’m finished.” You didn’t even want to participate in media in the first place, this was obligatory. You had done your part and now you were taking charge of the rest of your night. And so you pulled your arm back and made quick haste towards the exit, leading back to your driver room. 

You were only a few meters from the door now, acutely aware of all the eyes watching you retire early from yet another obligation today, when a hand grazing the small of your back pulled you away from the tormenting feeling of the bile rising once again. This time, it was Charles, his sweet face beaming a reassuring smile at you as he began walking in stride towards the exit alongside you. “Mon cheri, that was something else.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at his words, nausea bubbling once again, expecting yet another lecture from someone else. “If by ‘something else’ you mean a complete disaster, then yeah, I guess.”

Charles kept his tone steady, a touch of amusement in his voice as you both walked in stride. “No, I mean you handled it with a lot of, uhh.. What is the English? Poise.” 

You gave him a skeptical look. “Thanks, but it didn’t feel like handling things with poise, It felt like I was about to lose it.” 

His smile slipped into a small laugh before it fell,  and his bright eyes quickly turned into one’s of worry as he began a once over of your body. “Are you feeling okay?” he began the inevitable conversation. “I’m okay, it’ll pass I'm sure.”

Charles’ brows furrowed down, thick accent sounding with worry as he spoke. “You shouldn’t count on it passing, you should take care of yourself. You’re only gonna have more shit thrown at you if you don’t-”

As sweet as his concern was, you were tired of this conversation today, it was becoming tedious to hear and you really just needed to lie down or something. “-Charles, I really appreciate it and I'll be sure to visit the doctor tomorrow, but I think I’m gonna be sick again, so how about you cover me up to the hallway before I end up in another fight with a reporter, or my head in another bin on TV.”

Your words had Charles’s eyes widening, quickly glancing around from side to side in search of his target who was finishing up from an interview of his own, when your hand came up to press against your mouth, skin turning a tinge green. “Lando!”

The video shook a little as the person on the other end fidgeted with the camera, a slight blur shifting the image and the audio cracking with the movement before the frame finally straightened up. The person took a step back. It was you, which wasn’t all that surprising considering the video had been uploaded onto your own instagram, but it was the first anyone had really heard of you in weeks. 

Ever since your race ending ailment back in Spain, you had essentially gone radio silent. Not posting, not participating in interviews; you had missed 2 more races since then. It was worrisome, especially considering you had assured everyone the day after Spain that you were working on getting better for next week's race, which you never showed up to. 

The races went on and the fans asked about you, the interviewers asked about you too, but it seemed everyone involved in the FIA had no comment on your whereabouts nor your condition. The drivers dodged post interview questions, excelling on to new subjects and only had quick fleeting comments in response to concerned fans around the paddock who were only trying to make sense of it all.

Lando copped the brunt end of it though, scoring a P2 podium in Canada that everyone could more obviously care less about in his post-race interviews. The only topic mentioned was you, your absence from the race and why everyone was so hush-hush about it in the first place. The interviews were so off topic that this time it was Lando who had to leave the media pen early to avoid the questions, though opposingly, McLaren had been the ones to encourage his swift exit.

It was starting to become an issue. People were fretful. Were you still sick? Was it something more serious than you had anticipated and now you couldn’t race anymore?

The view they were looking at suggested that perhaps they were about to find out. 

You retreated away from the camera propped up against what people could only speculate had to be your dressing table, as you found your spot upon the large, luxurious bed the camera was pointing towards. Now cross legged upon it, your body clad in a 2 piece short silky pajama set, finally you began to speak. 

“Hello everyone.” You didn’t sound unwell, not stressed or upset. In fact, there was an edge to your voice that almost seemed cheerful; excited. And yet for now you remained composed, nothing but a small, media trained smile dawning your otherwise expressionless face.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The sentence was humorous, calling attention to the silence you had afflicted, and the lack of news upon your whereabouts. “Lando and I are finally home in Monaco for summer break, though I have to admit that I’ve actually been in Monaco for a few weeks now. I think some of you might feel that was a bit obvious given my absence.”

There was a high pitched chuckle off screen, it obviously being Lando out of frame as your eyes flickered over to the side with a playful yet mischievous smile, encouraging his reaction with your expression. It was a fleeting moment as your smile once again fell into something a little more vacant before straightening up and continuing. “I know a lot of people have questions, and I do want to apologize for the lack of communication on my end, I’ll explain, I promise but first I also want to say please don’t be mad at any of the other drivers for not speaking out, they were all just respecting my wishes in not saying anything until I was ready.”

There was a small pause as you took a breath, no sound emitting except for the slight breeze wafting through the room, further exemplified by the sway of the sheer curtains. This was so nerve racking, were you about to announce your departure from motorsport? Were you about to reveal a sickness you weren't aware of until now? The silence, though short lived, was deafening. 

“I-” Finally you spoke, but quickly caught it with a bite to your lower lip. It really seemed like you were processing your words, debating how to present your next statement carefully enough. “How do I-?”

Once again your gaze drifted off to the side of the screen, confused and cautious eyes quickly averting into a bright smile before a laugh escaped your mouth. “Don’t look so excited!” 

Lando, obviously beaming, clear by the tone of his voice, cheerfully yelled back, “Do you want me to say it?!”

“No!” you rebutted quickly with a laugh, “I told you I wanted to be the one to announce it, stop trying to take my shine!”

“Then go on with it!” He was so obviously really excited, impatient to finally announce whatever it was that had him so elevated.

“Okay well-” You stuttered for a moment, quickly catching yourself before continuing. “As many of you saw in Spain, I wasn’t feeling too well,-”

“-Hard to miss-.” Landos voice mumbled, a comment in which you swiftly ignored.  

“-And I hadn’t been for a few days leading up to it but I just took it as a stomach bug and planned to go on with it like usual. What I didn’t plan for however, was the doctor's visit I was forced to go to the day after.”

Your eyes glared off to the side once again, feigning annoyance but evidently not actually upset before looking back at the camera with a smile. “The good news is that we are very much aware of what was making me sick.” Your voice was reassuring, eyes slowly beginning to light up as you continued on. “The bad news is that I unfortunately will not be participating in the rest of the 2024 season, or the 2025 one for that matter.”

It was like you could feel the impending shock of everyone watching radiating through the screen despite it being pre recorded because your pause was almost comically dramatic. And yet it was so wholly conflicting, because regardless of the awful news, you didn’t really seem all that upset despite being such a passionate racer, it felt so out of character. This confusion was only exemplified further when your eyes once again drifted to the left, a large smile engulfing your features as you took notice of what had to be Lando's excited expression once more. “Oh don’t look so happy, you’re the one who still gets to race!”

“I’m sorry!” He laughed that high pitched laugh he does when he just can’t hold it back.

Your eyes flickered back to the camera, sitting straight on with a patient yet humorous smile, a single eyebrow cocked as you waited for Landos laughter to simmer. It took a moment, a moment you thought ended a time or two before he began again, but eventually the room became still again as your face grew just a little more in adoration towards the man everyone could see you loved dearly. It was like the energy had shifted just a little, from what felt so playful before, to something a little more familial and warm. 

“I think some of you may have put the pieces together, but for those who haven’t. Well… I’m pregnant!” Your smile was so big and sheepish, so conscious and just a little shy, it almost felt as if you were announcing it to a friend of many years and it was all just so heartwarming. You were okay! More than that, you were happy, and soon everyone else who would watch this video would be too. Lando's happy laugh from beyond the camera at the announcement finally being made was more than enough to express just how joyous the news was for the two of you.

“As heartbreaking as it will be to not be able to competitively race in the upcoming seasons, I’m not actually that sad about having to step down for a little.” You laughed heartily. “I proudly announce that in my place, the very talented Australian driver Oscar Piastri will be filling my position until I'm off from… maternity leave? I guess. That's a first for this sport.”  You laughed.  “But of course they just had to find the best to replace the best.” You quickly glanced over towards Lando out of frame, clearly expecting an agreement that never came. They could only imagine the disapproving look Lando was sending you.

Your expression never changed, but your tone dropped as you spoke darkly. “I’m carrying your child.” You spat, to which a loud “But of course!” sounded in response, followed by a laugh from the both of you.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still be seeing me around the track a lot considering this muppet,” you pointed to your left, “still gets to race.”

“Don’t be jealous,” the soft voice came from off screen. 

“No, I’ll confidently admit it, I’m so jealous.” You pouted, but the warmth in your eyes belied the playful tone in your voice.

Lando’s hand appeared in the frame for a brief moment, gently squeezing your shoulder before disappearing off-camera again. “We’ll be back out there together soon enough.”

You nodded, your smile returning as you glanced back at the camera, feeling a surge of excitement for what was to come. “In the meantime, I’m looking forward to supporting the team from a different angle. It’s going to be a new experience, but I’m excited to do this as…”

“-As a mother?” Lando finished with a knowing smirk.

“As a mother.” You laughed, a loud one from Lando soon sounded to match your own, one so joyous it left you beaming. Suddenly, Lando jolted in frame, clearly excited as he leaned over the bed to tackle you from your sitting position down into a hug, leaving you both falling back onto the sheets. “Oh my god Lando!” You shout, a hand quickly moving to shield your lower stomach. “God! Nevermind guys, I think Lando just tackled the baby out of me, guess I’ll be seeing you all from my McLaren in Austria.”

“Oh!” Lando gasped. “Not funny!” 

[n0bluev]

The night sky can only be overshadowed by a star (its star.). A star of all things, the one thing that cannot be allowed to see the night of the sky, angled to be hidden away behind dawn and dusk. The night leaves quietly (but is cursed to come back ; avoiding is just like following when an orbit is shared.)

A star can only go off explosively, spectacularly. (Then, collapsed in on itself, away from the world to see (finally part of the shadow the night cast) it seems the bare core is at peace with never bringing day back : darkness soothes.)

Gojo is like a star - bright, hot, shining. Geto is like the night sky - mysterious, deep, endless.

[ifwdominicfike]

matt loves when you overstimulate him

── .✦. ──

“c’mon sweet boy, you can do one more right?” your hips coming to a halt, letting him gather his thoughts and try to speak up with something other than whines and babbles. “yes, yes mama! p-please don’ stop” his hands tightened on your hips to move you while he desperately bucks his hips up into you.

you giggle at his neediness and start bouncing up and down faster once again, hearing the hisses and moans under you only makes you go faster. all while under you he continues to slur his words while trying his hardest not to come, not without your permission of course.

“look at you, my big boy—“ your thighs starting to burn from the constant movement as you point to the prominent bulge on your stomach, your hand goes to neck — gripping softly. “i said look matt, or y’want me to stop?” he hisses at his real name being used, he whines at your vulgar tone and shakes his head no. “no! no please don’t stop- no” his eyes shooting open, looking up at you with a pleading look.

“then look sweetheart, y’so big for mommy — filling me up so well, yeah?” your grin makes his eyes roll as he groans and throwing his head all while muttering nonsense. “y-yes m’fuck! m’so big for you mommy, c-can i come..?” his heavy breathing and teary eyes almost make you give it to him, but you wanted to make him suffer just a little longer. you had been spoiling him all night with orgasm after orgasm, you wanted to have some fun now.

“no baby, you can come after mama, ‘kay?” your thumb caressing his bottom lip, trying to soothe him. “o-okay, i-i’ll be good f’you” you then slip your thumb between his lips, watching him eagerly take it into his mouth and toy with it. “good boy, always so eager to please hm?” he nods quickly and starts to buck his hips up harder, feeling you coming closer and closer to finishing.

your moans are getting mixed up with his as you reach your peak, trying to muffle them into his neck all while praising him. “yes- yes! oh — my precious boy, you’re so g-good, so perfect-“ he interrupts you with begs and cries to let him cum, all while he’s on the verge of tears.

all it took was a simple yes to have him crumbling underneath you, as he wraps his arms around you and fills you up. “m-mama, mmm” he could barely understand what he was saying, before he could get another word out you shush him, placing a finger over his lips. “just calm down baby, i know, i know.” all while stroking his messy hair as his eyes fluttered shut.

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

first time writing mommy kink… I LOVE SUB MATT. I NEED SUB MATT. i chant loudly, ANYWAY! im so sorry for being lazy with putting stuff out, i literally wanna delete all my fics so bad. (also this wasnt really an “overstimulating” fic i kinda went off BUT WHO CARES.)

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @ellaapsworld @chrissv4mp @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @submattenthusiast @flouvela @sturniolosiphone @chrislova @sophand4n4 @mattsfavoritestar @mattslolita @y3sterdaysproblem @strnilolover @cayleeuhithinknott @cherrynflowergarden @sturnsmia @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @chaossturns @emely9274 @sturn777