fishformula
fish, she/they putting my fingers in every f1 rpf ship pie (with a fondness for galex and charlos)
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Latest Posts by fishformula
I love the way Charles and Carlos are opposite ends of the dog owner spectrum. Charles is like gripping onto that thang at all times he’s at the dentist office shoving it in peoples faces he’s bringing it to restaurants it’s in a little bag he can whip out to show off. Whereas Carlos is like oh. How gauche of you to mention my esteemed acquaintance by name when he’s not here with us. Neither man is behaving normally about the dog somehow
seeing as it was removed from youtube, here’s the original carlando video
i believe i am acting in the national and international interest here
williams racing f1 / alex albon / carlos sainz || there's always this year, hanif abdurraqib
you’re not “behind” on your story. you’re building something. and sometimes building requires standing in the ruins for a bit.
To George, with love Alex
Summary:
To escape his Papa Seb’s matchmaking ambitions, Alex invents a lover named George whom he claims to have met during his travels abroad. He writes fake love letters addressed to “George,” a nobleman he assumes lives far enough never to receive them. But fate has other plans. Unbeknownst to him, the real Lord George Russell does receive those letters and starts replying out of sheer boredom… and then, curiosity… and eventually, something warmer, something deeper. Because if you're a Bridgerton, love will always find its way — even if delivered by accident.
The twenty-second time Lord Sebastian Vettel tried to match his son, Alex Bridgerton, to a duke, a viscount, a marquess, or a tolerably handsome baron, Alex did what any reasonable, slightly dramatic Bridgerton would do.
He lied.
“Oh, Papa,” he sighed, artfully flopping onto the chaise lounge like a tragic poet in mourning. “I simply can’t. My heart is already… otherwise occupied.”
Papa Seb, perched with a teacup and his spectacles halfway down his nose, narrowed his eyes. “Occupied by what? That box of macarons you keep under your bed?”
Alex placed a trembling hand over his chest. “No,” he said, voice laced with deep melancholy. “By a man.”
Cue stunned silence in the grand Bridgerton salon.
Carlos, who had been cooing to baby Ben while feeding him mashed peaches, froze mid-spoon. The spoon missed Ben’s mouth entirely and landed with a soft plop on his tiny nose.
Even baby Ben blinked at Alex in horrified confusion, as if he understood the weight of the announcement and found it... questionable.
Charles blinks.
“A man?” Lord Mark Bridgerton, ever the soft-spoken Dada, blinked and almost dropped his embroidery.
Daniel choked on his tea. “Wait. What man?”. Max rubs his back while looking at Alex confused.
“Yes,” Alex said, ignoring them all and shifting dramatically to gaze out the rain-dappled window. “We met during my travels. In the summer. Or spring. There were violets blooming.”
“You were in Dover for four days,” Daniel deadpanned.
“Well,” Alex sniffed, refusing to acknowledge this minor factual detail, “it was a very meaningful four days.”
“Does this person know about this love?” Kimi asked, not looking up from his deck of cards.
“Of course,” Alex countered.
Lewis, the eldest, pinched the bridge of his nose so hard one might think he was performing exorcism. “I cannot believe this is happening again. Are you seriously fabricating an entire love affair to get out of one dinner with Lord Halifax?”
Alex’s eyes fluttered. “I cannot stomach Lord Halifax’s sideburns, Lewis. They curl like malevolent tendrils. I should not be punished for having standards.”
Dada Mark was already pulling out the monogrammed stationery. “So… what’s his name, this tragic romance of yours?”
Alex paused. He scanned the bookshelves. Too literary. The globe? Too geographical. And then—a memory—a ball months ago, a man with floppy brown hair and aristocratic cheekbones. He remembered the name because he made fun of it afterward.
“…George,” he said with a flourish. “Lord George.”
“You made that up,” Lewis said flatly.
“On the contrary,” Alex said, already scribbling his first letter. “He’s as real as my love.”
………
That night, Alex penned the letter with the passion of a misunderstood poet and the flair of a man who had just evaded a scandalous engagement.
My Dearest George,
Though the violets may no longer bloom and the sea no longer sigh beneath our feet, my thoughts are with you always. How cruel the world is, to keep us apart. And yet, how sweet is your memory, tucked into every heartbeat.
Yours in eternal longing, Alex (P.S. Papa wants me to marry a baron with sideburns. I’d rather throw myself into the Thames.)
He handed the letter to the footman and smiled serenely.
He assumed it would never reach anyone.
It did.
……
George Russell, heir to the Earl of Woburn and reluctant participant in the London season, was enjoying the most ordinary of afternoons when a footman delivered the most extraordinary letter.
He blinked at the delicate, cream-coloured envelope with its dramatic cursive and overuse of sealing wax. It smelled faintly of bergamot and—was that… rose water?
“This must be a mistake,” George muttered, peering at the name again.
George Private & Confidential To be opened by none but he whose smile ruined me once by the violets
“…What in the hell,” he said, already concerned.
He opened it.
My Dearest George,
Though the violets may no longer bloom and the sea no longer sigh beneath our feet, my thoughts are with you always. How cruel the world is, to keep us apart. And yet, how sweet is your memory, tucked into every heartbeat.
Yours in eternal longing, Alex
(P.S. Papa wants me to marry a baron with sideburns. I’d rather throw myself into the Thames.)
George blinked.
Then he blinked again.
“…I have never even seen a violet in my life.”
He reread it. Slowly. In full. He laughed. Then stopped. Then laughed again. Then stared at the signature.
Alex
Just Alex.
No title. No surname. No context.
George Russell was receiving anonymous love letters from a poetic madman.
Worse—he liked it.
…..
He should have tossed it away.
He could have ignored it.
But George, bored out of his mind in a house full of aunts talking about gout and dowries, instead picked up his quill and wrote back.
Dearest Alex,
I regret to inform you that I have no memory of any violets, nor the sea sighing beneath us—unless you are referring to that dreadful inn where I once sprained an ankle.
That said, I find your letter… unexpectedly charming.
Do avoid the Thames if possible. The smell is truly appalling.
Yours, out of sheer curiosity (and mild concern), George
(P.S. Tell me more about this baron with the sideburns. I’m invested now.)
……..
When the letter arrived—delicate cream paper, the seal slightly crooked—Alex Bridgerton nearly fainted.
But instead, he took a long sip of tea, turned to his family at breakfast, and with the serene calm of a man about to spontaneously combust, said,
“Oh. That must be from George.”
Carlos, spoon halfway to baby Ben’s mouth, froze. The spoon trembled. The mashed apple plopped sadly onto Ben’s bib.
“George?” Carlos asked, voice climbing three octaves.
Ben blinked at his father. Then at the apple. Then at his other dada, Charles, and held up his chubby arms in betrayal.
“Your son prefers to be fed by emotionally stable people,” Charles muttered, plucking Ben into his arms.
Lewis put down his fork with the finality of a man preparing for war. “You’re telling me—” he said slowly, glaring across the table, “—that your imaginary lover has written you back?”
“He was never imaginary,” Alex said loftily, tearing the envelope open with a butter knife and way too much flair.
Daniel spat his tea. Lando choked on a croissant. Kimi didn't react, but quietly reached for the brandy.
Max, Daniel’s husband, who hadn’t spoken in ten minutes, muttered, “I knew something was off the moment I saw the handwriting. That's not the script of a man with a sound mind.”
Alex unfolded the letter with trembling hands .
Carlos did drop the spoon this time.
Lewis: “YOU REALLY HAVE A LOVER?!”
Daniel: “Okay but wait, this is gold.”
Lando: “I still refuse to believe this.”
Alex, somehow smug through the panic gripping his lungs, said, “As you can see, our love story continues to blossom.”
Ben, chewing thoughtfully on Charles’s finger, offered a soft, “Bah.”
Charles replied, “Exactly.”
…..
“To my dearest, most infuriating George…”
Alex wrote, at midnight, by candlelight, in a full robe, like the tragic heroine of a gothic novel.
He paused. Nibbled on his quill. Sighed dramatically.
“I saw a violet today. It made me think of the way you say ‘ankle injury’ with such disdain. I fear I am incurably attached to your sarcasm.
Yours, hopelessly, Always Yours.” — Alex.
He sealed it with trembling fingers and absolutely no plan for what to do if George ever asked to meet.
…….
Meanwhile, across town, Lord George Russell, who’d never intended to reply to the first letter, was now halfway through one of his own.
“You call me yours so easily. It should alarm me… and yet it doesn’t.”
He tapped his pen thoughtfully. “Who are you?” No surname. No address. Only the letters. Dozens now.
Some romantic. Some teasing. Some so poetic that George had once gone on a walk in the rain, just to feel the heartbreak properly.
He didn’t know who this “Alex” was. But he knew how “Alex” wrote about him.
And damn it all, he liked being adored.
……
Back home, Alex’s lie had become an unstoppable force.
Carlos had created a color-coded timeline of this fictional relationship on the drawing room chalkboard. Charles had edited the grammar in all the letters. Lando had re-enacted several dramatic readings with Ben as George.
And Daniel had declared, “If this becomes a scandal, I want front-row seats and my own Whistledown column.”
Lewis remained in a constant state of unblinking suspicion.
And when Alex received a pressed violet with the next letter, Daniel screamed: “OH MY GOD, HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU.”
Alex: “He doesn’t even know who I am!”(Yes, he revealed it after very thorough investigation by his brothers) Carlos: “Yes but he’s in love with the idea of you, which is worse!”
Ben, sitting on Charles’s lap, clapped. Unclear if in support or despair.
…….
💌
"Shall we meet, then? At the Masquerade Ball this Friday. You’ll know me by the violet on my lapel. Wear a violet on your lapel too. Yours (terrifyingly so), —G."
When Alex read those words, he dramatically fainted onto the divan. Dada Bridgerton (Mark) stepped over him. Papa Seb muttered, “I knew this would happen.” And Ben, nestled in Carlos's arms, dropped his rattle in horror.
…..
The Bridgerton brothers immediately held an emergency strategy meeting.
Lewis, exhausted but determined:
“I’ll be behind the curtain. If he proposes anything indecent, I jump out.”
Daniel, sipping brandy:
“I’ll be by the punch table. For emotional support. And snacks.”
Carlos, rocking baby Ben:
“I’ll blend in with the orchestra. Ben will wear a tiny top hat for camouflage.”
Kimi, unbothered:
“I’ll be napping under the buffet table. If anything happens, just scream.”
Lando, casually loading a fake pistol:
“I’ll be in the garden. Just in case we need to bury any evidences..”
Papa Seb, reading a newspaper upside down:
“This is the most entertained I’ve been in years. Proceed.”
…..
The moment Alex stepped into the ballroom of Lady Tsunoda’s Spring Soirée, his pulse stuttered. The air shimmered with candlelight, the swell of strings, and the press of high society — but all he could focus on was the man standing by the French windows with a violet in his lapel.
Tall. Dressed in emerald green. Honey-brown curls kissed by the chandelier’s glow. That had to be him.
George.
Their eyes met — two strangers who had been lovers in ink before ever meeting in person.
Alex walked forward, each step measured, his heart thrumming a sonnet against his ribs. George turned, his expression polite at first… and then slowly warmed, the realization blooming in his eyes like spring’s first crocus.
"You came," George said softly.
Alex gave a lopsided smile. “I did. And you… you look nothing like how I imagined.”
George blinked. “Oh?”
Alex leaned in slightly, teasing. “You're far more gorgeous.”
George laughed, and it sounded like wind chimes on a May afternoon. “And you… you’re ethereal.”
Their fingers brushed — accidental, electric. A song started. Neither spoke. They simply moved together, seamlessly, like a dance they’d been practicing their whole lives across parchment.
“I must ask,” George murmured mid-waltz, his palm resting at Alex’s waist, “was it really Dover? With the violets?”
Alex chuckled nervously. “Let’s just say… the violets were real, even if Dover wasn’t.”
George arched an eyebrow, amused and intrigued. “Then I suppose we are both liars… in the best way.”
They twirled once more, the world narrowing to just two hearts that beat in perfect measure. When the music ended, neither stepped away.
“May I court you properly?” George asked, voice quieter now. “With less ink. And more dances.”
Alex, cheeks flushed and chest full, nodded. “Yes. Yes, you may.”
And from the corner of the ballroom—
Carlos dropped Baby Ben’s spoon again. Daniel screamed. Kimi had climbed into the floral centerpiece to hide better. Lewis was already reaching for his dueling gloves. And Baby Ben? He turned to Charles, raised his arms, and silently demanded a less dramatic family.
…….
Lord Whistledown’s Society Papers
“An Ethereal Union: The Wedding of Lord Alex Bridgerton and Lord George Russell”
Dearest Readers,
In a turn of events that has melted even the coldest hearts of the ton, the mysterious “letter lover” match has blossomed into the wedding of the season. Lord Alex Bridgerton and Lord George Russell exchanged vows beneath a canopy of wildflowers, their courtship no longer confined to ink and parchment but flourishing in joyous matrimony.
The ceremony was nothing short of ethereal—an intimate gathering that balanced Bridgerton flair with Russell’s understated grace. Siblings were seen dabbing at their eyes, Baby Ben clapped enthusiastically, and even the ever-skeptical Lord Lewis appeared genuinely pleased.
One can only wonder what tales will follow this union, but for now, the ton raises its glass to a love that transcended letters and bridged hearts.
Forever your faithful gossip, Lord Whistledown
hey guys this edit of seb and michael ripped the soul out of my body btw.
tagged by @testarossa @crudeoildistillation @magnificentbirb (last week kekekeke) and @seaplease for wip wednesday!
“Uh,” Carlos says, in a poor attempt to stall for time. “Could you let me keep my identification, at least? And one credit card? It’s my turn to pay for dinner.”
Teto’s always told him to get Apple Pay set up. Teto’s going to have the time of his life when he finds out.
His assailant sticks out a hand, crooking his fingers in the universal gesture for, Hand it over.
“Fine,” Carlos says sullenly.
He’ll have to cancel his cards, which is annoying. He’ll have to report his stolen driver’s license, which is even more annoying. Damn this place. And damn Oscar, for even suggesting they get out for some dinner. Carlos should have known better than to listen to him—ever.
“Not my phone,” Carlos says, dismayed. “I’ve already given you what you asked. Por favor, there’s close to five hundred dollars in my wallet.”
Some yelling, some posturing with the baseball bat, the tip of which gets very close to Carlos’s nose. He almost grows cross-eyed trying to track its wayward path. The Gigi in his mind is yelling at him, don’t negotiate, don’t attempt it, give the guy what he wants. Just give it to him! But adrenaline builds up, coursing down from the top of his head to the rest of his body. There’s, well. There’re texts in his phone. There’re pictures. Not just of himself.
Decision made in a second. The burst of charge exits out his feet like lightning, and Carlos stops thinking to pivot and run. More yelling, followed by the metallic clank of the baseball bat narrowly missing him and finding a permanent mark in the alley wall. Fucking hell, have they never heard of a streetlamp in Melbourne? Where the hell is he going? Left first, then right. Huff, huff, breathe deep, breathe even. There’s absolutely no way some random guy trying to rob him can outstrip Carlos in a competition of speed. No way. Never mind that it’s been happening in a different context entirely. There’re no machines involved here. Just the strength of his legs, and a body which hasn’t abandoned him yet. The phone he holds in a death grip in his right hand. Head down, arms swing, go, go, go—
Fuck, ow. Ow. Fuck.
Apparently, there’re curbs and things which serve to trip people when they’re running through the street. Down he goes in a mess of limbs. He scrapes his elbow, forearms, then palms in quick succession. Skin rolled up on the surface like crumpled paper, he’ll start bleeding in a minute. Breath knocked out of him, Carlos barely has time to toss himself around, and raise an arm up to defend against the baseball bat swinging its merry way down.
A shocked gasp, a wounded sound, made by someone other than him. Carlos forces his scrunched eyes open. There’s a patch of dark in front of him, or above him rather, darker than the surrounding night. Half of the dark patch has a face. A mouth grimacing, lips caught in between teeth. Huh. Cute teeth.
Carlos doesn’t know much about Melbourne’s vigilante, only that he makes appearances in the night and dresses in stylish Kevlar. No amount of padding is going to stop a baseball bat from hurting though.
“Get up,” Carlos whispers to him.
Those lips wobble, and then flatten as if in annoyance, and Masked Man shifts his weight off of Carlos. Like he’s affronted. It appears as though Carlos can do no right, tonight.
The baseball bat makes its move again, though the sound of impact is weaker this time, panicked. Masked Man growls, pissed off. Carlos swallows down a squeak. Another attempt at a swing is caught in a gloved palm, and Masked Man jerks the bat out of the assailant’s hands with enough force for the guy to stumble back, wind in his sails all gone. The fight’s pretty much over, which is slightly anti-climatic. Guy Who Used to Have Baseball Bat is already hightailing it out of here.
“Ay,” Carlos says, when it becomes abundantly clear Masked Man isn’t going to say anything. “Dating, am I right? Dangerous scene.”
Masked Man flings himself around, presumably to chastise Carlos for gallivanting in the dark, but any form of lecture dissolves into a hiss of pain. A very small, very unguarded sound. Only now does Carlos notice Masked Man is devoid of Kevlar, apart from the cowl and the gloves. He’s donned in a black, soft turtleneck, and nice, slim-fitting jeans.
“You patrol without armour?” Unbelievable, prioritising fashion over functionality. “What kind of vigilante are you?”
The mouth moves into a scowl. Carlos is no lip-reader, but it isn’t hard when Masked Man’s teeth form around the word Idiot so clearly.
“Yes, yes.” Carlos rolls his eyes. “I shouldn’t have been out, yes?”
Masked Man glares, gesturing indignantly at Carlos’s phone, still somehow nestled in his right hand.
“Hey,” Carlos says weakly. He clutches the phone to his chest. “I have important things in here.”
Masked Man glares even more, batting away Carlos’s attempts to reach out. Guilt niggles at the base of Carlos’s spine, worms its way into his chest. Masked Man had stepped in between Carlos and a baseball bat with no form of protection, whatsoever. Nothing but his bare back, which should be turning black-and-blue right about now. Carlos doesn’t point out that Masked Man should probably seek medical attention, knowing very well it wouldn’t be appreciated.
“Ice first,” Carlos blurts out, before Masked Man can whisk himself away in smoke, or however cool, edgy way superheroes like to disappear. “Ice to reduce swelling. Heat for later to encourage healing.”
The cowl blends seamlessly into the night with how dark it is. Vantablack, Carlos’s brain supplies, somewhat impressed. It only serves to highlight the whites in Masked Man’s eyes, shocked and round, like he can’t believe Carlos would say something even remotely helpful.
“I get bruises all the time,” Carlos insists, somehow wanting to prove his expertise. Masked Man straightens up agitatedly, and Carlos waves it off. “From seatbelts. It’s a long story. Listen. Ice first, then heat, okay?”
A half shrug.
Carlos nods, satisfied. He turns around, allowing Masked Man the privacy to disappear in a suitably cool way. Takes less than a few seconds, and Masked Man is gone.
It takes Carlos a few more seconds to realize he’s forty-five minutes past when he was supposed to meet Oscar, and also hopelessly lost. He retraces his steps like a baby foal while texting Caco, completely unaware of his surroundings in a way that Masked Man would surely disapprove.
hey could you cancel my cards
What why.
Carlos why
Carlos?
never mind, i am all good. Wonders of wonders, his wallet is safely tucked into his back pocket, as if it had never left. Carlos grins. Masked Man is very sneaky! He has saved Carlos having to make a police report, which makes him ace in Carlos’s book. Carlos should get on the hero forums on Reddit and rate him. He should do that now, before he forgets.
melbourne’s masked man: five stars!
fought off a baseball bat with just gloves and returned my wallet. he should try to wear padding of some sort. cool mask.
Carlos hesitates. Adds: cute teeth. it was all i could see of his face
By the time he makes it to the restaurant, Carlos is so late he’d be surprised if Oscar didn’t throw a glass of water at him. It’s a little sadder to discover Oscar isn’t even there. In fairness, Carlos would be pretty annoyed if his dinner partner were to show up as if he came from a different time zone. All the same, it would have been nice if Oscar at least texted before he left. Even to say, Where the hell are you?
Carlos sulks at his phone. Someone liked his review on Reddit. His stomach growls petulantly. Well, fuck it. Oscar did say the BBQ here was good.
--
He will never go as far as to say he’s “good” at media, but with this many fan stages under his belt, the questions are no longer as tricky to navigate. How are you feeling about your chances this weekend? Anything you want to say to the fans? When will you go on a golf date with Alex? Carlos smiles and answers in half-truths, all the while tracing the chicanes of the Shanghai track in his head. The first two bends lead immediately into turn three and four. One and two are more difficult, requiring lift on entry, but a good exit is necessary on four. Yes, I gave some good advice to the rookies. Keep pushing always.
It takes Carlos a surprising long time to notice. Surprising because he’s been priding himself on noticing, lately. Whether the swoop of hair on Oscar’s forehead falls to the left or the right, how many freckles he’s accumulating as the weeks go by. On stage, Oscar’s gone ahead and dissociated so hard he isn’t even on the same planet. Staring out at some spot between the crowd and the ground, mouth soft in its slackness. Carlos recognizes the look. He can only hope he’s never been this obvious.
“Oscar,” he says, voice hovering between teasing and tentative. “You haven’t talked.”
Oscar’s scowl disappears so quickly no one else would’ve caught it. But, well. Carlos has been noticing.
“I was quite happy just standing here,” Oscar says, almost resigned, but then media personality kicks in and he launches into a suitable answer.
Oops, Carlos thinks, and certainly enough, backstage, Oscar yanks him away into a corner.
“Mate,” he says, looking this close to stomping his foot. Carlos might go so far as to say he’s whining. Imagine that, Oscar whining. “You, like, shift into a separate dimension all the time during interviews and I’m nice enough not to point it out in front of hundreds of people.”
Carlos juts his jaw out, catches Oscar’s eyes following the movement. He’s trying to stall for time. In truth he could’ve left Oscar to his own devices. Why didn’t he? Saying he wanted to hear Oscar talk was going to scrape a little too close to his ribs for his liking.
“You stood me up,” he blurts out. It’s possible he’s panicking a little. “I didn’t know what to order! They gave me the giant barbeque platter. Do you know how sad that made me look? Eating all the chicken wings by myself?”
Oscar’s face makes some ridiculous shape, eyebrows shooting up, eyes growing wide, mouth forming around outrage.
“You—that’s why you called me out on stage?” Oscar says. He’s being so incredulous and Carlos probably shouldn’t laugh. “You’re. You’re the worst!”
“Aw,” Carlos says, somewhat unaffected, but now growing equally incredulous. “So why did you?”
Oscar flushes, all the way down from his hairline. It’s not not cute. “I was—I mean, there was. An incident. And I. Couldn’t get to you in time.”
“Oh-kay,” Carlos says, shrugging as nonchalantly as he can. It’s not as if Oscar was the one getting mugged. “Don’t tell me then. You’re lucky I’m very forgiving.”
He claps Oscar on the back vigorously to show how forgiving he is. What he doesn’t expect is the way Oscar stiffens, so hard it looks painful. The planes of his face shift, and colour leeches out of his skin quicker than litmus paper in acid. From pink to pallor. In a failed attempt to stop any noise escaping, Oscar catches his bottom lip with his two front teeth, so hard he might draw blood.
Huh. His teeth.
If. If Carlos had. Retired last year. He doesn’t like thinking about that, how close it felt to coming true. But if it had happened. It’s possible he could’ve transitioned to another role in the garage. He might have struggled with algebra, according to his old math teacher, but he’s good with statistics, data. He knows how to put pieces of a puzzle together. And he knows when they fit just right.
Carlos takes Oscar’s trembling elbow, very gently. “Gigi keeps some painkillers in the motorhome, c’mon.”
There’s a moment in which Carlos thinks Oscar will try to refuse him, and he’d have to sling Oscar over his shoulder somehow to force his compliance. But then Oscar clenches his jaw, and obediently allows himself to be led away.
“I shouldn’t have,” Oscar says, midway through Carlos cramming a pill down Oscar’s throat like he would an uncooperative cat, “been out late last night. That’s, uh. That’s why I’m in. Such rough shape.”
“Oh yes. Partying with Lando usually results in aches and pain and tears the next day. You know what else results in aches and pain and tears?”
Oscar stares at him, stiffening.
“Getting a baseball bat to the back,” Carlos says wisely. “And then underdosing on painkillers so you can appear lucid on stage.”
“Not that lucid,” Oscar mumbles. “You caught me.”
Carlos wants Oscar to un-porcupine himself. Wants some softness for his poor, bruised back. “I have nothing against doing the, vigi--vigilante?”
“Vigilantism.”
“Thank you. Nothing against that. Just against illogical, unpadded, nonsense armour.”
“I know.” Oscar rolls his eyes. “I read your review. Someone saves your life and the first thing you do is to complain online. Typical.”
“Typical Carlos,” Carlos says, smiling.
“Yeah,” Oscar says, though his shoulders are less hunched now, and he’s smiling right back. “Typical Carlos.”
he put me first — ka12 (part two)
smau + blurbs
kimi antonelli x !estranged leclerc sister reader
yn always fell on the back burner for her family, never truly seen. her father was the only one who ever made her feel like she mattered. when he passed, the distance between her and her siblings—charles, arthur, lorenzo—only grew wider. she felt more like a shadow than a sister. desperate to escape the weight of monaco and the name that never really felt like hers, she left for italy with nothing but a suitcase and a tearful phone call to her godparents. that was five years ago.
a year into her new life in bologna, she met a boy. kimi antonelli—soft-spoken, kind-eyed, and utterly unlike anyone she’d ever known. they were just kids when they met, but something about him felt like home. they’ve been inseparable ever since. now, five years later, both 18 years old, yn and kimi have been together for three years. he’s the only person who’s ever truly seen her. but everything changes when kimi is offered a spot in formula 1. because standing on that grid? is her brother. and kimi has no idea who she really is.
fc : darianka on ig
part one here
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present day (IG public)
its_yn
575,090 likes.
its_yn : short little trip to celebrate this sweet angel getting an f1 seat. so proud of you my boy.
tagged : kimi.antonelli
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user has limited comment access.
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kimi.antonelli : we are here to celebrate you as well, amore mio. the prettiest girl in the world<3
liked by its_yn
veronica.antonelli : i miei bellissimi bambini. divertitevi tantissimo. (my beautiful kids. have so much fun)
liked by its_yn and kimi.antonelli
antonelli_1807 : molto orgoglioso di voi due! (very proud of you both!)
liked by its_yn and kimi.antonelli
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arthur_leclerc liked a post from its_yn
26s ago
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kimi.antonelli
liked by mercedesamgf1, charles_leclerc, georgerussell63 & 1,1509,007 others.
kimi.antonelli : trip to celebrate my gf being so beautiful <3
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its_yn : oml ur making me blushhhhh. love you to the moon and back.
liked by kimi.antonelli
kimi.antonelli : love you even more than that, pretty girl:)
username00 : idec that she is a leclerc- this is so fucking cute.
mercedesamgf1 : SO cute! Can't wait to see you both!
liked by its_yn and kimi.antonelli
georgerussell63 : Soak up all the vacation time now while you can, kid! Welcome Aboard.
liked by its_yn and kimi.antonelli
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The late afternoon sun poured through the balcony doors, turning the whole room golden. The ocean breeze fluttered the gauzy curtains, and somewhere down on the beach, a kid was laughing. Kimi’s arm was draped around my waist, his skin warm from the sun, his breathing soft and steady beside me. It was quiet. Safe. One of those rare moments where the world felt like it had finally stopped spinning.
I had my phone in one hand, scrolling lazily through the comments on our latest posts — his vacation dump with me in it, my photo of the seashells he’d carefully lined along my thigh. It was the first time we hadn’t hidden. No cropping. No cryptic captions. Just… us. I smiled to myself, heat rising in my cheeks all over again when I reread his caption.
"Trip to celebrate my girlfriend being so beautiful."
And then everything stopped. Right beneath the hundreds of likes, just above a flurry of usernames I didn’t recognize, there it was. My stomach dropped. I refreshed the screen, heart pounding now.
charles_leclerc liked this.
I flipped to my post.
arthur_leclerc liked your post.
No. No, no, no. My chest tightened. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The soft, calm world we were wrapped in shattered in a second. I sat up too quickly, nearly kicking the blanket off the bed. My phone trembled in my hands.
“Woah,” Kimi said behind me, still half-draped across the bed. “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t answer. My mind was spinning, spiraling into panic.
He sat up slowly, reaching for my hand. “Babe?”
“They saw,” I whispered. “They know.”
Kimi frowned. “Who saw what?”
I shoved the phone into his hand, my heart in my throat. “Look. Look who liked them.”
He glanced down, blinking at the screen. “Charles Leclerc? And… Arthur? Wait—what’s the big deal?”
I stared at him. He blinked again. “Do you know them or something?”
A laugh — broken and tight — escaped my throat. “Yeah. You could say that.”
Kimi tilted his head, confused, concern starting to flicker in his eyes. “YN…”
I sat back on my heels, tugging the blanket over my legs like it could shield me from the weight of what I was about to say.
“They’re my brothers.”
He stilled.
“Arthur and Charles,” I continued, voice cracking. “They’re my brothers. I’m… I’m a Leclerc.”
He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at me like I’d knocked the wind out of him. I rushed ahead, the words tumbling now. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want it to change things. Because when I left Monaco, I left them. I left the name. The life. All of it. I was just the kid no one really noticed, the youngest who never quite fit in, and after our dad died…” My voice faltered. “I couldn’t breathe in that house anymore. So I left. And I never told anyone where I went. Until you.”
Kimi was still staring. Not cold. Not angry. Just… absorbing.
I tried to pull away. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you earlier. You must think I’m—”
His arms were around me before I could finish. Firm. Steady. Safe. He pulled me right into his chest and held me like I wasn’t broken or selfish or anything I feared he might now see me as.
“I don’t care what your last name is,” he said quietly. “I care about you. The girl I met on that street in Bologna. The one who listened to my rants about karting and let me put seashells all over her and laughs at my stupid bucket hats.”
I laughed, watery and shaking.
“You’re YN to me. And if your brothers are only just realizing how incredible you are, that’s on them. You don’t owe them anything.”
“I was scared they’d take this away from me,” I whispered. “That I’d lose you too.”
He leaned back just enough to meet my eyes. “They don’t get to take you from me. Ever.”
The weight of five years lifted from my chest like a tide pulling back. And in the middle of it all — ocean breeze, golden light, and this boy who never once let me fall — I finally, finally let myself breathe.
-
random fluff (yn and kimi enjoying the rest of their time before the season starts)
Maggie had her tiny hand wrapped around mine and Kimi’s, dragging us through the gates with all the intensity.
“It’s the big blue slide first!” she declared. “No time for baby rides.”
Kimi groaned dramatically beside me. “Why am I doing this again?”
“Because you love your sister,” I teased, “and because I promised you frozen mango slush.”
“Bribery,” he muttered.
“Highly effective bribery,” I replied with a grin.
We spent the afternoon soaked — racing Maggie down slides, clinging to inner tubes in the wave pool, and drifting through the lazy river while she babbled about turtles and pop stars and the time Kimi cried because he lost his water wings at six.
“Maggie,” Kimi gasped, scandalized.
She beamed. “She’s practically family, she deserves to know!”
My heart ached — in the best, softest way. When she finally passed out in the backseat on the way home, her curls tangled against my shoulder, I felt Kimi’s eyes on me.
“You’re good with her,” he murmured.
I glanced over, brushing Maggie’s hair off her face. “I think for the first time in my life… I actually feel like I belong somewhere.”
He didn’t say anything. Just reached over and took my hand, like he already knew.
-
Everything hurt. The shoot was dragging, the sun was brutal, and someone kept trying to convince me a fur bolero was a summer staple. I was seconds away from breaking into tears when the photographer called for a break. I dropped into a chair like it owed me something, balancing a water bottle against my forehead, trying not to scream.
“Long day?”
My heart stuttered. I looked up — and there he was. Kimi. Wearing my favorite soft white tee, curls messy from the heat, and holding a massive bouquet of pink peonies. My favorite flowers.
“What—how—Kimi?”
He just smiled like this was the most normal thing in the world. “Thought you could use a break. Also brought snacks and these.”
He pulled my cloud-print fuzzy slides out of his bag. I could’ve cried.
“My heels—”
“Yeah, I could hear you cursing them from the parking lot,” he said with a grin, crouching down to take them off for me.
I stared at him as he worked — this beautiful, quiet boy who just… showed up for me.
“You’re unreal,” I whispered.
He looked up, his fingers brushing over my ankle. “Nah. Just yours.”
-
Dinner with Kimi’s family always felt like home.
His mom had made too much food again, his dad was yelling (lovingly) about god knows what, and Maggie was next to me rating the fashion choices of her classmates on a scale of “icon” to “absolutely not.”
“You’re coming to my school day, right?” she asked, poking my arm.
I smiled, nudging her gently. “Obviously. I need to judge everyone who tries to talk to you.”
She grinned like I’d just handed her the moon.
Kimi leaned in from the other side of the table, whispering, “I think she likes you better than me now.”
I smirked. “She has standards.”
Later, we drifted outside into the garden, where fairy lights tangled in the trees and crickets hummed in the distance. Kimi pulled me toward the corner where it was just us, quiet and warm and glowing under the stars.
“You fit here,” he murmured, his forehead resting against mine.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’ve never fit anywhere like this before.”
His hand found mine, our fingers lacing together in that way that always made me feel steady.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, and something in me finally, finally settled.
I leaned up to kiss him, slow and sure, while the world kept spinning — and for once, I wasn’t trying to outrun it.
-
I barely made it through the front gate before Maggie came flying at me in a blur of pink and glitter.
“YOU CAME!” she shrieked, wrapping her arms around my waist so tightly I almost lost balance. “You actually came!”
I laughed, crouching down to hug her properly. “Of course I came. I wouldn’t miss your big day for anything.”
She looked me over with wide eyes and a proud little grin. “You look like you belong in a movie.”
Kimi arrived behind me just in time to catch that, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I told her she looked like a model this morning, but I guess it means more coming from you.”
Maggie shrugged and grabbed my hand immediately. “She is a model. And also my best friend. You’re just my brother.”
Kimi let out a very dramatic gasp, but I couldn’t stop giggling as she dragged me inside, clutching my hand like she was scared someone would try to take me away.
The classroom was filled with nervous parents, squeaky chairs, and chaotic projects made of pipe cleaners and too much glue. Maggie introduced me to every single classmate like I was her golden ticket to popularity.
“This is YN. She lives in Italy. She models for like... real brands. She helped me pick out this outfit too.”
When the teacher came by, smiling warmly, Maggie puffed out her chest. “This is my special guest, YN. And that’s my brother, but mostly YN.”
I glanced at Kimi, who just lifted his hands like, what can I say? I squeezed Maggie’s hand and let her lead me to her desk, where she proudly showed off a drawing of me, Kimi, and her — with hearts scribbled around us and a speech bubble over my head that said “best ever.”
Something about it made my chest ache. The kind of ache that came from feeling wanted in a way I hadn’t in a very long time. Later, during story time, Maggie curled into my side without hesitation, resting her head on my shoulder and humming softly while the teacher read out loud. Her small fingers stayed tangled in mine the whole time. She didn’t even look at Kimi when he waved from across the room. I was her person right now. And that meant something. Afterward, as we walked back to the car, Kimi gently reached up and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. His eyes were soft, serious.
“She really loves you,” he said.
“I really love her,” I whispered.
“You’re… really good to her, you know?”
I looked down, smiling to myself. “She makes me feel like I’m someone worth being around. That’s kind of rare.”
Kimi stopped walking, pulling me in by the hand. “You are so worth being around, YN. You’re… it’s not just Maggie. It’s all of us.”
I blinked up at him, heart doing that messy, fluttery thing.
“I’m glad she has you,” he added. “But I’m really glad I do too.”
-
It was just after dinner when Maggie slipped onto the couch beside me, fresh from her bath and wrapped in a towel that was slightly too big, her damp curls still dripping against her shoulders. She leaned her head on my arm like she always did when she was working up to something.
“Mags?” I asked, smiling.
She looked up at me with those big eyes and whispered, “Can you sleep over tonight?”
I blinked. “Tonight?”
She nodded, fiddling with the edge of her towel. “I just feel better when you’re here. And it was the best day ever and I want it to keep going.”
I felt something stir in my chest — that soft ache again, the one I always got when she did things like this. It never failed to knock the air out of me that someone could need me this much. That I could be someone’s safe place.
“I’d love to sleep over,” I whispered back.
She squealed, launching herself at me with damp arms and the sweetest giggle, shouting, “Kimi! She said yes!”
He called back from the kitchen, “If she takes the good side of the bed again, I’m filing a complaint!”
“Too bad!” she shouted, already running down the hallway to get her stuffed animals ready.
I stood up, still smiling to myself when I heard footsteps behind me. Kimi’s mom. She gave me that soft, familiar smile and walked over, drying her hands on a tea towel.
“She’s so attached to you,” she said gently, nodding toward the hall where Maggie had disappeared. “Honestly, we all are.”
I looked down, a little flustered. “She’s… she means the world to me. All of you do.”
She reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear — something my own mother hadn’t done in years.
“You know,” she said softly, “I always wondered what it would be like if we had another daughter.”
I swallowed hard.
“And now I don’t wonder anymore.”
That did it — my eyes stung, throat tight with emotion I hadn’t expected.
“I never really felt like I had a family before,” I admitted quietly. “Not one that saw me. Not like this.”
She pulled me into a hug that felt like everything I had been missing since I was a little girl.
“Well,” she whispered, “then I hope you know we see you. We love you. And you’ve always got a home here, YN.”
I buried my face in her shoulder, trying not to cry like a baby. And later, when Maggie tucked herself into my side in her tiny twin bed, whispering sleepover secrets and asking if we could do this every Friday forever, I just held her close and whispered, “Yeah, baby. Every Friday. Forever if you want.”
Because I finally had something I never thought I’d have again. A family. One that chose me. One I chose right back.
-
I was sitting on the couch, half-listening to Maggie and Kimi playing quietly nearby. Maggie was building a tower with blocks, and Kimi was patiently helping her, his smile soft and warm.
Suddenly, Maggie looked up at Kimi with those big, serious eyes and asked, “Kimiiiii?”
He turned to her, smiling. “Yes, Maggie?”
“Will YN be my sister someday?”
Before he could answer, she tilted her head and added, “And will you marry her?”
My heart stopped. I froze, pretending to be engrossed in the magazine on my lap, but I was listening.
Kimi chuckled softly, brushing a stray curl from Maggie’s forehead. “Well, YN is already like a sister to you, isn’t she?”
Maggie nodded quickly, her eyes shining. “Yeah!”
“And marrying YN?” Kimi said with a grin, “That’s a pretty big question.”
Maggie smiled wide and looked at me. “I think you should! Because then we’d all be family forever.”
Kimi pulled her into a hug and laughed quietly. “I think that sounds like a perfect plan.”
He glanced over at me with that gentle smile that always made my heart flutter. Tears prickled my eyes.
Later, when Kimi caught my eye, he whispered, “Looks like Maggie’s already making plans for us.”
I smiled back, my heart full. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
-
its_yn
liked by carmenmmundt, kimi.antonelli, arthur_leclerc & 1,875,054 others.
its_yn : emptying out the ol camera roll
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dior : we are in LOVE with you
liked by its_yn
its_yn : the feeling is mutual
mercedesamgf1 : photo dump game - ELITE
liked by its_yn and kimi.antonelli
username00 : they r so in love it is adorable
carmenmmundt : So so cute, YN! Can't wait to see you again:)
liked by its_yn
its_yn : same here! maybe we can beat kimi and george in padel again??
georgerussell63 : this never happened - she is LYINGGGG
liked by its_yn and kimi.antonelli
its_yn : whatever helps you sleep at night georgieeee
kimi.antonelli : if you adore her
liked by its_yn
its_yn : dior her<3
username15 : god fuck they are too cute
kimi.antonelli : also maggie says thank you for including her in the photo dump
liked by its_yn
its_yn : tell her next time it'll be all maggie no kimi
liked by kimi.antonelli
kimi.antonelli : BOOOOOOOO
-
(enough fluff lets dive into drama shall we)
We were sitting together in the quiet of the evening, the soft hum of the city below barely reaching us. The mood had shifted — heavier now. Kimi looked at me with a weight in his eyes I hadn’t seen before.
“YN,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully, “there’s the F1 75 event coming up. It’s a big deal for me… for my career. And, well...I want you there."
My heart clenched. Just the thought of them made my throat tighten. The past I’d been trying to leave behind, the family I’d pushed away — all right there in front of me.
Kimi reached for my hand, his grip gentle but steady. “I want you to come with me. I want to be with you through this, but I know it’s going to be hard.”
I looked down, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It’s not just hard, Kimi. It’s… painful. Seeing them again, being around them when I’ve spent years trying to forget, trying to heal.”
He nodded, eyes soft with understanding. “I don’t want to push you. But I also don’t want to hide this part of my life from you. You’re important to me — I want you there, by my side.”
Tears pricked at my eyes. “I’m scared. Scared they’ll see me and remember everything I wanted to escape. What if they don’t understand why I left?”
Kimi’s voice was steady, filled with quiet strength. “Then I’ll be there. We’ll face it together. You’re not alone.”
I took a shaky breath and met his gaze, the love and sincerity in his eyes steadying me.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll come. But only if you promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“That we take it slow. And if it gets too much, we walk away. Together.”
He smiled softly, brushing a tear from my cheek.
“Deal. We face it on our terms. Together.”
For the first time in a long time, I felt the courage to confront the past — because I wasn’t alone anymore.
-
mercedesamgf1
liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, georgerussell63 and 890,005 others.
mercedesamgf1 : A few of our favorite faces at the F175 event tonight!
tagged : georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli, carmenmmundt and its_yn
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username00 : WAIT— her and CHARLES are in the same room?????? this is not a drill.
username15 : not kimi looking like a lovesick golden retriever 😭 the way he’s holding her 😭😭😭
username20 : the way this was probably so hard for her but she showed up for kimi- they are endgame
username7 : okay but imagine being charles rn watching your estranged baby sister SERVE on your home turf
username18 : charles & arthur liked the post and they’re IN THE ROOM WITH HER??? can someone get me popcorn
username9 : someone film charles' reaction to seeing her. I just know his jaw dropped
username15 : it did. video on twitter
username9 : damn the cameras were messy tonight
-
third person pov
The night sparkled under the bright lights of the red carpet, filled with the hum of anticipation and flashes from cameras. YN stood beside Kimi, her hand securely in his, the two of them a striking image against the backdrop of the buzzing crowd.
She felt grounded — partly because of Kimi’s calm presence, but also because of familiar faces nearby. George Russell and his girlfriend Carmen were just a few steps away, friendly smiles and warm eyes offering a safe haven in the whirlwind of the event. YN had grown close to them over the past months, their easy kindness a balm to the unease that still lingered beneath the surface.
She gave George a bright smile when their eyes met. “Hey, you two,” she greeted, nodding at Carmen as well, who responded with a welcoming wave.
“It’s good to see you again, YN,” Carmen said softly, squeezing her hand gently.
Their presence settled some of the nerves curling in her stomach, but YN’s charm was far from quiet. As Kimi led her further into the crowd, she effortlessly shifted into conversation mode, engaging other members of the team with a warm, genuine energy that made them listen.
Toto Wolff offered a nod of approval when she approached, and YN met his gaze with steady confidence. “We’re glad to have you around, YN. You fit right in.”
She laughed lightly, glancing over at Lando Norris, who was teasing Kimi. YN wove effortlessly into the banter, her smile radiant, her laughter genuine. Drivers and team members alike were drawn to her warmth and quick wit. Yet, just beyond the glowing lights and the lively chatter, two shadows lingered.
Charles Leclerc and Arthur stood apart, eyes locked on YN’s confident figure. Charles’s voice was low, almost reluctant. “Look at her… she’s nothing like I remembered.”
Arthur’s gaze was sharp, calculating. “She’s grown into someone unrecognizable. Strong. Controlled. Far from the girl who left.”
Charles exhaled quietly, his eyes lingering on YN as she laughed with Kimi and their friends. “She’s so grown, so beautiful.” he muttered, almost to himself, a mixture of awe and something heavier in his tone.
Arthur’s jaw tightened. “We need to be careful. She’s not just part of Kimi’s life now — she’s part of this world.”
Charles nodded, conflicted. “We thought we lost her. But now… she’s back. And she’s not the same.”
-
The buzz of the F175 event dimmed slightly as the ceremony broke for intermission. Waitstaff floated through the room with champagne flutes, soft jazz replacing the louder fanfare from earlier. Guests scattered into small pockets of conversation, the glow of chandeliers casting golden halos over them.
At the far side of the room, YN stood laughing gently with Carmen and a few designers from one of her recent shoots, her glass untouched in her hand, her dress catching the light like sea foam. She looked radiant—comfortable, even—but there was still a carefulness in her eyes. A subconscious vigilance she couldn’t quite shake. Across the room, Charles saw her.
She hadn’t noticed him yet. Her back was turned, head tilted as she smiled softly at something George said. Her laughter carried just far enough to reach his ears, and it hit him like a punch to the gut. She sounded older. Lighter. Like someone who had learned how to live without them.
He didn’t move at first, unsure, torn between years of guilt and the fear that she’d look through him like he was a stranger. But then—his feet shifted. He started toward her. One step. Then another. He only made it halfway across the floor before a hand landed firmly on his chest.
Charles blinked, startled by the wall of quiet steel in front of him—Kimi Antonelli. The younger man wasn’t scowling. He wasn’t raising his voice. But the warning in his posture, the steady calm in his eyes, spoke louder than words ever could.
“Don’t,” Kimi said softly.
Charles frowned, trying to peer past him. “I just want to talk to her.”
“She’s not ready,” Kimi replied, voice quiet but firm. “And I won’t let you catch her off guard. Not like this. Not here.”
For a second, Charles said nothing. He looked over Kimi’s shoulder again, at his little sister—now grown into someone he barely recognized. She was smiling as she reached for Carmen’s hand, showing her something on her phone. Oblivious to the man who had tried, far too late, to walk back into her life.
Kimi stepped slightly to the side, his body still angled in front of Charles as if daring him to try again. “You’ll speak to her when she wants to. Not when it suits you.”
Charles met his gaze and realized something then—that this wasn’t a teenage crush. Kimi wasn’t some placeholder or passing phase. He loved her. Fiercely. Enough to protect her from ghosts she hadn’t yet chosen to face. After a long, taut pause, Charles nodded once and stepped back.
Kimi didn’t move until he had fully turned away. Only then did he glance back toward YN, checking to make sure she was still deep in conversation—safe, unaware, untouched by the storm just barely avoided.
He exhaled and headed back toward her, the tension in his shoulders softening the moment he reached her side. She smiled up at him, not knowing what he had just done for her. But Kimi didn’t mind. He’d wait until she was ready. And until then, he'd keep every shadow at bay.
-
f1gossipgirls
1,090,000 likes.
f1gossipgirls : Well, The Leclerc Family drama has officially made it to the paddock. Kimi Antonelli arrived to today's race with none other than his girlfriend, YN. (The Leclerc's estranged sister) The two were also accompanied to the track by Kimi's parents and his little sister. YN was seen walking Maggie around the paddock hand in hand when she was stopped by Charles Leclerc. We are unsure what happened at this time.
-
user has turned the comments off on this post.
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your point of view
There’s a particular kind of hum in the paddock on race day—half electricity, half nerves. It starts low, building beneath your feet, curling in your stomach. I’d never felt it like this before. Not from the sidelines. Not as his person. The car door swung open and I blinked into the morning sun, blinded more by the flashing cameras than the light itself. I took a breath. Steady, practiced. This was part of it now.
Kimi was already out on the other side, waiting, sunglasses hiding his eyes but not the way his entire posture softened when he looked at me. He circled around the car and held out his hand wordlessly. I didn’t even hesitate.
The moment our palms met, the world quieted just enough. Behind us, his mom, dad, and Maggie stepped out of the other car. Maggie immediately rushed toward me with a squeal, wrapping her arms around my arm like she always did when she was excited. I smiled, bending just enough to whisper, “Big day, huh?” and she nodded, wide-eyed. Kimi ruffled her hair before she darted back to their parents, full of energy.
We started walking together, the five of us, toward the entrance gates. His dad threw an arm casually around Kimi’s shoulder, and his mom slipped on her sunglasses and gave me a wink. It didn’t matter how many times I’d been around them—being with them like this, part of their rhythm, always made something in me ache with gratitude.
And then the noise really started. Cameras clicking. Voices shouting.
“YN! Is that Chanel?”
“Kimi, how are you feeling for your first race?!”
“Look here, just one photo!”
My hand instinctively tightened in his, and his thumb started tracing slow circles against my skin. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. He was here. We were here. And nothing else mattered. I smiled. Not for the cameras. For me.
Because Kimi was about to debut in Formula 1. His dream was becoming real. And I had the privilege of standing right beside him—grounded by love, protected by the family that had become mine, and stronger than I had ever been before.
-
The paddock was alive in that pre-race kind of way—buzzing, kinetic, almost too loud. But Maggie’s small hand wrapped in mine helped settle the static in my chest.
She tugged me toward every garage we passed, asking questions a mile a minute. “Is that George’s car? Do you think Toto remembers me?”
I laughed, heart lighter than it had been all morning. “One question at a time, Mags.”
Being with her made the chaos feel quieter. It reminded me of the good things. Of the family I’d built for myself. We had just turned the corner near the media pen, heading back toward the hospitality suite, when I heard it.
“YN?”
The sound of my name—his voice—made me stop cold.
I turned slowly, pulse spiking, already knowing who it was before I saw them. Charles and Arthur. They stood a few feet away in their Ferrari gear, both staring at me like I wasn’t real. Like I was a memory they hadn’t expected to walk out of the past and into this place. Arthur’s jaw tightened. Charles looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
“You look…” Charles began, then trailed off. His eyes searched mine. “You look grown up.”
I held onto Maggie’s hand a little tighter, grounding myself. “It’s been a while,” I said, and I was proud of how steady I sounded. Detached, even.
Arthur stepped forward slightly. “YN—”
“Maggie,” I interrupted softly, crouching down to her level, keeping my tone light but urgent. “Can you do me a favor, sweet girl?”
She nodded instantly. “Of course!”
“Run back to hospitality and get Kimi, okay? Tell him I’m right here.”
Maggie’s eyes flicked to the two men behind me—her smile faltered, but she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered, and then she took off, little legs moving fast.
I stood back up, spine straight. The silence between me and my brothers hung thick in the air.
Charles looked down at the ground before lifting his eyes again. “We didn’t know you were here. We didn’t know you were her.”
I raised an eyebrow. “No. You didn’t know anything, because you never asked.”
Arthur flinched. Charles looked like he wanted to close the distance between us but didn’t dare. “We… we saw the pictures. With Kimi. You’re happy?”
The question hit something soft in me, but I didn’t let it show. “Yes,” I said simply.
And just then—like he’d felt it—Kimi arrived. He barely glanced at them. His hand immediately found the small of my back, and he stepped in front of me, protective without saying a single word. Calm, steady, but unshakably firm.
“Everything okay?” he asked, eyes flicking between me and the two men.
I nodded. “Now it is.”
-
Choose your ending!
agreeing to try to mend things with your family- starts here
But even as I said it, I felt the weight of their presence in front of me—two ghosts I’d spent five years running from.
Charles stepped forward first, slower than I remembered him ever moving. As if the wrong step would make me disappear all over again.
“I didn’t know,” he said, voice rough and low. “I didn’t know how bad it had gotten. If I had…”
“But you did,” I replied softly. “You just didn’t ask.”
Arthur was beside him, visibly uneasy. He looked older too. The same face that used to tease me for stealing his hoodies now looked...hollow. Tired.
“I don’t have excuses,” he said. “We were wrong. We didn’t see you.”
My throat tightened, but I didn’t let the silence crush me. Not this time.
“You made me feel invisible,” I whispered. “After Papa… it was like I disappeared and none of you noticed.”
Charles’s expression cracked. “We noticed. We just… didn’t know how to fix it. So we stayed quiet. And that was the worst thing we could’ve done.”
I blinked quickly, fighting the pressure behind my eyes. I wasn’t here to break down. I had Kimi. I had a new family. A new world. But that didn’t mean the old pain was gone.
Kimi’s hand moved gently to my waist, a quiet show of support, of presence. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel him beside me, steady as ever.
“We’re not here to force anything,” Arthur added, voice uncharacteristically gentle. “We just wanted to say we’re sorry. And if—if—you ever wanted to let us in again… we’ll be here.”
The moment sat there between us like glass—sharp, fragile.
I could feel the heat of Kimi’s body behind me. His thumb stroked a small, grounding circle at my hip. My silence wasn’t hesitation—it was deliberation. For the first time, I was in control of this story.
“I’m not saying I forgive you,” I said finally, slowly. “And I’m not ready to start over. I don’t know if I ever fully will be.”
They both nodded, eyes glassy, but not pushing.
“But I’m not thirteen anymore,” I continued. “And I’m tired of carrying it all by myself.”
Charles took a breath, voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to anymore. Not if you let us try.”
There was something achingly childlike in the way he said it. I didn’t recognize him in that moment—but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe we all had changed.
Kimi looked at me, silently asking if I needed him to step in. But I shook my head.
“Maybe,” I said quietly. “Maybe I’ll come to you. When I’m ready.”
Arthur’s face cracked into something that looked like hope. Charles nodded, biting the inside of his cheek, eyes shining with something close to tears.
“We’ll be here,” Charles said, voice thick. “Always.”
I gave a soft nod. And that was it. No dramatic hugs. No fairytale ending. Just an opening. An invitation to maybe, someday, walk through that door.
Kimi turned me gently, guiding me back toward the garage, his hand finding mine, fingers lacing together like always.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low in my ear.
I looked up at him, the boy who found me when I was broken and never once asked me to be whole. He just stayed. Loved. Waited.
“I think I will be,” I whispered.
And this time, I believed it.
-
you telling your brothers off like you always deserved to- starts here
But Charles didn’t move. Neither did Arthur.
He took one step forward, brows drawn. “YN, we—we need to talk. I know this is… complicated. But we didn’t know. And now that we do—”
“You did know,” I cut him off, voice quiet but sharp, slicing clean through the air between us. “You knew where I was. You knew how to find me. But none of you ever did.”
Arthur’s jaw tensed. “It wasn’t that simple.”
“It was,” I said, a bitter laugh catching in my throat. “It was as simple as calling. As asking. As giving a damn.”
Kimi shifted beside me, eyes locked on them, no longer just observing. His voice was like steel wrapped in velvet when he spoke. “She doesn’t owe you anything.”
They looked at him, startled—maybe surprised he had something to say. But he didn’t flinch. He stepped slightly in front of me, body angled just enough to make his stance clear.
“She found happiness without you,” Kimi continued, voice calm, but colder now. “She found family without you. And now that she’s no longer a scared kid you ignored, you think she owes you a seat at her table?”
“Kimi—” Charles began, but Kimi didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
“You weren’t there when she cried herself to sleep. You didn’t hold her hand when she felt like she didn’t exist to the people who were supposed to love her. I was. My family was.”
My throat tightened.
He looked over his shoulder at me, making sure I was still okay to let him speak. I gave the smallest nod.
“So unless she asks you to be part of her life,” Kimi said, gaze back on them now, “you don’t show up at and ambush her in her new life that she built her peace in and act like you’re entitled to anything.”
Arthur said nothing. Charles looked like he was swallowing glass, but neither of them moved.
And then Kimi finished—quieter this time, but firmer than ever. “Walk away.”
There was a long, aching silence. Then, as if a switch had flipped, Arthur stepped back, wordless. Charles’s eyes flickered one last time to mine, and for a second—just a second—I saw it. Regret. But regret wasn’t an apology. It wasn’t enough.
They left. Slowly. Quietly. Like they finally understood they weren’t welcome in this chapter. I turned toward Kimi, my chest heaving slightly even though I hadn’t run a single step. He reached for me without hesitation, pulling me into him. His arms wrapped around my shoulders, his hand pressing protectively to the back of my head.
“You did good,” he whispered into my hair. “I’m proud of you.”
My eyes stung, but I didn’t cry. Not for them. Not anymore.
“Thank you,” I whispered back. “For being my home.”
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. “Always.”
And just like that, we walked back toward the pit lane. Toward our life. The one we built from the wreckage. Stronger. Better. And mine. All mine.
-
@strawberrylov-er @gxllumsriddles @coolpeanutchaos @nina481 @mbioooo0000 @yoihoshi-maki @honestlycasualarcade
➤ OBLIVIOUS | F1 SMAU + FIC
pairing: f1 grid x albon!reader (platonic!)
summary: the f1 drivers make the mistake of saying they're always aware of their surroundings, so you start an Instagram account to prove them wrong...by seeing how long it takes them to realize you're taking photos of them.
warnings: none!
➤ MASTERLIST
Liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63, and others
visacashapprb Do your F1 drivers know when we're recording them? Or anyone, for that matter? Seems like the answer is yes!
↳ yn_albon really @/alexalbon?
↳ alex_albon I am very observant, thank you very much
↳ yn_albon we'll see about that
↳ fan44 there's literally paparazzi footage of the drivers every other day, of course they notice, they just pretend like they don't
_
Liked by yn_albon and others
oblivious_f1_drivers the guys said they know when they're being photographed, my camera roll says otherwise
↳ mclar_win Oscar's side eye is crazy
↳ brocedes this HAS to be like George or someone proving a point
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers George wishes he was me
↳ fan16 this is either a prank or a stalker...watch out guys
_
Liked by alex_albon and others
oblivious_f1_drivers first up: dumb and dumber 🧡 i should start timing how long it takes for them to notice
↳ alex_albon if I end up in one of these, I'm telling everyone
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers no promises
↳ f1_fantatic alex, our chronically online king
↳ fan44 oscar and lando together = fork found in kitchen
-
Liked by alex_albon and others
oblivious_f1_drivers in the lead as always, Max Verstappen comes in first by taking two days to notice!
↳ mclar_win max always has to be first, doesn't he?
↳ fan44 no wonder he looks so happy
↳ mad_maxxx why is the second picture lowkey...
-
Liked by alex_albon and others
oblivious_f1_drivers i got too cocky 😔 tried to go for the super close up and got caught :( current record: three days
↳ fan16 so both Max and Charles now know your identity??
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers they've already been sworn to secrecy
↳ carcarcar who could this be?? charles was happy to see them so it wasn't a stranger
↳ f1_fanatic i mean, alex is lurking in the likes 👀
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Liked by alex_albon, yn_albon, and others
oblivious_f1_drivers idk what made him more mad, the fact that he crashed or the fact he caught me
↳ alex_albon we had a promise
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers i literally said no promises
↳ alex_albon get ready to give up this account
↳ mclar_win it has to be George, right?
↳ carcarcar if it were George he'd be smiling liked by oblivious_f1_drivers
-
Liked by lando, georgerussell63 and others
oblivious_f1_drivers a week and a half for Mr. Lando Norris! i would've taken more but this man was too excited to catch me
↳ lando See? I'm very observant
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers it took you a week and a half to catch me
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers even alex got it in less time
↳ alex_albon hey!
↳ georgerussell63 any chance I can beg for immunity?
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers send me photos of oblivious drivers, and then maybe we'll talk
-
Liked by alex_albon and others
oblivious_f1_drivers someone tipped him off...at least I snuck one in
↳ alex_albon 😇
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers we could've had something, alex
↳ alex_albon you're the one who broke their promise
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers I NEVER PROMISED
↳ alex_albon wait why are you that close to lance in the third photo
↳ alex_albon answer your texts!!
-
-
Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, and others
oblivious_f1_drivers what's this? oscar finally noticed? after TWO WEEKS? enjoy all the photos
↳ oscarpiastri listen we have a lot to do during race weeks
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers like pay attention to your photographers??
↳ oscarpiastri that's not even your job
↳ nicolepiastri so it's not just me being ignored?
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers @/oscarpiastri text your mom or I'm stealing her
↳ oscarpiastri will do 🫡
↳ brocedes so we KNOW its not a photographer
-
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Liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63 and others
oblivious_f1_drivers looks like we're not the ONLY oblivious ones #/hacked #/alexandgeorgehaveyourphone #/thebetteralbon
↳ yn_albon GEORGE???
↳ georgerussell63 why are you mad at me?? be mad at alex!
↳ alex_albon yeah george, how could you do this?
↳ f1_fanatic the albon siblings causing trouble on track as usual
↳ lando payback for having to look over my shoulder all week
-
You hold your hand out to Alex, who reluctantly drops your phone into your palm. Sometimes, you think, people forget you were actual siblings, who had just the same amount of fun annoying each other as any other pair of siblings in the world. The only difference, however, was that your brother happened to be a world-famous F1 driver, and you were a journalist trailing him around all day.
So honestly? You were perfectly within your rights to post all those silly photos of him and his friends. After all, it was something to occupy you in the rare moments you weren't hearing about being an Albon, or growing up around all the drivers, or waiting for Alex to come to an interview ten minutes late because you couldn't really say anything about it.
"I can't believe you," You direct both towards Alex and George, checking to make sure they didn't mess with anything else on your phone.
You had to give them some credit in their retaliation. Alex must have been sneaking photos of you all week, and then airdropped them to your phone to put onto your Instagram account. You'd never say that out loud, however.
Lord knows he didn't need the extra ego.
"Me?" Alex asks, looking rather insulted. "You're the one out here taking photos of us secretly."
"You're the one who said you weren't oblivious. I've seen you walk into a pole! Be serious." There's a joke to be made about him walking into poles yet never getting pole, but that's a bit too harsh, even for you.
"Be serious?" Alex parrots, rubbing a hand over his face. "Be serious! You are so lucky you're family, or I would've kicked you out of the paddock by now."
With the same grin you'd been pulling on him since you were a kid, you force him to reconcile with the fact that he actually did this to himself. "Unfortunately, you did also get me a job with F1, so you couldn't even kick me out if you tried."
"I'm sure they'd let me kick someone out if I needed to." He mutters, shaking his head, and before you can open your mouth, he raises a finger. "We're not making another bet about this."
George, finally content with how the conversation has ended, speaks up. "I can't believe it took Oscar so long to notice."
"I know, I thought it would be Charles." Alex answers honestly, and George pauses for a moment before turning to you.
"Should I be concerned I never caught you taking pictures of me?" His expression is stuck somewhere between the horror of potentially not noticing you and relief that you might have excluded him, considering the deal you struck up. To your surprise, George actually did supply you with oblivious photos of the drivers, a sort of double blackmail you can't wait to spring.
And, while he hasn't ended up on the account yet, there's still time.
He did help steal your phone, after all. He will pay. "I just didn't get to post yours. You're also pretty oblivious."
"No, I'm not!" He says, pointing down at your phone. "We checked the camera roll, there was nothing of me on there!"
"You think I'd leave those on my camera roll?" You ask with the same grin, now pointed at him. "Oh, I keep my secrets much more guarded, thank you." Alex offers a look, and you shove his shoulder. So maybe he had a point about you leaving your phone unattended around a man who knew the password and knew you ran a secret account, but still! "This secret doesn't count."
"I'm sure it doesn't," Alex says with a laugh before leaning in closer. "Any good ones of George?"
"Got one of him picking his nose?"
With a screech you can only describe as inhuman, George loses all the colour in his face. "You do not!" Then, as he reaches for your phone, both you and Alex take a step back. "Albons, don't do this to me!"
You and Alex are running before George even has a chance to catch up.
It's a rare time Alex ever actually beats George in a race.
-
Liked by lando, alex_albon, and others
oblivious_f1_drivers my cover has been blown :( it was fun while it lasted
↳ alex_albon I'm really glad I got you hired as a journalist and not a photographer, these are terrible
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers ow??
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers I can't even be a nepo sister in peace
↳ isackhadjar oh come on
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers your expression captures how I feel, it deserves the first slide
↳ georgerussell63 hey, i thought we had a deal
↳ alex_albon you made a deal with george and not me??
↳ oblivious_f1_drivers @/georgerussell63 the deal ended when YOU STOLE MY PHONE
a/n: my friends have started playing photo tag on campus, which is the only way i can describe where this came from - enjoy?
10 + botapinto 😁
brargentina yaoi served fresh.
Franco is only ever available when he’s bored.
A 2am ‘u up?’ text and a quizzical emoji, sometimes a kissy face, sometimes a devil. Gabriel considers ghosting him, but Franco sends a pic, shirtless in a bathroom with droplet stains all across the mirror. The waistband of his shorts dips below his adonis belt, a trail of hair getting lost in the nether. And Gabi is only a man…
wanna come over
The question should get a no for an answer. It’s tiring being the casual hook up, the one night stand for the boring weekends. But Gabi stares at the picture again, thinking of the warmth of his mouth, the hunger of his body. His cock twitches in sympathy and he texts ‘only if you pay the uber’. One e-transfer later and he’s pressing the little call up button to let Franco know he’s downstairs, a buzz, a door opening and then two flights of stairs.
“What took you so long?” Franco asks as he opens the door, naked save for flimsy boxers and white ankle high socks.
Gabi doesn’t have time to answer, the door closes behind him and Franco’s mouth is on him, a desperate chase of lips and tongue, a hand cradling his neck, another reaching for his ass.
The zipper of his jeans falls and so do his pants with them, his underwear is already strained, and Franco makes him take off his shirt with nails that feel like knives at his back.
“God you are so hot,” Franco says before he’s leaning in, dragging teeth down his chest, kissing, licking, biting every inch of skin he can find. Franco’s painfully hard, his erection rubbing against Gabi’s thigh. He’s so fucking desperate, it’d be sort of pathetic if Gabi wasn’t so fucking turned on by it.
“Let me fuck your mouth,” he blurts out, breathless by the sight of Franco’s flushed chest.
“Another day,” Franco winks, taking Gabriel’s hand “I already prepped, come on.”
The bedroom smells of vanilla air freshener and axe deodorant. Franco pushes Gabi to the bed, shrugs off his underwear like it’s on fire and climbs over him.
“Are you even clean?” Gabi asks.
Franco looks at him with a frown, deeply offended. “I’m not a prostitute, mate,” mate… you are trying to ride my dick and you are calling me mate, alright. “I’m clean as a fucking plate, you could eat off my ass.”
Gabi grimaces. “I’d rather not.”
He rolls his eyes, fumbling diva catching his breath before a performance. “Shut the fuck up.” Franco places Gabriel’s hands on his waist before he settles in, hand reaching for Gabriel’s cock, guiding it into the heat of his puckered hole bit by bit.
Every time they do this, Gabi wakes up feeling like the world's stupidest clown, honking nose and all. But this is all he ever wants, this warmth, Franco crying out his name as he bounces on his cock, desperate, wanton moans as precums leaks out of him. Gabi kisses his neck, the column of his throat, the scar across his collarbone, takes into his mouth the silver cross he always wears and sucks as he tries to jerk him off while Franco loses track of himself, mumbling and cursing and shouting.
Gabi wonders how soundproof the walls are, how likely they are to get an angry neighbour pounding on their door, how likely someone is to be jealous, to want what he has now. He’ll regret it in the morning, but for now his lips part and his teeth sink into the junction where shoulder meets neck and Franco shouts, leaking all over Gabriel’s stomach.
The bite was deep enough to draw blood. Gabi comes from the sight of it alone.
mv33 and 24
why'd you only call me when you're high?
feat. max verstappen
lyrics preview you get high, call max, spend the night with him: that’s what you both agreed to—nothing more. unless...
maddie reader is the toxic one in this??? what happened to sweet old yn???
1435 words
The violent screen light cut through the darkness of the street when you unlocked your phone, the numbers 03:08 burning bright behind your eyelids as you squinted at them like they’d personally offended you.
You knew it was late. Or early, depending on the point of view.
But you also knew it wouldn’t take him long to reply, so you searched for his contact and started the call with no regrets whatsoever.
It rang once, twice–
“Schat?”
Just as you thought.
“Hi Maxie,” you giggled, the slurred nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “I missed you.”
You left the words hanging heavy in the air, waiting for him to take the bait like a lioness ambushing her prey.
He sighed, and you could almost picture him running a hand over his face, tired—not because of the ungodly hour, but because of you.
You and your little game of cat and mouse, a game he knew he couldn’t win, but he just kept playing regardless because he enjoyed losing to you way too much.
“You’re high.”
It wasn’t a question. Why ask if he knew perfectly well you only called him when you were?
“A little,” you shrugged like it was no big deal, tripping over your own feet a second later. “I’m coming over.”
Again, not a question. You didn’t need his permission: that’s not how things worked between the two of you.
“I don’t think–”
“You don’t have to, baby,” you cut him off sweetly. “Just leave the door open for me, ’kay?”
He did. Of course he did.
When you finally stumbled in the hallway in front of his apartment, floor and ceiling dancing furiously before your eyes, all you had to do was push, and the handle immediately gave in under your dead weight.
You kicked off your heels in the entrance like you owned the place, walking straight up to the living room with a lot more confidence than someone who looked like she’d just went to hell and back should’ve had.
Max was there, pacing the room like a caged animal—loose pants low on his hips, no shirt.
Perfect.
He stopped in his tracks as soon as he heard the velvety pad of your thigh highs skimming across the pavement, turning around just in time for you to throw your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss so intense it made your head spin even more.
The warmth of his lips against yours was intoxicating—a different kind of drug from the one that clouded your senses and helped you get rid of your thoughts one puff of smoke after the other. It was grounding, the only thing that anchored you to this world when everything else kept slipping from your grasp.
Only this time—he did, too.
The loss of contact was so brutal that you almost toppled forward when he moved back, your mouth desperately chasing his as if you needed it to breathe.
“Max, come on,” you whined, hands already making their way back to his chest, “don’t be difficult. I want you.” You didn’t care about how pathetic that might sound because it was also embarrassingly true.
“No.”
He didn’t touch you, putting some distance between you instead, but that single word left a stinging sensation so vivid on your skin that you could’ve sworn he’d hit you.
“No?” You laughed in disbelief. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means we’re not doing anything tonight.”
“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed, sneering, though you could feel the weight of something ugly slowly starting to settle in your chest.
“I’m serious. You’re too high for this.”
There it was.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that was a problem the last fifty times I was,” you raised your voice, the weed in your system dangerously amplifying your growing anger.
“It was a problem,” he groaned, “I just–”
“What, you developed a conscience overnight? You don’t want to fuck me anymore because I’m stoned and you suddenly feel sorry for me?”
He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying—and failing—to get rid of a piercing headache.
You didn’t like that.
“Can you not… talk like this?”
The condescending tone of his question sounded awfully close to the one someone would use to deal with a spoiled child.
You didn’t like that either.
“Please, I thought you were used to people treating you like shit,” you rolled your eyes at him, swaying a dismissive hand in his direction.
He caught it.
“You’re the one treating yourself like shit, and I need you to stop it.”
“Gee, Max, what’s gotten into you?” you forced out a laugh as you averted your gaze, the intensity of his far more unsettling than the lustful, almost predatory look you were used to. “You’re acting like you’re in love with me or something.”
It was supposed to be a joke.
It was supposed to be funny.
Max Verstappen caring about someone like you?
Hilarious.
So why didn’t he laugh?
Why was he staring at you like–
“No,” you spit out the way he had a few minutes before, reading in his eyes what his mouth had been too slow to tell you.
“Yes.”
Three letters. That’s all it took for the house of cards you’d built around yourself to crumble.
“You don’t love me, Max.” Your tone was firm, pitiful even, as if you hoped that hearing you say those words out loud would help him realize just how absurd they sounded.
Or at least trick him into thinking they did.
“Yes, I d–”
“That’s bullshit. You love feeling needed, you love all the attention I give you and how easy I am for you, you love having me in your bed every night—you don’t love me.”
“No, this is what you convinced yourself to believe. And you want to know why? Because you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared, Max, I’m pissed. We agreed to no strings attached sex, and now you’re busting out a fucking love confession like it wasn’t the first thing I told you I didn’t need.”
Your voice cracked toward the end of the sentence, and you hated yourself for it.
But what you hated even more was how you couldn’t stop the tears already clouding your vision to start streaming down your cheeks, the dam behind your eyelids suddenly breaking.
You wanted to wipe them away, remove all evidence of their existence, but Max’s fingers were still wrapped tightly around one of your wrists—or was it your throat?
“Let me go,” you said, voice stern but shaky as you tugged back your hand.
“Why? So you can run away and keep pretending like this means nothing to you?”
“It doesn’t! God, Max, what’s so hard to understand? It doesn’t mean anything to me!” You emphasized the word by hitting him square in the chest with your free palm, part trying to push him away, part just because you wanted to hurt him.
“This,” you added, showing off the half smoked joint you still had in the pocket of your hoodie, “is what your love is made of. The version of me that wants you doesn’t exist—it’s all in here,” you laughed, bitter and cruel, throwing it at him.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t yell. Just raised the hand he wasn’t holding you with and moved a lock of hair out of your face.
Your reaction was immediate.
“Don’t touch me,” you jumped, slapping his fingers away like they’d burned you.
Which was weird because you’d gone all the way there and begged him to do just that.
“You ruined everything,” you sobbed, your fist landing against his bare skin over and over again as he pulled you even closer—too close. “It was so simple, and you fucked it all up.”
You cried, fought, screamed, your curses muffled in the crook of his neck as you blamed him for something he couldn’t control.
And he let you.
He held you through every second of it, his arms caging you in like you were both a frail creature to protect and a wild animal to lock up.
“I hate you,” you breathed out at last, completely drained from the drug, your outburst—him.
Max didn’t say anything at first, and for one insane, wishful moment you thought he would finally give up.
But then he whispered, “You don’t hate me, schat. You hate not being able to love yourself the way I do.”
And that broke you a little more.
© 2025 l4ndoflove. all rights reserved.
carlos: my kind of people, love for free. i'm a free lover.
Hi there
Since Silverstone is approaching what do we think of a omega Prince george handing the p1 trophy to alpha alex and both of them being like you're mine 😂
Okay so here you go! First time writing these two in forever.
Alex was on top of the world. Winning at Silverstone had been his dream for so long and it had finally happened.
The fact he got to do it in front of his mate was even better.
He stands on the podium, basking in the warmth of the sun as he waits for the trophies to be handed out. Because this was the British grand prix, the prince of England would be giving the trophies out.
Prince Russell, also known as Alex's mate.
They had met during Silverstone last year while George had been given a tour of Williams. They had surprisingly hit it off and Alex had courted George for a little while before the prince had decided to share his heat with him.
From then on they had become mates. So far they were keeping it low key, knowing that the news of them being mated would cause uproar in their respective worlds, but it was getting harder and harder to hide their feelings for each other.
Like right now, George was approaching Alex with his eyes shining with love and pride. He couldn't really hide it even if he tried.
Alex doesn't want him too.
George hands him the trophy, their fingers brushing for a moment and this possessive light enters his eyes. “Mine.” He murmurs, too low for anyone to hear.
Alex rumbles low in his chest at his words and he leans in to murmur in his ear. “Mine, forever.”
George cannot stop the smile appearing on his face and he almost doesn't leave the podium when directed. Alex also cannot hide his lovestruck grin.
It's later on that they realise they weren't so subtle. When most of the British press run articles showing the photos of the podium and it's clear to see the two men adore each other.
But when Alex looks at the photos he doesn't feel dread. He feels relief. Maybe they could stop hiding now?
He would have to discuss it with George first, but time would tell if they could be free to tell the world the truth.
They deserved to be happy. Even if it meant causing uproar in their lives. George's smile lives in Alex's head and he wants to keep it forever. Damn the consequences.
He picks up his phone, calling George's number.
“Hey George, we need to talk.”
Alain still got these dreams, from time to time, about the past, about him...
bgm: 李琦 - 金玉良缘 & The Dø - Dust it off
If we had to do it all again, I think I'd say to Ayrton, 'Listen, we're the best, we can screw all the others!' With a lot of intelligence, it could have been such a good dream.
—— Alain Prost (in 1998)
Whoever made this video is only cried me. Charles is slowly turning to Ferrari Seb. And İt's quite scaring me. 😭🫣
catch a flight, see if you can handle it and if you can then welcome to my island, bitch🌴
BITE THE HAND, PART ONE.
↳ CS55 ++ 'how to be a dog' by andrew kane ++ [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x]
carlos sainz x the companion species manifesto: dogs, people, and significant otherness by donna haraway
(inspired by this web weave by @mediapen, conversations w/ @testarossa and @janinaduszejko's wonderful piñon!carlos fic)
daniel ricciardo X i know it's over by the smiths
(inspired by it being his favorite smiths song, featured on his 3x3 playlist)