: ̗̀➛ Toxic Relationship With Rafe Cameron .

i’m feening for some hurt/comfort so perhaps let’s start off with some, comforting flo after that devastating lost to atalanta :( & thus ending their unbeaten streak

love that ur doing this by the way, & will def be showing my gratitude through reblogs, comments, likes bc ik how hard writers work<3

“so ‘nh scheiß, ey.” florian walks inside the living room, throwing his bag against the couch as his frustration grew by the minute.

you quietly follow him inside, gently closing the door behind you as you take off your shoes.

the air around you feels heavy, each step as if your legs would break off if you don’t sit down somewhere, even though you were not the one running around a football field for almost two hours.

your heart beats fast against your chest, so loud that you can feel it in your ears. having to witness all of this so closely just does something to you. it tests you in a way that you have never seen before.

your concerns are interrupted by your boyfriends loud groan echoing from the bathroom. without thinking too much, your legs already move towards him, his pain stabbing your heart. it didn’t matter what you would say to him, deep down he would still blame himself and his performance today, even though he gave it his all.

your eyes meet through the bathroom mirror, his eyes bloodshot and glassy, even if he is desperately trying to hold back his angry tears. his gaze moves towards his hands that he placed on the edge of the sink, his veins prominent than ever as the ruh of all the emotions have yet to fade away.

the thickness of the situation stays put, and you feel helpless as you do not know how to approach all of this. it usually as if this season made you forget about all those days where you spent hour to comfort him from all the loses from last season, all your tricks that you had to make the man of your life smile again.

“schatz…” your voice is soft as you approach him, eyes now focused on the back if his head, moving down his long neck to his broad shoulders and back. your hands gently touch his waist, rubbing it before circling his torso with your arms. your cheek is pressed against his muscular back and you sigh as you feel him exhale deeply.

“it was so unnecessary, like, i know that we could’ve done better than that..” he speaks up for the first time in a while, his voice raspy and rather shaky.

you feel his warm hand resting against your that is on his stomach, his grip on it firm. you press a small kiss against his shoulder blade, lifting one hand to massage the hair from behind.

“that’s what comes with the game, schatz. you knew it would happen.”

“but not during the final, fuck.” he shakes his head in disbelief, scoffing as he replays all the wrongs he did during the game.

your heart breaks a little more as you watch him blame himself for the loss, the feeling of helplessness taking place inside.

“you have one trophy left, though, no?” you try to remind him, watching him carefully as he turns around to face you.

florian leans against the bathroom counter, jaw clenched as his eyes stay focused on your hands holding his. he nods, a new kind of determination burning through his veins.

“yeah, we’ll show them that this won’t set us back.”

you feel him squeeze your hands two times, ‘thank you’ in your guys’ own way.

you warmly smile up at him, relieved that he somehow managed to deal with the loss in a mature and healthy way.

“you know, it’s okay to cry, yeah?” you remind him, chuckling as you see him roll his eyes.

“ja ja, i’ll cry if i need to and i’ll come to you if i ever need a hug.” he smiles back, thankful for your presence during this moment.

and florian knew that he met a one of a kind person with you, someone to lift his spirits and remind him if his hard work whenever he doubts himself.

you, his safe haven, his home and just his forever person.

————————————————————

i need sleep.

lando/mclaren are refusing to admit they have a rocket ship bc they don’t believe that can pull this off and they don’t wanna look shit

max often admitted the car was a beast bc both him and the team never once doubted him. they knew he was going to win.

the switch up from lando saying max and lewis had the fastest cars so should win to "why does everyone talk about the car? too many questions in the media are about just the car” is outrageous. of course they are gonna ask about the car, it’s a motorsport. you aren’t out there running on foot.

mclaren are doubting themselves and i am sick n tired of the ‘underdog’ narrative.

that car is FAST and possibly illegal but that’s a separate issue. accept it, admit it, credit your team for what an great job they’ve done building that car.

𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ saw this tt about how these two toddlers shared their dad's notoriously rough bed head and this post when i opened tumblr last night and had to write smth for it! sorry, for the baby content 💀 i'll get back to writing y'alls requests now xxx

the careful messiness of brunette curls has been charles’s signature hairstyle for ages. it suits him, and when paired with his dimples and green eyes—it’s no wonder why every italian and monegasque prays for his success on sundays. well, maybe bleeding rosso corsa and winning two championships driving the famed red car are the proper reasons.

if only they knew that the artful styling of his curls is nowhere to be found after he sleeps. when he wakes, his hair is in absolute disarray—the deep brown ringlets are clumped together as they stick straight upwards and yet they manage to point in every direction possible.

when you first moved in with charles, you convinced him to buy a satin pillowcase to combat the bed head. it didn’t help, and neither did the bonnets you tried to have him wear. no matter if the ties were knotted, buttoned, or even velcro-strapped tightly, the bonnet would end up by the foot of the bed and his hair was in it’s usual disordered state by the early morning hours.

so, your morning routine begins with taming charles’s severe case of bed head. he awakens slowly as your fingertips gently untangle the deep brown ringlets, moaning lowly and nudging his head into your hand like a large cat when your nails glide along his scalp. you carefully guide each curl back into their assigned positions, tutting disapprovingly at the one strand that never seems to stay in it’s place.

charles’s chest shakes with a chuckle at your slight irritation and he shifts to meet your eyes, tenderly directing your hands away from his now orderly hair to his lips, pressing kisses to your fingertips before pulling you forward to cuddle into his chest.

you didn’t expect to have to deal with more than one head of messy hair. unfortunately, it seems like your daughter inherited her father’s bed head.

your mornings now consist of charles climbing out of bed at the first crackle of noise through the baby monitor, rushing to scoop the 9-month-old from her nursery and have her join the two of you in bed. he crosses the doorway with your daughter cradled to his bare chest and leo yipping at his feet—she stares up at at him, a perfect reflection of the sea green pools of his eyes, the absence of a bonnet, and the chaotic sprawl of his brunette curls. you’ve never been bothered with the fact that she’s an exact replica of her father, as some tried to tease that your genes didn’t do more than deepen her complexion. however, you always joke back that it means that she’s been blessed to be as beautiful as charles is.

she coos and babbles up at her father and he dutifully responds in french as if he understands her baby gibberish. he sits in bed with her on his lap and she beams, her little arms and grabby hands reaching towards you. you smile back widely, stealing her from his lap and greeting your babygirl with a flurry of kisses pressed all over her cute little face. her giggles ring through the air as you pull backwards to watch her laugh and, there’s another trait she shares with her father; deep dimples decorate her chubby cheeks and you can’t help but press your thumb into them with adoration.

charles picks up his first baby, plopping the mini dachshund in bed, and leo bounds forward to press his own kisses to your daughter’s socked feet.

addressing charles’s wild bed head will have to wait as you settle her back in his lap. you rest your head on his shoulder, apologizing for interrupting the clearly important conversation the two were having. you start fixing the jumbled ringlets on her scalp with the softest touch of your digits and she nuzzles up into your hand the same way her father does. he continues from were he left off, asking your daughter if she thinks a one-stop strategy is too ambitious for the next race and she babbles back to him in reply.

charles nods in agreement, promising her that regardless of a one-stop or two-stop, he’ll bring back his third championship trophy for her.

© httpsserene - do not repost. photos in header from pinterest.

👏🏾‼️

not to be that bitch. but if you, as a fellow white person, go and send hate or condescending messages to poc writers or artists bc they write poc reader or draw poc OCs or whatever, I'm gonna hunt you for sport. "I can't picture myself as a poc reader" fuck do you know how poc feel with how fucking racist a lot of fandoms are?? with how little inclusivity there is in stories written by white people? and they don't come to you bitches and shit on you, because they are decent human beings and know that you bitches actually don't care, because if you would, you would at least try to be more inclusive. also, how come you bitches are okay with the descriptions of reader that don't correlate with your own body (hair length, boob or ass shape, eye color, whatever it is) but as soon as reader is described to have features that are more distinct with poc you suddenly lose all your capabilities for imagination. yk why? because you're being racist like that. and you can say whatever you want about how you're "an ally actually" and all that crap bc at the end of the day, as long as you do this shit, you still are acting in racist ways, probably with racist mindsets deep rooted inside your brain. so go and work on that shit. no one is unfailable, but you should at least do your fucking best to not be a piece of shit every fucking day.

john b’s puppy girl

jjs mean kitten

rafes little bunny

moodboard insp by @princessbrunette mbs

this is just how i imagine it + my pinterest algorithm only shows me black girls atp so womp :3 but like just bc this is how i see them doesnt mean its how you have to!

TRAP!JJ WITH RAFE’S EX!!! not even just ex client, HIS EX GIRRRLLL OH THE TEA

she’s so broken hearted :(( she probably caught rafe high off his ass, smashing some girl that looks NOTHING like her, she runs all over the place just to get away. crashes at a friends house who recommends her jj.

baby is a kook so she has no clue about etiquette fr. rafe had “opps” but trap!jj got opps so when she comes knocking at his door he’s so confused and of course ready to blow. but why is a pretty girl dressed up in bows and designer at his door? and why does she look familiar? unfortunately babygirl is running on feelings and adrenaline so she breaks down immediately :(( no sense of self preservation so she practically clings to jayj already. for days on end!!

- 🪐

omg she would very quickly realize rafes “opps” got nothin on jjs when she sees how paranoid he is when she’s over literally givin her the 3rd degree

“and uh…this friend of yours. you say i know her?” he’s all twitchy and lookin around like somethings about to happen.

“ueahh…here’s her insta she told me to come see you.”

and luckily for you he recognizes her shuffles her in as fast as possible. “iono how things work on figure 8 babydoll but you gotta be more careful over here.”

and oh my god…just that alone makes you wanna stay with him because hes shown more concern for you in the past 5 minutes than rafe has your entire relationship. so you’re crying and babbling trying to tell him whats going on but he cant understand a word coming out of your mouth.

he really is sweet though despite the rough introduction (for now). he calms you down with a joint and some water so you can really tell him why youre at his house in the cut at fucking 3am looking like versace barbie.

“i walked in and he’s just coked the fuck out fucking some bitch thats not me and i didnt know what to do! he was mean to me yea but i thought he at least wanted to be with me. and the worst part? she looked nothing like me at all…i dont even think im his type.”

jj just listens, rubbing his fingers over his lips in thought….rafe cameron gave up prime pussy like this for a quick fuck? he’s dumber than jj thought.

“dont worry babygirl, you can stay here as long as you need.”

you’re way too sprung on his “kindness” to see he clearly has ulterior motives but the next day when he goes with you to get your shit back from rafe all hell breaks loose 😭 rafe’s throwing shit at you, calling you everything but a child of god until jj very subtly flashes the gun in his waistband. shit settles down for now but the two of them know its not over.

doesnt matter though because jj treats you like the most precious thing in the world, doin his best to keep you outta his business because “theres certain things not meant for a ladys eyes” which seems better than rafe bc he always dragged you to barrys house but the alternative is literally him padlocking you in a room for a few hours? but u dont notice bc at most you’re a little bored

hating mclaren is not only easy, it's fun too and i encourage you to experience it

ferrari bottling the first race will create a satisfying underdog winner story and create an exciting trajectory and that's why we are the best team in the sport actually