Afterglowsainz - Mango

write anything about jannik sinner we are in drought of him please😩😩🙏🙏

no need to worry my jannik girlies i just got a request and i’ll be working on it asap 🙏🏽

Warm is so ... devestating 😭😭😭 like its not that bad, and all understandable and no one's evil BUT IM STILL DEVESTATED

and that’s what hurts the most 😔

this is me Aya.. ‏🇵🇸

suddenly you wake up with nothing left.That's exactly what happened with us .we moved from having everything to having nothing.In a blink of an eye ,we lost everything, our house ,dreams,

memories belongings and our works. We are starting from zero and need your help to climb the leader step by step from scratch.

All the positive words cannot express how generous you are, especially in sharing my posts to inform other donors about the people of Gaza who are still suffering from the terrible conditions caused by the unjust war on Gaza!

Please continue to support us by donating directly or by sharing the link to let others know. Don't hesitate to help people in difficult and miserable times until the dark days are over. 🙏🏻🍉

https://gofund.me/c4c2cf82

please donate if you can!

WE USED TO HAGE MORE IS THE STORY THE DRAMA THE TENSION OMG

ahhh i’m so happy you like it! working on part 2 as we speak 🫣

Spotify special- Pepe marti with #27

p.s. I love all your work!!! 💓💓💓

why’d i have to break what i love so much? | pepe marti

song; afterglow - taylor swift

a/n: thank you so much!! 🤍

part of the spotify wrapped special

Sometimes you wondered if there was a way to cure self-sabotage. And if there was, what would you have to give to heal yourself?

You didn’t understand why this always happened. Why, whenever you were in a relationship and things were going well, you felt the need to ruin it. You knew you deserved to be happy, so why couldn’t you allow it? Why did you always have to mess it up? You always did something, always blew things out of proportion, always started arguments, to the point where other people just couldn’t keep forgiving you. And so, you stayed alone.

Pepe had never given you any reason to doubt him; he was so good to you, so loyal and honest. Sometimes you felt like he was too good for you. Or was that just your insecurity taking over? No, he was too good for you. Or was he exactly the right person for you? God, why did you always have to doubt everything? He was literally the best boyfriend anyone could ask for, and here you were, arguing with him because you thought he was flirting with a girl at a race.

“She was just a fan; she only wanted a picture,” the Spaniard defended himself for the third time.

“I don’t believe you,” you said, even though halfway through the argument, you realized you might be coming across as crazy. But you had to stick to your point; you couldn’t back down so easily.

Pepe didn’t see it the same way.

“Alright, think whatever you want, y/n,” he sighed, tired. “I’ve already told you what happened. When you calm down and want to talk, I’ll be in my room.”

He walked out of your room and into his, and you instantly regretted letting him go. You regretted starting the fight—regretted everything. Why did you have to punish him for your own insecurities? Why couldn’t you just be happy?

One cup of coffee and two episodes of Gossip Girl later, you knew you had to apologize. You hadn’t been fair to him; you almost never were. You didn’t know where he found the willpower to forgive you and stay with you when he could’ve left long ago. But you were grateful he stayed. You loved him.

When you knocked on his door, he answered in his pajamas and invited you in. The moment he closed the door behind you, you couldn’t hold back your words.

“I’m really sorry about what happened,” you began. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I… I never mean to hurt you or make you feel bad. It’s all me, really—it’s all in my head, and I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this to you. I don’t want to lose this with you.” Your nerves made you stutter, and seeing his furrowed brow made you even more nervous. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Pepe didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then he stepped closer to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into one of the hugs you loved so much.

“I know,” he said, kissing your head. “I know you’re sorry, and of course, I forgive you.” You let out a sigh of relief at his words. “I’ll always be yours, y/n. We’ll be okay, even if you go a little crazy sometimes.” You playfully hit his chest at that comment, and he laughed. “I know what’s going on with you, and I know it’s not your fault, but you’re everything I want. Even if you break my heart sometimes, I’m not going anywhere.”

He cupped your cheeks and sealed his words with a kiss full of reassurance.

Screw self-sabotaging—this was the real thing.

richard rios and 98!!! 😁

save your tears for another day | richard rios

song; save your tears (remix) - the weeknd ft. ariana grande

part of the spotify wrapped special

Your relationship with Richard was always tumultuous, to say the least—if not outright toxic. The good days were amazing; he treated you like an absolute princess, you laughed at the same jokes, and you were perfectly in sync. But the bad days were terrible. The fights got so out of hand that the neighbors had called the police a couple of times, knocking on the door of the apartment you shared in São Paulo. Richard would always leave without giving you an explanation—he’d simply run away, leaving you with your heart in your hand and tears threatening to fall.

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when things began to fall apart for you two. Maybe it was the pressure of his career, the monotony of the relationship, or the fact that things were getting too serious too fast. But after one particularly heated argument, you knew it was time to leave. You took advantage of the fact that—like always—Richard had walked out instead of facing the issue and packed your bags. You would’ve liked to say goodbye to him; after all, you loved him. But he was gone, and you were still there. And you knew that maybe someday you’d have to see him again. So, just like him, you left.

Now, months after the breakup, Richard couldn’t take his eyes off you as he watched you dance in the middle of the floor at the exclusive São Paulo nightclub you both happened to end up in. Out of all the nightlife spots in the entire city, the two of you had to wind up in the same one. If you’d seen him, you gave no sign of it, so he kept watching. You looked incredibly happy with your friends, dancing to the rhythm of the music and sipping gin and tonics like always. You looked incredibly happy without him. The blinding lights highlighted the sparkle of your smile as you laughed at something your friends said, and Richard found himself smiling too, caught up in the glow of your happiness.

But the feeling of being watched crept up on you like tiny ants, and you turned your head toward the eyes that hadn’t left your figure since the moment you walked into the club.

And you saw him.

His unmistakable honey-colored eyes stared at you so intently that you felt a pressure in your chest. It was the first time you’d seen him in months. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the intensity of the moment, but you felt a single, treacherous tear slide down your cheek—and Richard’s heart broke a little when he saw it.

Despite the months of no contact, for some reason, Richard still held onto the hope of getting you back. He hoped you’d give him another chance to prove he’d changed, that he understood how much of an idiot he’d been when he was with you, that he’d taken his frustrations out on you unfairly, that he’d never run away from you again. He wanted to tell you all of this with his gaze, across the crowded club full of people who had no idea that, for a moment, the only two people in the world were the two of you.

You quickly wiped the tear from your cheek, breaking eye contact with him and taking away the privilege of letting him say all of that without words. And you did what you’d always hated about him but had now mastered yourself.

You ran away.

Richard realized it was too late. He’d lost you. You deserved someone better.

FOOTBALL MASTERLIST

JULIAN ALVAREZ

fortnight

RICHARD RIOS

ordinary things (smau)

JOÃO FELIX

exile (smau)

PABLO GAVI

dancing with our hands tied part 2 (smau)

PEDRI GONZALEZ

august (smau)

JUDE BELLINGHAM

mess it up (smau)

don’t blame be (smau)

end of the world (smau)

jealousy

TRENT ALEXANDER-ARNOLD

i look in people’s windows

Charles Leclercs emotional radio for his first win in his home grand prix ❤️🇲🇨

MOTORSPORTS MASTERLIST

f1 masterlist.

PATRICIO O'WARD

we used to have more part 2 part 3 part 4 (smau series)

DANIEL RICCIARDO

dandelion (ft. max verstappen) (smau)

peace (smau)

FRANCO COLAPINTO

gold rush (smau)

don’t smile (smau)

PEPE MARTÍ

snap out of it (smau)

so beautifully done🥺🥺

Between the Pit Walls and the Heartbreak

Franco Colapinto x fem-engineer!reader

+3k words

a/n’s: full credit to @afterglowsainz go read their fic “don't smile” its amazingggg and so this is my take on the fic because I loved the concept and have two versions of part 2 for this! hope you like it.

warnings: angst!

Summary: Two hearts, one racetrack, and a love that no team principal can control. When love collides with ambition, can they find a way back to each other?

You stood at the other edge of the Williams garage, watching as Franco climbed out of his FW46 for what felt like the hundredth time that week. Every step he took felt heavier than the last, every glance between the two of you loaded with words left unsaid. It was different now, and both of you knew it. 

When Franco signed with Williams to finish the 2024 season, your heart became a battlefield of excitement and dread. You were his race engineer, the one who knew him better than anyone else on the grid, the one who stayed up late going over data with him, strategizing, and pushing him to be the best. You had been with him since F3, a time when your paths crossed because of your families. They had been friends for years, and your parents had pulled some strings to give you a chance to prove yourself as a young race engineer, even funding the early stages of your career.

At first, people doubted you. They thought you were only there because of your family’s connections, but you quickly silenced those voices. You stayed up late, crunching data, analysing telemetry, and refining strategies for Franco’s races. You weren’t just there by luck; you were good—really good. Your talent quickly shone through, and soon enough, bigger teams were offering you positions. You could have taken those offers, stepped into a more high-profile role, but you never did. You stayed with Franco.

Because you loved him. You had fallen in love with him.

It had started subtly—a glance here, a shared laugh there. You weren’t just his engineer; you became his confidante, his friend, and eventually, you found yourself falling for him. He looked at you after each race win like you were part of his victory, not just a cog in the machine. Your bond deepened as you moved with him from F3 to F2, and every time a team came knocking with an offer, you turned them down. They could offer you prestige, money, and opportunities, but they couldn’t offer you Franco.

He was the reason you stayed. Every lap he completed felt like your own heartbeat; every podium, every victory was something you shared with him. It was more than just work—it was love. 

But everything changed when he signed with Williams.

-The Call 

The moment Williams confirmed Franco as their new driver for the remainder of the 2024 season, everything changed. You had been publicly by his side for over two years, a relationship that everyone in the paddock knew about. Your love story wasn’t a secret—far from it. Fans followed your every move, your Instagram was full of pictures of you two at races, on vacations, and even behind the scenes in the paddock. You had been his race engineer since F3, and people saw your partnership as an unbreakable duo both on and off the track.

When you were reassigned to Alex Albon’s car, it wasn’t just a professional shift; it felt personal. The move should have been a tremendous opportunity in its own right—working with a driver as talented and respected as Alex was no small feat—but it was hard to see it as a win when it meant being separated from Franco. The paddock was buzzing with speculation about how the change would affect your relationship.

But the hardest blow came in a private meeting with James Vowles, the team principal. He sat the two of you down, his tone serious, and made it clear in no uncertain terms: there could be no personal distractions. He acknowledged the public nature of your relationship, but made it clear that professionalism first, always. There was no room for messy relationships that could compromise team integrity, that moving forward, there needed to be boundaries. Williams was entering a critical phase, and the last thing they wanted was for emotions to compromise performance.

James’s words echoed in your mind long after the meeting ended. “It’s nothing personal, it’s about keeping the team focused. We’ve all seen how relationships can become distractions in this sport. We need to keep things professional, especially now that Franco is in F1.”

You had expected some tension when the move was announced, but not like this. You weren’t just any race engineer—you had stood beside Franco for years, helped him rise through the ranks. Your love had grown through the late-night data reviews, the shared victories, the quiet moments after race weekends when it was just the two of you. To be told that this love, something that had been a part of your lives for over two years, was now considered a “distraction” was gut-wrenching.

Franco was the one who made the call, though. “It’s for the best,” he’d said, voice breaking just a little. You could see how much it hurt him to say it, how his voice faltered for just a second, but you also knew he was trying to protect both of your careers. He couldn’t afford to let emotions get in the way now, not when he was on the brink of making a name for himself in Formula 1. And you didn’t want to be the one to hold him back, either. So you agreed, even though it felt like your heart was being torn in two. You could see the conflict in his eyes, but the weight of the moment crushed any objections you might’ve had. You didn’t want to be the reason he failed to thrive in F1. And so, with a single nod, you agreed to end it.

It was a quiet breakup—no big fights, no yelling, just an excruciating silence that followed you like a cloud for weeks. You’d kept things under wraps so well that even the fans didn’t catch on immediately. But they were observant; they always were. It wasn’t long before they noticed the subtle changes. Your Instagram went private, the photos of you two celebrating F2 podiums together disappeared, and though you still posted about the races, the personal connection that had once been there was gone.

Speculation began to swirl in the background, but you never confirmed or denied anything. You let the fans talk, let the rumours grow, because addressing them would only bring more pain. And in the paddock, Franco became just another driver. Professional, distant, and cold in a way you hadn’t expected. You couldn’t stand it.

You threw yourself into your work with Alex, who was a consummate professional, always supportive, but even he noticed the toll it was taking on you. “You don’t have to pretend, you know,” Alex had said one evening after a particularly long debrief session. “It’s okay to feel hurt.”

But admitting that hurt felt like a betrayal of everything you’d tried to hold together. So you buried it deeper.

As the season progressed, the distance between you and Franco only grew. He was focused on his races, and you were determined to be the best engineer you could be for Alex. But no matter how hard you tried to push Franco out of your mind, he was always there. You saw him every day, heard his voice over the radio, watched him in the garage. It was torture, and you couldn’t escape it.

There were moments when he would catch your eye from across the paddock, and for a split second, it felt like old times. But then reality would crash down, and you would remind yourself that things were different now. You weren’t his engineer anymore. You weren’t his anymore.

And yet, despite everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to move on. You still loved him. The offers from other teams continued to pour in—teams that saw your potential, that recognized your talent. Mclaren, Aston Martin, even Mercedes reached out, but you turned them all down. How could you leave when Franco was still here? You had built your career with him by your side, and even though your relationship was over, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

But you knew it couldn’t last. Eventually, you would have to make a choice.

—The Wall Comes Down

It wasn’t until Suzuka, late in the season, that Franco finally broke the silence between you two. The garage was quiet, most of the crew gone, but Franco lingered by his car, his eyes darting toward you as if summoning the courage to speak.

“Can we talk?” His voice was low, tentative, and you wanted to say no, 1you didn’t want to have this conversation. You had spent the last few months trying to bury your feelings, to focus on your work and pretend that everything was fine. But the look in Franco’s eyes told you that he wasn’t going to let you walk away this time.

“We shouldn’t,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Please” he pleaded and you found yourself nodding while he guided you to his driver's room.

He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “I hate this. I hate that we don’t talk anymore.”

You crossed your arms, trying to guard yourself against the emotions surging within. “We don’t talk because you made that choice, Franco.”

His jaw clenched, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “It wasn’t my choice—it was the team’s.”

You shook your head, feeling the sting of unshed tears. “But you agreed to it. You agreed to break up with me like it was just another strategy call. Like we were something you could let go of as easily as a bad qualifying lap.”

“I did it for us,” he said, voice rising. “For our future. You know how cutthroat this world is—how many careers get destroyed because of personal issues. I didn’t want that for you, or for me.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice. “Don’t lie to yourself. You did it for you. You were scared, Franco. Scared that if things went wrong between us, it would ruin your big shot in F1.”

He looked away, the weight of your words hanging between you like a wall neither of you could cross. After a moment, he finally spoke, his voice softer now, broken. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I was scared. But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

“And how’s that, exactly?” you asked, unable to stop the bitterness from creeping into your tone.

“Look I know I messed up,” Franco said, his hands shaking as he spoke. “I thought breaking up was the right thing to do. I thought it would keep us both focused, but… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend anymore.” He paused for a moment. “I still love you,” he said, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had been waiting for them, hoping to hear them for months, but now they only made you angry.

“You can’t just say that and expect everything to go back to normal,” you said, shaking your head. “It doesn’t work that way.” You looked away, the pain of his words hitting you harder than you expected. “You made your choice, Franco. You chose your career over me. You can’t just come back now and expect everything to go back to the way it was.”

“I didn’t choose my career over you,” he said, stepping closer. “I thought I was protecting us both. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I know I hurt you. I know I made the wrong call, but I’m trying to fix it now. We can still be friends.”

“No,” you said firmly, taking a step back. “I didn’t need protecting,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes. “I needed you to trust me. To trust us. But you didn’t. And I..I…I can’t just be your friend, Franco. Not when I’m still in love with you.”

The silence between you stretched out, the weight of your confession settling in. Franco’s face fell, and for the first time, you saw genuine regret in his eyes.

“I didn’t realise…”

“You didn’t want to realise,” you corrected. “You thought it would be easier to just put distance between us, to make things ‘professional,’ but that’s not how feelings work. You can’t compartmentalise everything.”

He reached for your hand, but you pulled away. “I need space, Franco. I can’t do this anymore.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, Franco nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He looked at you, his eyes full of regret, and for the first time, you saw how much this had been hurting him too. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

He turned around and you watched as he walked away, your heart breaking all over again, but you knew it was for the best. Some things just couldn’t be fixed with a pit stop.

-The Offer By the time the season neared its end, you received the call you’d been avoiding for months. Red bull was offering you a position. They wanted you to join their engineering team, and the offer was too good to ignore. Prestige, a hefty pay raise, and the chance to work with another driver—a new start.

You took the job. You had to. Staying with Williams, staying near Franco, was suffocating you. And the moment Franco found out you were leaving for Red Bull? It broke him in a way you hadn’t expected.

-The End of the Season

The season wrapped up in Abu Dhabi, and the celebration felt hollow without Franco by your side. You watched from a distance as he soaked in the cheers from the crowd, the flashes of cameras capturing the culmination of a year of hard work. He had grown into a formidable driver in F1, and you couldn’t help but feel pride for him, even if you had been reduced to just another observer.

You had kept your distance for months, determined to stay professional despite how much it hurt. But as the night went on and the paddock grew quiet, you found yourself lingering. The afterparty was in full swing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to join in. Instead, you found a secluded spot near the pit garages, letting the sound of the distant laughter and music wash over you as you replayed the season in your mind—every moment you had spent avoiding Franco, pretending like your heart wasn’t breaking every time you saw him.

“Hey.” His voice startled you, pulling you from your thoughts.

You turned around, and there he was—Franco, standing there, his eyes filled with something you hadn’t seen in a long time. Regret. Pain. Love.

“I’ve been looking for you all night,” he said softly, stepping closer. He was still in his race suit, unzipped to his waist, a reminder of everything that had changed, and yet, everything that still felt the same.

“You found me,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You hadn’t seen him this close in what felt like forever. His presence stirred up emotions you had tried so hard to bury, but here they were, bubbling up to the surface.

“I didn’t think you’d stay.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking uncertain, a far cry from the confident driver everyone saw on the grid. “I thought you’d already be gone.”

You shook your head, unable to find the words. There was so much you wanted to say, but where would you even begin?

Franco took another step toward you, his eyes searching yours. “I miss you,” he said, his voice breaking just a little. “I know I messed up. I thought I was doing the right thing, for both of us, for our careers. But I was wrong. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay without you. It’s not. I’m not.”

Your heart clenched at his words, but you had been carrying the weight of this heartbreak for so long that it felt almost impossible to let it go. “Franco, we—” You paused, trying to gather yourself. “We made a choice. You made a choice.”

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice desperate. “I know I made the choice, but it was the wrong one. I thought we could just focus on our careers and put everything else aside, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend like you’re not the most important thing in my life.”

You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “I thought I could handle it too,” you admitted. “I tried to be professional. I tried to focus on my work with Alex and push everything else away, but it’s been… it’s been hell.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he stepped even closer, so close you could feel the warmth of his body next to yours. “I thought I was doing what was best for us, for you. I thought if we stayed apart, we could avoid all the complications, but I didn’t realise that losing you was the biggest mistake I could make.”

Tears blurred your vision, and before you could stop yourself, you closed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him. He pulled you into his chest, holding you tight as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. You could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, steady and strong, and for the first time in months, you felt like you could finally breathe.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered into his chest, your tears soaking into his race suit.

He held you tighter, his hand gently stroking the back of your head. “I missed you too,” he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. “Every day, I missed you.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, and in that moment, all the walls you had built up around yourself came crumbling down. The hurt, the anger, the distance—it all melted away, leaving just the two of you standing there, raw and vulnerable.

And then he kissed you.

It was soft at first, tentative, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay. But then, as you kissed him back, it deepened, all the months of pain and longing pouring into that one kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of everything you had been through together, everything you had survived. It was a kiss that reminded you why you had fallen in love with him in the first place.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were crying. His forehead rested against yours, his hands still holding you as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath shaky. “I never stopped loving you.”

You let out a soft sob, nodding as you wiped the tears from your cheeks. “I love you too, Franco. I never stopped. But we can’t just pick up where we left off. It’s been months. We’ve both changed, and... I’m still so hurt.”

Franco's face crumpled with regret, his eyes filled with desperation. “I know I messed up. I don’t want to rush anything. I just want to be with you again, even if it takes time. We can take it slow. I’m willing to do whatever it takes, just—please. I can’t lose you again.”

You shook your head, your heart breaking all over again, but this time, for a different reason. “Franco, I don’t think you understand. It’s not just about time or taking it slow. I’ve been trying to heal, trying to move on from everything. You hurt me, and I can’t go back to that place.”

He swallowed, his voice shaky. “But we can try—can’t we? We can figure it out together. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

You looked down, your hands trembling as you tried to steady yourself. “It’s not that simple. I’ve accepted an offer, Franco.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “An offer?”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the next words. “Red Bull offered me a position, and I took it. I’m going to be Max Verstappen’s new race engineer.”

The shock on Franco’s face was immediate, his body stiffening as he processed what you said. “Red Bull? Max’s engineer?” His voice was barely above a whisper, disbelief clouding his expression.

You nodded, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over again. “This is my chance, Franco. My career—this is everything I’ve worked for, and I can’t let it slip away because of what we used to be.”

His lips parted, but no words came out. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable, but so was the understanding. He took a step back, realising that he had already lost you, not because you didn’t love him, but because too much had changed.

“I… I didn’t know,” he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight as you spoke. “I didn’t plan for it to happen like this. But this is what I need to do, for me. I need to move forward.”

Franco stood there, silent, his eyes fixed on the ground as he tried to absorb the reality of your words. “So… this is it?”

You wiped away the last of your tears, your heart heavy but resolute. “I think it has to be. I’ll always care about you, but I can’t keep holding on to something that’s hurting me. You have your future, and I have mine.”

He looked up, his gaze searching yours one last time, as if hoping for a miracle. But when he saw the finality in your eyes, he nodded, defeated. “I understand.”

It was the hardest thing you’d ever done—walking away from Franco when you still loved him. But this wasn’t just about love anymore. It was about you, your dreams, and your future. And for the first time in a long time, you were choosing yourself.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, the sounds of the paddock fading into the background as you stepped into the unknown, leaving behind the man who had once meant everything.

But you didn’t look back. Not this time.

--- THE END ---

hope you liked it, part two is on its way.

Lots of love, Em!