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itsvelyria · 4 months

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"the moment the f1 boys realised you were the one"

Charles Leclerc

being able to cry around you: charles has a bad habit of bottling everything up. it was three months into your relationship when he had a particularly bad race, a stroke of bad luck. he was met with pats on his back and mutters that he would do better. numbness flooding his veins, they did nothing to ease the anxiety in his chest. he met your eyes across the room and watched as you stepped closer. with extended arms, you'd told him to let it out. never once has anyone ever told him that before, and so he had instantly broken down, exhausted from having to hold it all together. there was nothing needed but your presence. he sobs messily into your shoulder and the next morning, he had wished that he'll always have you around.

Carlos Sainz

when he realised you knew him better than he did himself: "how did you know?" were his first words, when he came home one night, only to come face-to-face with a pair of Airpods on the nightstand, addressed to him. he had sorely needed a new pair after losing them on the plane but hadn't had the time to purchase them. "because i know you" was your answer, beaming up at him from the side, where you were preparing dinner. you had missed the deep look in his eyes, rambling on; first his sister's wedding anniversary present in the coat closet, then the watch his father had wanted mended for a while now all fixed. and there it was: that was the moment where carlos finally understood the fluttering in his heart.

Danny Ricciardo

making the best out of life: when you had agreed to go out with danny solely because he made life feel that much brighter, but what you didn't know was that he felt the same way about you. you were always up for anything, the easygoing aura you carried with your being influencing him, especially when he had suggested sharing the singular umbrella left in the store — the unexpected downpour having caught you both off guard. nonetheless, you huddled under the umbrella, both your shoulders getting soaked the second you left the safety of the grocery store shelter. eyes meeting across the umbrella handle, you both break out into chuckles at your plain misfortune. that's when he realised — there was no one else he wanted to be stuck in a bad situation with.

George Russell

inside jokes: it was a small thing, minuscule even, the earliest memory of the joke being one of your first few dates, before you were even official. it was just a simple coincidence that the situation you were called for it. in the group dinner with your mutual friends, george's eyes had shot to yours, searching for the only being who could possibly understand him. and in that flash of a moment when his blue gaze met yours, your bodies had naturally leaned towards their other halves, giggles muffled into your hands. if your friends were surprised at the sudden laughter, he doesnt even notice, too preoccupied with how gorgeous you looked in the candlelight and how fast his heartbeat has gotten.

Lando Norris

shared comfortable silence: your boyfriend loved people, befriending strangers and great conversations. it all came easy to him, possibly due to growing up a middle child, he mirrored a little ray of sunshine. but as much as he adored socialising, lando found that he equally enjoyed quiet time with you, especially on lounge chairs by the beach while you flipped through your book, absolutely taken by the words. lando admired the expression fluttering across your features with each passing page. something strange settled in his tummy as he continued staring, something he could only allude to how peace might feel like. perhaps this is how life was meant to be lived, he thought.

Lewis Hamilton

sharing tattoo meanings: lewis has had a lot of art done on his body over the years and he's proud of all of them; memories and meanings forever part of him. with the orange glow of your nightlight at 3am, he watched as you traced the patterns on his skin, telling you stories and what each of them meant. you had soaked up the words, mesmerised by the deep lull of his voice as he opened up his heart to you. never has anyone been so interested in him as a person, all they wanted to know was his career and business and he appreciated it. to you, he was just a man — someone you wanted to know more about.

Max Verstappen

his pets greeting you: as the provider for his cats, he expected a touch more loyalty from the feline beings. still he remained seated, fixated on how jimmy and sassy nuzzled at your calves, the warmth of their tiny bodies against his legs previously lost. the silence was broken by the sound of grocery bags tossed on the kitchen counter as you stooped down to scratch their fuzzy chins. a light purr emanated from sassy while jimmy rolled over, also meowing in a bid for attention. his heart strangely light, he watched you indulge them like the spoiled brats they were. was it because of how much love was within you or the care you held for the things he held dear? either way, max couldn't tamp down the urge to cross the room and wrap you in his arms, much like you did with his pets now, the three little words in the back of his throat.

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lecsainz · 1 year

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paddock encounters

pairings: toto wolff x daughter!reader / ollie bearman x wolff!reader / lewis hamilton x wolff!reader / george russell x wolff!reader / paul aron x wolff!reader

warnings: bumps in the paddock, lewis and george being like older brothers to Y/N and paul being the friend everyone has.

authors note: i just wanted to write something about ollie so that's it.

word count: 986

Y/N Wolff was sitting in the back seat of the car, on her way to the British Grand Prix at Silverstone with her dad, Toto Wolff, her stepmom, Susie, and her little brother Jack. As they drove through the English countryside, they chatted excitedly about the race ahead.

"So, Y/N, who are you rooting for today?" asked Toto, glancing back at his daughter in the rearview mirror.

"I don't know," replied Y/N with a shrug. "I guess I'll be happy as long as a Mercedes driver wins."

Susie chuckled. "You're biased, Y/N. But I can't blame you for that. It's in the family DNA."

Jack piped up from his car seat. "I want Lewis to win! He's my favorite!"

Y/N smiled indulgently at her little brother. "Lewis is pretty awesome, isn't he?"

Just then, the car pulled into the parking lot at Silverstone. As they got out of the car and made their way towards the paddock, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. This was her world, the world of formula 1.

As they walked through the paddock, Y/N spotted George Russell and Lewis Hamilton, the two Mercedes drivers, chatting with some fans. She grinned and waved at them, and they waved back.

"Hey, guys!" called Y/N, running over to them. "How's it going?"

"Good, good," replied Lewis with a smile. "Excited for the race?"

"You know it," said Y/N, grinning. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

George Russell chuckled. "You're a true petrolhead, Y/N. You're going to end up working in this sport someday."

Y/N blushed slightly at the compliment. "Maybe I will. It's always been my dream."

As they chatted, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. These were her people, the drivers, the fans, the mechanics, the journalists. She had grown up in this world, and it felt like home.

She wandered around the paddock, taking in the sights and sounds of the British Grand Prix. As Y/N turned a corner, she bumped into someone and stumbled back.

"Oh, sorry about that." said Y/N, looking up to see a tall, lanky guy with curly hair.

"No problem," said the guy, smiling. "I'm Ollie."

"I'm Y/N," said Y/N, returning the smile. "Nice to meet you."

They stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"So, are you a fan of the sport?" asked Ollie, gesturing towards the track.

Y/N nodded eagerly. "Yeah, I grew up in the world of f1. My dad's the boss of the Mercedes team."

"Wow, that's cool." said Ollie, looking impressed. "I'm actually a driver myself. I race in formula 2 for Prema and the Ferrari Academy."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "No way! That's amazing. I haven't really followed f2 that closely, but maybe I should start."

Ollie chuckled. "Yeah, maybe you should. We're the future of the sport, you know."

Y/N grinned. "I wouldn't doubt it. So, are you excited for your race later?"

Ollie nodded eagerly. "Absolutely. It's my home race, so I'm hoping for a good result."

Y/N smiled. "Well, I'll be sure to keep an eye out for you. Good luck!"

"Thanks." said Ollie, waving as he walked away.

As Y/N watched him go, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. When she walked away, Lewis and George spotted her from a distance and exchanged knowing looks.

"Looks like our little Y/N has made a new friend." said Lewis with a smirk.

George chuckled. "Yeah, I bet Toto will be thrilled to hear that she's talking to one of the Ferrari Academy drivers."

Toto, who had been standing nearby, overheard their conversation and raised an eyebrow. "What are you two going on about?"

Lewis and George turned to face him, still wearing amused expressions. "Oh, just that Y/N's been chatting up Ollie Bearman." said Lewis.

Toto looked surprised. "Really? I didn't even know she knew who he was."

George shrugged. "Well, I don't think she did. But she seems to have taken a liking to him."

Lewis grinned. "Maybe we should start calling her 'Ferrari Girl' instead of 'Mercedes Girl'."

Toto shook his head, chuckling. "You two are ridiculous. Let's just hope that this new friendship doesn't distract her too much from her schoolwork."

As they walked away, Toto couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at how well Y/N had integrated into the world of f1. He knew that she had a bright future ahead of her, and he couldn't wait to see where her passion for the sport would take her.

A few days had passed since Y/N had met Ollie in the paddock, but she couldn't stop thinking about him. She had even asked Lewis and George if they knew anything about him, but they had just teased her about her crush.

One day, she was talking with Paul Aron, another driver in the Prema and Mercedes Academy programs. They were discussing the latest f1 race when Y/N brought up Ollie.

"You know Ollie Bearman, right?" she asked Paul.

Paul nodded. "Yeah, we've crossed paths a few times. He's a pretty cool guy."

"He seemed really nice when I talked to him." said Y/N. "Do you happen to have his phone number or something?"

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Why do you want his number?"

Y/N blushed. "I don't know, I just thought it would be cool to talk to him again. He seemed really interesting."

Paul chuckled. "Alright, I'll see what I can do. No promises, though."

A few days later, Ollie received a message from an unknown number. It was Y/N.

Y/N: “Hey, it's Y/N. Paul gave me your number. How's it going?”

Y/N's heart raced as he replied.

Ollie: “Hey, it's going well! How about you?”

And so began a new chapter in Y/N's life - a friendship (or maybe something more?) with Ollie Bearman. She didn't know where it would lead, but she was excited to find out.

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fangirl-dot-com · 2 months

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Chapter 22 - This Was Not the Spa I was Looking For

Uuuhhh, I don't even know what this was. I had an idea and then this other idea fought the first one and won? so, it's completely different than what I had in mind, but ya know what? its written and done.

There is slight SLIGHT angst, but everything is good in the end :)

so sorry for the delay - will be updating a lot this weekend!

like always comments, questions, concerns, messages in my inbox, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated! Love you all and enjoy :D

Budapest Not Included

Champions Standings

Max Verstappen – 284 points

Charles Leclerc – 227 points

Lando Norris – 189 points

Y/n L/n – 163 points

Carlos Sainz – 112 points

Oscar Piastri – 91 points

Lewis Hamilton – 83 points

Alex Albon – 44 points

Fernando Alonso – 41 points

George Russell – 40 points

Logan Sargeant – 30 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points

Lance Stroll – 15 points

Pierre Gasly – 12 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points

Valtteri Bottas – 1 point

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Zhou Guanyu

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull – 447 points

Ferrari – 339 points

McLaren – 280 points

Mercedes – 123 points

Williams – 74 points

Aston Martin – 56 points

Alpha Tauri – 31 points

Alpine – 12 points

Alpha Romeo – 1 point

HAAS – 0 points

f1 has posted

f1 Y/n L/n and Max Verstappen are out of the Belgium Grand Prix after the Red Bull of Verstappen hit the back of L/n. The latter skidded across the track before rolling over. L/n will be looked over at the medical site, especially after her last DNF back in Japan.

liked by y/n.nation, maxverSTOPpen, orange_army, and 802,394 others

max_and_rookie nah man, I like max but that was seriously his fault

y/n_on_top y/n had the priority to make way for him to win. he just ruined both of their races

max_all_the_way y/n should have just let him keep going tho?

redbullcan no she shouldn't cause Red Bull gave the 2-1 strategy, putting priority for the second car

maxiel333 I fear this is Azerbaijan 2018 all over again

f1fan well there goes that amazing teammate bond. great job max, what is this, 7 teammates? bout to be 8

Once again, you were hanging upside down, in the rain. But thankfully, this time you were conscious and talking.

You pressed the button that immediately went to your panicking race engineer.

“I’m fine Mitch. Stupid rain. This was definitely not the Spa I was looking forward to. You tell my asshole of a teammate that he owes me.”

You switched your radio off before Mitch could reply. You were fuming as the marshals were trying to get you out once again. Your race suit was becoming wetter and wetter by the minute. Your back ached as you tried to move.

So, how did this all happen?

You had been able to get around Max, per team request to make way on the track that was a little less rainy. Apparently, Max thought that you were trying to get the jump on him and completely rammed the back of your RB20, sending you flying. It was definitely a mirror reflection of Azerbaijan 2018.

How you ended up rolled over once again, you didn’t know. Maybe your car just didn’t have great balance when it came to kerbs and getting rear-ended.

In a few minutes, the marshals were able to get you out. As you stretched when you got out, your eyes landed on Max’s RB20 with its nose crumpled and wheel hanging off. You smirked under your helmet.

“Serves him right.”

You two were doing amazing that weekend. Max had gotten pole once again, and you were right behind him. Except that Charles was so close behind Max most of the race. Mitch had given you the 2-1 and had told you that GP had also given the Dutchman the same order.

There was still time for you to have given the position back, but you were quicker on the slicks. You could have easily brought home another 1-2 race.

But now Charles would probably get his third win of the season because Max was too selfish.

You watched as he climbed out of his own cockpit and your blood began to boil. He not only ruined his race, but yours as well. Your arms were crossed as you stood in the rain. Replays of the wreck were playing on the big screens, just for your enjoyment.

The longer you watched, the angrier you got.

A push to your arm brought your eyes from the big screen to the Dutch driver.

“The fuck was that?” he angrily questioned.

Your eyebrow raised under your helmet. Although you were shorter, you knew how to throw your weight around. So, you shoved his shoulder back.

“Me? The fuck was that with you Max. I was given priority! This was your fault!” you shouted, earning looks from the marshals around the two of you.

Max just glared. “My fault? That was clearly a rookie mistake.”

He pushed you again.

You let out a dark chuckle. “Rookie mistake? No Max. That was a you mistake.”

Your pointer finger dug into his chest, earning you another shove. One that sent you to the ground. You were now down, looking up at Max as he glared down at you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched him stalk away.

A marshal was quick to help you to your feet. Max didn’t ride back with you to the paddock and walked the entire way. You, however, took advantage of the ride back and immediately tried to hide inside your drivers room when you got back. You kept your helmet on the entire time and wanted to refuse to go to the medical room. Mitch was adamant about you going since the last time you were bruised pretty badly.

She made sure it was quick: just a check over. After, your race engineer left you to yourself. While you undressed and peeled off your wet race suit, your mind started swimming.

Feelings of guilt and anxiety were building in your core. Soon, you were beginning to sob as you sat on your little bed. Really, all you wanted to do was curl up and sleep, preferably with your boyfriend, who was all the way in the Ferrari garage.

Your sobs quieted down as your eyes began to droop. Taking a nap right now seemed to be a good choice as you lied down on the small bed, curling up in a ball. A nap would keep you safe from whatever was going on. You didn’t have to deal with anything if you were asleep.

Right as you were falling asleep, Max had just gotten back to the garage. His helmet was in his hands and his eyes were to the floor, missing the disapproving looks from everyone. On the way back, he had time to think about what he had done.

Yes, he knew that you were given priority, but didn’t know exactly why. You didn’t seem faster on the slicks or were gaining. He didn’t expect you to go around him like that. And now looking back, he could see that you were making a way for him by getting rid of some water on the track so he could get more grip.

What he didn’t expect was a shove to the back and a punch to the face. He barely had time to turn around before he landed on his ass on the concrete of the garage. He was so taken back that he really couldn’t understand what was going on.

All he knew was that his face hurt, his ass hurt, and his pride hurt.

How could he have done that to you?

When he got his bearings, he finally saw a certain Monegasque be held back from jumping on him. Spits of French and English were thrown at him, and he deserved it. Once he was back on his feet, Arthur took two handfuls of his race suit and pulled him down.

There was hardly a height difference, but right now Arthur looked a lot bigger than Max did.

Arthur leaned close to Max’s face.

“How dare you? You know that she would do anything for you and what do you do to thank her? You push her down. You break her down. You blame her for your mistake.”

Silence was all that Max could offer.

Arthur scoffed as he let go.

“You’re no better than her parents.”

With that, he left and walked toward your room. He harshly pushed the door open, only to find you sound asleep, oblivious to the world outside. Arthur turned off the lights before gently climbing into your bed. He didn’t know how the two of you had fit, but you did.

He guessed that you must have sensed him as you turned over and dug your head into his neck almost immediately. Arthur pulled out his phone before googling flights back to Monaco, back to home. He’d keep you in his pocket if he had anything to do it.

Race Results:

Charles Leclerc – 25 points

Carlos Sainz – 18 points

Oscar Piastri – 16 points (fastest lap)

Valtteri Bottas – 12 points

Lewis Hamilton – 10 points

George Russell – 8 points

Fernando Alonso – 6 points

Alex Albon – 4 points

Logan Sargeant – 2 point

Zhou Guanyu – 1 point (highest placing this season)

Lando Norris (spun out on last lap and barely missed the points)

Daniel Ricciardo

Yuki Tsunoda

Kevin Magnussen (highest placing this season)

Nico Hulkenberg (highest placing this season)

Pierre Gasly

Esteban Ocon

Lance Stroll

Y/n L/n – DNF

Max Verstappen – DNF

Champions Standings:

Max Verstappen – 284 points

Charles Leclerc – 252 points

Lando Norris – 189 points

Y/n L/n – 163 points

Carlos Sainz – 130 points

Oscar Piastri – 107 points

Lewis Hamilton – 93 points

George Russell – 48 points

Alex Albon – 48 points

Fernando Alonso – 45 points

Logan Sargeant – 32 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points

Lance Stroll – 15 points

Pierre Gasly - 12 points

Valtteri Bottas – 13 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points

Zhou Guanyu – 1 point

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull – 447 points

Ferrari – 382 points

McLaren – 270 points

Mercedes – 141 points

Williams – 80 points

Aston Martin – 60 points

Alpha Tauri – 31 points

Alpha Romeo – 14 points

Alpine – 12 points

Haas – 0 points

Max had gotten a long talking to after everything was over. Christian probably screamed at him for over an hour, plus what GP and then what Mitch had to say after. He had wanted to apologize beforehand, but it seemed as though Arthur didn’t wat Max near you within a 25 foot radius.

And when the Dutchman thought he could speak to you at the hotel, he had to find out the hard way that you had left that afternoon to go back to Monaco before the second Italian Grand Prix. Max huffed as he thought over what he should do.

Just as you had anxiety and guilt about the incident, Max dubbed his as 10 times worse. This was it. In the past, everyone told him that he always messed up teammates for other drivers. That’s why Daniil didn’t work out, or Carlos, or Daniel, or Pierre, or Alex, or Checo. One way or another, Max always fucked it up.

Well, that’s what his mind was telling him.

And he didn’t want you to just be another name to the list.

So with phone in hand, and pilot on call, he made the executive decision to fly back to Monaco. He knew exactly where your apartment was, since you gave me the address when you first moved in and a key for emergencies.

When he landed, he went straight to the grocery store. Knowing that you had the cooking skills of Arthur and Charles combined and the pickiness of Lando amplified, he guessed that you and Arthur probably haven’t had dinner yet. So, he grabbed ingredients to make pizza. Simple enough.

He drove to your flat and was suddenly enveloped with fear. He hit his head on the steering wheel once he parked.

“I’m so stupid,” he whispered to himself as he gazed at the lights on in the windows. His head was still on the wheel as he turned to look down. What he failed to notice was you looking through the window.

“Cheri? Is everything alright?” you heard Arthur call out from the kitchen. You two had just burnt some pasta while trying to make dinner. You gazed down at the familiar car parked in front.

“Cheri?”

Now Arthur was close, also looking out the window.

“It’s Max.”

The Monegasque scoffed. “What’s he doing here?”

You hummed. “He’s probably wanting to apologize. I know what he’s like. Thur, he didn’t mean it.”

Arthur’s eyes changed from cold to understanding. He had heard enough stories from his own brother along with gossip in the paddock about Max’s childhood (or lack thereof).

He huffed once before saying, “Go to him and then invite him up.”

He watched as your eyes lit up, before you placed a kiss on his lips. A smile formed on his lips as he watched you slide shoes on and go out the door. Arthur turned back to the kitchen. He guessed he needed to clean up before you invited thee Max Verstappen into the house.

Max was so caught in his head that he missed you peering in. Only when you slightly knocked on the door, did he jump. He accidentally pressed the horn, making it echo down the empty road. He quickly unlocked the door, which let you slip in.

His blue eyes gazed into yours before he started to cry. You looked at him with a frown on your face as he tried to desperately wipe his tears. He took many harsh inhales, trying to get his emotions under control.

Max expected you to yell, scream, and hit at him. Yet, you gently placed a hand on his back and started to comfort him, like he’s done many times before.

You let him cry and cry until he was ready to talk.

“I’m such an asshole,” was the first thing that escaped his lips after his sobs started to break.

You chuckled. “I could have told you that.”

Max’s lips curved upwards in a small smile before going straight once again. He took another shuddering breath before continuing.

“I don’t want to repeat the past. I am so sorry for what I did to you, that was unfair of me. I wanted to apologize before you left, but I was too late. And I didn’t want to end today without apologizing to you. Because I don’t want you to be another teammate that I failed.”

He turned to you, eyes still glossy with leftover tears.

You leaned to give him a hug across the dash, one that he was thankful for.

He was the first one to part, still wiping at his eyes. You only gazed at him with compassion. When he was done sniffling, you started to talk.

“Max, look at me please?”

He turned his head so his bloodshot blue eyes could look at you. He looked utterly exhausted and your heart broke. If he was anything like you, you knew how much guilt he was carrying.

“You’re not, we’re not, going to repeat the past. I just need you to understand that I am your team player. And when I’m given a team order, I will follow it every time.”

Max’s head nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry.”

“I already forgave you before I left the paddock. I heard Christian yelling at you.”

A snort left his nose. “It was probably for the best.”

The car was filled with a comfortable silence before Max broke it.

“Did you and Arthur have dinner yet?”

“Max. What do you think?”

“I’m going to take that as a no. Good think I bought groceries. Seriously, I am getting you and the Leclercs cooking lessons for Christmas.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“You almost burnt down my entire kitchen.”

“Not on purpose.”

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 have pizza, teammate, and bestie - will travel

liked by maxverstappen1, arthur_leclerc, logansargeant, and 90,294 others

y/n&co guys I was super worried but now I'm perfectly fine

rookie+maxie guys I truly believe that y/n is going to stay his teammate for as long as possible

best_duo frfr - no one has been on his level and he finally has a teammate that can keep up with him

y/n.nation generational talent right there

maxverstappen1 glad I could feed you two

y/n.89 we would have been fine on our own maxverstappen1 sure, after you burnt your food and almost set your apartment on fire y/n.89 hey, Arthur was there too? arthur_leclerc what is with this slander?????

f1_fan guys guys guys, it's the Dutch Grand Prix and then MONZA hello?????

true_tifosi I know I want to see Charles win again, but y/n deserves something

dutch_anthem_on_repeat time for MAX MAX MAX SUPER MAX

orange_army we are ready with flags and capes, bring it on Netherlands!!

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doromoni · 8 months

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I hate you , right? | GR63

George Russell x Red Bull Driver! y/n

warnings : swearing

Summary : George was a little too attractive after the summer break.

“Oh fuck off Russell! Are you blind? Side mirrors are there for a reason! Learn to fucking use it! You almost cost me my race, dickhead!”

Y/N L/N the first ever female driver for the Red Bull racing team, only through sheer determination and hardheadedness was she able to achieve such an amazing feat.

Being the only female on the grid was hard enough as it is with misogyny and sexism biting at her rear , but adding a British asshole really did put the cherry on top on the cake of ass-hattery that Formula 1 offered.

“Not my fault you drive like a fucking lunatic, that turn was mine and you know it L/N! maybe next time learn how to actually drive rather than depending on your car”

The two drivers are at each other’s faces yet again . This had been a normal event, that even the teams have grown accustomed to the shouts and curses of each driver — whether its swearing at each other in the Red Bull garage or nearly pouncing and succumbing to physicalities at Mercedes. Y/N L/N and George Russell are sworn enemies in and off the racing track.

They used to be friends, best friends even. Both driving for the Mercedes driver academy with George racing in F2 while Y/N in F3. When George won the F2 championship, earning himself a seat at Williams ; Y/N then was promoted to a seat in F2 . A year later Y/N had won her own F2 championship, but no F1 seat was offered in Williams nor in Mercedes to the female driver. Another year had passed, George was offered a seat at Mercedes while Mercedes had no news for Y/N L/N. That was until a seat was offered by Red Bull — giving a shock to the whole motorsport world. As Y/N raced for the Red and Blue team , she had flourished and proved everyone who doubted her wrong.

No one knew how George and Y/N’s rivalry exactly started , but all hell broke loose when George collided with Y/N during the 1st lap and both had DNFed the race.

Y/N was furious and snapped , storming into the Mercedes garage straight to where the English driver was standing still holding onto his racing helmet— shoving him with all her strength into the garage wall. Their faces almost touching as unpleasant words were exchanged ; rendering both teams speechless and leaving them with a horrendous PR mess to clean up.

This time was no different. Y/N and George were at each other’s throat, only this time it was Y/N pinned to the wall inside George’s driver room . George tightening his grip on the Red Bull driver’s waist, leaning his full body weight on the girl who was squirming for release.

“What even is the problem Y/N? We’re both on the podium and you’re team got a 1-2. Stop being a child, it’s racing! What do you expect”

“My problem is you Russell! You’re so careless and aggressive, we could’ve crashed again. You never changed, George , you’re still the fucking same!”

George’s eyes darken as his face drew even closer to the female driver— his voice like honey, dripping as it lowered an octave.

“Yeah?!And you changed so fucking much, I don’t even recognize you anymore Y/N! Now all I see is a bitch obsessed with winning. Tough luck! You’re Verstappen’s teammate, you will always be second.”

Not backing down , Y/n drew herself closer to the english driver ,enough that their noses where touching. A teasing yet derisive smirk formed on her lip, tongue darting out wetting her lips. Catching George’s eyes , as it glanced down towards y/n lips.

“Oh how rich! Coming from the guy who’s living in Lewis Hamilton’s bloody shadow. Like I care what you see me as , you were blind from the very beginning.“

A deep chuckle vibrated in George’s chest , drawing shivers up Y/N’s back , as he said

“ I hate you”

“No, duh Sherlock. I hate you more”

His eyes quickly darting from her eyes to her lips , as if contemplating something. Having enough of his antics and taking matters into her own hands, Y/N fisted his Fireproofs as she brought him down to her level. As their Lips almost touched , rapid knocks on the door distracted them from their daze.

Suddenly realizing their positions , Y/n pushed George away from her. Fuming, the female driver parted ways and left the Mercedes garage with a huff ; wrapping up the first race of the seond half of the season with glares and silent threats. Not realizing what was on each other’s mind

“ Such a rude mouth, what i’d do to shut that up and get a taste”

“I need to control myself. I was ready to pounce on George and have my way with him. Damn him and his perfect hair and golden skin”

The Red Bull and Mercedes driver starting the other half season with pent up anger and sexual tension thick enough to suffocate.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #george russel x reader #mercedes #george russel imagine #george russell #gr63 #red bull formula 1 #red bull racing #f1 imagine #mercedes amg f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 2023 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #george russell x reader #george russell imagine

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russellsppttemplates · 2 months

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Sharing is caring (George Russell)

A long weekend with the Russells

Note: english is not my first language. I know this is very very very overdue, but hopefully it's still enjoyable!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Are you guys doing well back there?", you asked the kids as George drove the four of you up to his parents' house. According to the screen display, you still had a little over an hour until you arrived at George's parents house where you would be staying for the long weekend to enjoy some family time before the season picked up again.

"Does anyone need a bathroom break?", George asked, looking at Olivia and Arthur through the rear view mirror, "I'm fine", Olivia chirped in, "me too, I'm okay", Arthur added.

"You're doing okay, too?", George asked you, hand on your thigh as he drove, "I'm fine. I never want to say it too loud, but I think morning sickness stopped two weeks ago", you added.

"Little one has had enough causing raucous", George whispered, turning his attention back to the road ahead.

"We're nearly there, right, daddy?", Arthur asked as he recognised the streets as the car approached his grandparents' house, "yes, we just turn here and at the end there", George replied as you texted your mother in-law, letting her know to open the big gate so no one had to get out of the car.

"Guys, you're here! Did you have a good trip?", Allison welcomed you into the house, hugging the kids who immediately ran and hugged her legs, "grandma!!", they excitedly said.

"We did, it was fine. There was a little traffic at the end, but we were so close I think it barely bothered us", you said as you greeted Steve, walking inside the house and making sure the kids left their shoes by the door.

"I'm going to take the bags upstairs", George said, kissing your forehead, "I'll be right back", he smiled as you ushered Olivia and Arthur to the bathroom, "Y/N, here, darling, our some slippers on!", Allison offered.

Since Allison and Steve lived on their own again, as every child had now fled the nest, they updated the bedrooms, you and George staying in the guest bedroom with a double bed and the kids occupying the room they had for whenever the grandchildren stayed over.

"Lunch is ready, so when you can come down, we're waiting for you", George's mother called him as he helped you sort out the room for your children, "we'll be down in a little, thanks!".

After eating and helping tidying the kitchen, George took the kids out to the garden, hoping to use up their energy since they spent the whole morning inside a car.

"Is the swing alright, dad?", George questioned, "yes, me and Benjy sorted it out a few weeks ago. It's good as new", he answered, prompting George to take the kids to the renovated swing set.

When he was younger, he didn't spend too much time at home since racing required him to spend a lot of time away, but the times he did spend back home were filled with memories os this swing.

"Is this the old swing you told us about?", Arthur said, unsure of the whole apparatus since he heard stories from when his father and his uncle and aunt were much younger.

"Yes, me and uncle Benjy used to spend a lot of time here with auntie Cara, too! Who wants to go first?", he said as Olivia volunteered.

"It's safe, Arthur, see?", she said as she balanced her body back and forth, making her brother feel a little more comfortable with the whole thing, "I'll share it with you later, okay?".

"Sharing is important", George began, "and the fact that you guys always share is very nice, me and mummy are very proud of you", he said as Arthur picked some flowers from the grass and gave some to Olivia.

"We're siblings, of course we share everything", Arthur said naturally. It was true. For him, even if Olivia picked on his buttons a few times, he wouldn't ever not want to share something with her.

"Would you want to share your things with somebody else?", George tried as the kiss both looked at him like they didn't know what he was on about, "what I means is, would you mind having to share your things with someone else?", he clarified.

The pregnancy news were still between you and George, excluding your doctor. Because the kids could easily spill the news to somebody else and you had been specially careful so the news would stay between the people you wanted to until the doctor considered it was okay.

"I always share with my friends, too. But yesterday I had all the grapes mummy cut up for me because they were really good and I really wanted them", Arthur admitted as Olivia quirked a brow, "I think we could, yes. Even our toys, we share them too", Olivia added.

George seemed satisfied enough with the answers, hoping that when you broke the news they wouldn't have a complete meltdown.

"C'mon, Liv, it's Arthur's turn", George requested gently, the girl hopping off so her brother could have a go.

"What is mummy doing?", your son asked, "she was helping grandma with tonight's dinner when I asked if she wanted to come with us", George offered.

When they arrived back in time to have a quick shower and get ready for family dinner, you and George dressed them in comfortable clothes since it was just close family. Once they started arriving, the kids found their spot on the floor of the living room, playing with toys and colouring books while the adults caught up with eachother.

"Y/N! I haven't seen you in so long!", Cara said as she came up to you for a hug, "we've been busy, but we managed to sort some time out to come up here", you smiled, offering her the little pastries you had been working on with your mother in-law, "these are delicious!".

Excusing yourself from the group, you went to check on the kids, sitting on the sofa and getting a few cuddles from your nieces and nephews, "auntie Y/N!", one of them gasped, "you almost fell asleep while I was showing you my drawing", he said as Arthur snickered, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, you can show me again, please", you offered, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes.

"Darling, do you want some wine? We found your favourite in the shops the other day, Steve bought a couple of bottles", your mother in-law smiled as she stretched her arm to receive your glass when you were all in the dining room, "I don't, thank you for thinking of me, though", you smiled, exchanging a look with George that wasn't missed by his sister.

"I saw that!", Cara pointed out, "what was that?!", she questioned her brother, knowing he would break under her stare.

"Y/N has something to tell you", he quickly offered, passing the ball to your court as you felt everyone's eyes on you.

"This is not how it was supposed to go, but there wasn't a proper plan either, so... we are having a baby!", you announced, unfolding your leggings and letting your small baby bump show.

"Oh my goodness, another baby!", Allison cooed as your children looked at George for confirmation, "you're going to have a little brother, guys!", he said as they ran to hug you baby bump.

"I noticed your tummy was bigger, but I just thought you had a big lunch!", Arthur said, delighting everyone as they laughed, George watching everyone congratulate you before also congratulating him, "congratulations, darling", his mother kissed his cheek.

"We've been a little more careful this time around, did all the tests and in the blood test, the doctor told us were having a little boy", you smiled, kissing the top of your kids' heads as they latched onto your sides.

"Well, we can celebrate with the wine still! Some juice for you, Y/N", Steve poured in your cup.

When it came to bedtime, the kids didn't want to sleep in a separate room from you, and since the bed was big enough, you allowed them to sleep with you and George.

"That's what I'm saying, guys. It doesn't mean mummy is sick, but it means she needs our help more, she won't be able to do all things at once and it's our job to make sure she rests, as well", you heard your husband tell the kids while you brushed your teeth in the en suite bathroom.

"Time for sleep, kids", you said, lying down on the mattress, you and George brushing each of their hairs as they switched off, almost like a button, "they used up all their energy today", George began, "Did you know these two were wondering how they could help you, because they were worried that you are tired. You even fell asleep on the sofa..!", George tried his best to mimick his nephew shocked expression, earning one of your beautiful laughs.

"I love them so much", you sighed, "and I love you", you kissed his lips.

Kissing your forehead, George's hand managed to reach your bump despite the little boy latching on you like a koala and your daughter lying on top of him, drawing random shapes on it, "not as much as I love all of you".

#george russell imagine #george russell fanfic #george russell x reader #george russell fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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il-miele-che-scrive · 4 months

Text

Drunken Mistakes

charles leclerc x reader x george russell summary: in the aftermath of a breakup, y/n and charles try to reconnect, but y/n makes a mistake, leading to a heartbreaking confession words count: 3k warnings: mentions of alcohol

The argument that led to Y/n and Charles' breakup started innocently enough. Charles had noticed his girlfriend was focusing on her job so much that they barely had time for each other. He couldn't remember the last time she attended his race.

"You never have time for me anymore." The man said. "I feel like we're growing apart."

"Me?" The girl scoffed. "Let me remind you, during the season you're in a different country every weekend."

"That's my job, Y/n, I am a formula one driver in case you forgot. But now the season is over and I want to spend time with my girlfriend."

"You knew what you were getting into when we started dating." Y/n argued, her tone defensive.

"You used to come to the most of my races!"

"Work has been tough, there's a lot to do." Her eyes avoided his gaze.

"Why do you care about it so much? It's not like you need money, I could buy you anthing you want."

"This isn't about money, Charles. It's about my career, my ambitions. I have goals too, you know?"

"But what about us? I miss you, Y/n. I miss us."

The room fell into a heavy silence. Y/n could see the pain in Charles' eyes, mirroring her own sadness.

Charles spoke after a moment of silence. "Maybe we're just not right for each other."

Y/n felt a lump in her throat as she searched for the right words. At one point she questioned if she heard that right. Charles was breaking up with her.

Charles regretted his own words, but his pride wouldn't let him take them back. He knew breaking up wasn't the only solution

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes, but she tried to hold them back. "I never thought it would come to this." She admitted, her voice cracking.

"Sometimes, people change. Maybe we're just not the same people we fell in love with." Charles' voice was tinted with with sorrow.

In the following days, the space between Y/n and Charles grew wider, both emotionally and physically. They lived together, so the girl decided to pack her things and move out. It was hard, but not impossible to find a place in a matter of hours. And thanks to being hardworking, she didn't have to worry too much about the cost.

The problem was, she kept seeing Charles everywhere, in all social medias. Even after unfollowing each other, Y/n kept seeing news about him, pictures from events. The constant reminders made moving on way the more challenging.

In an attempt to break free from this loop, Y/n decided to put herself in a different kind of atmosphere. One night the idea of using alcohol as a temporary remedy for her heartache crossed her mind.

Dressed for the occasion, Y/n stepped into a bar. It was full of people, too many people for the possibility of being recognized by someone she could've known.

"What can I get you tonight?" The bartender asked as the girl sat down on a stool by the bar.

"Surprise me." She replied, a smile playing on her lips.

As the bartender began making a drink for her, Y/n allowed herself to look around the room. It was then that her eyes caught sight of someone familiar approaching her.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Y/n!"

George Russell. Not a close friend of Charles, but certainly an acquiantance of his. Y/n exchanged a word or two with him in the past, but didn't know him as well as she knew Carlos or Lando, who were closer with her ex-boyfriend.

"Nice to see you, George," Y/n sent the man a smile as he sat down on the stool next to her.

"What brings you here?" He asked, a curious glint in his eyes

"Needed to change my routine a little," she replied, accepting her drink from the bartender.

"How have you been holding up? Charles mentioned the breakup to me, but I didn't want to pry."

Not to mention it was all over the media, Y/n added in her thoughts.

Y/n sighed. "It's the reason why I'm here, what do you think?" She took a sip from her drink.

George leaned back, a sympathetic expression on his face. "Breakups are never easy. I can imagine it's been tough for you."

"It's the adjustment, you know?" Y/n continued, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "Getting used to the idea that the person you once shared everything with is now just a memory."

The man nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I've been through a few breakups myself. It's never easy."

Y/n found herself drawn to George's charm and the way he made her feel understood. His presence carried some kind of comfort that eased the ache in her heart.

George on the other hand, catching a glimpse of Y/n's eyes, found himself captivated by the vulnerability. The girl let herself be so open, talking about her breakup and the pain it brought.

"You know what, Y/n? Let me get you another drink." George said, a playful twinkle in his eyes.

Y/n smiled. "Sure, why not?"

George leaned against the counter, engaging in a brief exchange of words with the bartender, later turned his attention back to Y/n. "I've got this one," he declared with a charming grin.

The atmosphere between the two of them grew intimate as they continued the conversation with another drink. A subtle connection lingered between Y/n and George.

In a moment of unspoken tension, George's eyes met Y/n's with a hint of something more, longing for an intimacy that went beyond mere conversation.

Their faces drew closer, the anticipation building up. Y/n had come to the bar seeking a distraction and it seemed she was on the brink of finding it.

A moment of silence embraced them, a comfortable one. One in which drowned even the ambiance of the lively bar. The music, still loud, became a distant background.

Y/n closed her eyes, preparing to connect her lips with George's. But just as their breaths mingled, George hesitated, pulling back.

Instead of diving into a kiss, George surprised her by leaning back and asking, "How about we continue this conversation somewhere a bit more private?"

Y/n looked at him. "Like what?" She asked.

"My place is somewhat close."

Y/n's curiosity and the unspoken tension between them pushed her to agree. "Lead the way."

The city streets seemed to sway gently around Y/n and George as they made their way to his place. The night air carried a cold breeze, but the warmth of the alcohol kept them unaware of it.

Arriving at George's place, the quiet hum of the city outside was replaced by the comforting cosiness of his home. The dim lights embracing them in a romantic atmosphere.

George turned to Y/n after locking the door. Not moving from the hallway, they smiled at each other. George walked closed, causing Y/n to step back and eventually her back touched the wall.

Y/n's hands landed on George's shoulders, pulling the man even closer. Their eyes met and soon after that, their lips connected in a short kiss.

A quiet, tipsy giggle escaped from Y/n's mouth. George gently grabbed the girl by her wrist and led her into the living room. Sitting down on the sofa, he placed his hands on Y/n's hips, causing her to land in his lap.

As they embraced the tipsy intimacy, the living room became a sanctuary for yet another kiss. One that lasted way longer. One that had their clothes scattered around on the floor.

Closed curtains successfully stopped the morning light from getting inside the room. Y/n opened her eyes. She slept wrapped up in George's arms, so she carefully detangled herself from his embrace to sit up. Of course she didn't drink enough to not remember what happened.

Although she wished she did. A mix of guilt and regret washed over Y/n as she looked around. The cosy atmosphere that felt so comforting the night before now seemed to emphasize the reality of the situation.

Her eyes landed on George who was still peacefully asleep. Y/n didn't know what to do, she's never been in such situation before.

Water. She needed water. Her throat felt like a desert.

The girl quietly walked to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of tap water. Somehow, her phone was on the countertop. She grabbed the device to check for any missed calls or messages left without a reply.

Her heart sunk when she saw missed calls and a few texts from Charles. What could he have wanted? Y/n hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to return the calls or respond to the texts. The weight of guilt intensified as she listened to Charles' voicemails.

Hey, Y/n, it's Charles. I know we're broken up and you probably hate me, but something kept telling me to call you. Call me back when you can, I miss you.

If you're not up for talking, just send me a text to let me know you're okay. I care about you and I want to make sure you're safe.

Y/n, it's Charles again. I'm not sure what's going on, but I've been trying to reach you all night. I just want to make sure you're safe

Y/n, it's Charles. I've left several messages, and I'm starting to think the worst. Please, just give me a sign that you're alright. I care about you a lot and not knowing is really getting to me

"What have I done?" Y/n whispered to herself. The guilt consumed her, overshadowing the moments of happiness she successfully looked for the night before.

Anxiety started to build up in her chest and her eyes were starting to get a bit watery. She hesitated, but eventually decided to return the calls, hoping George won't wake up to witness this.

"Y/n, where were you? I've been trying to reach you all night." Charles questioned.

"I needed some alone time." Y/n began, stammering a bit. "I don't have to explain my choices and actions to you, especially now."

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line and Y/n could almost sense Charles processing her words.

"Y/n, we need to talk. This isn't fair to either of us," he finally said.

I don't wanna see you ever again, Y/n wished she said. Her words came out a bit differently however.However, her words came out a bit differently. "Fine, let's talk." Because no matter what she did, she missed Charles.

"Could you come over today? It's so, I don't know, weird to talk about it on the phone."

"Sure. When could I come over?"

"As soon as you can, maybe? If that's alright for you."

"Give me an hour or so, I'll be there." And with that, she hung up.

Just as the conversation was finished, George walked into the kitchen. He looked at Y/n with a warm smile that gradually faded as he sensed the tension.

"Morning," he said with a rasp in his voice, "are you okay?"

Y/n sighed, running a hand through her hair. She decided to be honest with George, he deserved it after all. "We need to talk about what happened yesterday."

"Yeah, about that..." he scratched his neck, "I don't want to give you any kind of hope or-"

"Wait, what? Was it meaningless to you?"

"Ah, here it comes. Well, I'm not looking for anything... romantic. Not now. We can do what we did last night more often, but no strings attached."

These words gave Y/n a sense of relief. "You don't know how glad I am that this didn't mean anything to you."

Y/n's confession hung in the air, creating an awkward pause between her and George.

"Are you being sarcastic?" He asked. "I don't want to complicate things further or lead you on."

"No, no sarcasm at all. Actually, I've just talked to Charles on the phone."

"Oh, and? What did he want?"

"He was worried, tried contacting me last night too many times. And... well, I'm meeting him today. He wants to talk."

"Ah, that's never good. Do you think he'll want to get back together?"

Y/n took a deep breath. The answer was yes, she did expect Charles to get back together. However, she didn't know if she should tell that to George.

Considering the silence on Y/n's side, George continued. "Do you wanna get back together with him? It didn't seem like it last night," a sly smile appeared on his face.

"I... I'm not sure, George. Charles and I have a history and there are feelings involved, but things have been complicated lately." Y/n replied, choosing her words carefully.

"Relationships are messy and figuring out what you want is important. Just be honest with yourself."

With George's words echoing in her mind, Y/n gathered her thoughts and headed to meet Charles. She stopped by her own place beforehand to make herself look decent.

"Hey," he greeted her, as he opened his door to let her in. There was an expression of concern on his face.

Charles didn't look better than Y/n that morning. His hair was disheveled, he looked as if he wasn't able to get good sleep in the past few days nor did he shave his face.

"I was worried sick," he admitted, "what happened? Why didn't you answer earlier?"

"Jesus, Charles, I was busy. Besides it's not very ex-boyfriend of you to call me a thousand times in a row."

The air inside the apartment felt heavy. In an awkward silence, Y/n and Charles settled on the couch.

"I care about you, Y/n. Damn it, I love you." The man broke the silence. "I don't think the breakup was a good idea."

"Well, it was your idea..."

"I make mistakes, we all do, but it's nothing that cannot be fixed, right?"

You're gonna hate what I'm about to tell you, Y/n thought. She could see the sincerity in his eyes and it made her feel so much guilt.

"Charles, I... I appreciate your honesty and I care about you too," she began, "so I need to tell you what happened yesterday."

Charles ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "I know we had issues, but I still believe we can work through them. I love you, Y/n, and I can't just let go."

Y/n took a deep breath. "Don't say that."

"Why not? That's the truth, I love you and I've never regretted anything as much as I regret breaking up with you."

"Charles, stop." Her voice raised slightly, but then she lowered it back to normal. "I did... something last night and... It was a mistake, but it happened, I cannot hide it from you."

Charles nodded. "Then tell me, but I swear nothing can change my mind."

"Okay..." Y/n hesitated, looking for the words that would hurt the least. "Last night I went out, drank probably more than I should've and I... ended up spending the night with someone."

Charles didn't reply for a long time, a mix of shock and hurt crossed his face. The room seemed to close in on Charles and Y/n as the silence stretched.

"You... you what?" Charles finally said, his voice a fragile whisper.

Y/n felt her chest tighten as she faced the consequences of her actions. "Charles, I know this is difficult to hear and I'm so sorry. It was a drunken mistake, I didn't realize what I was doing."

"Do I know him?"

"What?"

"Do I know him?" His voice raised. "If you told me you did it, you can tell me who you did it with."

Y/n hesitated, realizing the added layer of pain she brought. "It was someone you know," she admitted, "George."

"George? George Russell? Really?" Charles's voice carried a tint of anger and hurt. "You could choose any guy, but you decided to go for him?"

"I didn't plan it, it was a mistake and I regret it."

"And you have the audacity to come here, probably straight from his place?"

"You wanted to see me."

"I had no idea you fucked Russell!"

"You said we can work through our issues. It's not a mistake that cannot be fixed, right?" Y/n pleaded, her eyes starting to tear up. She was surprised she managed to keep herself from crying for so long.

"I don't know anymore, Y/n," Charles sighed. "I love you, but I don't think you realize the weight of what you've done."

"I understand, Charles. I truly am sorry," Y/n cried, her voice shaky with emotion.

"No, Y/n, just stop. I can't believe this is happening, I need time to process it. I think it's better if you leave."

Y/n felt her relationship with Charles crumbling beneath the weight of her mistake.

Charles's gaze was distant, the pain in his eyes echoing the depth of his hurt. "Y/n, I need time to figure out if we can move past this. Right now it's too much."

Tears started to slowly run down Y/n's cheeks as the reality started to sink it. "I never meant to hurt you like this, Charles. I love you and-"

"I need space, Y/n," Charles said with a heavy sigh. "I need to process everything. Please, just go."

It felt like a dagger through Y/n's heart, but she nodded. Deep down she understood it. With a heavy heart, she stood up, casting one last look at the man she still loved. She left Charles to deal with the aftermath of their mutual pain.

Each step away from Charles felt like a step into an uncertain future, leaving behind the comfort of what was familiar. Y/n couldn't shake the guilt and regret that devoured her, questioning if there was any way to fix what she had broken.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #george russell #george russel x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader

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ginnsbaker · 7 months

Text

puppy love

Summary: Set in the ILGOSS Universe: On a whim, after a conference just outside Manhattan, you stumbled into a nearby shelter. There, you discovered the ideal present for Wanda's 25th birthday. The gift in question is a lively six-month-old Jack Russell Terrier...

...or just a short, bedtime story about how Sparky came into your lives

Word count: 1.7K+ | Tags: Fluff, ILGOSS Universe, Puppy kisses, Wife kisses

A/N: Requested by @icecreamchips ; it was briefly mentioned in ILGOSS chapter 15 that Sparky was from a shelter and our gift to Wanda's 25th birthday, this is just a one shot about that time we were sneaky and impulsive :)

Masterlist

You've always dreamt of having kids.

This desire only grew stronger once you met and married Wanda, and the idea of having a family of your own turned into an actual possibility. Though the two of you have lightly touched upon the subject of starting a family, you're still newlyweds and are both finding your footing in your respective careers. Growing up without siblings and distant relations with cousins, the allure of a big family was always strong for you.

So, on a whim, after a conference just outside Manhattan, you stumbled into a nearby shelter. There, you discovered the ideal present for Wanda's 25th birthday. The gift in question is a lively six-month-old Jack Russell Terrier with a curious glint in his eyes. The shelter staff had endearingly named him Max because of his maximum energy levels. When you picked him up, your pulse quickened at the thought of introducing him to Wanda. Adopting a pet is a serious commitment, but Wanda has expressed her fondness for dogs before and had one while growing up.

When Wanda arrives and the door swings open, you hold your breath, waiting for her reaction. But before you can gently present Max to her, his little legs propel him forward, eager to shower her with puppy kisses. It seems as though he innately knows this is his chance at a forever home, and he is determined to charm her.

Wanda looks utterly surprised. As she crouches to return the puppy's greeting, her gaze flits between Max and you. Her face mirrors the shock and confusion of the moment, only intensified as Max enthusiastically licks her. The only other time you've seen her this taken aback was when she found out her favorite sandwich joint was closing.

“When… how… why is he here?” she stammers, her big eyes trying to piece together the scene. Now, she's settled into a kneeling position on the floor, letting the dog shower her with affection.

“He likes you,” you remark, sidestepping her obvious need for answers.

Wanda gently keeps the dog from overwhelming her any further, and he contentedly settles in her lap, focusing his attention on licking her wrist.

“Y/N.”

The way Wanda says your name makes your stomach clench. It's not angry, but it's not entirely pleased either. It's a tone that lands somewhere in the middle, like you're teetering on the edge of her patience. You swallow, racking your brain for the best way to explain this unexpected addition.

You attempt a smile, crouching to pet Max, who has now jumped out of Wanda’s lap and is now eagerly circling Wanda. “Remember the conference near Manhattan I mentioned? Well, I might've taken a tiny detour.”

“A ‘tiny detour’? That leads to adopting a puppy?”

Max barks softly, as if wanting to be a part of the conversation. His antics draw a chuckle from you, but you’re quickly trying to keep the conversation on track.

Wanda is on the verge of saying something else when she feels the dog tug at the hem of her shirt, coming dangerously close to ripping it. Your eyes widen in horror as you reprimand the tiny creature, yelling, “Max, no!”

Startled by the sudden sternness in your voice, Max quickly seeks refuge behind Wanda, peeking out timidly from around her waist.

“You named him Max?” Wanda asks wearily, brushing her fingers against the back of his ears, coaxing him out of his hiding.

You shrug. “The staff at the shelter named him.” Only now, with the look on Wanda's face, do you recall that during a stint in college, she went by the same name among her sorority sisters.

“So, uh, yeah…” You clear your throat, the words feeling a tad awkward as they tumble out, now that the grand introduction of Wanda to her birthday surprise isn't panning out quite as you'd envisioned. “Happy birthday, uh, he’s—”

“He’s mine?” Wanda asks, looking down at Max fondly despite her apprehension.

You smile softly at them, your heart warming at the sight. “Yes, but if you're having second thoughts…”

You're half-expecting Wanda to quickly reassure you, to say everything is okay and that Max can stay. However, she remains silent, lost in her thoughts for a few lingering moments.

“Thank you, but uhm, I… I just wasn't expecting this," she finally says, her voice gentle, not wanting to hurt your feelings. She runs her fingers through Max's fur, who has emerged fully to curl up against Wanda’s side, a soft smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “It's a big responsibility, you know? A living, breathing being that will depend on us.”

“I know. It wasn't a decision I took lightly. And I realize now that maybe I should've consulted with you first.”

“You should’ve,” Wanda says, her lips forming a firm line. “We both have jobs. I'm part-time, which means there will be times he'll be left alone here.”

You take a deep breath, acknowledging her concerns. “I know. I did think about that, and I did some research. Jack Russells are independent and can handle being alone for short periods. And… well, I thought maybe we could look into a doggy daycare or even a dog walker for the times we both can't be around.”

Max looks up at Wanda, his tail wagging slowly, as if sensing the serious nature of the conversation and trying to endear himself further.

Wanda, after a brief pause, says, “Let's give it a try. For a week. If we find we can't manage or give him the life he deserves, he'll have to go back.” She hesitates before adding, “And I'm sorry, Y/N.”

“No, I should be the one apologizing,” you say, your head hanging low, feeling embarrassed by your impulsiveness.

Wanda frowns at the guilty look on your face. Slowly, she extends a hand towards you. “Come here,” she says softly. You step closer as directed, and she pulls you down to sit beside her on the floor, then wraps her arms around you in a comforting embrace. After a moment, she pulls back slightly and plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

“He is pretty cute, you know,” Wanda gives you a small smile, her gaze drifting down to Max. “But we’re not going to name him ‘Max’”.

You laugh softly. “Fine. Anything else you want for your birthday?”

Wanda’s eyes darken at that, before tugging you by the hand and leading you toward the bedroom.

The week unfolds in an unexpected way:

Suddenly, your boss drops the news that you're being pulled from the background to spearhead a crucial presentation for the stakeholder's quarterly meeting. Consequently, you find yourself anchored to the office more often than you're at home.

Which means for Max's trial week, Wanda is the one primarily left to manage things at the apartment.

On the final night of Max’s trial week, and after another particularly grueling day at work, you arrive home much later than anticipated. The kitchen sink shines, void of even a stray dish or glass. There's a pot of beef stew still giving off warmth on the stove, with a handwritten note from Wanda. It tells you to dig in if you're hungry, but if you've already had dinner, to ensure it's stored back in the fridge. You smile at the domesticity of it all—you still can’t wrap your head around the fact that Wanda is your wife and you get to come home to her notes and her cooking, and that ever-uncapped toothpaste tube she forgets about in the bathroom.

The apartment is dark, save for the faint glow of streetlights seeping through the gaps in the curtains. You gingerly make your way to the bedroom, trying your best to be as silent as possible, hoping not to disturb Wanda. As you carefully slide into bed, trying to snuggle up to Wanda, you're met with an unexpected obstacle. A lump—warm, soft, and clearly not your wife. You cautiously reach out, your fingers encountering the familiar feel of fur.

Max.

The movements wake Wanda, who turns groggily towards you, her eyes barely open. She manages a sleepy smile. “Welcome home, baby,” she murmurs.

“Sorry for being so late again,” you whisper back, trying to reach for Wanda over the dog but the strain on your back and the uncomfortable angle causes you to inevitably stay where you are.

She stretches a hand out to cup your face, her thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “It's alright,” she reassures you, glancing at the dog nestled between the two of you. “Sparky kept me company.”

“Sparky?” You raise an eyebrow in playful confusion.

Wanda shrugs sleepily. “He seems to like the name better. Don't you, Sparky?” she coos.

In answer, the Jack Russell Terrier stretches out, giving Wanda a sloppy lick on her cheek, earning a small giggle from her. With that little display of affection, Sparky curls up once more, his eyes fluttering closed as he nestles closer to Wanda.

“Hey, Sparky,” you grumble jokingly, narrowing your eyes at the dog, “that's my spot.”

“Maybe just let him sleep there for tonight,” she suggests, laughing softly when Sparky keeps his eyes closed and continues to ignore you.

The soft smile on your face fades just a hint, and the question in your eyes is clear—is Sparky staying for good?

Wanda reads the look on your face easily and adds, “He can sleep at the foot of the bed tomorrow. And every day after that.”

Relief and happiness wash over you. You really were hoping for Wanda to keep her gift. You lean over the small distance between you and Wanda, stretching across Sparky to plant a sweet kiss on her lips. She returns it eagerly, her hand finding your cheek to pull you closer. But before the kiss could escalate into something more, she gently presses a hand to your chest.

“Good night, baby,” you whisper against her lips, your smile resurfacing.

“I love you,” she murmurs softly in return, her eyes already closing once more as sleep claims her.

As you lay back against your pillow, Sparky's soft snoring filling the quiet room, a warmth spreads through your chest.

You’ve always dreamt of having kids. But even without them right now, it doesn't mean your family feels any less complete. After all, you have Wanda, and that's its own kind of perfection.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #oneshots #wanda maximoff au #fic request #ilgoss oneshot

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works-of-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

“Give it a Year.” || George Russell x Reader

Summary: George wants to ask the reader an important question, but he has to wait for the right time.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None.

a/n: hey loves! so it’s been a good year since I last wrote something, but reading everyone’s f1 posts has got me experiencing some serious fomo. I apologise if this isn’t my best work! I’m new to the f1 side of tumblr, but I hope you like this :)

“We’ve only been together a month…” I reminded George, the champagne clearly going to his head, making nonsense spill out of his mouth. He shuffled his feet further up the wall as he adjusted his position, the two of us hanging upside-down on the sofa and giggling maniacally as we polished off our second bottle of the evening. I couldn’t tell if the dizziness was the effect of the champagne or the blood rushing to my head, as I ran my fingers through my hair, shaking it out and sighing deeply.

“Yes, but we’ve known each other for eight.” He protested, nudging my right foot with his left, making me slip down the sofa slightly. I shrieked, quickly reaching down behind my head to catch myself. George snorted with laughter as he slid his hand underneath my head to catch me, giving me a little push so I could regain my balance. I swung my legs to the left, giving me enough momentum to flip my body upright and sit normally. I looked down at George’s red face and his eyes were closed as he drunkenly hummed a tune to himself. I crossed my legs, reaching over to the side table to sip the remnants of my drink from the bottom of the flute.

“George, sit up. The veins in your forehead look like they’re about to pop.” I grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him up, but the alcohol in my system as well as his made his body feel three times heavier. He swung his body back and forth a couple of times, hoisting himself onto the sofa cushion and messily turning around until he landed beside me, his head lazily resting on my shoulder.

“So what do you say? Summer wedding?” He suggested, planting a kiss between my neck and shoulder, his lips rubbing against my t-shirt. I pushed his head off of me, catching him by his chest and holding him in front of me. He blinked slowly, his mouth upturned in an almost perfectly crescent-shaped smile like a cartoon. “Be my wife.”

“You’re drunk, George.”

“So are you!”

“Not drunk enough to get engaged.” I stood up and shakily took both glasses to the sink, rinsing them quickly and leaving them in the bathroom. The hotel room was stuffy and hot, the humid air coming through the window doing us no favours. With no hesitation, I slipped my shorts off and stumbled back to the sofa in just my underwear and t-shirt, fanning myself with my hands. “I bet you use that line on all the girls.”

“Which girls?” George sat up, mouth agape, feigning shock. “Not everyone is special enough to warrant a proposal!”

“What? And I am?”

“Absolutely.” He lunged forward and grabbed my hand, pressing a wet kiss to my palm then the tip of my forefinger. I smiled, his lips tickling my skin and the alcohol only making me more sensitive to his touch. “I’ll get you to say ‘yes’ one day.”

“Give it a year.”

“A year! That’s too long.”

“You are so impatient! Deep down, the George Russell I know would be disappointed if I said yes too easily. We both know you’d want to plan it out properly.” I pinched his cheek and he drew back, looking down and laughing.

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re totally right.” He admitted, his hands finding my knees to trace patterns on them. I flinched at first but settled into it, letting silence wash over our intoxicated selves.

“Shall we go to bed?” I asked quietly. George nodded and pressed his nose against my arm like a sleepy pet cat. “Let’s try and get some sleep. I’ll put the fan on.”

“Should I wear the white or the black?” I pondered, asking George for the second time as I stood in front of the mirror and switched between the two shirts on their hangers. “The black makes me look slimmer, but the white is better for this weather.”

George scoffed, and I caught a glimpse of him in the mirror behind me, shaking his head. “What’s so funny?” I asked, turning around and dropping both shirts down to my sides. “This is the penultimate race of the season! This is an important choice.”

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound? ‘The black makes me look slimmer.’” He mocked, adopting a higher voice which sounded nothing like me. “You know you look great in either, but white would be the better choice.”

“White it is.” I smiled, tucking the black one back into the closet and slipping the white shirt over my head. I looked back in the mirror and smoothed it out, tucking one side into my jeans to give it a little more shape. George appeared behind me, hands on my hips and chin resting on my head.

“You wear the Mercedes shirt better than me.” He kissed my hair as he gave my hips a gentle squeeze. “I have a good feeling about today.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he buried his face into the back of my hair, pulling me closer so my back was flush against his chest. Watching him in the mirror made me feel somewhat shy, so I closed my eyes and leaned against him, enjoying the last few minutes before we had to leave.

I tapped his hand twice, prompting him to stand back and let go. “We need to get going.” I said, throwing my bag over my shoulder before passing George his backpack. I quickly scanned the room to ensure we hadn’t forgotten anything, then followed him out of the door.

The routine was the same as always. We arrived at the track a good few hours before the race and George disappeared as usual. I mingled a little and spoke to those I recognised, before finding a table in hospitality and settling in. More friendly faces came and went as the time passed, and I was just happy to be out of the humidity and under some air-conditioning. I’ve always enjoyed our race day routine. I join George as much as I can and try to catch as many of his races as possible, and I’m just happy to be present and supporting him. It doesn’t matter to me how long everything takes. I like looking around each circuit and taking in the different layouts, watching the teams do press and catching up with everyone. I still feel like an excited kid with a VIP pass every time I walk through the gates.

Time seemed to fly, and before I knew it, I was stood by George wishing him luck for the last time before the race. “Starting in pole, I’m so proud of you.” I beamed, stretching up to press a kiss to his cheek. His lips were pressed into a tight smile, his eyes still flicking around nervously at everyone; the other drivers, mechanics, reporters. His suit hung on his hips as he clung onto his drink, fighting the urge to chew on the straw. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not.” He snapped out of his little trance, his eyes finally meeting mine. I smiled, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’m good. I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’ll be here when you cross the finish line.”

“I know.” Someone drifted past him and took his drink away, swapping it out for his helmet. He tucked it under his arm and ducked down to kiss me, lightly pecking my lips followed by the corner of my mouth as he always does. “I love you. Thank you for being here.”

“Ditto. Now go.” I patted his chest and he flashed me one more smile before merging into the crowd. I went and found my seat and snapped a few pictures to commemorate the day. The wait for the race to start always feels like the longest minutes of my life. I think it’s probably down to a mixture of nerves and excitement. I love to see George race and do what he loves, but I can’t help being a little nervous for him every time. You couldn’t pay me enough money to get in one of those cars!

I still remember the first race I ever attended by George’s side. I pretty much latched onto him at the start of the day and didn’t let go until he was being pulled away to get into his car. I felt so out of place and didn’t know how to behave around everyone. He introduced me to so many people and all I could do was smile and nod at everything they were saying as if I understood every word. I was far too nervous to speak more than a couple sentences at a time, and I was dreading the moment I had to see him shoot off at such a dangerous speed. It’s a weird feeling seeing the one you love squeezing into that driver’s seat. Your heart swells with pride whilst your head spins at all the possibilities of what could happen on the track. I remember waving at him like a parent seeing off their child, scared to take my eyes off of him for one second. His family had joined us later that day and tried to whisk me away and calm me down. I had updates coming through my phone in case I missed any announcements on the track itself, and any whispers amongst the crowd pricked at my ears if I heard so much as the number 63 mentioned. I’ve gotten more used to it now and witnessed my fair share of hiccups and accidents in the races, but they don’t come without their tears and me eventually scolding George for making me worry.

The cars found their starting positions soon after the formation lap. I quickly slid my arms into the jacket George had given me, the sleeves stretching way past my hands so I rolled them up the best I could, making sure not to take my eyes off the track. Seconds later, the lights went out and all twenty drivers disappeared from view, the rumbling engines and screeching tyres growing further away. My eyes stayed fixed on the track, waiting for George’s car to pass by. The first lap always feels the longest, and I won’t lie and say I don’t sit with my fingers crossed waiting for those few seconds when he flies past me and into the distance once again.

By the last few laps, I was on the edge of my seat and praying for George to keep his position at the front. When the chequered flag waved above his car, I sprung out of my seat and squealed, hands coming from every direction to pat me on the shoulders and celebrate with me. I dashed out of my seat, squeezing past everyone on my row and practically diving down the stairs. The entire Mercedes team bolted out of the garage, hugging each other and jumping up and down excitedly at their 1-2 finish.

As soon as George emerged from his car, he threw his hands up in the air, evoking more screams and applause from the crowd. My hands started to feel sore from the constant clapping, but all I could focus on was George and the team relishing in their moment. It felt like forever until he finally reached where I was standing, hugging and shaking hands with several mechanics. He took his helmet off and passed it to the first pair of hands he could find, tugging his balaclava off and shaking his hair out. He scanned the crowd and found me standing at the back, waiting for him to come over. Smiling from ear-to-ear, he weaved through the mass of people and reached out to grab me. I leapt into his arms and he spun me around three times before putting me down and holding my face in his hands. “We did it, Y/N. We did it.” He spoke quietly so only I could hear, his thumbs lightly squeezing my cheeks as he pulled me in for a kiss. His face was sweaty but I didn’t care. I could hardly kiss him properly as I couldn’t alter the grin on my face.

“No, baby. You did it.” I buried my face in his chest and his arms naturally found their way around my neck, holding me close. I could hear his heart pounding in his chest, his body shaking with excitement. “I’m so proud of you.”

He shifted and held me in front of him, squatting to be at eye-level with me. “I’m a race winner… I’m a race winner!” He raised his voice as the reality sunk in. A sea of reporters appeared holding their cameras and microphones, eager to hear from the winner. He gave me a look as if to ask my permission and I nodded enthusiastically.

“This is your moment! Go!” I grabbed his shoulders and flipped him around, nudging him back into the crowd.

Seeing him on the podium was one of the most incredible moments of my life. Lewis and Carlos aimed their champagne at him, soaking him from head to toe. I took probably a hundred photos on my phone, zooming in on his screwed-up face as champagne dripped from his nose and hair. It took nearly an hour for him to finish up in the media pen and taking photos with the team. As soon as he found me again, he pulled me into his driver’s room and sat me down on the sofa. “George, what’s going on? Sit down!” I laughed as he paced the room, unable to calm himself or come to a stop.

“I can’t – not yet. Uh…” He sounded nervous, his fingers digging into his own hips as he dragged his feet along the carpet to his bag in the corner. I tried to see what he was doing but he blocked my view, rummaging around until he sprung back up, back straight and hands behind him.

“George, you’re being weird.”

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be… Gosh, why am I so nervous?”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, about to stand.

“No, no! You stay sat down. I promise I’m OK.”

“OK…” I furrowed my brows, watching him as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He muttered something to himself that I didn’t quite catch, then dropped down to one knee in front of me. I gasped, my back hitting the sofa as he brought his hands around with a small box clutched in his right.

“I’ve been trying to think of the perfect moment to do this for a long time. Since I drunkenly asked you in that hotel room many months ago, it’s been on my mind constantly.” He started, wobbling a little on his knee before finding his balance. “I was going to do it outside earlier but I didn’t want the moment to be lost amongst everything else. I wanted this to just be for us.”

“George…”

“You said to ‘give it a year’. I know it hasn’t quite been that long yet, but I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. I hope you can forgive me.” I playfully slapped his shoulder, making him laugh and inch closer to me. He opened the box and moved it towards me, allowing me to inspect the beautiful diamond inside. My eyes pricked with tears, my cheeks beginning to feel warm and my palms clammy. “Only one thing could make me happier than winning my first race. I love you, Y/N. What do you say to becoming my wife?”

I tried to blink back my tears but it didn’t work. Frantically nodding and with tears streaming down my face, I reached forward and tackled him to the ground, repeating my answer over and over - yes. He grabbed my left arm and brought it over to his so he could slide the ring onto my finger. I sat back and gazed down at my hand in disbelief, the silver band catching the light as I slowly moved my wrist. “It’s beautiful, George. I love it.” I looked back at him and his watery eyes and he scooped me up into another hug, pulling me into his lap and holding me on the floor.

“This is the best day of my life.” He whispered in my ear.

We sat in silence, cherishing the moment and the calm together. We may not have been together a year yet, but I knew what my answer was going to be when he asked me all those months ago. The only reason I didn’t say yes back then was because I wanted to spend a little more time dating George and getting to know him. Little did I know, I can still do that as his wife. And I can’t wait…

#f1 fics #george russell x reader #gr63 x reader #f1 oneshot #f1 x reader

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lilpunkrock · 2 years

Text

Black Silk

Status: One-Shot

Pairing: Jack Russell x Fem!Reader

Words: 4.8k+

AN: There is a heartwrenching lack of Jack Russell content on Tumblr, so I'm here to throw my hat in the ring. Enjoy a whole lot of fluff and, yes, sensual sniffing with everyone's favorite wolf boy.

Read my other Jack Russell works here and here.

Translations:

"Cautivante" — "captivating"

"Mi amada" — "my darling," "my love"

"Señorita" — equivalent of "miss"

"Lo siento" — "I'm sorry"

. . .

When you see the dark figure walking along the side of the bustling highway, you’re sure it’s for the first time. After all, you’ve been driving this route every day for years now; you know it like the back of your hand. In your swiftly moving car—hey, so what if you like driving six miles over the speed limit at all times, sue you—you aren’t able to catch many details. A dark outfit and mop of ruffled hair is all that your mind absorbs in the brief moment you have to gather information. As you fly past, your eyes linger on the figure in your rearview mirror.

Are they lost? Having car trouble? Homeless? Your heart clenches as you watch several other cars pass up stopping for the stranger in addition to your own. You’ve listened to enough true crime podcasts to know some core rules to live by. Sure, none of them explicitly stated, ‘Don’t pick up strangers off the side of the highway,’ but you felt you could gather as much from context clues. Still, as the figure’s form grows smaller in your mirror, you find yourself heaving a reluctant sigh. It’s unusually cold for late October—under forty currently, with a low of twenty-nine degrees expected tonight—and the sun will set in just a handful of hours. If you’re driving with your seat warmers on, you know the stranger must be freezing. You don’t think they were even wearing a coat.

After you’ve pulled off the side of the road, you throw the gear in reverse to close the distance between yourself and your stranger. The figure stops in the glow of your red tail lights, anticipating your approach. When you’re several feet away, you throw the vehicle in park, grab your bottle of pepper spray, and slip out of the car before you can change your mind.

The face that greets you when you turn around is…endearing. Your stranger is a middle-aged man with warm-toned skin, a prominent nose, and a strong, square jaw. His salt-and-pepper hair looks like it’s been freshly touseled, complimenting the dark shadow of stubble along his jaw. His green eyes are wide as he stares at you, his pale pink lips parted in surprise.

Standing here with his startled eyes upon you, you suddenly feel incredibly awkward. Maybe he didn’t want to be helped. Maybe he was perfectly fine walking on the side of the highway. Then, a frigid wind whisks past you, cutting right through your cashmere sweater, and you decide no, there was no way. This guy was dressed in nothing more than a plain black crew neck sweater and dark jeans. It was impossible for him to not be freezing.

“Uh, hi,” you greet him awkwardly with a small, sheepish wave. “I’m sorry, I know this is really abrupt, but I just saw you walking on the side of the road and…aren’t you freezing?”

The stranger’s eyebrows jump upward in surprise. He looks down at his clothes as if wondering to himself, ‘Should I be cold?’ He lifts his head to look at you again. “Uh, no. I’m not, actually.” His voice is soft, lilting slightly with a distinct accent. He offers you a small smile. There’s something about the slight crook of his teeth on the upper left hand side of his mouth that melts the awkwardness from your bones. “I guess you could say I’m pretty warm blooded. I always run a little on the hot side.”

You nod thoughtfully, though you really can’t fathom how he’s not freezing his ass off right now. “Okay. Well, why are you walking out here? Where are you coming from?”

“Ah, my friend and I recently moved here. I live just that way,” he explains with enthusiasm, pointing one hand toward the expansive forest sprawling off the side of the highway.

Your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly. You’ve lived in this area all your life, have spent countless weekends walking the trails in those very woods. You know no one lives within them. Is he homeless, then? you wonder. Deeming it rude to pry, you instead respond, “Oh, okay. Well, is there anywhere you want me to take you?”

The stranger’s eyebrows raise again, as if this thought had never occurred to him. “Actually, I was just walking to town to get coffee for my friend and I. Once a month we have a bit of…a, uh…a wild night, you could say. I was trying to get prepared before dark.”

You purse your lips, debating on how to give him the bad news. He definitely must be new to the area. “Well, I hate to tell you this, mystery man, but you’re moving away from town.” You point your finger in the opposite direction of where he was walking, back toward where you’d driven from. “Town is about twenty minutes that way.”

The stranger’s face falls at your words. Something about the tender disappointment in his expression reminds you of a kicked puppy. Your heart clenches at the sight. “Oh,” he says softly, seemingly at a loss for words.

You offer him a friendly smile, seeking to lift his spirits. “I could drive you, if you wanted.” The words are out of your mouth before you even have time to contemplate them. What the fuck? the logical, true-crime-podcast-obsessed part of your mind hisses. Your pitiful heart pushes back, still insistent on helping this poor, coffee-needing, puppy-esque man.

The stranger’s eyes brighten for a moment, glimmering a brilliant shade of grassy green. But then he lifts his hands, as if in apology. “That is very kind of you, señorita, but I must decline. I really need to be back before dark.” His voice is slightly anxious as he raises his hand to scratch behind one ear.

Señorita. Your heart melts slightly at the word. Why were accents always so damn endearing? You shake your head at him. “Nonsense. If you need to be back before dark, that’s all the more reason for me to take you. You’ll never make it back in time on foot.”

The stranger seems to weigh this hefty truth, nibbling his bottom lip in thought. The crook in his teeth peeks out at you adorably. Staring is rude, you chastise yourself, tearing your eyes from the sight. After a long moment of hesitation, he gives a slow nod. “Alright, you’ve got me. I thank you for your generosity.”

You give him a wide, toothy grin, beckoning him back toward your vehicle. As he climbs into the passenger seat, you quirk an eyebrow at him expectantly. “No thanks needed, mystery man. I will, however, require payment in the form of your name.”

The stranger gets to work making himself comfortable, burrowing his back into the warmth of the heated seat. He peers at you out of the corner of his eye at your question, watching you curiously. After a long moment, his lips draw into a slow smile. “Jack. Jack Russell,” he says quietly with a nod of affirmation.

Your lips upturn slowly, mirroring his. “Well, Jack Russell, it’s nice to meet you. Now, let’s go get you that coffee.”

. . .

The more you observe your new friend during your drive, the more convinced you are that his spirit animal would be a dog. Jack rides with his high cheekbone pressed against the window, his green eyes bright and curious. The radiant, warm-toned fall foliage passes by in a blur outside, along with birds, cars, and road signs. His eager eyes flicker about, taking in all of it in rapid succession. Your heart flutters at the earnesty in his gaze, the bone-deep contentment in his expression. If picking up this handsome, puppy-eyed stranger off the side of the highway was how you became the subject of one of your true crime podcasts…well, so be it.

Several quiet minutes into your drive, you clear your throat quietly, seeking to break the silence. “So, Jack, where are you from?”

Jack’s gaze lingers on a small cluster of deer grazing beside the treeline before he draws his eyes to you. When he does, his gaze is all-consuming, attentive. Having grown up in a world with constant sources of distraction, the sheer intensity of his focus on you is startling. “I have lived in many places, actually. I typically do not stay in one space for too long. My work keeps me busy.”

Your heart clenches slightly at his admission, and you mentally chastise yourself for it. Why be disappointed that he doesn’t stick around? It wasn’t as if you were liable to see him again, anyway. “Oh, I see. Well, what do you do for work?”

A heavy pause. “I hunt monsters,” he says seriously.

His words hang in the air for a long moment, suspended. Then, your abrupt laughter fills the car. Sure, the two of you might live in a world of spidermen, aliens, and tech genius superheroes, but you had never heard of any monsters. Jack gives you a cheeky grin, the quiet rumble of laughter in his throat joining in with yours. “Ah, a comedian, then,” you comment, shooting him a knowing glance. “And your friend? What do they do?”

Jack’s eyes turn to the ceiling of your car, that warm grin still plastered on his face. “I suppose you could say we’re a traveling duo,” he says simply.

You shake your head incredulously, a soft chuckle purring in your throat. You’re inclined to pry more, but think better of it. After all, you’d only asked for his name in payment for the ride, not his entire life story. “You said you had a wild night planned. What are you up to?”

Jack’s olive green eyes turn to you again, dancing in the low light of the late-afternoon sun. His cheeks are flushed pink from the warmth of the car. “We’re going to…watch the moon,” he responds.

Now, that one makes you deadpan. “Watch the moon,” you echo, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

Jack only hums in response, affixing you with a closed-mouth smile and a self-satisfied gaze. His eyes twinkle in challenge, as if to say, ‘You don’t believe me?’ You pin him with a knowing look and a smirk of your own as you flick your blinker on, turning into the approaching Walmart parking lot. “Alright, mystery man, keep your secrets,” you say with a laugh. “We’re here. Let’s get you that coffee so you can get on to your…moon watching.”

Pulling into the first parking spot you see, you turn off the car and exit it swiftly, Jack following quickly behind you. Though nightfall is a little over an hour off, you want to be conscientious of his need to get home before dark, especially if he was going to be trekking through the woods. As you walk toward the grocery entrance, Jack’s head moves on a swivel, taking in the sight of customers coming to and from the building like a kid in a candy store. Lost in thought, he nearly walks directly into an elderly woman pushing her cart toward her car. Jumping back just in time, he murmurs a sheepish, “Lo siento,” and bows his head in apology before shuffling after you. An amused chuckle rises up in your throat, and you trap it behind a smile.

As the two of you approach the grocery entrance, you spy the familiar sight of a Girl Scout’s booth set up just outside. A young girl, likely not even ten-years-old, stands beside the booth, her scout’s sash displayed proudly over the thick coat she wears. She bravely steps forward as customers enter and exit the store to give her brief sales pitch. Your heart aches at the crestfallen expression on her face when customers respond with gentle denials. Your hand is dipping into your purse before you even realize it, your fingers clasping onto your wallet.

“Hi,” you say kindly as you and Jack come to a stop beside her booth. She turns toward you quickly, all bouncy black curls and brown doe eyes. You give her a radiant smile as you hold out a handful of bills. “I’ll take a box of Tagalongs and Adventurefuls, please. And you can keep the change.”

The girl positively beams at you as she accepts your money with tentative fingers. When she places the boxes in your hands moments later, you add with a wide smile, “Thank you so much. You have no idea how you just made my day.”

Tagalongs and Adventurefuls in tow, you and Jack walk into the store with purpose in your step. As your eye searches for the aisle marker labeled ‘Coffee,’ you can’t help but notice Jack staring at you out of the corner of your eye. At first, you think it’s just a momentary glance, but when you still spy his face turned toward you after several seconds of walking, you turn to look at him fully. He’s pinning you with the same thoughtful gaze as he had in the car, all closed-lipped smiles and twinkling eyes. As if he’s collecting observations of you and bottling them up, studious impressions reserved for him and him alone.

Suddenly acutely self-conscious, you give him a nervous smile. “What is it?” you ask, voice quiet with hesitation.

Jack’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he dips his head to his chest, his eyes never straying from yours. “You are very kind, señorita. Helping strangers as you do.” His voice is soft and earnest, each word carefully crafted and caressed as they pass the curve of his pink lips. He seems to smile a little wider as he adds, “Myself included.”

Your lips part slightly in surprise at his statement, heat flushing your cheeks in a rush. Was it hot in this Walmart or what? You’d need to tell a manager that the thermostat was a little off if you spotted one. “Well, I’m definitely not perfect, but the world desperately needs more kindness. I try to do what I can,” you say bashfully. Seeking to divert the focus of conversation from yourself, you fix him with a knowing gaze. “You seem like a pretty nice guy yourself.”

Jack chuckles quietly at you, turning his olive green eyes to the aisle signs overhead. “You are too generous to this stranger, señorita. I try to be as kind as I can. I struggle once in a full moon, but I suppose we all do.”

You giggle good-naturedly at his slip. “You mean once in a blue moon?”

Jack’s lips part slightly, his expression one of genuine surprise. However, it lasts only a moment. He quickly gives you a sheepish grin, raising a hand to scratch hastily behind his ear. A nervous tick, you supposed. “Uh, yes, right. Of course.”

Within moments, you find yourself alongside the coffee aisle. You dip into it swiftly, Jack following only a step behind. You come to a stop in the center of the coffee section, a wide array of possibilities available before you. “So, what kind are you looking for?” you ask expectantly.

Jack’s eyes rove over the options quickly, seemingly seeing everything and nothing at once. His dark brows knit inward as he admits, “I…I’m not sure. My friend, Ted, normally gets the coffee. I haven’t any idea what I am looking for.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. If this man had no idea what type of coffee to get, there was only one way to proceed. “Black Silk,” you say matter-of-factly.

Jack turns to you slowly, confusion pinching his handsome features. “Black silk?” he echoes, the words rolling off his tongue without recognition.

You nod wholeheartedly, eyes imploring and earnest. If there was one way you could truly help this man today, it would be this. “Yes. Folgers’ Black Silk. The only option when it comes to purchasing coffee. Especially if you don’t know where to start.” You beckon him toward the shelves of familiar red containers. Your trained eye finds the black-labeled tub instantly, and you crouch down, grabbing the largest option with eager fingers. “Let me tell you, mystery man. This coffee right here? A life changer.”

“Oh.” Jack’s eyes are wide as saucers as he looks from you, to the container in your hands, and back to you. One corner of his full lips creeps upward as he gazes at you in equal parts amusement and intrigue. “A life changer, you say?”

You nod.

“And you think I need the largest tub they have?” An adorable peekaboo from that crooked grin of his. If you didn’t stop staring, you’d be reduced to nothing but a puddle on the floor. Clean up in Aisle 20.

“Yes. You’ll thank me later. If you’re doubting me…” Your gaze sweeps the aisle on either side of you. It’s just the two of you here, alone. Your fingers make quick work of popping the lid from its place and peeling back a section of the Aromaseal within. “...then just smell it. I promise, all your doubts will be erased.”

Jack’s eyes dance with amusement as his gaze flickers between you and the coffee. You hold your ground, a challenge portrayed in the slant of your smirk. As if to say, ‘Yes, this is a hill I will die on.’ After several moments of bated breath, Jack lowers his head to the lip of the container. Instead of drawing in a long inhale like most human beings, he sucks in several short, rapid sniffs in succession. In that moment, you’re signed, sealed, and delivered–this man’s spirit animal is undeniably a dog, without question. Shaking your head incredulously, you close your eyes and dip your chin to savor the aroma yourself.

The first word that enters your mind as you draw in a deep inhale is ‘bold.’ The scent of the dark roast is rich and robust as it weaves through your senses, awakening them instantaneously. The aroma is intense, luxurious, alluring. Your mouth waters unbidden as you hold the scent in, savoring it, before exhaling slowly through your nose. You can practically taste the notes of dark chocolate and smoke on your tongue.

Satisfied, you slowly open your eyes. When you do, you find yourself gazing into two pools of olive green. Jack stares at you over the container of Black Silk between you, his eyes thoughtful, watchful, attentive. There is a gentleness behind his soft gaze, something intangible in the supple curve of his lips and his vaguely knotted brow that is fond, affectionate.

“Cautivante.” The endearment is spoken on a breath, so faint you’re unsure you truly heard it. Your eyes fall to Jack’s lips, now parted slightly with bated breath. Your heartbeat flutters rapidly in your chest, fast as hummingbird wings, making you dizzy. Your very flesh seems to sing under his enthralled gaze, your skin warm and flushed, your knees weak. Unable to pry your eyes from the softness of his lips, the dip of his Cupid’s Bow. Your own lips seem to hum under his watch, calling out to him, buzzing so intensely you’re certain he must be able to see it, to feel it. As if drawn together by an invisible thread, you see him inch imperceptibly closer, and you mirror him, the song in your bones growing louder and louder–

Ca-thunk. The sound nearly startles you out of your skin, slicing clean through the tension of the moment. Jumping backward, you turn to look past Jack at a very uncomfortable-looking woman several paces away. It’s very clear that she had been aware of your little….moment and had been trying to grab her tub of coffee unnoticed. Sorry, she mouths with a pained grimace. She dips down to grab the container of French roast that she had dropped on the floor and scurries off without another word.

Fuck, your mind groans as panic sets in. Your gaze reluctantly slides to Jack, expecting to find his face twisted in regret, mortification, or awkwardness. Instead, you find him still watching you intently, captivated, spellbound. His olive eyes drink in your features like a man starved of drink. The feeling steals your breath away.

You watch as his lips part wider, as he draws in a breath to speak. A rush of white hot panic sends your heart leaping into your throat at the sight. What would he say? Nerves thoroughly fried, you weren’t sure you could handle it, good or bad. So you beat him to it, hastily blurting out, “So, did you like it?”

For a long moment, Jack’s expression hangs suspended, still as stone. He scarcely breathes as his eyes rove over your features, searching. You give him an awkward half-smile, mentally loathing yourself and your painful awkwardness in matters of affection. Part of you wants to tuck tail and run as far away from here as possible, hoping to save some scrap of your dignity. A bigger part of you wants to take his handsome, stubbled face in your hands and press those blush pink lips to yours, throwing caution to the wind.

But neither of those things happen. When Jack finally releases the breath he’s been holding, the sound is low, wistful. “Yes, I liked it very much,” he says quietly, his voice thick with an emotion you can’t place.

You release a bated breath of your own. Regret fills the space it once occupied, cold and heavy. “Alright, then…Great. Let’s get you home to your friend.”

. . .

The ride back from town is quiet. Well, quiet on the outside. The inside of your mind is utter turmoil, a cacophonous tirade of:

What the fuck were you thinking–

Damn that woman–

He’s still a stranger, you know. You never should have picked up a stranger–

His lips were so perfect, how the hell can he be so–

“Here will do.”

Jack’s soft voice startles you out of your mental beratement so abruptly that you have to white-knuckle the steering wheel to keep from swerving. Your eyes flicker to the side of the road where you’re currently driving, a grassy hill leading down to the forest beyond. You look at him next, eyes settling on his clasped hands, the fingers that he’s been twiddling for the past twenty minutes. “Here?” you say, your voice quiet. “Are you sure?”

Jack gazes at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips upturned in a small, sheepish smile. “Yes, I’m sure. I live just a couple miles from here. If I begin walking now, I can arrive home before dark.”

Ah, yes, nightfall. Your eyes turn to the dipping sun, just barely visible over the treeline to your left. It paints the sky in gold and burnt orange, the clouds overhead dip dyed in radiant shades of pink and purple. Your heart clenches at the sight, at the thought that time is running out. You turn on your blinker and pull into the gravel off the side of the highway with a lump in your throat.

The two of you sit in still silence for a moment as you shift the car into park. The air in the cab is thick with nerves, with words left unsaid, actions left undone. You nibble at your bottom lip anxiously, wondering what on earth you could say to cut the tension.

Jack beats you to it. “It was lovely to make your acquaintance, señorita.” His voice is sweet and kind, his eyes wide and emphatic. He gives you a small smile. Your eyes drink in the sight greedily, committing it to memory. “Thank you for helping this poor stranger. You have a warm and generous heart. I will leave you to continue your night in peace.”

Peace. Your heart knows no such feeling as his hand closes around the grocery bag between his legs, as his fingers clasp the car door handle. Your heart revolts as he pushes the door open and begins to step out of the car. Sure, this was all your fault. You’d known from the get-go that your mystery man wasn’t sticking around. He’d told you as much himself. But that didn’t change how outright wrong it felt to watch him go. It didn’t change how desperately you wanted him to stay, the lengths you’d go to see him again, just one more time. Moon watching be damned.

“Jack,” you say suddenly, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. Your mystery man’s posture stiffens slightly, followed by a slow, agonizing turn as he shifts to look back within the car, back at you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, your eyes rove over his face, searching, imploring. “Will I see you again?” Your voice is small, fearful, hopeful.

Jack’s eyes widen at the raw emotion in your voice, a wealth of words said and unsaid. His green eyes search your face, picking you apart, reading you like a cherished novel. Whatever he finds within your expression, it prompts him to crouch down, reaching the front half of his body into the passenger side of the car. His earnest eyes do not stray from yours as he gently takes your right hand from the steering wheel. His fingertips are warm and lightly calloused as he lifts the sleeve of your sweater ever so slightly. His breath is hot against your skin as he nestles his nose against the soft flesh of the inside of your wrist. Slowly, he draws in a deep, long inhale. He holds the breath in his lungs, savoring. Your heart stammers wildly in your chest as you transcend several levels of the multiverse in the length of his breath.

“Cautivante.” His soft lips brush affectionately over the flesh of your wrist as he speaks the word. Turning your palm over, he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, his lips warm and plush. Dazed and flushed, you’re certain that your soul has left your body until he speaks softly, grounding you to the spot. “Do you wish to see me again?” His voice is small, fearful, hopeful.

You don’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

His olive eyes sparkle at your eagerness, mouth widening into a delighted grin, eyes smiling at their corners. Your heart melts at the crook in his teeth as he looks down at your hands, bashful, then back up at you again. His teeth tug at his bottom lip thoughtfully as he grins at you. “Well, if that is what you wish, mi amada, then that is what you shall receive.”

And in the blink of an eye, he’s gone, with only the slightest lingering aroma of Black Silk remaining in his place.

. . .

Driving home from work the following day, you’re almost embarrassed to admit that you’ve spent more time searching the woods on the side of the road than looking at the road itself. But when you spot a familiar dark haired man standing off the side of the highway a half mile ahead, all sense of shame leaves your mind. You flick on your blinker in an instant, pulling over without hesitation.

The first thing you notice about Jack is how bone-deep exhausted he looks. His salt-and-pepper hair is entirely unkempt, his eyes framed by dark, shadowy circles. You’re almost sure he’s wearing the exact same black sweater and jeans from the day before. Still, when he sees you approach, his face brightens like a man who’s just had his best sleep in years. Your heart swells three sizes at the sight.

He throws the door open and dips into your passenger seat like it’s the only thing he’s thought of in the past twenty-four hours. “Hello,” he greets you adorably, face split with a wide, cheeky grin.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter if you’d tried. “Hello,” you greet him in return. Your skin seems to sing in his very presence, heart fluttering with an intoxicating mix of nerves and anticipation. “Out of coffee already?” you joke.

He gives you a knowing smile, eyes twinkling. “Sure, you could say that.”

Your teeth pin down your bottom lip, trying to bite back a grin. “Well, that sounds like a serious problem,” you try to keep a straight face, to keep the bit rolling, but glee sneaks into your tone anyway. “We’d better fix that.”

Jack’s hand slips over yours on the gear shift, his thumb kneading the backs of your knuckles affectionately. With his olive green eyes on you, you feel like you could do anything, go anywhere. His presence is a drug, so much more addictive than caffeine could ever be. “Indeed, mi amada.” His grin widens ever so slightly, giving you the perfect glimpse of that endearing crook in his teeth. Your lips hum in response, eager to kiss that sacred spot, to adore every inch of him. To keep that grin plastered on his face forevermore. “Lead the way.”

#jack russell #jack russell x reader #werewolf by night #marvel #marvel fanfiction #werewolf by night x reader #jack russell x fem!reader #mcu fanfiction #mcu #mcu phase 4 #werewolf #gael garcia bernal

815 notes · View notes

littlemissclandestine · 2 months

Text

Soft!Russell Adler x Reader pt.2

Note: Hello again my fellow Adler enjoyers! Just thought I'd add some more hcs because tbh this list is endless. He knows exactly how to treat a woman and you can't tell me otherwise. Look at him! GRAHHH!! Enjoy my lovelies... - Star ✰

🤎 Soft!Adler who has a habit of doing everything for you and you tell him to stop but he says that you've been a strong, independent woman all of your life and that it's one of the reasons he fell for you but now it's time for his girl to relax and enjoy life a little, and for you to let him take care of you

🤎 Soft!Adler who has the cutest pet names for you such as sweetheart, darlin', doll, honey, beautiful, gorgeous, tiger, princess etc

🤎 Soft!Adler who loves calling you his girl and gettin' all possessive

🤎 Soft!Adler who stands behind you while you're in front of a mirror as you're almost ready to go out, putting the necklace that he gifted you on for you, planting kisses on your neck, his hands tracing the outline of your body as he looks at you both in the mirror, in awe of you

🤎 Soft!Adler who always picks up your favourite things when he's out shopping and you're not with him, your likes and dislikes ingrained in his brain

🤎 Soft!Adler who understands your needs, both physical and emotional and fulfils them in a way that makes you adore him even more everyday

🤎 Soft!Adler who craves intimacy but denied it for far too long because of how his last relationship ended and underneath all of that bravado, America's monster needs to be reminded he is, in fact, human

🤎 Soft!Adler who takes time out and makes a conscious effort to visit your family when you finally introduce him even though it's something that makes him slightly nervous but he does it for you whether they like him or not

🤎 Soft!Adler who buys you flowers, chocolates, bath bombs etc. when you least expect it

🤎 Soft!Adler who makes you breakfast in bed during slow mornings, insisting he cleans up the plates and you have a nice soak, coming up to massage your scalp, scrub you gently and read a book to you as you hang your arms over the edge of the tub, your chin resting on top of your hands, listening intently

🤎 Soft!Adler who catches a whiff of your scent on his shirt or jacket at work, smiling to himself, leaning back in his chair as he remembers how you wore it the day before and he closes his eyes, inhaling it once more before getting back to his job

🤎 Soft!Adler who lets you apply his war paint for him on missions

🤎 Soft!Adler who offers to give you massages, claiming he is an expert and nobody would pass up on it, not even Woods or Mason

🤎 Soft!Adler who secretly loves skin on skin

🤎 Soft!Adler who picks you up bridal style or throws you over his shoulder whenever he feels like it, carrying you around the house

🤎 Soft!Adler who kisses every part of you that you don't love and cherishes it because he knows the pain of low self esteem and in his eyes, every inch of you is beautiful

🤎 Soft!Adler who opens car doors and pulls out chairs for you like a proper gentleman would

🤎 Soft!Adler who playfully smacks your ass when nobody's looking as you're boarding a heli or getting into a SUV if you work together

🤎 Soft!Adler who admires you for who you are and feels inspired by you, making him want to be a better person, not just for him but for you

🤎 Soft!Adler who won't get up and move when you've fallen asleep on him, even if his limbs are feeling numb, out of fear of disturbing you

🤎 Soft!Adler who's only vulnerable with you

🤎 Soft!Adler who tells you how you make him feel alive again after all of the trauma he has endured over the years due to the requirements of his job and the toll it takes on him, no matter how much he denies the extent of it

🤎 Soft!Adler who always wonders if he's doing right by you, how he managed to pull a girl like you in the first place, if you'd stay in his life no matter how long he's away for, how hard it gets and if you'd accept his hand in marriage when, not if, the time comes

🤎 Soft!Adler who lets his tears fall when he finally gets to see you walk down the aisle

dividers by @chachachannah <33

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httpsuniverse · 1 year

Text

illicit affairs | gr63, mm19

PAIRING: george russell x fem!wolff!reader ; mason mount x fem!wolff!reader

DETAILS & WARNINGS: angst, cheating, profanities

WC: 4.2k words

A/N: here you go! 🤩 and before you finish the story and get confused—yes, there will be a part two to this. :D i haven't betaread this, i just finished it and it's already 3 am here where i live so i'll edit this soon!

TAGGED: @i83andrew

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. © newuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

—

you knew he was coming.

despite saying no, you know damn well you’d end up in his (well, technically not his) car — the one he’d rent whenever he’s in town or nearby just to see you. a car meant for clandestine meetings.

from satin pyjamas, you change to a pair of sweatpants, a cami top and the very first hoodie you could grab from your closet to cover the skin you were about to show. you look at yourself in the mirror; this is the last time, i promise. you tell yourself, eyes leaving your own reflection as your phone lit up. a notification from him. a simple i’m here had you feeling your blood rush. quickly, you take your phone and a little something that he likes before leaving your bedroom.

“where are you going? it’s 6 in the morning.” your friend asks, they had spent the night over after a girls’ night out.

“just for a run, i’ll be back in an hour or so.” you replied, slipping on your running shoes. “if you girls get hungry, there’s food in the fridge.”

and with that, you were out of the door and headed to the place george told you. while you walk to the parking building, you throw the hood of your hoodie over your head. once you were in the elevator, you took the lipstick out of the pockets of your hoodie and applied them on your lips. you smiled at the elevator mirror, but felt a twinge of guilt in your stomach. as you exit the elevator of the parking building, you look around the place. the only thing you could hear was the sound of the familiar engine. you’ve familiarised yourself with it by now as this was not the first time this happened, hell, if you were keeping count, this might be the hundredth time you’ve done this.

you walked towards the heavily tinted g-wagon parked on its usual spot, and as soon as you opened the door and sat next to the driver, you faced him.

“i said no to you,” you murmured, hiding the smile that was attempting to burst and pulled the hood off.

“yet you’re here, meeting me and…” he paused, his attention that was once focused on his phone, now on your lips. “wearing that red lip, classic thing that i like.” he smirked, lifting his hand and running his thumb on your lips. carefully though, not wanting to ruin the beautiful shade of red you had on your lips. he shakes his head, attempting to focus on other things other than you.

once the car starts to move, you find yourself getting comfortable on the seat next to him. a familiar feeling that happens once, twice a month… a feeling you’ve been longing for yet want to forget about. you knew what you had needed to be stopped, yet the thrill of continuing this relationship with him excites you. you know that if you plan to stop, you’ll end up doing it all over again. it was like a vicious cycle that you cannot break.

the thing is, you aren’t exactly in a relationship with this mercedes driver. you’re together, but not together. both of you were in relationships. him with carmen, you with mason. the two of you agreed to settle on this kind of relationship that only the two of you would understand. because if people knew about your affair with the driver, a lot would be mad. they wouldn’t understand. they wouldn’t understand that you both loved your partners, yet the thing between you two gives you both a thrill people could never comprehend even if you explain it.

“weren’t you supposed to be in qatar, supporting your boyfriend for the world cup?”

“my flight’s later in the afternoon.” you say, your gaze glued on the street as he drove.

george scoffs, “you should be preparing now, but you’re here with me.”

the two of you fell into silence, you had zero idea where he was taking you, but you let him continue driving and not mutter a single word. you closed your eyes and rested your head against the car window. you might have slept for a while as you woke up due to the strain you feel on your neck. opening one eye, you realised that the car was parked, and george was nowhere to be found.

you open your eyes completely, seeing that george was in front of the suv. sitting on a camping chair that came with the rented car, silently scrolling through his phone. you were amazed by the view. you’ve been living in this town for a year, yet it never dawned on you that there is a place like this that exists. overlooking the view of the city, the sun will be up any minute now by the shade of the skies.

“kid’s finally awake.” he says, his eyes not leaving his phone but his hand tapped the seat next to him. “are you hungry? i bought food before i drove to your place.”

you shook your head, took the seat next to him and crossed your legs. “why did you want to meet me, george?” you ask quietly, “i thought we agreed last time would be our last time seeing each other.”

he smirked, shoving his phone back into his pocket and leaned against the chair before looking at you. “i know, yet you’re here with me, darling.” he answered, “because if you did agree that last time would be our last time, then you never would’ve left your house. you wouldn’t hop in my car and come here with me. you would’ve stayed and waited for your boyfriend to call or come home to you or to watch his match. yet you’re here with me, baby.”

that, you had no answer to. you shake your head lightly, looking at the view instead of him. you felt the cold breeze of the morning air on your skin, fucking hell was he right. as always. you turn to the driver once again, his eyes fixated on you, eyes that are filled with lust and desire.

—

you remember it so clearly. the day you had met george russell.

you knew george by his name, a little information about him that had been shared across the internet and the little story of how he walked into your father’s office at a young age with a powerpoint presentation in hand to convince the latter that he would, one day, be a successful driver under mercedes.

the day you met george started in a beautiful room, happened a few weeks before the 2022 season started.

your father, toto wolff, was not the type to arrange a whole party. but somehow, he managed to do it despite his hectic schedule—the toto wolff arranged a party for his firstborn who recently graduated from university. y/n wolff was surprised; you never knew that your father was capable of planning such a party (of course, with the supervision of your beloved stepmom, susie). the party was attended by several known people, some staff that are close to your father, family and friends.

“mase, i’m telling you. if i trip and fall—”

“don’t worry, pretty girl. i got you.” mason chuckles, holding your hand tightly as he guides you out of his car. you two stood for a few seconds until you heard the vehicle drive away and despite being blindfolded, you could see the flashes of the cameras through the thin fabric. your eyebrows furrowed, “i promise you, you’re gonna love this.”

mason, your boyfriend of two years, guided you towards the entrance. you heard a door opening, and as your boyfriend’s presence behind you as he unties the blindfold, you hear the music’s volume slowly increase. once your eyes have adjusted after having been covered since you left home, you smiled, seeing familiar faces waiting for you inside the venue.

“herzlichen glückwunsch, y/n. ich bin so stolz auf dich. congratulations, y/n. i’m so proud of you.” your father said, engulfing you into a hug as he held a glass of champagne.

“danke, vater. i never would’ve done it without you. thanks, dad.” you replied, unclasping the hug and turned towards susie and jack who were both waiting for you with open arms.

after hugging what felt like a million people who were part of your family and friends, you turn to your boyfriend who was trailing behind you as you walk along the red carpet. you gave him a smile, your hands resting on his neck as he held your waist so gently. mason’s smile alone makes your knees weak, such a beautiful smile he has.

“so this is what dress up for a very fancy restaurant looks like, hmm?” you teased your boyfriend, pulling him close to you. your lips collided with his, eyes closed as you felt his hand squeeze a part of your waist while the crowd cheered happily. “i love you so, damn, fucking much, mount.”

“i love you, too, wolff.” he replied, hand that was once on your waist, travelled on your ass to give it a squeeze.

your relationship with the footballer wasn’t a secret you two tried to hide, in fact, both of you loved showing affection towards each other in public. you didn’t care that every time mason posts you on his public account, at least one or three obsessed fans would try to spread hate or rumours about you. you and mason didn’t care—because at the end of the day, you knew each other better than other people and you had each other without doubt. toto supported that; he supported your relationship with the athlete (though at first he was shocked to learn that his firstborn posts half-naked pictures with her boyfriend on the internet). toto was glad that you have mason by your side, he knew the footballer wouldn’t try to hurt his first born in any way and he loved the fact that you were the happiest with him always in all ways. after all, father knows best, right?

you and mason mingled all night until your father excused you from him for a little while to meet some of his friends and important people in the field of motorsports. and so, it happened.

“y/n, you remember george?” your father asked after you hugged lewis and thanked him. you faced toto and george, smiling at the tall british that stood in front of you. “he’s driving with us starting this season. george, this is my daughter, y/n.”

it was born from just one single glance - the moment george saw you walk down that red carpet, his eyes never left you. even during the moment where you kissed mason in the middle of the room.

“it’s a real pleasure to meet you, y/n wolff.” he said, extending his hand towards you. you held his hand, shaking it lightly as you started into his eyes. you didn’t know it yet, but those same eyes would be the reason why your life would change in a few months' time. and it was only when you felt a hand creep on your waist that you let go of his hand.

“george, this is y/n boyfriend, mason. you may have know him, he’s—”

“a player for england and chelsea, yes, toto… i know.” george chuckles, offering his hand to mason which your boyfriend also shook.

mason made a conversation with george and your father for a little while, and you join them every now and then. you couldn’t help but notice the little glances that george would throw at you especially when mason caressed his hand on your waist.

maybe it was nothing or maybe he was glancing at someone towards your direction. maybe time even stopped when your eyes met each other, and he smiled. the type of smile you didn’t know the meaning behind.

“y/n, y/n!” you heard jack call, finally cutting the eye contact tension between you and george. “look at this! isn’t it cool?”

jack was showing you a toy that mason apparently bought him when toto invited him at home to plan your surprise party. mason loved your little brother, besides winning your, your father and stepmom’s heart, mason also won the heart of jack. after listening to your brother explain how the toy worked, you stood up and looked around. george was out of your sight, but he was somewhere in the room, staring at the clueless you.

weird, you thought and immediately brushed it off as people approached you once again to congratulate you.

—

not all relationships are perfect. you and mason were deeply in love with each other that in the timeline of your relationship, fights rarely occurred. as you would joke then, you were busy with university and he was busy with football. both of you are so busy that you need to schedule your fights. but it happened one night.

you couldn’t even remember what the fight was about, but it escalated quickly. one thing leading to another. all the frustrations you had, all the pent-up anger from the inside — all of that are released as you yell your lungs out of each other. that’s how you ended up in a club. the only place you thought of going to after you stormed off from your shared house. as always, clubs were filled with people. it was a real challenge to walk from the entrance to the bar and order yourself a drink. after what felt like eternity, you take the drink from the bartender and joined the ocean of people on the dancefloor.

one drink led to uncountable shots and the next thing you knew; you were out of the club and headed somewhere nearby. hand in hand with a stranger, you entered the room and your lips crashed with his. tongues fighting for dominance and hands busy undoing each other’s clothes. “do you still want to continue?” he asks.

“you’ve already undressed me, so what the hell are you waiting for?”

and so, that’s how your night ended. in a house somewhere, with clothes scattered on the floor and a stranger next to you.

i’m fucked. you thought, as your eyes flutter open, irritated by the sun hitting your face so early in the morning. you blink once, twice, thrice. you jolt up once you realise that you weren’t in the comfort of your own four walls. instead, you were in a foreign place, naked in bed. please let it be mason, please… you thought, slowly turning your head to check the person next to you. i am indeed fucked.

george fucking russell was lying in bed, next to you, naked. panicking, you got off the bed, trying to pull the blanket with you to cover yourself as you planned to gather your clothes but failed as you woke the driver due to the tugging. he opened one eye, and you froze on the spot.

“hi,” was all you could say, taking your clothes and rushed to the bathroom.

i cheated… fucking hell, i cheated. i was drunk and i cheated. your mind kept repeating and repeating that same sentence as you stood in the bathroom. as much guilt consumed you like a raging monster, you managed to dress yourself and splashed water on your face to wake you up. mason, you thought. looking for your phone, only to realise that it wasn’t in your pockets and so are your keys.

after minutes that felt like eternity, you mustered the courage to get out of the bathroom. george was dressed up and was waiting for you on the bed, on his phone as if nothing had happened between the two of you last night.

“i—uh, i have to go.” you say when you saw your phone and car keys. you bit your lip and faced george. “please don’t say anything to dad… and uh mason. whatever happened between us was a mistake and,” you take a deep breath, “we were drunk, i was drunk. i—”

“what happens between us, stays between us.” says george.

the drive to your shared place that usually only takes 20 minutes, turned to an hour and a half. you’ve been driving around, trying to grasp what had happened. trying to figure out whether to tell mason or not. tears were blurring your vision by the time you parked on your usual spot, you knew that once you got out of the car and come home, mason would be on the couch. waiting for you as he tells you that he attempted to cook your favourite dish that your mom used to cook for you every time you were upset. it was the routine that you and mason did whenever fights occurred.

dragging your feet to the front door, you open the door and find mason, not on the couch but standing on the way. he was waiting for you with open arms, ready to take you in. he expected that you’d run to him, but you fell to your knees and sobbed uncontrollably.

“shh, pretty girl…” his nickname made your heart drop to your stomach, not the kind that made you smile, but the kind that made you feel guilty. mason lowered himself and pulled you to his chest, gently rubbing your back as you stained his shirt with your tears. “i’m sorry we fought last night. i’m sorry for raising my voice at you, everything that i’ve said was wrong and i never meant them. i’m sorry, baby.”

“m-mase…” you sob, “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, pretty girl.” he runs his fingers through your hair, “it’s okay, please don’t cry anymore. i hate seeing you cry, love.”

“it’s not okay,” you sniff, “it’s not okay, it’ll never be okay.”

mason sighs, planting a kiss on top of your head and let you cry in his arms. the two of you stayed on the foyer until you cried out. when you stopped, your boyfriend suggested that you take a bath to calm yourself. no amount of soap and shampoo and no number of showers and baths can wash away the guilt off your body. it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve cheated on mason, not with a random man, but with a man that’s close to your father.

“all good, pretty girl?” mason peeked his head on the bathroom door, waking you from reverie. you nod your head lightly and watch him walk towards you and sit on the edge of the tub. you look at him, studying his features and mason was all confused, but was smiling at you. “is there something on my face?”

“no… just, admiring you.” lies. you were figuring out a way to confess to him.

he chuckles, “well, admiring me has a price. and it just cost you a bunch of kisses.”

mason leans down, fingers under your chin as his face gets closer to yours. when your lips touch, the memories of last night run back like a flash. it was wrong to kiss your boyfriend with the lips that kissed a different man, and the feeling of guilt came back again.

—

“why not come with me for this year’s season?” toto asked you. you stopped chewing your food and gulped, “it’s been years since you’ve last visited the garage, you told me you wanted a year break before you start working. why not come with me? think of it as travelling.”

“it’s not travelling if she’s going to spend it with you in the garage, honey.” susie laughed, “but what do you think, y/n?”

“i—” you think for a few seconds, “i’ll think about it.”

“oh, what’s there to think about?”

“i at least should discuss it with mason, dad. i mean i do want to show up at his matches, wouldn’t want to miss those.” i just want to avoid george so bad.

your dad chuckles, “i already talked to mason, he said it’ll be fine if you miss a few!”

“but—”

the 2022 season started. you’ve tried so hard to avoid george at all times.

but it was hard now that you’re travelling with your father and attending race weekends with him after years of being absent in the paddock and the garage. toto was glad to have you back with him, it wasn’t easy to convince you but he managed to do so.

and as much as you wanted to avoid george, he was like a drug that you can never get rid of. the stolen glances in the garage while you stood next to your father, the stolen kisses every time you’ve crossed each other’s paths in secluded places, the full blown make out session that sometimes leads to sex whenever he’s travelling alone. during the summer break, he visited your place not once, but several times. it got to the point where you slept on the same bed mason was sleeping during the nights you spend together. your clandestine meetings continued whenever mason stayed over at your place.

“wouldn’t want them to find out about us, wouldn’t we, hmm?” george says, pinning you against the wall before crashing his lips to yours.

george russell was a drug, and you were an addict. a godforsaken mess.

the confrontation between you and mason happened right after their 2-1 defeat with france in the world cup. all he wanted right after was to rest, but as soon as he held his phone in his hand, a notification from an old friend popped up followed by a message that said: “this might not be the right time after your match, but i think you have to see this”. curiously (and intuitively), even though he wanted to ignore it, he clicked the link that led him to a post on instagram. an account named dramaformula with your name on the caption tied with george’s.

it seemed like it was a picture from months ago. mason knew that you’ve crossed paths with george when you went to a girls’ trip in mallorca over the summer break. he read and reread the caption multiple times, staring at the picture and trying to see if it were really you. you see, mason knew you like the back of his hand. he knew every curve, every side, every spot of your body after years of dating. just by looking at the photos, he knew that it was indeed you.

you were pacing back and forth inside the hotel you two shared after receiving a message from mason that you’ve read in his angry voice that said “we need to talk” with no message followed. you’ve been nervously biting your nails as you wait impatiently and your heart skipped a beat or two when the door finally opened and revealed mason who dropped his bag by the door and stared at you deadpan.

“mase—”

“was it true?”

you knew what he was talking about. your friend also sent the post to you, and you’ve seen it even before he did. “do you trust me—”

“was it true, yes or no?”

you gulped, unable to find the words to answer him. mason repeated his question, this time in a much louder voice and a harsher tone. you’ve never seen him this mad before, nor has he used a harsh tone on you. “answer me.”

“n-no…” you lied, biting your lip as you tried to stop yourself from crying. “mason, i could never do that to you… i would never cheat on you.”

“are you telling me the truth?”

i’m not. “i am.” you lie again, “it is true that george and i were seen together, but—we didn’t do anything. we talked, and that’s it. i’ve never and i would never touch any other man other than you.” you walked until you were in front of mason, eyes staring at each other as you touched his face, “it’s only you, baby. so, please trust me.”

mason hugged you tighter than ever that night, refusing to let you go as you two cuddled in bed. he let the situation die down for a few days and confidently posted you again on his instagram, followed by george’s post with his girlfriend that made your names on twitter trend for at least two days. you had sleepless days, watching mason sleep as you found yourself guilty of lying to him again.

tonight, was no different from the previous nights.

“where are you going?” asked mason, one eye open as he watched you pull the same hoodie you use every time you meet up with george.

you walk towards his side of the bed, sitting on its edge and ran your fingers through his hair gently. “i’ll just go to the store really quick, have to buy feminine stuff—it’s that time of the month.” you lied, “just rest here. i know you’ve had a long day; i’ll be quick.”

“i can come with you to the store—”

“no, mase. i promise, i’ll be quick, and i’ll be fine alone. you need to rest.”

“you sure?” he asked, and you nodded in response. “okay, take care. i love you.”

you bit your lip, a bit hesitant to speak. “i… i love you too, mase. so much.” you place a kiss on his lips, watching him get comfortable under the blankets. “bye for now, masey.”

and that night was the last night mason last saw you.

and when morning comes, mason would find the breakup letter you’ve written.

dramaformula

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

dramaformula it’s been almost a month and a half since y/n posted anything on her instagram page. and today, with almost 900k followers, y/n wolff deleted all her posts, removes her bio and unfollows all 354 following—including boyfriend and football athlete, mason mount. what’s happening? what’s the tea? does this have something to do with the previous rumour that she and george were touchy during the trip in mallorca? what happened between y/n and mason? george and y/n? george and carmen? 👀

view all 2,726 comments

user1 if they (y/n and mason) broke up, maybe people like you who keep on spreading rumours are one of the reasons why

user2 agreed 💀

user3 and if they really did break up, it’s none of our business tbh and they don’t owe us anything—not even an update about their relationship lol

user4 girl, ain’t you a f1 fanpage? whg are you posting this lol

user5 according to op, y/n is ‘technically’ part of f1 bc she’s toto’s daughter and was once linked with george during the summer trip in mallorca

user6 this is embarrassing 🫠 just delete the post

user7 no cuz it really is suspicious... mason hasn’t uploaded anything as well and they usually spend the holidays together but this year, no posts about it 🫤

carmenmmundt

liked by f1, mercedesamgf1, georgerussell63, lilymhe and others

carmenmmundt they say all’s well that ends well to end up with you ❤️

view all 2,865 comments

lilymhe omg!! i’m so happy for you two!! x

f1 congratulations, georgerussell63 and carmenmmundt! 💍

mercedesamgf1 well this is BIG NEWS! the beginning of happily ever after 🔔👰

masonmount

liked by fan1, fan2, fan3 and others

masonmount i miss you so much, pretty girl. i hope youre doing well wherever you are right now.

view all 1,862 comments

fan1 what the fuck

fan2 MASON R U DRUNK

fan3 SO DID THEY RLY BREAK UP

fan4 WHERES Y/N THEN OMG

[THIS POST HAS BEEN DELETED]

#george russell x reader #mason mount x reader #george russell imagine #mason mount imagine #f1 x reader #football x reader #f1 instagram au #football instagram au #f1 imagine #football imagine

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jamminvroomvroom · 9 months

Note

george russell and girlfriend reader where he takes time to explain his checo vendetta to you

this was fun to write! i love requests like this, thanks for sending it in <3 this is very short n sweet but i hope u enjoy

disclaimer: this is all for the lols and is not serious. checo fans, do not get your knickers in twist (all two of you) <3

“and it’s not even just the fact that he can’t go wheel to wheel without crying.”

george was venting, another weekend plagued by his vendetta against checo, the one the media made up and the fans revelled in.

“if i didn’t overtake him, someone else would, he practically falls asleep at the bloody wheel!”

you smiled coyly, amused at your boyfriends outburst. personally, you’d always found the rivalry between the second drivers at mercedes and redbull to be comedic, always finding an opportunity to tease george about his anti-perez tendencies. he always seemed to find a way to scrap with the second redbull, tangling with checo from the get go as soon as he got his mercedes seat.

george proved how talented he was, time and time again, his racecraft a beautiful thing to witness, and you couldn’t deny that it turned you on when he would start ranting the rule book over the radio like a man on a mission, any time the mexican driver so much as appeared in his mirrors.

“and don’t even get me started on the adultery. who does that to their wife? if only he could have the same audacity when max comes up behind him on track.” george tutted, shaking his head. you couldn’t help but laugh.

“what? why are you laughing? i’m serious! he’s just bloody ridiculous.” george huffed, crossing his arms and slumping back on the sofa. you were both sat in the merc hospitality suite, and you wouldn’t be surprised if his little speech gained an audience. it was no secret that the redbull drivers were not favoured in the mercedes neck of the woods.

“i’m not laughing at you, darling, but you are funny.” you smiled softly.

“well, i’m not trying to be. blimey, can’t even complain to my own girlfriend.” he mumbled.

“hey,” you pushed his crossed elbows, jogging him. “you know you can complain, it’s just funny is all. i love it when you get all passionate.” you grinned, leaning into his side.

“well, they didn’t make me head of the gpda for my stoic nature.” he finally cracked a smile.

#ask #anon #george russell #george russell fluff #george russell fic #george russell blurb #george russell x reader #george russell x you #f1 fic #f1 blurb #f1 fluff

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fruitcoops · 6 months

Note

So I was just watching Matty Healy’s “celebrity school run” interview from BCC Radio One, and my mind jumped right to imagining Sirius with a couple awestruck hockey kids in the back of his truck, navigating questions as he drives them around (maybe to hockey practice instead of school??)! Congrats on finishing finals!! <3

Fic O'Ween Day 9: Sugar Rush! Cap credit to @lumosinlove and fest credit to @noots-fic-fests <3 Cutie patootie start to the weekend!

“Ask him!”

“I don’t wanna ask. You do it.”

“Everything alright back there?”

A small boy in a blue shirt dropped an elbow into the side of his, equally small yet significantly blonder, companion. “How does the internet work?” the blond boy blurted.

In the front seat, Sirius Black frowned at the road. “Quoi?”

“I told you it was a dumb question!” a redheaded little girl whispered across the seat.

“The internet,” the blond boy repeated, twisting the pocket of his cargo shorts into a nub in his fist. “How’s it work?”

“Uh…”

“My mom said the government tells you on your first adult birthday,” the dark-haired boy informed him as he leaned forward onto the console. “So you’ve gotta know, ‘cause you’re totally an adult.”

“Your mother is right, Ethan,” Sirius agreed. His eyes darted to the small camera stuck on the car’s dashboard. “That’s—yes, you’ll have to wait until you’re eighteen to find out. I can’t tell you. It would be illegal.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “But you’re Canadian, so American laws don’t apply to you.”

“It’s international.” Suburban homes rolled past outside, surrounded by fresh spring foliage. “The UN decided on that rule.”

“Aw, man.”

“Are you really getting married?” the redheaded girl piped up.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Summer.”

“But when?”

“Summer,” Sirius repeated with a laugh.

“What day?” She poked her head between the front seats as well, bumping shoulders with Ethan. “Can we come?”

“Definitely not. Both of you, sit back, you’re going to get hurt.” Sirius glanced into the rearview mirror as he turned onto another narrow street. “Look at Jacob. He’s doing it right.”

Jacob preened, shooting each of his companions a Cheshire grin. “Lydia said you’re getting married to your boyfriend. Is that true?”

“Fiance, but yes.” Sirius reached back to shoo Lydia and Ethan back into their seats, one hand on the wheel. “Why do you know so much about my wedding? Aren’t you supposed to ask me hockey questions?”

“We have time. School doesn’t start for an hour.” Lydia folded her hands in her lap and squinted to look out at the road. “Also, my sister plays hockey and she was telling me that her team was telling her that you're gonna be the first married hockey player ever.”

“That’s…that’s not true.”

“Of course it is.”

“There are so many married hockey players!” Sirius laughed.

“Oh yeah?” Jacob challenged. “Who?”

“James Potter, Pascal Dumais, Sergei Ivanov, Adam Fox, Mika Zibanejad, Brad Marchand—I think most NHL players are married, actually.”

“Is the Earth actually round, or is the government lying?” Ethan asked, picking at the back of Sirius’ seat.

Sirius pressed his lips together for a moment. “Ah,” he began, coughing through a laugh. “Nope, it’s definitely round. People have known that for a long time.”

“My uncle says the government lies a lot.”

“Well, my uncle works for the government,” Jacob scoffed.

“Well—”

“Why is the Earth round?” Lydia butted in. “I think you’re lying. If it was round, everything in Australia would be upside down.”

“Oh god,” Sirius muttered. “Okay, new rule: no flat Earth discussions in the car.”

“Cause you’re lying?”

“Cause Galileo is spinning in his grave.”

“Isn’t that the bird from the movie with the girl and the volcano and the lizard and Russell Crowe and that one lady?”

Jacob gasped and turned to her. “My mom loves Russell Crowe! Y’know, Mr. Sirius Black, you kinda look like Russell Crowe.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“He kinda does,” Ethan admitted.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh—”

“Okay,” Sirius announced as he paused at a stoplight with a thousand-yard stare. “We’re not doing any ‘nuh-uh’s until you are safely at school. Do you act like this when your parents are driving?”

All three children stared at him from the backseat. For a singular second, their fidgeting paused. “Like what?” Lydia asked, clearly bewildered. “The lady with the camera told us to ask you questions.”

Sirius seemed to process that for a beat. His fingertips drummed on the steering wheel while they waited for the light to change. “I’m starting to realize I don’t spend enough time with kids to know how you’re supposed to act.”

“Isn’t your brother a million years younger than you?”

“Six years.”

Lydia gave him a skeptical look over her glasses. “I’m only eight, so that’s basically forever.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“How come clouds have different shapes?” Ethan asked. “Is it because birds fly through them and turn them all thin after they’re fluffy?”

“No, the wind does that.”

“Why?”

“It’s the wind, it doesn’t have reasons.”

“How do you know.”

“Because I’m an adult. Hey, look, a pigeon.”

All three children lunged toward the window, straining at their seatbelts and booster seats. Sirius glanced at the dashcam with a small, pleased smile and made a smooth left turn onto Main Street. “Where is it?” Jacob asked eagerly. “Was it big? What color was it? I don’t see it.”

“Oh, I think it was in the parking lot back there,” Sirius said casually. “Keep an eye out, see if there are more.”

“I’m never allowed to ask adults this many questions,” Lydia gushed, swinging her feet above the floor of the car. “Do you pay taxes?”

“Yes.”

“How do they work?”

“Good question. I have no idea.”

Ethan, apparently tired of pigeon-spotting, sat up straight and began peeling a sticker off the side of his booster. “Do you speak French?”

“Ouais.”

“Can you say something in French?”

“Ouais,” Sirius repeated with a grin.

“Please?”

“I just did.”

“Way,” Ethan mimicked. “Ha! That sounds like a duck. Wah-wah-wah-wah—”

“Yellow punch buggy.”

A flurry of movement and stifled ‘ow’s followed on swift wings; Sirius winced, but didn’t seem particularly regretful. “So,” he tried again. “What do you guys like to do at school?”

“Have lunch.”

“Read.”

“Recess.”

He nodded with a light laugh. “You know what, that’s fair.”

Jacob cocked his head to the side. “Did you like school?”

“I loved school.”

“What was your favorite subject?”

“Math.” A simultaneous false gag from three different mouths made him jump slightly, glancing over his shoulder. “Jesus—”

“I hate math,” Lydia declared. “We started multiplication and it makes my head hurt.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Ethan’s nose wrinkled. “I like math, but it’s definitely not my favorite. Hey, do you have tattoos?”

“No.”

“Can we see them?”

Sirius’ brow knit. “I just told you I don’t have any.”

“You’re a hockey player, you gotta have tattoos. Thomas Walker has them, Cole Reyes has them, James Potter has them…”

“James doesn’t have tattoos,” Sirius snorted. “Where are you getting your information?”

“My brother. He knows everything.”

“How old is he?”

“Eleven.”

Sirius nodded slowly, biting the inside of his cheek. “A wise age.”

“How many teeth are you missing?”

“None, dude,” Jacob interrupted. “Didn’t you see earlier? He has perfect teeth. Hey, Mr. Sirius Black, did you have braces?”

“No.”

“Your teeth just grew like that?”

“Mhmm.”

“I just lost a tooth last week.”

Sirius stopped at the corner, looking over his shoulder at them. “Oh, really? Your first?”

“Nah, my fifth,” Jacob answered, as jaded as a third-grader could get. “It’s boring now. I got a quarter for it, though. My sister wanted to tie it to a doorknob, but my dad didn’t let her.”

Lydia nodded solemnly. “My cousin lost her first tooth when a piñata hit her.”

“I lost mine while I was eating a tuna sandwich,” Ethan added. “Then it was a blood sandwich. It was crazy.”

“Gross,” Lydia said with great approval.

Apparently satisfied with the direction the conversation had gone, the car remained near-silent for almost fifteen seconds. They headed past several gas stations (and their pigeon-filled parking lots) before stopping once again at a red light.

Ethan let out a loud gasp. “Tim Hortons!”

Sirius turned as if on instinct, craning his neck, before he seemed to realize the danger of the situation. Lydia slapped at the back of the driver’s seat with an excited hand, bouncing in her booster. “We gotta go, we gotta go, we gotta go.”

To his credit, Sirius spared a half-second to consider it. “Absolutely not.”

To his demise, Sirius spared a half-second to consider it. They fell on him like miniature wolves to a downed caribou.

“Please,” Ethan begged. “Please, please, their hot cocoa is so good, you don’t understand.”

“I’m Canadian, I understand better than you do.”

“Then we have to go!”

“There is no world where I get three kids on a Tim Horton’s sugar rush before school.” He shook his head and began turning off Main Street. “Not in this lifetime. Your teachers would hunt me for sport.”

“You’re Canadian! You’re—you’re Queb—” Ethan made a frustrated noise and turned to Jacob. “What’s the word for Quebec people?”

“…Canadians…?”

“Quebecois,” Sirius informed him. His eyes widened slightly. “Wow, is that the first question you’ve asked that I can actually answer?”

“You’re Quebecois,” Ethan continued, stumbling over each syllable. He made it there in the end, but not before everyone else in the car made a pained face. “That means you have to take us to Tim Horton’s.”

“No.”

Lydia’s eyes were fever-bright in the backseat, as if she had knocked back a handful of jellybeans and Red Bull. “Timmy’s, Timmy’s, Timmy’s…”

“Please, no.”

Jacob and Ethan brightened immediately, because of course they did. Sirius watched the road in mournful disbelief, like he was driving into his personal hell with no exit ramp in sight. “TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S—”

“I’ve never having children.”

“TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S—”

The shouting came to an abrupt halt. Sirius parked the car under the shade of a large oak tree and waited for several seconds, until all three kids started to exchange wary looks. The silence dragged on. Polyester and cotton rustled.

Sirius rested his elbow on the console and turned to the backseat, one eyebrow raised. “Are we done?”

“Are you gonna turn this car around?” Jacob whispered in quiet horror.

“Non. I have a deal for you, though.” Instant curiosity overcame their concern. Sirius held three fingers up. “One: don’t kick the back of my seat. Two: don’t yell in my car, it’s very distracting. Three: Count five pigeons by the time we get to school. I will ask your parents if I can bring you Timbits—”

Gasps of delight filled the car.

“—if you promise to do all three of those things.”

Jacob tucked his hands under his legs, all but vibrating with anticipation. “Can you get cinnamon ones?”

“Can you find five pigeons?”

“Of course I can,” he whispered.

Sirius nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Do you make a million bajillion dollars?” Lydia asked.

“Non. But I do have money for Timbits for nice kids who ask cool questions.”

Ethan’s mouth fell open. “We’re nice kids who ask cool questions!”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius gave a teasing hum. “I don’t know. Think you can prove it in the next five minutes?”

“What kind of dog do you have?” Lydia asked without hesitation.

“Oh, that is a good question.” The car rumbled to life, and they pulled onto the road without issue. “I don’t know. She’s black, and she has pointy ears.”

“How long do you want to play hockey?”

“Oof. A while. Maybe ten more years? We’ll see.”

Ethan finished peeling the sticker off his booster seat and reached over Lydia to stick it on Jacob’s. “Is being an adult fun?”

“Yes.”

“Is it hard?”

“Yes.”

“If you could get in a time machine and be eight again, would you do it?”

“No.”

Jacob frowned. “How come?”

“Because I like being able to make my own dinner, I would miss my friends, and I wouldn’t be able to get Tim Horton’s whenever I want to.”

Lydia started to kick the back of his seat in boredom, but quickly tucked her foot behind her other leg. “If you were eight and went to our school, do you think we would be friends?”

Sirius smiled, moving slowly past a wire fence. “Sure.”

“Can you say more French stuff?”

“Comme quoi?”

“Um—can you say ‘hello’?”

“Bonjour.”

Jacob chewed on his lower lip. “Can you say…this school is super cool?”

“Cette école est très cool.”

“Is ‘cool’ the same in both?”

“Ouais.”

“Okay, stop, stop, you gotta do English now,” Ethan said hurriedly, waving his hands. “I don’t speak French.”

“That’s okay, you can learn,” Sirius laughed. They rolled to a stop in a mostly-empty section of the parking lot; he waved to someone outside, and the children quickly followed suit. He propped his arm on the console again and raised his eyebrows. “I think your parents are ready to have you back. Any last questions?”

“Do you like books?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“What kind of Timbits do you like?’

“Have you been playing hockey since before we were born?”

“How does electricity work?”

“Do you kiss your boyfriend? Oh, yeah, how do cars work?”

“How come the sky changes colors but the ocean doesn’t?”

Sirius didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, blue, all of them, yes, I think it’s something with electrons and metal? Yes, engines and combustion, and because the sky and the ocean are made of different things.”

“Okay,” Jacob said with a decisive nod. “Cool! Thanks!”

“Thank you, this was lots of fun.” Sirius unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out of the car, then came around and opened the backseat door for them. They spilled out in a pile, each meeting his gentle fist-bump with incredible enthusiasm that only grew when he feigned injury at the strength of their hands. Their booster seats came free with little finagling. “Alright, go see your parents. I can carry these.”

“Wait!” Lydia yelped, turning on her heel halfway through a step. “What about the Timbits?”

“Nobody kicked my seat or yelled,” Sirius mused, gathering the boosters in his arms. “Pigeons?”

“Two on the sidewalk, one in the parking lot, and two at the Gas ‘n Sip,” Jacob announced.

“Then they’ll be here when you get out of school,” he promised. They shook on it, tiny hands dwarfed by his palm, before they were off at a sprint once more. “Be safe! Don’t trip on the concrete!”

#sirius black #ocs #sweater weather #vaincre #my fic #fanfic #lumosinlove #fluff #lion pride #celebrity school run #fic o’ween 2023

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lordperceval-16 · 1 year

Text

Come Light Me Up

Max Verstappen x Sophie Russell (OC)

Sophie Russell is taking a break from her life in the US and travelling the world with her brother on the F1 circuit. Things get a bit more complicated when she reconnects with one Max Verstappen.

~Bahrain ~

"Oh sorry Sophie, I didn't think anyone would be up here."

Sophie turned around and smiled when she saw Max standing in the doorway, the light behind him shining out into the darkness.

"It's alright," she replied, "wouldn't mind a bit of company to be honest."

He came to stand beside her and rested his arms on the railing, looking out over the city below. They stood in silence for awhile, Sophie analysing the brooding look on his face.

"Sorry your race went shit today," she murmured, and he couldn't help but laugh at her bluntness.

"Gee thanks. I'm surprised you're not off celebrating your brothers' podium," he commented, his brows furrowing.

"Yeah I was but..." Sophie sighed, her head down, "guess I still haven't quite adjusted to the timezone."

"Why do I get the feeling that's not the whole truth?" He pushed, his gaze settling on her with curiosity.

"Aren't you observant," she snorted, glancing sideways at him before her shoulders slumped slightly on defeat, "but yeah, you're right, it's not the timezone really."

"Care to share?" He queried, nudging her elbow with his.

"Sure you actually care to listen to my ridiculously boring melodrama?" She quipped back, eliciting a laugh from him.

"Try me," he grinned, "maybe I'm in the mood for melodrama."

"You definitely have better options for your night than listening to me," she insisted.

"Look you don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable with it," he assured her, "but something's clearly up and if you need a friendly ear then I'm here."

"Well I..." she started, looking down again, "I love George and Carmen, in fact she's like a sister to me, but since I've come home I just...I dunno. Of course I'm so happy they have each other but...sometimes seeing them makes me feel...."

"Lonely?" He guessed, and she nodded her agreement.

"Yeah," she murmured, "I was with someone for three years before it all went tits up, and now I feel...a little lonely yeah."

"That's pretty shit," he replied plainly, "but I get it. It can be hard being the single one at the party.

"Wow," she snickered, "such insightful points you make."

"It's a gift," he laughed, "but seriously, if you ever need any more very insightful points then I'd be happy to listen to more of your melodrama sometime."

"Cheers," she chuckled, pushing herself away from the railing, "Careful though or I might just take you up on it sometime."

"I'll be waiting by the phone," he teased.

"Oh I'm sure you'll be glued to the screen" she quipped back, "I better get some sleep, we fly out fairly early in the morning."

"Wouldn't want that jet lag to make you late for your flight," he grinned.

"Ah yes, the jet lag," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes, "I'll see you around Max."

"Hey Sophie?" He called after her, "its nice to see you at race weekends again. Reminds me of the old days."

"Aha yeah," Sophie laughed, "those were the days. If only everything could be as simple now as it was then."

"It'll get better," he assured her quietly.

"Here's hoping anyway," she sighed before waving goodnight to him and leaving the rooftop.

~Imola~

"We have got to stop meeting up like this."

Max looked up and huffed out a laugh when he saw Sophie sliding down the wall to sit beside him.

"What brings you here?" He asks, leaning his cheek against the cool wall and giving her his full attention.

"Well," she sighed dramatically, mirroring his position,"George and his mechanics are buzzing around the garage and it all got a bit too frantic for me so I stepped out to get a breather. I didn't want to get in the way or distract him before quali."

"That's fair," he chuckled, "things can get a bit chaotic in the garages."

"I have to wonder what you're doing here, hiding by yourself," she stated, "shouldn't you be holed up with Horner in a corner of the garage scheming up how you can pip Charles to pole?"

"Oh hawhaw," he deadpanned, sticking his tongue out at her, "you Mercedes fangirls love to paint us as the villains don't you."

"A fangirl?" She balked, bringing her hand to her chest, "never been so insulted in my life."

"I'll add it to my growing shelf of awards," he teased, grinning wider when she rolled her eyes.

"You're so full of shit," she scoffed, but she couldn't hide her amused grin.

"See I know you don't mean that," he smirked, nudging her with his elbow before pulling himself up from the ground, "I better head back to the garage, make sure our evil scheme is ready to go. I'll see you around Sophie."

"Hey Max," she called as she stood herself, a genuine smile on her face, "probably shouldn't be saying this to the enemy but...good luck, I hope your quali goes...moderately well."

"Gee thanks," he snickered, "I'll know who to thank if I get pole."

As Sophie walked through the paddock later that evening she was stopped by a hand on her elbow.

"Thanks for the good luck wishes," he murmured in her ear, "we'll have to make it a regular thing."

"Oh you are such an insufferable twat," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"You don't mean that," he teased as he backed away from her, a cheeky grin lighting up his face. Sophie shook her head as she left him, but she couldn't ignore the excited little flutter in her stomach at the prospect of their meetings being a regular thing.

~Barcelona~

"Suppose congratulations are in order today," Sophie called from her spot leaning against the Mercedes motor home.

Max turned and grinned when he saw her there, sauntering over to her and leaning against the wall beside her.

"Wow thanks Sophie," he sniggered, "next time try it with feeling."

"Best I can do I'm afraid," she sighed dramatically, "as a Mercedes fangirl its my duty to be disdainful when you beat us, especially when you beat George."

"Aw I know you don't mean that Sophie," he pouted, "but it's OK, you obviously can't admit that you're actually a proud member of the orange army."

"Clearly the heat on track has gotten to your head," she snorted, shaking her head at him fondly.

"Don't worry," he whispered, leaning in to her ear, his breath tickling her neck, "it'll be our little secret."

Sophie felt butterflies erupt in her stomach at his whispered words. If she turned her head even slightly then her nose would brush against his. She couldn't deny her attraction to him, couldn't deny just how tempted she was to turn her head and see what he would do.

"Hey Soph you ready to...oh, hi Max."

Sophie's head whipped around as George walked out of the motor home, his eyes flickering between the two of them suspiciously.

"Hi George," Max said cheerily, stepping away from Sophie and hoping it wasn't too obvious, "I need to head to the motor home and shower so I'll see you both around."

Sophie waved goodbye and watched him go, her neck prickling with the weight of her brother's gaze on her.

"You and Max looked mighty friendly," he commented as he stepped up beside her, "when did that become a thing?"

"It's not a thing," she insisted, crossing her arms as she finally turned to face him, "we're just friends."

"Is it me you're trying to convince or yourself?" George teased lightly, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Oh shut the hell up," Sophie scoffed, "now c'mon let's get out of here and get dinner, I'm absolutely starving."

~Miami ~

Wanna play Mario kart?

Sophie huffed out an incredulous laugh when the Instagram DM from Max popped up on her screen.

Sure, what's your room?

She twiddled her thumbs as she waited for a reply, which thankfully didn't take too long to come through.

714 :)

Sophie swung her legs over the side of the bed and stretched her arms above her head, groaning in satisfsction when she felt the pop. She quickly slid on her shoes and grabbed her phone and purse before bolting out the door and heading for the elevator. As she waited for the lift to go up she checked her appearance in the mirrored wall, quickly taking down her messy bun and making it a little bit neater. She rapped on the door of 714 twice, starling back a little at how quickly it opened.

"You came," he breathed, almost as though he was surprised.

"Well while I did have some good offers," she mused as she stepped in and placed her things on the table, "I thought Mario Kart would be considerably more fun than any of those."

"Wow, I'm so flattered," he deadpanned, though he couldn't surpress his grin for too long, "now I'm dying to know which character you'll pick. My bets on Yoshi for sure."

"Well I hate to disappoint you," she replied as she picked up the remote and jumped onto the couch, "but it's Waluigi or bust."

"A woman of taste," he said, bowing dramatically before joining her on the couch, "this should be interesting."

"Oh sweetie," she sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder, "you may be the formula one world champion, but I'm going to absolutely destroy you at this."

"Oh is that right?" He quipped, raising an eyebrow in challenge, "well we'll see about that. Best of three?"

"You're on," she grinned.

"You cheated!" She exclaimed after their third grand prix came to an end, "you pushed me off the track at the last turn and put me in reach of the flowers, that's absolutely cheating."

"You're just mad cause you didn't think of it," he smirked, leaning back on the couch and shrugging his shoulders, "but it's alright, not everyone can be a world champion."

"Oh you are so full of it," she huffed, dumping her control on the table and hugging the couch cushion to her chest, a pout on her face.

"Aw don't be a sore loser Sophie," he teased, batting his eyelashes at her, "its just a game." Before she could think too much about it she swung the cushion in her hand and hit him square in the face with it.

"Really?" He asked incredulously, "did that make you feel better?"

"Yes actually," she smirked, before swinging the cushion again. This time he was ready for her though, and grabbed the cushion from her hands before it could make contact.

"Don't start another competition you can't win," he warned, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"What makes you think I won't win?" She challenged. Max made her no answer, and when she realised what was about to happen it was too late and the cushion had already slammed into her face.

"Oh its so on," she stated, grabbing the other cushion as she jumped from the couch and dodged his next blow. They raced around his suite for what felt like hours, trading blows and laughing like maniacs.

"Alright that's it," he threatened after a particularly harsh blow. Sophie huffed out a squeal as he tackled her around the waist and her back bounced onto the soft bed. She gasped for breath through her laughter, her heart pounding in her chest from the exertion. When she opened her eyes she found herself nose to nose with Max, who was staring back at her intently. His gaze flickered almost imperceptibly to her lips and her heart raced impossibly faster.

The spell was broken by the blaring of his ringtone. He groaned as he stood up and plucked his phone from the nightstand, answering it with gruff 'yes?'.

Sophie stood from the bed and straightened herself out, clearing her throat and ignoring the fluttering in her chest. When she looked up again he was hanging up the phone and watching her warily, as though she were a cornered animal.

"I had a lot of fun," she said quietly after an awkward beat, "certainly beat sitting on my own watching hallmark movies."

"Yeah me too," he agreed, his face softening, "probably the most fun I've had in awhile."

"Well I won't lie I probably would have had more fun if you hadn't cheated," she commented breezily, and suddenly the weird tension between them was no more. "Next time its all out war."

"I'm shaking just thinking about it," he teased. Sophie rolled her eyes and stepped closer to him, a small smile on her face.

"I better get to bed," she sighed, "rematch soon yeah?"

"Absolutely," he nodded, his heart thudding when she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on her shoulder, his heart thudding so loudly in his chest he was sure she'd feel it.

"Night Max," she murmured as she stepped back and headed for the door.

"Night Sophie," he called after her, a content smile on his face.

~Monaco~

"Hey Sophie, want another drink?"

"Sure," she grinned, "I'll come with you."

Max led the way around the dancefloor to the crowded bar at the other side of the room. He had no problem muscling his way to the front of the crowd, but Sophie struggled to get through. She smiled gratefully when Max took her hand in his and pulled her to the front with him. He didn't let go once she'd settled beside him, and her heart fluttered at the feel of his hand in hers.

"Oh I love this song," she grinned as she finished your drink and a remix of 'Into You' blared drom the speakers.

"Come on then," Max suggested, downing his drink before grabbing her hand and dragging her to the dancefloor. He rested his hands on her waist and swayed their bodies in sync with the music. As the baseline began to rise her eyes met his and her heart felt like it was trying to escape from her chest. His face was so close to hers that their noses were almost touching, and when the lights flashed she could see the glint of want in his eyes and knew it was a look she wouldn't forget.

As the chorus dropped she threw all caution to the wind and pressed her lips against his desperately. He pulled her flush against his chest, his hands on her back holding her there. She felt like her body had been electrified, every inch that was pressed against Max feeling like it was on fire.

"Why don't we go somewhere more private," he murmured against her lips, and she couldn't surpress a shiver. She nodded in response, and he wasted no time in grabbing her hand and leading her through the club and out the front door.

"Where are we going?" She asked as he led her down the street. He stopped and turned to look at her, a vulnerable look taking over his face.

"Oh well I was thinking we could go to mine since it's so close," he started, rubbing the back of his neck, "but if I've misunderstood this then we can absolutely just...."

"No," she giggled, shaking her head and pressing another kiss to his cheek, "you haven't misunderstood anything. I was just asking."

"Oh," he laughed, "well then yeah, my place is nearby so we can go there."

"Lead the way," she grinned, "I'll text George and let him know I've left and that I'm OK."

"He's not going to murder me is he?" Max joked as they continued down the street.

"He's probably too drunk to even notice I've left," Sophie snorted. As they walked their hands brushed against each other, and Sophie couldn't fight her smile as he took her hand in his and swung them back and forth.

"So," he said awkwardly as they entered his house, "do you want a drink or..."

Sophie cut him off with a firm kiss, backing him up against the wall and pressing her body flush against his. "I didn't come home with your for drinks Max," she stated, pressing breathy kisses along his jaw, "so why don't you show me where your bedroom is and we can tour the kitchen in the morning."

"Who am I to argue with that?" He laughed before kissing her with renewed enthusiasm. He wrapped his arms around her waist and began to steer her down the hallway to his room, his lips never leaving hers.

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x oc #george russell #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 drabble #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic

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