#george witnessing the chaos

[raapija]

Nando was NOT having a good time after quali 😭

Peepaw complained to EVERYBODY about the wrongdoings committed against him. Lance... come get your man, he's causing a scene again

[a-chaotic-dumbass]

nothing eradicates the idea of pro-ship/anti-ship mentality quite like george r r martin and anything he wrote ever

[whimsicaldoxy]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 - 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

pairing: fred weasley x reader

summary: you and fred share a cozy evening at the burrow on new year’s eve, surrounded by the weasley family’s warmth and chaos.

notes: established relationship, pre-war, insinuated fem!reader, no use of y/n, fred loves pet names, fluff

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The time was creeping closer and closer to midnight, and the evening air was filling the Burrow, the scent of smoked wood and Mrs Weasley’s famous treacle tart.

Fred was sat beside you on the patchwork sofa in the living room, his arm draped lazily over your shoulders. The pair of you were half-buried under a hand-knitted blanket, sharing a butterbeer.

“Go on, admit it,” Fred said, leaning closer as his freckled face glowed in the firelight. “You’re only dating me for my charm.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back into the sofa. “Oh, absolutely. It’s definitely not for your constant, irritating smugness or the way you ruin a perfectly good evening by stealing all the treacle tart before I can even get a bite.”

Fred gasped dramatically, his hand flying to his chest. “Darling, you wound me! You know my heart belongs only to you.”

George, his brother, who perched on the arm of the couch like a smug cat, chimed in. “That and his stomach. Mum’s cooking ranks a close second.”

Fred ignored him. “You’re not denying it, though,” he said, his grin widening as he looked back at you. “See? Can’t even argue because you love me.”

“Love might be a strong word,” you said, lifting the mug to your lips, hiding your smirk behind the rim.

“Oi!” Fred started, his finger gripping the blanket in attempt to pull it. George gave him a sharp jab in the side. “Off you go, Freddie. Don’t embarrass yourself further.”

You yank at the blanket, pulling it fully over you as Fred bickered with his twin. “Speaking of embarrassing yourself,” you said, raising an eyebrow at Fred. “Are you going to ask what my New Year’s resolution is, or are you too scared to know?”

He perked up at that, his golden-brown eyes gleaming with curiosity. “All right. Let’s hear it. Let me guess—it’s to learn to tolerate my unparalleled wit?”

You leaned closer, the corner of your mouth quirking into a grin. “It’s to beat you at Exploding Snap this year. Every. Single. Time.”

Fred blinked once. Then twice. Then he threw his head back in a loud, delighted laugh before leaning forward. “Blimey, darling. That’s ambitious, even for you.”

“You’ll see,” you replied smugly, leaning in.

“Five minutes to midnight!” Mrs Weasley’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Everyone grab your drinks and get outside for the fireworks! And George, if you light a single one before we’re ready, so help me—”

The whole family shuffled outside, you included, the cold winter air hitting you like a sudden shock after the warmth of the house. Snow crunched underfoot, white, soft and glittering under the light of the stars. The garden was a chaos of footprints and hastily trampled paths, leading to a makeshift firework display that George was already fussing over.

A stack of colourful rockets stood ready, haphazardly tied together in what could only be described as a precarious masterpiece.

As your head tilted to stare up at the stars overhead, Fred slipped his hand into yours, his fingers warm and rough against your own. He guided you towards the edge, his arm curling around your waist, pulling you to his side as the first firework shot into the air with a loud crack—it exploded in a burst of crimson and gold, lighting up the sky.

Fred leaned down, his voice soft in your ear. “You know, it doesn’t matter what resolutions you make this year.” His tone was so different from his usual teasing—gentle and sincere. “As long as you’re with me, that’s all I’ll ever need.”

The weight of his words settled in the air around you, and for a moment, you forgot about the cold or the impending war that loomed on the horizon. You turned to him, standing on your toes to press your lips to his. He tasted like butterbeer and laughter, his lips warm against yours despite the chill in the air.

Around you, the fireworks continued to burst in brilliant waves of colour—and when you finally pulled away, Fred was grinning again, his lopsided smile even more dazzling in the firework-lit night. “Next year,” he said, his tone edging back into a familiar playfulness, “I resolve to make you laugh at least twice as much. Shouldn’t be too hard—I’m brilliant, you know.”

“You’re something, alright,” you replied, shaking your head at him fondly. The words were laced with affection, and Fred clearly heard it, because he squeezed your hand tighter.

“Happy New Year, love,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

“Happy New Year, Fred,” you replied, leaning into his warmth as another firework burst overhead, painting the night sky in silver and blue. For this one perfect moment, the world felt safe and whole, and the future could wait until tomorrow.

[cx-boxbox]

So, apparently, Lando told an F1 journalist that during the drivers’ Dinner, George was the last to show up. The other drivers had saved him two seats, both conveniently right next to Max. When George arrived, Max waved, said, “Hi, George,” and gestured for him to sit down.

But George, in what must have been the most painfully awkward moment, he took one of the seats and dragged it all the way to the other side of the table to sit next to Lewis instead😭😭???

And THEN Oscar casually added today that the drivers’ dinner was so much fun because he got to witness Max and George silently giving each other death stares the whole time.

LANDOSCAR ARE 100% THAT HAPPILY MARRIED COUPLE WHO LIVE FOR THE DRAMA IN OTHER PEOPLE’S RELATIONSHIPS AND LOVE GOSSIPING ABOUT IT. Like, they made sure to sit together near Max just to have front row seats to all the chaos🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

Oh my GOD. This is hilarious. Thanks for sharing, anon, because I’m going to be thinking about Lando and Oscar being married and nosy together for a while.

[httpvomitello]

could you write something for fred weasley, where she is a ravenclaw a year younger than him.

set during the order of the phoenix

i just imagine him pining over her and she is completely clueless!!

thank you so much 💓

Owwn, that's sooo cute! I hope you like it ~ ♡♡

Her Wit, His Heart *⁠.⁠✧

Fred Weasley wasn’t used to being subtle. Subtlety wasn’t his style, nor was it George’s. Together, they thrived in chaos—big laughs, loud pranks, and cheeky grins that could charm anyone. But when it came to you, the Ravenclaw with a sharp wit and a knack for disappearing into books, Fred was completely out of his depth.

It started during his sixth year at Hogwarts, just after the Yule Ball. He’d spotted you sitting by the lake, scribbling in a notebook while everyone else was in the Great Hall. You’d looked serene, the light casting a soft glow on your face, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, Fred couldn’t look away.

From that moment on, you were everywhere in his mind—your quiet laugh, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were focused, your quick comebacks during classes that left even the professors impressed. Fred was smitten, but you? You didn’t seem to notice.

The next year, with the return of the Order of the Phoenix and Umbridge’s suffocating reign at Hogwarts, Fred’s feelings for you only deepened. You were a year younger, busy with OWLs and your role as a prefect. Somehow, amidst the chaos of rebellion, studying, and secret meetings, Fred found himself looking for you at every opportunity.

“Oi, Fred,” George said one evening as they prepared for another Dumbledore’s Army meeting. “You’ve got that ridiculous look on your face again.”

Fred frowned, tossing a Dungbomb into his bag. “What look?”

“The one you get whenever she’s around,” George teased, smirking. “It’s pathetic, really.”

Fred tried to play it cool. “Don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Oh, please,” George said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been pining after her for months. Why don’t you just tell her?”

Fred hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “She’s… different, George. She’s not like the others. And besides, she’s clueless. She probably doesn’t even know I exist.”

George snorted. “Yeah, right. You’re Fred Weasley. Everyone knows you exist. Just talk to her.”

Fred groaned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”

It wasn’t. Because you, brilliant and focused, seemed completely unaware of Fred’s attention. When he made jokes in the Great Hall, your laugh was polite but distracted. When he tried to help you in the library—“You don’t need that many books, love. I’ll carry a few for you.”—you thanked him absentmindedly before disappearing into the stacks.

Fred even tried showing off during Quidditch practice, pulling risky stunts that earned cheers from the stands, but your head was buried in a book.

“Clueless,” Fred muttered to himself as he landed his broom, shaking his head.

The tipping point came during one of the Dumbledore’s Army meetings. You had joined after hearing about the group from Luna Lovegood, and Fred had never been more grateful for Harry Potter’s rebellious streak.

That night, the Room of Requirement was buzzing with energy. Fred watched as you stood at the back of the room, your wand poised as Hermione demonstrated a disarming spell. You were biting your lip in concentration, and Fred felt his heart do a ridiculous flip.

When it was time to practice, Fred saw his chance.

“Need a partner?” he asked, sidling up to you with his trademark grin.

You looked up, surprised. “Oh, Fred. Sure, if you don’t mind.”

Fred pretended to be casual, but his heart was racing. As you practiced the spell, he couldn’t help but admire how determined you were, how focused.

“You’re pretty good at this,” he said after you successfully disarmed him for the third time.

You gave him a small smile. “Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself.”

Fred laughed. “Not too bad? I’m brilliant, love.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, and Fred took it as a small victory.

Over the weeks, Fred found more excuses to talk to you. He’d sit next to you during DA meetings, crack jokes to make you smile, and even sneak you sweets from Honeydukes.

But you remained oblivious, chalking up Fred’s attention to his usual charm and friendliness.

One evening, after a particularly intense DA session, Fred found you lingering in the Room of Requirement, studying your wand with a thoughtful expression.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, leaning against the wall.

You looked up, startled. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just… everything feels so serious lately.”

Fred nodded, his usual grin fading. “Yeah, it does.”

There was a pause, and then you added softly, “But it’s good to have this. To feel like we’re doing something that matters.”

Fred stared at you, his chest tightening. He wanted to tell you how much you mattered—to him, to this fight, to everything. But the words caught in his throat.

Instead, he said, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You blinked, clearly taken aback. “What?”

Fred rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “I mean it. You’re brilliant and kind and… you’ve got this way of making everything seem less terrible. I don’t know how you do it.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away. “Fred, I—”

Before you could finish, the door opened, and George poked his head in. “Oi, Fred! We’re leaving.”

Fred sighed, his moment ruined. “Be right there.”

As you gathered your things, Fred cursed himself for being such a coward.

It wasn’t until a week later, during a rare quiet evening in the library, that everything changed.

You were sitting at a table, surrounded by books, when Fred appeared, holding a chocolate frog.

“For you,” he said, sliding it across the table.

You looked up, puzzled. “Why?”

Fred hesitated, then said, “Because I like you, alright? And not in the ‘you’re my friend’ kind of way. I like you.”

You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“I know,” Fred continued, his cheeks reddening. “You probably think I’m joking, but I’m not. I’ve liked you for ages, and I’m terrible at hiding it, and—”

“Fred.”

He stopped rambling, looking at you nervously.

“You like me?” you asked, as if you couldn’t quite believe it.

Fred nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

A slow smile spread across your face. “I… I think I like you too.”

Fred blinked. “You think?”

You laughed softly. “I’ve never thought about it before, but… yeah. I do.”

Fred grinned, his heart soaring. “Well, that’s a start.”

And as you shared your first kiss in the quiet corner of the library, Fred decided that all the pining had been worth it.

[mclacedes]

Shameless (LN4 SMAU)

3. i'd rather say... unforgettable

warnings: suggestive content

summary: in which Lando prolongs the night with Y/N after his maiden victory in Miami

pairing: lando norris x fem!singer!stella!reader

face claim: camila cabello / kendall jenner

WC: 2.1k

✧ previously • next up

the monopoly game had turned into a chaotic mix of wits, jokes, and increasingly ridiculous bets. unsurprisingly, lando was loving every minute of it. each roll of the dice seemed to land in his favor, and he was absolutely shameless about it. his grin grew wider with every new property he snatched up, while the rest of you exchanged tired, defeated glances.

“i swear, you’ve rigged the dice,” max fewtrell grumbled, staring at the board like it was some kind of conspiracy. “how do you keep landing on unclaimed spaces?”

lando leaned back, balancing on two chair legs with that smug grin of his. “it’s not rigged, mate. it’s just skill.”

“it’s literally dice, you idiot,” verstappen shot back, shaking his head. “you’ve just got dumb luck, that’s all.”

lewis was the first to throw in the towel, stretching dramatically before standing up. “alright, i’m too old for this nonsense. you lot can stay up ruining each other’s lives, but i’m going to bed.”

“because you lost,” lando teased, earning a sharp look from lewis.

“no, because i value my sanity,” lewis replied, waving him off as he walked out.

soon after, charles and pierre called it quits, muttering something about needing beauty sleep. “good luck, y/n,” pierre said as he passed you, his tone half teasing, half pitying. “you’re going to need it with this one.”

“i don’t need luck,” you shot back, even though your dwindling monopoly money suggested otherwise.

the night dragged on, and the group continued to dwindle. george and verstappen left together, grumbling about their losses and promising vengeance next time.

lando’s reign of terror continued, but even carlos had his limits. with a tired yawn, he pushed himself up. “alright, i’m done. unlike some people, i’d like to wake up tomorrow feeling human.”

“lightweight,” lando teased, eyes sparkling with amusement.

carlos ignored him and turned to you. “don’t let him get away with everything, y/n.”

“i’ll try,” you replied with a smirk.

when the door closed behind you and lando, the silence of the hallway felt almost unsettling. you turned back to lando, who was now lazily stacking his fake bills in a showy display.

“well, congratulations,” you said, crossing your arms. “you’ve officially ruined monopoly for me.”

“ruined?” he asked, feigning offense. “i’ve elevated it. you’ve just never played with someone as talented as me before.”

“you’re insufferable,” you said, shaking your head with a laugh.

“and yet, here you are,” lando replied smoothly, standing up and grabbing the bottle of jack daniel’s from the floor.

his gaze flickered toward you, a mixture of mischief and challenge in his green eyes. “the night isn’t over yet, cinderella.”

you followed him to the elevator, the soft hum of the hotel filling the quiet between you. the building felt oddly calm compared to the chaos of the game.

“where’s your room?” he asked, pressing the button for the 10th floor.

“10th floor,” you replied.

“we're in the same floor. that's nice.”

lando nodded thoughtfully, his eyes briefly meeting yours with a grin. the elevator doors slid open, and he stepped inside, you following close behind. the soft hum of the elevator filled the silence as lando pressed the button without saying a word.

“you think the night’s over?” he asked, his grin still intact.

“well, i’m cinderella, am i not?”

“i thought you hated that nickname.”

“i do, norris. but if the shoe fits… you really need to stop calling me that, though.”

“no chance,” he said quickly, leaning his head back against the elevator wall with a smirk. “you’re like a fairy tale princess—just a little more sarcastic.”

“and iconic, thank you very much.”

“i’d say… unforgettable.”

the elevator ride felt unusually long with the playful tension swirling between you two. lando’s eyes, usually bright with humor, seemed to linger on you a bit longer than normal, but he said nothing, as if waiting for you to make the next move.

finally, the elevator chimed and the doors slid open, and you stepped out into the quiet hallway of the 10th floor. lando gestured toward the hall with a casual sweep of his hand.

“after you, princess,” he teased, his voice warm with an edge of genuine amusement.

you shot him a mock glare but walked ahead anyway. the floor was quieter than the others, and the soft carpet underfoot absorbed the sound of your steps as you reached his door. lando opened it with a quick swipe of his keycard, the door clicking softly as it swung open. with a smooth gesture, he motioned for you to step inside.

lando’s room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the city outside filtering through the curtains. it wasn’t much different from your own, but there was something oddly intimate about being in his space, something that made the air feel charged.

the room had a laid-back vibe, reflecting lando’s personality in every little detail. modern furnishings lined the walls, and the city lights cast soft shadows, giving the space a quiet, almost cozy feeling.

you glanced around before turning back to him. he tossed the bottle of jack daniel’s onto the counter and poured himself a generous amount into a glass, clearly not needing to measure anymore. he’d done this enough times to know exactly how much to pour.

“one more drink?” he offered, holding out the glass.

“you never stop drinking, do you?”

“you talk as if i’m an alcoholic... ouch.” he smirked. “i don’t usually drink much, but i just won my first race. and the night isn’t over, you’ve just said it yourself, babe.”

you hesitated for a moment before shaking your head. “well, i don’t drink whiskey,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“wine, then?”

“yeah, much better. but only because you owe me for that monopoly humiliation.”

“fair deal,” he said with a grin, grabbing a bottle of wine from the mini bar and uncorking it with practiced ease. he poured a generous amount into each glass, handing one over to you. he clinked his glass lightly against yours. “to your valiant, albeit unsuccessful, effort.”

“cheers,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile that tugged at your lips.

you took a sip, enjoying the smooth taste of the wine, though your mind was still on the game. “so, what’s the plan now?” you asked, leaning against the desk.

he paused for a moment, his eyes on you, as if weighing something in his mind before returning to the counter.

his eyes were locking onto yours with an unspoken challenge. "what if i said i was planning on making sure you didn’t leave until you’ve had your fill of fun tonight?"

you raised an eyebrow, unsure whether he was being serious or just messing with you. "and if i say i’m fine with just having one drink?"

you chuckled and took a small sip from your glass, the warmth of the alcohol mingling with the chill in the air. you hadn’t expected the night to go like this, but something about it felt... right. comfortable. easy.

as the minutes stretched on, there was a quiet shift in the atmosphere, one you couldn’t quite put your finger on. lando’s usual teasing tone had softened, and you began to notice the little things—the way his gaze lingered on you a moment longer than normal, the way the space between you seemed to shrink without either of you acknowledging it.

you realized that this wasn’t just a casual drink. it was something more, something that you weren’t entirely ready to define yet.

lando’s voice broke through your thoughts. “you know,” he said, his tone a little quieter now, “i’m glad you decided to come up here. you make the night a lot more interesting.”

you met his gaze, your smile faltering for just a second as the weight of his words settled in. “i’m glad i did too,” you said softly, the playful teasing fading into something deeper, more sincere.

the conversation flowed easily, just as it always did with lando. he had a way of making you laugh even when you wanted to stay mad at him. but beneath the jokes and teasing, there was something quieter—an unspoken tension that neither of you addressed.

at some point, you found yourself sitting on the edge of his bed, the soft clink of your glass against the nightstand breaking the silence. lando leaned against the wall near the window, his gaze fixed on you.

“you’re surprisingly quiet,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“just thinking,” he replied, his voice low.

“dangerous for you,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

he chuckled, but his eyes didn’t lose their intensity. “you’re different tonight.”

“different how?”

he tilted his head, studying you for a moment before shaking his head. “i don't think i should...”

you frowned, but before you could press him, he straightened up and walked over, sitting down beside you.

“thanks for sticking around,” he said softly, his tone sincere in a way that made your chest tighten.

“someone had to make sure your ego didn’t completely inflate,”you joked, though your voice wavered slightly.

lando smiled, but his eyes lingered on yours, and for a moment, you were acutely aware of how close you were. the air seemed to shift, the silence between you heavy with something unspoken.

“cinderella,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?”

he didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “nothing. just… thanks for tonight.”

you smiled, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. “you’re welcome, norris.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head. “you really know how to ruin a moment.”

“someone has to keep you grounded.”

“lucky me,” he murmured, his voice carrying a warmth that lingered long after the words left his lips.

you both sat there for a moment, the weight of the silence between you thickening. your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the tension rising in the air. lando's gaze never wavered from yours, his expression unreadable, though there was something in his eyes that made your breath catch.

without thinking, you leaned in just a little, a small shift that seemed to change everything. lando’s eyes flickered down to your lips before he moved closer, his hand reaching up to gently touch your cheek, as if he was asking for permission without saying a word.

you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin, and before you could second-guess yourself, your lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. it was brief at first, a simple brush of his mouth against yours, but it sent a wave of electricity through your body.

lando pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his voice barely audible. “you sure about this?”

you took a deep breath, your hand reaching up to rest on his chest. “yeah,” you whispered, “i’m sure.”

and this time, when your lips met again, it was deeper, more urgent, as if the world around you had melted away.

THE MORNING AFTER

the sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as you slowly stirred awake. your head throbbed painfully, a reminder of last night’s overindulgence, and you blinked against the haze clouding your mind. you were still in the same dress from the previous night, though your shoes were nowhere to be found. the bed felt unfamiliar, yet oddly comforting as you slowly sat up, the sheets sliding off your legs.

the soft sound of running water reached your ears, and you realized lando was in the bathroom, the sound of his shower filling the silence of the room. your thoughts were a blur—flashes of laughter, the heat of his kiss, the tension that had built between you two—and you couldn’t help but wonder just how far things had gone last night. everything felt like a blur, a dream that was slipping through your fingers as you tried to piece it together.

your head was pounding from the hangover, and the confusion only made it worse. you ran a hand through your hair, sighing as you tried to shake the lingering fog from your mind. there was no denying that something had happened between you and lando, but the details were fuzzy, and you weren’t sure what it all meant.

without overthinking it, you stood up, your legs feeling a little unsteady as you glanced around the room. you didn’t want to deal with it now, not with the pounding in your head and the uncertainty clouding your thoughts. without another moment of hesitation, you grabbed your shoes from where they were discarded on the floor, quickly slipped them on, and quietly left the room, trying to ignore the pit forming in your stomach.

INSTAGRAM

ynstella

📍who invited hangover

❤️ by landonorris, mclaren, bellahadid and more

ynstella: turns out a night doesn't end after midnight for this cinderella. thank you, miami. you're unforgettable ❤️‍🔥🏹

tagged: landonorris

click here to open comment section

landonorris: "congrats lando" would be nice yk

ynstella: i feel like that's all i've said these past hours 😭

landofan1: a hard launch???

ynstella: what does that even mean?

ynfan2: MOTHER HI

ynfan44: shut down those rumour mother

landofan66: girl that caption is only shutting my system down

landofan17: i wonder who took that first pic...

landonorris: tried to shift my focus by looking pretty and all but you still owe me some money for last night

ynstella: i'm never playing monopoly w you again norris

maxverstappen1: i'm never playing monopoly w you again norris

carlossainz55: i'm never playing monopoly w you again norris

georgerussell63: i'm never playing monopoly w you again norris

lewishamilton: yeah same

ynstella: BREAKING! ancient man breaks a chain and gets beaten up by a singer

bellahadid: SO PRETTYYYY pls let's get married

ynstella: going 🏃‍♀️

landonorris: what about me tho?

oscarpiastri: they're gonna take your phone again

mclaren: speak louder osc

bellahadid: oops... 🤭

ynfan67: that's my wife right there

landonorris: hey bolter, nice to see you

ynfan6: the aesthetic 😩

ynfan18: can we talk about these comments tho?

ynfan19: lando's comments specifically

ynfan20: there MUST be something going on

landonorris: cute caption 🙃

landofan5: what is that supposed to mean sir???

ynfan23: EXCUSEZ MOI???

ynfan20: i'm dying.

ynfan21: girl i'm already dead.

[russellsppttemplates]

Loooved your latest Franco piece! Buy now I can only think about y/n being Brazilian...u know Brazil and Argentina are hermanos up until football, right? It's an crazy old "beef". Imagine Franco and y/n bickering about football like Pierre and Kika, and George and Carmen...but with a ton of history to back them up. I'm sure it would be chaos🤣

“Franco, you know Flamengo is going to crush Boca Juniors in the next Copa Libertadores, right?”, Y/N teased, lounging comfortably on the couch, wearing a vibrant green and yellow Brazil jersey, "but don't worry, amor, I'll comfort you after".

Franco rolled his eyes, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, "you dream, Y/N - Boca is unstoppable. The Bombonera will be a fortress!”.

Your banter was a ritual as much as the sport itself. It all started when you had to cover for one of your colleagues in the factory right on the day of the game, so your negotiation was simple - you'd cover if they let you watch the game on your break.

What you didn't know is that there was also another person who not only shared your passion for racing but also for football, finding Franco focused on the screen as the game was about to start. What began as a quick exchange of words evolved to a never-ending match of words, neither willing to concede defeat as the rest of the team gathered to watch two football fans argue, too lost between their engineer and their driver to even witness the monumental match happening.

“Remember 2004?”, you fired back, referencing that unforgettable Copa America final, "Adriano, last minute goal? Ring any bells?”.

Franco groaned dramatically, "you had to bring that up, didn’t you?", he retorted, pointing fingers, "but don't forget 1990, when Caniggia silenced the Maracanã! Not a peep after that one!".

The atmosphere in the apartment was fully charged, the air crackling with playful hostility, but beneath it lay an undeniable camaraderie for the sport.

You cherished these verbal sparring matches because they bridged the cultural divide, transforming rivalry into steadfast friendship that had grown into the beautiful relationship you have now.

“Okay, but what about our World Cup titles? Five. A full hand of them! Count them!”, you grinned widely, your eyes twinkling with challenge.

Franco feigned a sigh of defeat before responding with a grin of his own, "maybe so, but we have Maradona. That's worth more than five titles!”, he said, wiggling his fingers.

As the day unfolded, your spirited competition continued, seasoned with laughter and mock-serious arguments. The television flickered with highlights and historic moments, each pause generating another round of passionate debate between you.

Dinner was a mixture of cuisines as well, with Franco insisting on empanadas while you insisted on adding feijoada to the menu.

As you settled down to watch a replay of an old Argentina vs. Brazil match, the laughter softened into something more profound. Your rivalry, no matter how vehemently expressed, was just a surface layer over your deep bond.

In the world of racing, you both pushed towards the same goal. In football, you were rivals, igniting each other’s passions.

“Franco", you mused as the game played on, “I think we might argue forever about who's better...”.

He leaned back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips, "Maybe. But that's what makes it fun, right? Besides, I think when our kids come around we might be able to make you switch", he spoke unabashedly as he saw you gulp, "or at the very least, there will be more of us to argue!".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[moon-lit-petal]

From Chaos to Comfort Pt2

George Weasley x Fem!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summery: George becomes acutely aware that sometimes, people aren't the biggest fans of his and Fred's pranks

Warning: enemies to lovers(?) George fell hard and fast. I tried to do a slow burn but you can tell I gave up lol Also Y/N is a little mean to George ngl

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: N/A

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

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For the first time in his life, George Weasley found himself at a loss. It wasn’t a prank gone wrong or a mischievous scheme that had backfired. This time, it was his own feelings that tangled him up, leaving him uncertain and confused. He had never meant to fall for Y/N—it had started as a vague curiosity, something small that grew each time he saw her, each time he noticed something new about her that intrigued him.

At first, it had been her quietness. She was unlike anyone else in their chaotic world of Hogwarts, someone who didn’t seek attention or the spotlight. Then it became her strength—the way she handled herself, always composed even when the world around her erupted into laughter or chaos. He noticed her resilience, the way she would stand tall despite the pranks she had endured. But it was her mysterious nature that had really captivated him, the way she seemed lost in her own world, as though there were secrets she held close, secrets he wanted to understand.

The more George watched Y/N, the more he realized how much she had begun to mean to him. He saw her in moments of solitude that he felt privileged to witness. Sitting by the Black Lake, her eyes focused on the horizon, Y/N had an almost ethereal quality—completely absorbed in her own thoughts, a peacefulness surrounding her that drew George in. He’d catch glimpses of her curled up in a chair in the library, lost in a book, her brow furrowed in concentration. She never looked more beautiful to him than in those quiet moments when she thought no one was watching.

But George was always watching, and each time he did, his feelings deepened.

The problem, though, was painfully obvious: Y/N despised him.

Whenever he worked up the nerve to approach her, she would pull away. She would tense up or avoid his gaze, and in her eyes, he saw nothing but wariness—anger, even. He had tried, time and time again, to catch her alone, to explain that he wasn’t like that, that he hadn’t meant to hurt her. But every time he got close, she shut him out, cold and distant, as though she had built walls around herself, walls that George couldn’t break through.untill recently. He had begun to see the cracks in thoes wallsand was willing to wait for them to crumble completely. 

It frustrated him, this constant push and pull between what he wanted to say and what Y/N seemed to think of him. She still saw him as one half of a troublemaking duo, equally responsible for every prank that had caused her humiliation. And George knew that Fred’s relentless antics weren’t helping his case.

George’s internal struggle gnawed at him. He wanted to tell her how he felt, to let her know that he admired her, that he had fallen for her despite everything. But how could he, when she clearly disliked him, she barely tolerated him. He knew that if he tried to confess his feelings, she would shut him out completely, maybe even think it was another prank.

So he kept his feelings hidden, silently watching her from a distance, hoping that one day, she might see the truth—that he wasn’t Fred, that he wasn’t the person she thought he was. Until then, he struggled, caught between his growing affection and the wall of misunderstanding that stood between them.

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Y/N had always lumped the Weasley twins together—Fred and George, partners in pranks, equally responsible for her ongoing torment. It was easier that way, to think of them as a single, mischievous entity, both of them causing her misery and feeding off her humiliation. She had spent weeks avoiding them, shutting down any interaction with either one, her anger growing with each new prank Fred managed to pull off.

But lately, she had started to notice something different.

George had become quieter around her. Unlike Fred, who seemed to delight in keeping up the mischief, George no longer laughed as hard, no longer grinned when a prank went off successfully. There were moments when he seemed almost hesitant, as though he were holding back or unsure of himself whenever she was near. It was subtle, but Y/N’s sharp eyes caught the difference.

It happened again on one particularly stressful day. Y/N had been dealing with an overwhelming amount of homework, her nerves frayed, and her patience running thin. She was making her way to class, trying to keep her mind focused on the assignments piling up in her bag, when she noticed something odd about the floor ahead of her. It shimmered slightly, almost imperceptibly, and she recognized it instantly—one of Fred's classic tricks. The enchanted floor would send anyone stepping on it flying into the air with a loud "pop!" and land them in the middle of a roaring crowd of students. Y/N, already exhausted, couldn’t handle another public humiliation, not today.

But before she could turn around or find a way to avoid the prank, George appeared, his eyes darting between her and the enchanted floor. Y/N tensed, waiting for the inevitable, fully expecting George to let the prank unfold.

But to her surprise, George stepped forward, his wand flicking with a quick movement. The shimmer disappeared, and the trap was gone as if it had never been there. He looked at her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, before he turned and walked away, leaving Y/N standing there, shocked and confused.

It wasn’t like George to undo a prank—at least, not the George she thought she knew. Why would he help her? Did he feel guilty? Was this some kind of trick? The questions raced through her mind, but the answers eluded her. Suspicion gnawed at her. It could easily have been part of a larger joke, some elaborate setup to make her drop her guard.

But something in the way George had looked at her—his eyes steady, not mocking—made her pause. Maybe, just maybe, there was more going on than she realized.

That thought lingered in her mind long after the moment had passed. She tried to shake it off, but later that day, in the Great Hall, she felt George’s eyes on her again. When she glanced up, she found him already watching her from across the room. For a second, their eyes met, and the world around them seemed to fade into the background.

There was no smirk on his face, no mischievous glint in his eyes. Instead, there was something softer, something hesitant, almost vulnerable. He held her gaze longer than necessary, and Y/N felt her pulse quicken for reasons she couldn’t quite explain. Her instinct was to look away, to brush it off as another moment of misunderstanding, but something about the way George was looking at her made her pause. It was as if he wanted to say something, though no words were spoken.

Y/N felt an odd pull toward him—an unsettling feeling that she wasn’t used to. It wasn’t anger or resentment, but something unfamiliar, something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. The idea that George might be different from Fred, that he might not be responsible for all the pranks, threw her off balance.

She finally broke the eye contact, her heart still racing, but the confusion remained. Could she have been wrong about him? Could George be more than just Fred’s partner in mischief?

Y/N didn’t have the answers yet, but one thing was clear: the more she noticed these subtle changes in George, the harder it became to hold onto her anger. And that realization only added to the swirl of emotions she wasn’t ready to confront.

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It was almost curfew, and the library was nearly empty. Y/N sat hunched over her parchment, her quill scratching furiously as she tried to finish an essay for Transfiguration. She was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of footsteps approaching.

Looking up, she saw George hovering near the bookshelf. He wasn’t looking at her directly, but his presence wasn’t accidental. He had been passing by more frequently these days, always offering her a smile or a casual greeting that didn’t seem forced.

“You’re out late,” George remarked casually, glancing over at her table. “Mind if I join you? I’m hopeless with this Potions essay.”

Y/N hesitated, but after a moment of contemplation, she sighed and gestured to the chair across from her. “If you don’t talk too much.”

George smirked, sitting down and pulling out his parchment. “I’ll try to contain myself.”

For a while, they worked in silence. The quiet between them was comfortable now, and Y/N found herself more focused on her essay than on the awkwardness of his presence. Every once in a while, she would glance up to see him frowning at his notes, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

Without realizing it, Y/N broke the silence. “You’re doing it wrong.”

George looked up, surprised. “What?”

“Your essay,” she said, gesturing to his paper. “You’re using the wrong order for those ingredients.”

He blinked, then glanced at his notes. “Really?”

Y/N nodded, and before she could think twice about it, she reached across the table, turning his parchment so she could scribble a few corrections. George watched her with quiet admiration, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Thanks,” he said when she finished.

Y/N shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

They returned to their work, but something had shifted. The silence between them wasn’t just comfortable now—it felt like the beginning of an understanding.

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One late afternoon, Y/N found her usual spot by the Black Lake occupied—by George, no less. He sat on the grass, his legs stretched out in front of him, lazily tossing pebbles into the water. He noticed her standing a few feet away and smiled, patting the space next to him.

“I didn’t know this was your spot,” he said, tilting his head in a half-apology.

Y/N hesitated, but after a moment, she sat down beside him, leaving a respectful distance between them. “It’s quiet here.”

George nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

For a while, they just sat together, the soft sounds of the lake lapping at the shore filling the air. The late-afternoon sun painted the sky in hues of gold and lavender, casting a warm glow over the water.

“I never thought you’d be one for quiet places,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

George chuckled. “I have my moments.”

They both looked out over the lake, the easy silence stretching between them. For Y/N, it was strange but not unwelcome. George’s presence didn’t disturb the peace she usually sought here; in fact, it almost added to it.

After what felt like hours, George finally broke the silence, his voice soft and thoughtful. “Do you ever feel like you’re trying to figure out where you fit in? Like, even in a place like Hogwarts, where everyone seems to know their role, sometimes you’re just…lost?”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised by his honesty. She didn’t expect such a vulnerable admission from someone like George Weasley. But she found herself nodding. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

George looked at her, his expression earnest. “I didn’t mean to make things harder for you, you know. With all the pranks. I didn’t realize…what it was like for you.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she turned back to the lake, watching the ripples spread out across the surface. “I know,” she said eventually, her voice soft. “I’m starting to see that.”

Another silence fell between them, but this time it was different. There was an unspoken understanding between them now, a sense that they were both beginning to see each other for who they really were.

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A few days later, Y/N sat in her favorite spot in the library, a window seat tucked away behind a row of dusty shelves. She had always loved the way the afternoon sunlight filtered through the glass, casting warm patterns across the worn pages of her book.

To her surprise, George appeared again, though this time he didn’t sit across from her. Instead, he stood near the window, looking out at the grounds with a contemplative expression.

“I’ve never noticed how nice the view is from here,” he commented quietly.

Y/N glanced up from her book, surprised. She hadn’t even realized he’d seen her here before.

George turned to her, his hands in his pockets. “Mind if I sit?” he asked, nodding toward the spot next to her.

Y/N hesitated for a moment but then nodded. “Go ahead.”

He sat down beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them as usual. For a while, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, side by side, the soft rustling of parchment and the distant hum of the library the only sounds around them.

After some time, Y/N spoke without looking up from her book. “Why do you keep coming around?”

George didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than usual. “I like being around you.”

Y/N froze for a second, her heart skipping a beat. She turned slightly to look at him, but George was staring out of the window again, his expression unreadable. His confession hung in the air between them, quiet but significant.

Y/N didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. Instead, she let the moment pass, and they returned to their comfortable silence, their shoulders almost—but not quite—touching as they sat together by the window.

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It was a rare sunny afternoon when Y/N found herself in the courtyard, sitting on a bench beneath the shade of a large oak tree. She had her nose buried in a book, as usual, when she heard footsteps approaching.

Glancing up, she saw George again. This time, he didn’t ask to sit. He just stood there, looking at her with an amused grin. “Do you ever take a break from reading?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though there was no malice in her expression. “Do you ever take a break from bothering me?”

George laughed, sitting down beside her without asking this time. “Fair point.”

They sat in silence for a moment before George spoke again. “I wasn’t bothering you, was I?”

Y/N hesitated but then shook her head. “Not as much as you used to.”

George grinned at that, clearly pleased. “Progress.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile, just a little. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, surprised by how easily he had started to grow on her. Despite everything, he had a way of breaking down her walls—slowly but surely.

For the first time, Y/N didn’t feel the need to push him away.

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The atmosphere in the Quidditch stadium was electric, students buzzing with excitement as Gryffindor faced off against Slytherin. Y/N sat among the Hufflepuffs, trying to immerse herself in the thrilling game, but her mind was elsewhere, tangled up in the confusion of her feelings toward George. She had tried to shake off the memory of their charged moments together, but the flutter of uncertainty remained lodged in her chest.

As the match progressed, however, Fred had other plans. He’d been plotting something big, something he believed would be the ultimate prank—one that would draw the attention of everyone, including Y/N. She noticed Fred whispering to some of his fellow Gryffindors, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and her heart sank. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the target, and she wasn’t wrong.

With a loud bang, Fred unleashed his prank just as the match reached its peak. A loud cheer erupted from the stands as a massive enchanted banner unfurled above the pitch, displaying a giant caricature of Y/N, her face comically exaggerated, with the words “I Love Fred Weasley!” written in bold, glittering letters underneath. The banner was charmed to hover above her, casting a spotlight of shimmering light down on her, drawing the attention of everyone in the stadium.

The laughter from the crowd rang in her ears, a symphony of mockery that made her heart drop. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, both from humiliation and anger. She sat there, completely exposed under the glaring light, her worst fears coming to life as her peers erupted in laughter.

“Look! It’s Y/N, the love-struck Hufflepuff!” one student shouted, and the crowd roared with laughter.

Y/N wanted to disappear, to sink into the ground and escape the relentless eyes fixed on her. In that moment, her fury toward the twins reached new heights. Fred’s laughter, buoyant and triumphant, cut through the air like a knife, while George’s horrified expression, watching from the sidelines, only added to her anger. Why hadn’t he done anything to stop it? Why did he let his brother humiliate her again?

As the enchanted banner began to twirl around her, she felt her heart racing. The fabric flapped loudly, and it felt like the entire school was watching her, waiting for her reaction. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could vanish from the spot where she sat, utterly covered in embarrassment.

Immediately Y/N stormed away, her heart racing with a mix of fury and shame. She barely registered the teasing remarks from her peers, her mind a whirlwind of betrayal and anger directed at the Weasley twins.

Just as she turned to leave the stadium, she felt a gentle grip on her arm. It was George, his expression filled with concern, his blue eyes wide with remorse. “Y/N, wait! I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t!” she snapped, pulling her arm away from his grasp. “Don’t you dare say anything to me, George! You’re just as bad as he is! You both think this is funny!”

“Y/N, I didn’t know—” he started, but she interrupted him, her voice raw with hurt and betrayal.

“You didn’t know? You didn’t know what he was planning? You’re supposed to be his brother! How could you let him do this to me again?” Her voice trembled with emotion, tears threatening to spill over as she felt the weight of the humiliation crashing down on her.

George’s heart sank. The guilt he had been carrying since the day of the library prank intensified, and he felt it clawing at him now. “I tried to stop him, I really did! I didn’t want this to happen to you! Please, just listen—”

Y/N shook her head violently, her anger boiling over. “Listen to what? More excuses? I can’t believe I thought you were different, that you actually cared. You’re just as cruel as Fred! I hate you both!”

With that, she turned on her heel, her heart racing, and stormed away. George stood frozen, helpless, the raw pain in her words cutting deep. He could feel the weight of her accusations like a leaden weight on his chest. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, and yet here he was, unable to prove to her that he wasn’t exactly what she thought.

“Y/N, wait!” he called after her, desperation creeping into his voice, but she didn’t stop. He reached out as if to follow her, but the chasm between them felt insurmountable. His heart raced, guilt washing over him as he realized just how badly he had failed her.

He watched as she disappeared into the distance, the echoes of laughter from the crowd still ringing in his ears, and at that moment, George understood—things had changed between them forever, and he wasn’t sure if he could ever repair the damage that had been done.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

[kathlare]

circus of emotions

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: At Amelie’s extravagant circus-themed birthday party, George watches her shine amidst the chaos, but as the night progresses, he witnesses the cracks in her façade.

Wordcount: 1.7 k

Warnings: use of alcohol

full masterlist // request over here!

September 24th, 2023 - Merida, Mexico

The circus-themed party was in full swing. The room was a kaleidoscope of color, sequins, and laughter. Performers on stilts weaved through the crowd, a contortionist entertained a circle of awestruck guests, and a magician performed sleight-of-hand tricks that left even George Russell—who prided himself on catching the details—thoroughly impressed.

George stood by the bar with Charles and Alex, sipping on his whiskey and scanning the crowd. Amelie was unmistakable even in a room as chaotic as this. Dressed in a red outfit that glittered like starlight, her wide smile was infectious, and her laughter carried over the sound of the DJ’s beats. She flitted from group to group, effortlessly charming everyone in her orbit.

George couldn’t help but admire how she commanded the room. Amelie had this innate ability to make everyone feel like the most important person in the world. It was no wonder she had such a diverse group of people celebrating her birthday—actors, musicians, athletes, and influencers alike. George shook his head with a chuckle as she pulled Checo onto the dance floor, the older man laughing but eventually giving in to his sister-in-law's enthusiasm.

Charles nudged George with his elbow, pulling him out of his thoughts.

—She’s in her element, isn’t she?— Charles said, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the music. His girlfriend, Alexandra, was chatting with Carmen nearby, the two women lost in their own conversation.

—She always is,— George replied, taking another sip of his drink. —It’s like she’s got this endless energy.—

Alex leaned in, grinning. —I give it an hour before she’s absolutely hammered. Have you seen how many tequila shots she’s already downed?—

George smirked, his eyes finding Amelie again. She was now dancing with her older brother, Callum, both of them laughing so hard they were nearly in tears. —I think you’re being generous. Thirty minutes, tops.—

As the night wore on, George’s prediction came true. Amelie was several drinks deep, her cheeks flushed from a combination of alcohol and exertion. She was still the life of the party, but her steps were wobblier now, her laugh a little louder, and her words slurred as she shouted over the music.

George noticed Amelie stumble slightly as she made her way back to the bar, leaning heavily on her sister Stella for support. She waved off any offers of water or a break, insisting she was fine. Stella gave her a skeptical look before letting her go, and Amelie practically collapsed onto a stool next to George.

—Russell!— she exclaimed, her voice louder than necessary, her words laced with a drunken drawl. —Why aren’t you dancing? This is my birthday, for God’s sake! You’ve got to have fun!—

George chuckled, setting down his drink. —Someone’s got to stay standing to make sure you don’t fall over.—

—Pfft.— Amelie waved him off dramatically, nearly tipping off her stool in the process. —I’m fine. You worry too much.—

—Yeah, well, someone’s got to worry,— George said, steadying her with a hand on her arm. —Maybe it’s time for a little break?—

Amelie squinted at him, as if trying to decipher a foreign language. —A break? On my birthday? George, you’re no fun.— But despite her protests, her body was already betraying her, leaning heavily against the bar as her energy waned.

It wasn’t long before Amelie excused herself from the group, muttering something about needing air. George exchanged a glance with Carmen, who nodded toward Amelie as she stumbled toward the quieter hallway leading to the rooms reserved for the party.

George didn’t hesitate, weaving through the throng of guests and catching up with Amelie just as she pushed open the door to one of the private rooms. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her glittering outfit catching the soft light, but her head was bowed, and she looked suddenly smaller, like the weight of the night had finally caught up with her.

—Hey,— George said softly, closing the door behind him. —You alright?—

Amelie looked up at him, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. —I’m fine. Just needed a minute. It’s a lot, you know?—

George sat down next to her, keeping a careful distance. —Yeah, I get it. You’ve been going non-stop all night. It’s okay to take a breather.—

Amelie nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor. She fiddled with the hem of her dress, her fingers trembling slightly. —I’m happy, you know? I really am. Everyone’s here, and it’s been amazing, but…—

Her voice trailed off, and George tilted his head, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he prompted gently, —But what?—

Before she could answer, Amelie clapped a hand over her mouth and bolted to the adjoining bathroom. George followed quickly, finding her bent over the toilet, retching as the effects of too many tequila shots finally caught up with her. He knelt beside her, holding her hair back and rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles.

—It’s okay,— he murmured. —Get it all out. You’ll feel better.—

When she finally sat back, her face pale and her eyes rimmed with tears, George handed her a damp towel. She dabbed at her mouth and cheeks, her expression a mix of exhaustion and embarrassment.

—Sorry,— she mumbled. —Not exactly the glamorous birthday moment I had in mind.—

—Don’t worry about it,— George said with a small smile. —We’ve all been there. Besides, you’re still the star of the show.—

Amelie let out a weak laugh, but it quickly dissolved into a choked sob. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

—Hey, hey,— George said, his voice laced with concern. —What’s wrong? Talk to me.—

Amelie sniffled, wiping at her eyes but not looking up. —It’s stupid. I shouldn’t even… It’s just the alcohol, you know? Makes everything feel… heavier.—

George didn’t push her, giving her the space to gather her thoughts. Finally, she looked at him, her eyes red and brimming with unshed tears.

—It’s Lando,— she said quietly, her voice cracking. —I’ve been trying to forget, to move on, but it’s like… like he’s always there, in the back of my mind. No matter what I do, I can’t get rid of him.—

George blinked, taken aback. —Lando? What do you mean?—

Amelie sighed, her words spilling out in a jumbled rush. She told him everything—how she and Lando had been friends, how their casual situation had turned into something more complicated, and how it had all fallen apart. She talked about how hurt she’d been when he didn’t fight for them, how she’d tried to move on with Rodrigo and then with meaningless distractions, but nothing worked. And now, on her birthday, surrounded by everyone she loved, she still felt that ache, that emptiness.

George listened intently, his heart breaking for her. He’d never known the extent of what had happened between Amelie and Lando. To him, they’d always been just friends—maybe a bit flirty, but nothing more. Now, hearing her side of the story, he felt a surge of protectiveness for her.

—You didn’t deserve that,— he said firmly when she finished. —None of it. You deserve someone who fights for you, Amelie. Someone who sees how incredible you are and doesn’t let you go.—

Amelie gave him a watery smile, her tears still falling. —Thanks, George. That means a lot.—

He reached out, squeezing her hand gently. —Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and back to your party. But maybe no more tequila, yeah?—

Amelie laughed softly, the sound tinged with relief. —Yeah, no more tequila.—

George helped her up, steadying her as they left the room. He couldn’t fix what had happened with Lando, but he could be there for her now, and he vowed to do just that.

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liked by maxverstappen1, emiliamernes, and others

ameliedayman: happy, free confused and lonely at the same time.

View all 4,382 comments

nickaustin: Happy birthday Amelie!! 🎉🎈 You’re such a vibe, love you always 💕✨

thisisrozzi: A circus theme for your 22nd?? Okay, Queen, only you could pull this off 🔥🔥🔥 → ameliedayman: @thisisrozzi I mean, we had to do something iconic for the big 2-2 right?

georgerussell63: Happy birthday to the GOAT!! Can’t wait to see all the magic you’re going to make this year 💯🔥

madisonbeer: Happy birthday, Amelie!! 🎉✨ You truly are an icon. → ameliedayman: @madisonbeer You’re the real icon, Maddie! Thank you so much, love! 🥰

fans_in_the_know: Ok, but can we talk about how Lando isn’t liking her posts anymore? What happened?? 🤔 → landoloveisreal: @fans_in_the_know I mean... who knows...

ameliemyqueen: THE CIRCUS THEME WAS EVERYTHING! Love this era of Amelie, so excited for what’s to come!! 💃✨

louispartridge: Happy birthday Amelie!! You killed it with the theme! 😎 → ameliedayman: @louispartridge you know it’s all about the details. Glad you loved it!

fansforever: WAIT... where is Lando?! He didn’t like the post this time?? WHAT. IS. GOING. ON. 👀

saylorcurda: The circus vibes were REAL, girl. Iconic birthday, and you're an even more iconic person. 💥 → ameliedayman: @saylorcurda you are the best! Thank you for making my day!

stelladayman: Happy 22nd, sis! You’re a whole vibe and a half, can’t believe how much you’ve grown. Love you! → ameliedayman: @stelladayman Thank youuu, you made this birthday so special! Love you to the moon 💕

f1gossipqueen: OKAY. Lando just followed Amelie again?? After years of silence?? What’s going on? 👀 → musicfreak_97: @f1gossipqueen Hold up. He really followed her? This is a plot twist. 😳

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landonorris started following you

[kkrahe]

Unexpected - Chapter 1

George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Series Summary: You never expected to cross paths with George Weasley - your complete opposite. But as rivalry ignites between you two, so does something far more dangerous, an undeniable attraction that neither of you can ignore.

Chapter Summary: When Fred and George Weasley step into your family’s dark and mysterious shop in Knockturn Alley, the last thing you expect is a clash of wits. But as the brash twins push your patience to its limits, tensions rise.

CW: None :D

AN: This is my first fic please be gentle, I'm very open to suggestion or corrections. Sorry if formatting is weird/off I'm not sure how to work tumblr TT. Lmk if this is bad so I can just quit while I'm ahead :D

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The scent of old parchment and dust permeated the air throughout your family’s shop. It was familiar; you had worked there every summer since you turned 14. The shop was eclectic, with shelves littered with the ancient tomes, cursed artifacts, and hard-to-come-by ingredients that your family had collected over the years.

Located in the narrow dimly-lit Knockturn Alley, most of the shop's patrons were familiar faces. Pureblood wizards who favored darker magic and the occasional wanderer, looking for something more sinister or rare than the opposite Diagon Alley could provide.

You leaned against the dark hardwood countertop, flipping idly through a thick, leather-bound book. Savoring the last few weeks of pleasure reading before you returned to Hogwarts for your final year and would be too consumed in school to find time for hobbies.

You had spent most of your summer in the shop, not that you minded. The crowded maze of a building was like your second home, providing a much-needed haven from your families chaotic manor. Truthfully, you savored summers in the shop, unlike Hogwarts and your family home, here you were in charge. The shop ran by your schedule and your rules.

The chime of the doorbell cut through the quiet, typically you had a few visitors throughout the day. Many of them friends of your family or the occasional lost first-year. Your eyes flicked to the door, setting your book aside.

Two tall figures crossed the threshold, and your heart sank. Fred and George Weasley.

You recognized them immediately - their flaming red hair, boisterous laughter, and of course their tendency to cause chaos wherever they went. Hogwart’s notorious pranksters stood out like a pair of sore thumbs in your shop.

You feel yourself tense behind the counter, watching as they glanced around with curious stares. They didn’t belong here, you knew that much, and from the inquisitive yet hesitant expressions they wore, they did too. But Knockturn Alley had a way of attracting all kinds of customers - especially when they were searching for something they couldn’t find elsewhere. You had a feeling they were up to no good.

“Blimey, this place is cheerful huh Georgie?” Fred called out loudly, his brash voice echoing through the narrow aisles of shelves and cabinets. So clearly out of place in a shop such as your own. Looking at his brother as he brushed a hand over a shelf of dusty potion vials.

You stayed silent, spine rigid as you sent them an unimpressed glare. The twins however didn’t seem to notice, not even glancing your way as they gawked at the assortment of forbidden magical goods on display.

George, was already across the room, picking up an ancient cursed dagger from a shelf clearly labeled “do not touch” in a bold angry scrawl. His slender fingers brushed dangerously close to its blade.

Your eyes narrow, voice sharp as you call out, “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you. Unless you fancy losing a hand, Weasley.”

George snatched his hand back, startled by your voice as he hadn’t noticed the presence of the shopkeeper. A flicker of acknowledgment and bashfulness in his eye as he set the dagger back into its stand.

His smile was boyish, charming even, but you didn’t waver. You weren’t amused, and you weren’t going to let them get away with their usual reckless antics here. Your family’s shop was dangerous - its contents were not for the careless or the foolish.

Fred, on the other hand, seemed intent on pushing the boundaries. Reaching for an ornate vase perched precariously on a pedestal near the counter, tipping it dangerously close to the edge.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you watched the vase teeter on the edge of the table. Snatching your wand from under the desk and catching the vase just before it hit the floor. The shining black ceramic just above the hardwood, frozen in place as you scowled at the twins.

“That’s worth more than your life,” you snapped, moving the vase to a different shelf out of reach from the twins. “Try not to break anything, Weasley. Unless you want to be in debt for the next three generations."

Fred held up his palms in mock surrender, grinning. “Easy there. No need to be so touchy.”

You ignored him, your patience wearing thin. The Weasleys were loud, obnoxious, and far too reckless to be in here. The sooner they left, the better. You had no interest in entertaining any sort of banter with the twins, surprised you could even find it within yourself to not kick them out of your shop that very second.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of them rummaging through your family’s carefully curated inventory, George placed a small vial of Ashwinder eggs on the counter. Not particularly nefarious or ancient, but certainly hard to come by, and quite expensive due to its rarity.

“That’ll be 50 Galleons,” you said flatly, not in the mood for negotiation.

Fred leaned against the counter, flashing a grin. “Fifty Galleons? How about we call it twenty-five? We are just some poor schoolboys trying to make an honest living after all.”

You don’t budge. “This isn’t a joke shop, and I don’t haggle. If you want cheap, I suggest looking elsewhere.” You looked the twins up and down, a scowl forming on your face. Your words cold and cutting. The look exchanged between the twins told you they weren’t used to being dismissed so easily.

You could see the flicker of irritation in George’s eyes as he stepped forward, “Right. Must be nice, being able to charge whatever you want. Us Weasleys wouldn’t know anything about that though, would we?” His tone, though light, carried a hint of bitterness that made your jaw tighten. You didn’t care for his attempts to belittle your family’s business, nor his declaration of what he thought your goods were worth.

The air between you thickened, but you held your ground, refusing to let their words affect you. “Fifty Galleons,” you repeated coolly.

Begrudgingly the twins paid, sliding a pile of gold coins across the counter in a messy heap. Their smiles gone, replaced with clear annoyance and tension that simmered beneath the surface.

As they left the shop, the bell chimed in their wake, Fred turning to shoot you one last look, “We’ll be seeing you around. Don’t miss us too much."

You watched them go, glaring down your nose as the shop door slammed shut, the quiet you longed for returning like a heavy cloak. You should have been relieved by their absence. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time Fred and George Weasley darkened your doorstep. And despite yourself, the thought unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

[redux-robotix-llc]

REDUX ROBOTIX AU

Masterlist for all things Captain Underpants: Redux Robotix LLC AU! (Run by Sketch-22!)

-> Introduction to the AU <-

But TL;DR, Five-year-old George Beard gets bumped to the 3rd grade when he first enrolls at Jerome Horwitz Elementary School (as mentioned in Book 9). Due to this, George and Harold never meet in Kindergarten and, as a result, George becomes a sole, anonymous prankster, Harold Hutchins remains a quiet and timid artist, and Melvin Sneedly, witnessing the failures of the American school system via Harold getting bullied, becomes disillusioned with authority and begins inventing recklessly.

Chaos ensues from there!

————

BLOG STATUS: WIP ASK BOX STATUS: CLOSED REQUEST STATUS: CLOSED

————

Character Profiles (Under Construction)

George Beard

Harold Hutchins

Melvin Sneedly

Benjamin Krupp

????

????

Lunch Lady Edith

Redux Robotix Comix

Office Visit | Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Pt.8, Pt.9, Pt.10.

Invention Convention | Banned, Explanation, Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, School Sign, etc.

Miscellaneous Arts

Redux Robotix Trio

Hanging Out

Extra Extra!

Busted

Melvin Sketches

Trio Sketches

Krupp Sketches

Professor P Sketches

[ohblimeygeorge]

Was gonna put it on ao3 but thought tumblr can see it first, so here’s fluffy festive gewis 🌟🎄

Merry Christmas!!

——————

Christmas time was the couple’s favourite time of year. It was an excuse for them to spoil their loved ones, to be able to see the excited expressions on their faces. They also loved decorating. Come the first weekend of December, Lewis would be up in the loft bringing down the boxes of decorations whilst George rearranged the living room furniture and gave everything a tidy ready for the tree to take centre stage. They’d wrap up snug and head towards their local garden centre and spend a very considered time choosing the most perfect tree for that year, Roscoe helping them out by peeing near the ones he didn’t like. Once the tree was selected, they’d take it home and set it into place, when Lewis would connect up his music to play Christmas songs before heading into the kitchen to make hot chocolates, leaving George to start decorating.

George took this job very seriously. Every bauble had its spot and not one could look out of place. Amongst the standard ones, there were a few special baubles that the couple had bought together over the years - from places they’d been, or ones with dates on to commemorate occasions or just miscellaneous ones that reminded them of a funny memory. They all held a fond space in their hearts and George was adamant they would all be shown off every year. Lewis loved watching George at work. The little furrow in his brow from concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out when he was trying to hang a bauble just so, whizzing from the front to the back of the tree so every inch was covered. He’d even sometimes involve Roscoe, who would patter over and sit next to the boxes of decorations, inquisitive to see what his human was up to. George would take a bauble out, hold it up to Roscoe to let the dog sniff it then ask him where he thinks it should go, pausing almost as if to genuinely wait for a reply before responding, you’re so right, boy. I think it would look perfect here too. Lewis loved him so much. Once all the decorations were deposited on the tree and around the house, the couple would settle down on the sofa with another hot chocolate and watch a Christmas film, Roscoe snoozing across their laps.

Throughout the month of December, they would meet up and take part in festive activities with their friends and make sure to see family they hadn’t seen in a while, sharing stories from throughout the year. They loved it - that feeling of being around those they cherish the most and being able to soak it all in and relax as the year came to a close.

On Christmas Day, they switched it up every year. One year, they’d visit George’s parents and spend the day there with his siblings and nieces and nephews, then the next year they’d do the same with Lewis’ family, then the next they’d host themselves and both families would attend. It was crazy when that happened but their families got on well together and they adored the chaos of the kids running around and Roscoe basked in the attention.

This year was their turn to host and so the couple spent Christmas Eve preparing food ready for the big day and making sure all their presents were accounted for under the tree. On Christmas morning, they woke up bundled in each other’s arms, warm and cosy, a shared ‘merry Christmas’ mumbled between them. They revelled in the calm moment they knew they’d only be able to enjoy for so long before having to get up to start the preparations for their guests. Once they’d laid there long enough, they got up and trundled down the stairs, Lewis letting Roscoe out for his morning relief whilst he started on breakfast and George was in charge of tea. Sitting down on the sofa, a plate of breakfast on their laps and cups of tea in their hands, they each took a moment unbeknownst to the other to think of what the day would bring.

Soon enough the families started arriving and the whole house was filled with noise. Warm and comforting. Joyful and safe. They all sat down to open their presents together, gathered round the big table for Christmas dinner and played games until their stomachs hurt from laughter. The evening begun to close in, the siblings with their children and eventually their parents saying their goodbyes and leaving to venture home after a full day. Once it was just George and Lewis again, they decided to tidy up what little mess was left behind before sitting down to enjoy the rest of the evening. After all the jobs had been done, they moved back to the living room where some Christmas special was humming low on the tv in the background, fairy lights twinkling softly as George was about to sit down but then: “wait.” He looked up as Lewis spoke, feeling quite daft as he was half crouched half stood, frozen in place. “There’s one more gift I’ve got for you. But I wanted to wait until everyone was gone.” Lewis explained.

“Oh.” George said simply.

“It’s under the tree, right at the back.”

Lewis stood still as George manoeuvred himself onto the ground and looked for the gift Lewis was referring to. Finding it, he showed his partner with a raised eyebrow who encouraged him to open it with a gentle nod. Turning back around to face the Christmas tree, George slowly undid the bow before tearing at the paper. Upon reaching the box inside, his hand instantly stalled, cheeks feeling warm as his mind went to one thought only. He carefully lifted the lid of the box only to start to see what looked like a bauble inside and feeling his hope deflate. However, as he fully opened the box and read the inscription on the face of it did he understand. Letting out a gasp, George whizzed back around to ask for clarification on what this meant but found he didn’t need to. As Lewis was already down on one knee, ring box in hand, the dazzling jewellery catching the colours of the tree lights.

“George, you are the love of my life and I cannot imagine spending Christmas or any other day for that matter without you by my side. Will you do as the bauble asks and do me the honour of marrying me?”

Eyes instantly welling up, George brought his hands to his face in shock. But he knew what his answer would be. What the answer would always be.

“Yes.”

Grinning, Lewis took the ring out of the box and slipped it onto George’s finger, it fitting perfectly, before he took his fiancé’s face in his hands and kissed him. George kissed back with as much passion and the two broke apart only to catch their breath, foreheads close together as they basked in what just happened. “You know,” George began in a whisper, the mood not calling for anything louder. “It’s funny you said you had something to give me once everyone was gone, because I do too.”

Lewis looked at him quizzically as George once again crawled over to the tree but instead of looking under it, went rifling through Roscoe’s toy box which was placed next to it. As confused as he was at seeing his partner rummaging through his dog’s toys he couldn’t help but smirk at the ring catching the glow of every light along the way. Once George found what he was looking for, he knee-walked back to where Lewis was and handed him his own special gift. Biting his lip with nerves as Lewis copied his previous actions, carefully undoing the wrapping, the younger began to absentmindedly twirl the ring around his finger for comfort. As Lewis got to the box and lifted the lid he saw he was also greeted with his own bauble. But this one said: “Baby Hamilton due 2025…” Lewis was in shock as he looked up at his love, “George are you serious?”

Nodding softly, George tried a smile, “One hundred percent serious.”

He didn’t receive an answer after that just another all encompassing kiss before being gathered into the strongest, most safest and loving embrace he’d ever felt. “Fuck I can’t believe it.” Lewis chuckled wetly, and that was when George realised he was crying.

“Please believe it. We’re gonna be parents!” He grinned, feeling himself relax. But then Lewis got a funny look on his face, “but, you had that done without knowing I was gonna propose?”

“Uh yeah..”

“Well then how did you know it would be Baby Hamilton?”

George placed his warm hands onto Lewis’ cheeks, thumbs sweeping away the stray tears and making sure he was looking directly into his eyes as he spoke. “It was always going to be Hamilton.”

That night as the last hours of Christmas Day passed, the two newly engaged parents-to-be were cuddled up on the sofa watching the last Christmas film before bed, Roscoe snoring at their feet.

The two new baubles placed proudly at the top of the tree just so.

[sailtomarina]

Colourful, but Controlled, Chaos

Fred Weasley/George Weasley/Reader | fluff, humor

There wasn’t a day that went by where the Weasley twins weren’t up to something. Whether it was the Slytherins walking into the Great Hall for breakfast with mutinous expressions and lime green hair, the piercing outcry that followed Madam Pince’s discovery of stacks of Playwiz scattered across the library, or how miniature swamps appeared seemingly at random around the castle, there was never a moment of peace.

You would have laughed if you weren’t furious.

Because these pranks didn’t just occur to the deserved or only during downtime, but at all times of day to anyone and everyone. There were no exceptions to the terrors they wrought, not even towards each other.

That fairness would be admirable, you supposed, if you hadn’t witnessed painfully shy firsties sobbing from embarrassment, or been a victim yourself to a well-hidden shower charm that turned your hair a brilliant shade of lilac. You’d thought of all people you might be the special one, being as you were one of their closest friends.

Finals loomed and you knew the entire castle was on the verge of implosion. It would only take a slight nudge from Fred and George to send teachers and students alike into a war that would leave nothing but rubble in its wake.

“This has to stop. Now.” You stood before them, hands propped on your hips and wearing your fiercest scowl. 

It was the look that never failed to send Malfoy and his followers scurrying to their dungeon. The look could even silence students like Marcus Flint and Cormac McLaggen, transforming their swaggers into straight backs and shoulders.

Fred and George, however, were not so easily cowed.

The matching pairs of eyes bluer than the clearest summer sky took you in for a grand total of five seconds before they burst into laughter, louder than before.

“I mean it!” you insisted. “We only have these last weeks until break and we, I, need peace to study.”

The seriousness of your plea fell on deaf ears as they paused to peer up at you, only to dissolve into giggles once more. Even more galling to you was the fact that no matter how much mischief the two of them created, they still somehow scored high marks in nearly every one of their classes.

“Gred, I think Y/N is on the verge of hexing us.”

“I believe you’re right, Forge. It’s a good thing we’re so fast on our feet, isn’t it?”

Before you could whip out your wand and do just that, they hauled you forward into their laps. You were as helpless as a mermaid on land as they manoeuvred you across them, fingers delving towards all your ticklish spots until you screamed for mercy.

“Please, no more! Fred! George!”

Their hands let up, and you panted at the reprieve. The grins they wore were wider than ever on their stupidly handsome faces. You wanted to smack them and snog them all at the same time. The two emotions battled for control, with you the helpless party. If you weren’t so head-over-heels for them, you would have killed them by now.

When you finally had your breath under control, you fixed them with another stern glare. “I know you might find this difficult to comprehend, but there is a limit to my patience.”

“Ooooooh, that sounds terrifying.” Fred’s distinctly non-terrified smirk preceded his twin’s.

“What’s in it for us if we behave, love?” George asked. There was a dangerous glint to his eye to pair with the twist of his lips.

You could feel the heat of their hands on you even through your uniform. Your throat felt dry, and you licked your lips on reflex. There were words you wanted to say, had wanted to say for weeks now. You weren’t sure if saying them now, here, was a mistake. Maybe this was the push you’d needed.

“If…” you cleared your throat, then continued, “If you hold off on any further pranks until after tests are over, I will go on a date with you. Both of you.”

You’d heard the rumours. Knew them to be true. Fred and George Weasley didn’t do anything by halves. When they loved, they loved together. That meant that anyone who chose to be with one also chose to be with both. There was no taking one without the other.

The hands that rested across your legs and waist tightened, drawing you closer into them. There were no smiles now on their faces; only the full force of their attention on you and nothing else.

“Do you mean it, Y/N?”

“You’ll be ours?”

You bit your lip at the heat in their questions. You needed to clarify things, even if all you wanted to do was say ‘yes’. Keep them focused. “I’ll go on one date. What happens after that depends on how that date goes.”

They remained sombre as they scooched apart to help you sit up. The handshake you shared sealed the deal for peace.

One month and a single date later, they had you exactly where they wanted you–in their arms and completely theirs. You even chipped in those last few days of the school year, your guilt just as apparent as theirs as Hogwarts erupted into colourful, but controlled, chaos.

6.11.24 prompt, “I know you might find this difficult to comprehend…”

883 wc

Cross-posted on Facebook and Tumblr.

I’ve fallen off the treadmill lately with short prompts like this one due to all the fest writing I’ve been doing these past couple of months. I really want to get back into them because they make for great exercises to get the words flowing. Hopefully, you can look forward to more of these soon!

[live-laugh-lenney]

Hellur, how are uu!!! This is my first time in tumblr. And there are only a few of george clarke or arthurtv fics. Very thankful for one of the people who creates them🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

May i request a reaction for Arthur or George where all of their fans love their gf, especially she's just a normal beautiful gal 😍😍😍 what if their girl has dimplessss

hi lovely. welcome to tumblr, welcome to my blog, welcome to a safe place to come vent and chat all things arthurtv and chaos crew as well as youtube! lots of love! thank you for popping by - don't be a stranger, at all. i have so many thoughts for this :')))

G E O R G E

everyone loves her.

he takes his time to introduce her publicly because she's isn't a girl who is known - she's not a youtuber, she's not a tiktoker, she's not an influencer so he wants to slowly wean her into the chaos of his life and shield her from twitter's hate and the tiktok comments that will be written about her.

because, of course, there will always be some people who dislike her - its part and parcel of being with him and she knows that.

those that love her, she loves back. she always keeps an eye on her social media, always checks in with them, replies to their tweets and she does little q and a's on her instagram story about herself... with the occasional question about her and george or anything to do with their relationship (without going into much detail - she leaves that for his podcast).

and he definitely has her on for an episode, alongside andrew, like a couple's podcast episode where they just spill the beans on what it's like to date max and george. from the horse's mouth comments from someone who is dating someone so loved and well-known in their industry line of work.

"i'm pretty sure everyone loves yn more than they love me."

"what can i say? you're not the only one with a pretty face., georgey boy."

"it's the dimples, i'm telling you."

and she will always tease him because she knows how loved she is in amongst his followers. always having pictures taken at events they see her at, taking cute and funny selfies, hugging those who want to give her a hug and george just loves to see it happen.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A R T H U R

his followers speculate before arthur actually announces that they're in a relationship...

he's much more of a soft launcher with the two of them as opposed to completely introducing her - he never sees the point in posting her alongside her social tags because she's not someone known to many in the world.

he can't hide on social media; and that doesn't stop him from being a simp for her. people go digging once they see them together in public, people see that he likes her posts, they can see his comments and he doesn't see the problem because that's his girl and if he wants to show his love for her than he can. he just chooses not to launch her hard by giving her a dedicated post so people know who she is.

so when it's been long enough, and he sees that people love her and want to see more of her, he starts bringing her onto his channel.

that's how he properly and formerly introduces her.

"yn's here with me today."

"he needs the views, figured he may as well use me as clout."

"well- no, that's not- no-"

he gets so soft in the face, cheeks going red and he stutters and she loves that he still gets giddy over how she has such witty remarks back to him.

"i'm just messing, i'm here for my five minutes of fame."

"again, not what's happening."

and it's just sweet moments where people can truly see them for how they actually are together - so sickeningly in love with each other that it's almost too sweetly gross to witness.

and, my god, the edits that come out of it are something yn could sit and watch for days because it really captures just how they are as a couple. and she's no stranger to sharing them on her socials, saving them to her camera roll, showing them to arthur when they're sitting and aimlessly scrolling their accounts, commenting how she loves them and that it's so special to have their sweet and loving moments documented in such a way.

out in public, he's so soft with her and always stands close to her on their museum dates and they're always holding hands down the busy streets of london and he always holds her close to him on the tubes whenever they need to get public transports and he's always weary of her going over to meet those who had seen the two of them in the street... people take photos, they take videos, they share them all over the internet - they can't stop them from doing that. he knows she's just being kind but he always tells her that she can never been too careful. but she loves them just as much as he is thankful for them; and of course, he sits back and watches as they start showing off how much they adore her. xx

[livelaughghoul]

FMK Toto, George, Lewis

FMK Charles, Carlos, Fred

FMK Vowels, Alex, Colapinto

FMK Kimi, Vettel, Alonso

FMK Ricciardo, Jenson, Max

I originally saw this ask on my phone and decided I needed a full keyboard to provide my answers. Therefore, they will be provided under the read more option because I'm about to justify so many of these answers.

Toto, George, and Lewis.

Fucking Lewis, marrying Toto, killing George.

I feel like this is pretty obvious if you've been a witness to the chaos that is whatever the hell I do here. We all know that I have a thing for the older men on the grid. Lewis wouldn't be someone I could be with long-term at all, so I think it would need to be a one-time thing. We all know I'm in love with Toto, of course, I'm marrying him. Unfortunately, I love George, but not enough to spare him over Lewis.

2. Charles, Carlos, and Fred.

Fucking Charles, marrying Carlos, and killing Fred.

Again, I think this is more of like, it feels like a rite of passage of obligations to want to fuck Charles, ya know? If I didn't the girlies would be angry at me. I feel like Carlos and I could make a marriage work, but it wouldn't be healthy, and honestly, that could be fun. Fred can't control his team, he wouldn't stand a chance with me. I feel like I could be doing everyone a favor with this one actually.

3. Vowles, Alex, and Franco.

Fucking Vowles, marrying Alex, and killing Franco.

HEAR ME OUT, HEAR ME OUT, OKAY? It's a hate fucking, there is nothing gentle or loving about what would take place between James and I. We're both going to need ice packs and pain killers because it's going to be so hateful. I love Alex, and I would absolutely marry him with no hesitation. I know I could send him tiktoks and he would actually watch them (this is a jab at my husband btw). I'm sorry, y'all know I love Franco, but there is no desire to fuck or marry him, so he must go.

4. Kimi, Vettel, and Alonso. THIS IS MEAN, YOU REALLY WANT ME TO PICK BETWEEN KIMI AND ALONSO?!

My joke answer is that I'm killing myself because I can't pick between them. My real answer is that I'm fucking Kimi, marrying Alonso, and killing Vettel.

While I love Kimi, I couldn't see myself marrying him at all, it would be a one-and-done, get it out of my system kinda thing. Alonso the love of my life, I would marry him so quick. Vettel, sorry, but the bees will remember you fondly.

5. Ricciardo, Jenson, Max

Fucking Jenson, marrying Ricciardo, and killing Max.

Again, I love Jenson but he is too like, Dad coded for me, and that's saying something. Ricciadro, similar to Alonso, could make me do anything. No one comes close to Alonso, but Ricciardo is close. I know that Max comes with three cats, but like, I don't think I could handle him for more than like, five-minute intervals.

[fxrmuladaydreams]

request from anon: for logan weekend, could you 8, 12 and 16 from the smut list or 9, 10, and 20 from the fluff list? which ever is easier for you to write!

here is the fluff one, if you’d like to read the smut it can be found here

send in logan blurb requests (sfw & nsfw) for logan weekend

9 : realising they're feeling much better when they know that the other is happy

10 : enjoying making the other smile

20 : "come on, it can't come as a big surprise to you." *when in fact, it's the biggest surprise to themselves*

Alex and George were the best of friends, constantly causing chaos wherever they went. As George’s personal assistant you became close to Alex as well, enjoying his bright, upbeat personality, and sharp wit.

When Alex started inviting his rookie teammate to his hangouts with George, you were immediately drawn to the blonde driver.

He was quiet at first, possibly an introvert? Shy enough that he kept close to Alex whenever he could. He began opening up to you slowly. With every interaction he grew a little more comfortable around you, eventually purposefully seeking you out in a crowd.

What once was merely a friend of a friend became a close companionship.

Logan was seemingly everywhere around you. Leaving your hotel? Logan just so happens to be in the lobby. Hanging out with a few of the other drivers after a day of work? Suddenly Logan actually attends these get togethers. Walking to the Mercedes garage with George? You can expect to bump into Logan on the way there.

It was sweet, the way he’d give you a shy smile, his blue eyes sparkling, whether it be from the sun or the city lights.

Though you were George’s assistant, Logan had started to become some sort of assistant to you. He made himself always available for anything you needed. He brought you cups of coffee from the Williams building if he knew you were too busy to get any for yourself. He was quick to drape his blue jacket over your shoulders if you forgot your black one. Some might call him crazy, a Floridian giving up his coat in weather his body was not built for, but seeing you smile up at him made it all worth it.

Alex had started to become annoyed with his teammate. He could handle the pining at first. It was honestly cute how hard Logan had fallen for you. But after months he wanted nothing more than to lock Logan in a room with you and force a confession out of him.

He scoffed at you when you fawned over him and Lily, telling them how perfect they were and how you’d kill for a relationship like theirs.

“If Logan would just man up you could have a relationship like ours.” He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, or at least loud enough for you to hear.

“What? What does Logan have to do with anything?” You ask.

Lily sighs. “Oh, Y/n…”

“What?”

“You seriously don’t see it?” Alex is shocked. “He’s head over heels for you! Basically in love!”

“No he’s not…” You shake your head.

"Come on, it can't come as a big surprise to you. He constantly brings you snacks and drinks. He just so happens to be there to walk you to the Mercedes garage every single day. He’s constantly whining ‘where’s y/n? why isn’t y/n here?’” He throws his arms up dramatically.

“He doesn’t do that.” Lily laughs.

Alex crosses his arms over his chest. “He does it internally. I can see it.”

“Oh my god… Logan likes me…” You feel your heart beat speed up and a smile start to grow on your face.