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nhlclover · 7 months ago

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𝐒𝐎 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 | 𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐂𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

word count: 1.35k

summary: on your way to the spend a weekend at the lake house with his teammates, you think about your future with rutger

warnings: british reader!, mentions of some other umich players (nick, duke brothers), brief sad thoughts

notes: based on 'so american' by olivia rodrigo. who am i if not writing fics based on songs.

The morning sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden hue on Rutger’s jeep that rumbled down the highway, its tires humming against the asphalt. Rutger sat in the driver's seat, his left hand holding a loose grip on the wheel, while you sat comfortably in the passenger seat, your feet were propped up on the dashboard. Rutger insisted you hit the road early to get to Jacob’s lake house around mid-morning. You felt that was a little too early, but he was excited to spend some spare time at the end of the semester with his friends and girlfriend, relaxing on the water. To make up for the early start time, Rutger bought you an iced coffee and promised that you could sleep in the car on the way over.

However, you couldn’t find yourself able to fall back asleep, instead taking over aux, the early morning air that flowed through the cracked windows helping to rejuvenate you. You tapped your fingers against the door handle, matching the beat of the song you’d selected. Dirt On My Boots by Jon Pardi filled the space, a contented smile gracing your lips.

“You’ve turned so American.” Rutger says, pulling your brain out of its brief daze.

“What?” You ask, your brows furrowing.

“I mean… look at you,” Rutger says with a chuckle. “You’re sitting there with your feet on the dash, you’re listening to country music, and you’re repping USA merch.”

Rutger motions to one of his hoodies that you’d thrown on as you were leaving. It was one given to him by the world juniors team he’d just played on, the letters U-S-A largely displayed on the chest.

You turned to him, adjusting your position in the seat. "Oh, please, don't say that. I'm still very much British, thank you very much." You retort, rejecting the idea that you’d become American in any way.

When you applied for an exchange to the University of Michigan, nothing could’ve prepared you for what would’ve come. On your first day of classes in the new country, you met Rutger. When a pretty girl sat next to him in one of his classes, he knew he had to talk to her. It didn’t take long for the two of you to develop feelings, Rutger soon being the ‘dreamy American’ that your friends had jokingly told you you’d fall for. And fall for him you did.

It was unfair of Rutger to make you feel this much when you both knew your future was uncertain.

“Hey, there is nothing wrong with being American.” Rutger points out.

“Yeah says the American.” You tease, rolling your eyes. “Thank god I’m going home soon. I need to reconnect with my roots if you think I’ve become American.”

Despite that being a joke, you couldn't shake the underlying sadness that gnawed at you. In just one week, you were leaving Michigan and returning to the UK. The thought of leaving Rutger and the life you’d established in Michigan weighed heavily on your heart. You knew that the bond you’d established with Rutger would withstand the miles and borders, however the prospect of being separated from him felt like tearing away a piece of you.

Rutger, sensing the shift in your demeanour as well as knowing that the inevitable move was weighing on you, reached over, taking your hand in his. His cold fingers lacing between yours quickly drew you back to reality.

“Hey,�� He said softly. “Try not to think about it for now. Enjoy this weekend. We’ve got ages to figure it all out.”

You squeezed Rutger’s hand drawing comfort from his touch. With a gentle smile, you met his gaze, gratitude shining in your eyes. “Thank you, Rut.” You said softly.

Rutger returned your smile, turning his attention back to the road while keeping your hand in his. You continued the drive, doing your best to expel the thoughts of leaving from your mind.

Three hours later, Rutger pulled down a laneway that ultimately led to a large house on the water. Rutger’s teammates were already outside, eagerly awaiting your arrival.

“Hey guys!” Rutger called out as they stepped out of the car. Rutger’s teammates come over, greeting the two of them.

“This place is beautiful.” You comment, admiring the glimpse of the water you could see past the house.

“God, I will never get over the accent.” Nick said. Rutger shoved his shoulder while you playfully rolled your eyes.

You considered yourself lucky that you’d become friends with Rutger’s teammates. From the moment Rutger introduced you to them, they’d welcomed you with open arms. And as you spent more time with them, they weren’t just Rutger’s teammates, they were your friends as well.

“Alright, now go get changed, we’re hitting the water.” Luca said, ushering the two of you inside.

You headed up to your room, changed into the swimsuits you’d brought, and then headed downstairs to meet the rest of the group. The rest of the afternoon, you guys remained on the water. You all took turns on the tube, as well as some of the boys deciding to test their water skiing skills. When the sun began to descend towards the horizon, a golden hue being cast on the water, you headed back to the house to start dinner, which was a full team activity in which everyone was put to work doing something. You and Rutger were put in charge of the barbecue on the back patio, teaming up with Dylan and Tyler to grill the burgers and corn.

After dinner was demolished, you headed down to the fire pit, relaxing in the Adirondack chairs, talking about whatever came to mind. The flames cast flickering glows on everyone's faces as you discussed sports, your exams, and random childhood anecdotes whether relevant or not. After a while of drinking and chatting, both you and Rutger hit your limits and decide to call it a night.

The second that Rutger’s head hits the pillow, he’s out like a light, the day’s activities catching up with him. After a full day of tubing and waterskiing, combined with the drinks they’d consumed throughout the day, everyone was wiped. You, however, lay awake, the moonlight reflecting off the water and into the open window.

You traced your fingers through Rutger's hair, watching his bare chest rise and fall with steady breaths. With the tranquillity of the room enveloping you, you find yourself lost in a maze of thoughts, your mind swirling with visions of Rutger and the future they could share.

England was home. England was where you grew up, where your family and friends still resided. The thought of leaving them to be in North America made your heart tense. However, lying in the sheets and staring up at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but imagine moving to North America to be with Rutger. As you look over at him, still peacefully asleep, you imagine the prospect of uprooting your life for the American boy you fell in love with, of bridging the distance to be with Rutger.

Your thoughts continue to wander, picturing what could come of life in America with Rutger. Your mind entertains the notion of marriage, a distant yet possible milestone. That might be a little presumptuous of you, with your relationship still being in its infancy, but you practically couldn’t help it. The way he’d made you feel in the past 8 months was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. Every moment with him felt like a moment torn from a romance book. Every moment with him was filled with laughter and stolen glances, creating an undeniable intimacy and connection.

You had to eventually force those thoughts out of your mind or else they would’ve kept you up all night. You rolled over, curling into Rutger’s side, and placing a delicate hand on his abs. Rutger stirred momentarily, instinctively wrapping his arm around you, drawing you closer. For now, you were content to simply be in this moment with him, cherishing the time you had left before you had to return home.

#rutger mcgroarty #rutger mcgroarty imagine #rutger mcgroarty x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #umich hockey #umich #university of michigan

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allywthsr · 11 months ago

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CHRISTMAS TREE | (l.norris)

summary: you and Lando decorate the Christmas tree

wordcount: 1.2k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: none!

notes: I can’t wait for when we set up our Christmas tree🥹, what are your thoughts??

advent calendar

It was the beginning of December and it was time for a Christmas tree. Lando and you loved to put up a real tree instead of just fakes, so every year you went to a farm where you could buy one. In Monaco there wasn’t a farm, so you had to go to the supermarket to get one, but whenever you were in the UK, farm it is.

Currently, Lando was driving you two to the farm, the trunk was cleaned and enough space was made so it would fit inside of the car. With one hand on your thigh and the other on the steering wheel, Lando was maneuvering you through the small streets. Christmas songs were playing from the speakers that you connected to your phone and it was cold outside. The perfect atmosphere to buy a Christmas tree, if you‘d ask me. Both of you were wrapped in multiple clothing layers, to keep yourselves warm.

When you arrived, a lot of Christmas trees were standing on the farmyard and the place was crowded. At least you were living in a small town, where everyone knew Lando and he wasn’t Lando Norris the racing driver but Lando the neighbor, so you two had no problem with taking your time.

You two greeted Garry, the owner, and looked through the different varieties of trees. They were big and bushy, or tall and thin, a mix of both these things or just weird-looking ones. You spent at least thirty minutes looking for the one, sentences like” No it has a bald spot“ or ” It’s wonky, can’t you see that?“ or even ”he‘s just ugly“ were used more often, but when you saw one of the last ones Garry had to offer, you knew you found the perfect match for this year. He was tall, but bushy and had no bald spots, he was perfect. Garry kindly wrapped the tree for you and loaded him in the trunk of your car, the tree was bigger than you thought and the tip was in between Lando and you on the drive home, he still kept his hand on your thigh the whole time, he was a clingy boy.

At home, Lando brought the tree into the living room and put it in the stand that you bought recently because the old one was broken. Together you tried to get it as straight as possible, but whenever you thought he was straight and Lando tightened the stand, he somehow was bent more to the left or to the right side, it was a disaster. After an almost fight because you two were so angry with the tree for not cooperating, he finally was how you wanted him to stand. He wasn’t perfect, but you gave up perfect twenty minutes ago, the tree was bent a little more to the right, but you turned it around so it faced the wall, that way you couldn’t really see it. Lando and you celebrated with a big hug and some kisses, you really deserved that.

Lando got the box with the baubles from the basement while you were vacuuming the space around the tree and tried to clean up the pine needles that fell off the tree while setting it up. The box was filled with orange baubles and special ones as well, like candy canes or Santa’s. The orange-colored ones were Lando’s idea, he desperately wanted to represent McLaren on his tree and who were you to disappoint him and insist on different colored baubles. For the background entertainment, you opened Netflix and looked for a Christmas movie, and when you found one that was interesting, you started it and got to work.

The fairy lights were more difficult to place around the tree as you had in mind. Every year you thought this was the fun part, but you forgot how hard it was to wrap it around the tree evenly and the cable couldn’t be too short or otherwise, it wouldn’t be able to plug the plug in the socket. Lando tried to navigate you from the couch, but when he saw you struggling, he got up and did it himself. He was taller than you anyway and was able to reach the top better. When the task was done, you could move on to the baubles.

Carefully you placed the glitter baubles all around the tree on the fir branches, Lando was supposed to help, but he sat on the couch, too invested in the movie, so he only passed out the different ornaments from the box. The sheer ones found their way on the tree as well, finding the right spot for the bauble had always been a rather hard task, you couldn’t decide where you wanted them to be placed, so you changed them around a lot before you were completely happy with the end result.

When Lando got up to help you, he wasn’t that big of a help, he randomly placed baubles everywhere and didn’t really look. There were two normal orange ones directly next to each other and it didn’t bother him! So you scooched him over to the other side, while you fixed the mess and hung the ornaments more far away from the other.

Last but not least you placed the special ornaments on the tree. You had colorful candy canes, some Santas, a few reindeer, and weird ones like a cupcake that Lando had bought a few years ago. He had bet that you wouldn’t hang it on the tree, and let’s just say, he loses five pounds every year.

But you also had cool ones where someone painted a picture of you and Lando on an ornament and gifted it to you, you loved how it looked and could not not hang it on the tree. This year you left some spaces in between the baubles because you wanted to do some ornaments with Lando, it might sound lame, but you turned it into a date night and Lando couldn’t deny those. Every two weeks someone would choose something to do during date night, and last week, Lando decided to stream and look through memes for two hours straight. You loved memes, and you loved streaming, but for two hours? It got boring after thirty minutes, but you waited until Lando said it was over because whenever someone chooses a date night, it had to be done, so he could make some ornaments with you.

The tree was perfect, but there was one last thing to do, to put the star on top of the tree. So you chose the perfect one, it was white and had silver specks in it, and Lando wrapped his arms around you under your butt and lifted you up, so you could reach the tip and place the star on top of it.

You two made some steps away from the tree and looked at it while hugging the other.

”It‘s perfect, isn’t it?“

All you could do was nod against his shoulder and kiss it.

”Thank you for doing this with me.“

”Always and everything, baby.“

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris one shot #lando imagine #christmas #christmas tree

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emkayewrites · 3 months ago

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I wrote another behind-the-scenes-of-Bridgerton-Season-3 moment in my Lukola fanfic. This time, it's about the making of the mirror scene....

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

5th October 2022 – Buckinghamshire (UK)

He stood in front of her with a face full of determination.

“I will always stand up for you.” He insisted. “Because I love you… Pen.”

“Are-are you sure?” She found her words catching in her throat as she swallowed back tears.

He met her wide-eyed, slightly terrified gaze with a small yet reassuring smile.

“Everything I said to your mother is true.” He looked away from her and towards the full-length rectangular mirror that was propped against the brick wall behind her. “And you shall see it as well.”

With those words and with some grace, he gently maneuvered her so that she was turned away from him; her back pressing into his abdomen, his arms hugging her from behind. They both directed their gaze into the mirror before them, catching each other’s’ eyes in the reflection.

This part came easily to Nicola. Conveying the hope that he truly loved you but not being able to let go of the fear that it was all a mistake or hoax somehow. That any moment, he might pull away with the coldness and unfamiliarity of a stranger. She knew as she played the part and said the words that she was channelling feelings that were years old and about Ezra, and the unrequited nature of their relationship. She did not want those dots to connect but this was part of the challenge of being an actor; you did not get to choose what the work bought up for you. This was what had kept happening to her every time they walked through these scenes. She tried to orient herself to the present moment: to the fact that she and Luke were in a practice being presided over by Lizzy in a small rehearsal studio in the middle of nowhere. This was not real. Yet, this exercise only pulled her further away from the pivotal emotions she needed for the scene.

Luke’s hands travelled up her bare arms and rested tenderly on her shoulders as he bought his mouth close to her ear. She inhaled deeply, holding his gaze in the mirror.

“You… are the cleverest, bravest woman I have ever known.” His breath was warm against her skin.

This was meant to be an emotional moment; she felt the energy reverberating through him as he continued speaking to her with the passion of a man deeply in love. Yet, she was no longer in the moment because she actively was trying not to be. The emotions had felt too difficult to hold. She took another deep breath, trying to portray the feelings of overwhelm that Penelope would have to those words being spoken to her.

“You make me feel seen in ways I have never felt seen before.” Luke had disappeared, all she could see and hear was Colin. He was on fire. “And then there is…”

He reached up to her hair which was gathered up rather sloppily in a bun and held there by a long, green hairpin. He gently plucked it out and let it drop to the floor, letting her hair fall to her shoulders. Nicola knew she should emote here but instead, she focused on Lizzy who she could see out of the corner of her eyes, huddled in the corner, watching them with a kind of enthrallment Nicola rarely saw. She noticed Luke becoming aware of her distractedness; it was evident in the way he slightly stiffened, almost breaking character for the millisecond it took him to process what she was and was not doing.

“The way your hair cascades down your shoulder…” He carried on, but she could hear a change in his voice. It was less romantic, more unnerved. “The way your eyes shine when you look at me, like two blue pools.”

He paused and turned his gaze from the mirror to her, making a point to look directly into her eyes. She tried to hold his gaze with the nervous, lovesick eyes of Penelope Featherington but it felt impossible. She no longer felt the tension and climatic build-up associated with romance, instead she felt like a thirty-something-year old in a slightly stained t-shirt and leggings play-acting the most ridiculous scenario.

Comparing blue eyes to two blue pools? Really? She wanted to laugh.

Luke moved an index finger up to her chin and then began to run it ever-so-delicately across her bottom lip. “The firmness of your lips parted just so...”

It became too much. It would have been fine if all he had to do was the talking but as usual, the touch pushed her beyond her threshold. It came through as a small giggle at first, startling him slightly but he retained his resolve and tried to continue.

“…And the softness of your skin…”

No sooner had he finished the sentence than she had found herself bursting into laughter. He let out a slightly frustrated sigh and dropped his arms, releasing her from him.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” She apologized. “We can go again, I’ll keep getting better.”

“This keeps happening.” Luke was addressing Lizzy, not her.

“OK, well that was really great from both of you until that moment.” Lizzy reassured, standing up and walking towards them. “I really got the emotions from you both but then you seemed to shift, Nicola.”

Nicola was not used to feeling the spotlight hit her and wanting to hide from it but, in that instance, she was not sure how to respond and wanted to avoid the topic altogether. Lizzy was right, she had been the one to break character and there had been nothing going on in the room that had taken her attention away. It was all internal and she was not sure she was ready to share what the content of that was.

“I was really trying.” Nicola lied.

“Are you sure? Could what the mirror scene involves be making you get a little in your head?” Lizzy prodded gently. Luke was also appraising her carefully, a mix of concern and annoyance on his face.

“No, God, I’m alright with the upcoming nudity, honestly. I might just be a little tired.” Nicola replied, hoping this would lead to a break and allow them to move on from the matter.

There was a scoff from Luke that took her aback. She fixed him with a frown.

“Anything you want to say, Luke?” Lizzy queried, picking up on the atmosphere.

“I don’t think you’re tired because this has been happening for ages, every time I’m delivering the most heartrending of lines. You’re not tired, be honest.” He spoke with a frustration she had never really heard in his voice before. Again, it surprised her and on some level, it also angered her. She was trying, she was tired and yes, she was also secretly distracted by the complex emotions involved with Ezra right now, but he did not know that part, so how dare he accusingly state that there was something more to the situation? She knew her train of logic was unfair but, in that moment, after several days of rehearsal, she did not care.

“I am tired.” She spat with some venom. She noticed Lizzy tense up as she took stock of the direction the situation was going in.

“OK, well I think we can communicate through this.” Lizzy spoke carefully. “Delivering highly emotional and sexually charged scenes is intense, it can bring up a lot. I think it would be useful just to take a step back and check in with ourselves – what is coming up here? Luke, can you elaborate?”

“Alright, I’ll say it.” He spoke with a forthrightness that was unusual for him. “What’s coming up for me – I’m intimidated by you, Nic. I’ve respected you and your craft and I’m just here trying to measure up. Every time I put heart and soul into a scene, it’s not convincing enough for you, you’re laughing or your breaking character. It’s giving the distinct impression I’m not measuring up here.”

Nicola took a second to absorb the words. This was the most emotionally exposed she had ever seen him. She felt a sharp sting at his words and at the realisation that he had not just been nervous about playing a lead, but he had been worried about playing a lead alongside her. There were always many jokes made about her perceived success and experience in the industry by many on the Bridgerton set. They were a cast of many unknowns or first-time actors, therefore it was not difficult to stand out even with a few acting credits to your name. As such, Nicola had never paid too much mind to these light-hearted comparisons. Clearly, Luke, the conscientious overthinker that she now recognised him to be, did.

Standing beside her, Lizzy also seemed to be receiving his words with a solemness. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Luke, I’m really glad you shared that. I think we can forget how our performances are incredibly enmeshed and there is a metanarrative running through what you both do, in character and out of character.” Lizzy looked at Nicola expectantly. “Do you have any thoughts, Nicola?”

“Well, I feel like a right dickhead, for one.” Nicola replied. She watched his features soften and relax. “It’s not you, mate. Lizzy is right, there is a metanarrative that I was hoping I could push past but it’s clearly affecting me, and now you.”

“What metanarrative?” He asked. There was a look of relief spreading about him that made her feel simultaneously better and awful – she could not believe he had been carrying that much worry about his own performance. She owed him an explanation.

“It’s…” She started but was not sure how to continue.

Sensing an opportunity, Lizzy interjected. “You know what? I think… this is a great thing to talk through over a break and a coffee. Maybe journal out your thoughts first and then share them with each other if that is easier. Work out a way to support each other through your differing metanarratives?”

“That’s a great idea.” Luke stated and Nicola nodded in person but in mind, the idea was terrifying.

But it’s necessary. She thought.

#luke newton #nicola coughlan #bridgerton #polin fanfiction #bridgerton fanfiction #lukola #polin #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #ao3 fanfic #lukola fanfic #derry girls #clare devlin #behind the scenes #on set #bridgerton bts

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invinciblelikeu · 2 days ago

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i love Dream so much sometimes it makes my heart hurt 🥹 remember when he was on stream worrying if it'd be wrong if the socks he put in homeless kits were old instead of new. and the time he watched the hurricane and started worrying about the stray cats. or when he got a whole new mattress for Parker bc he realized he wasn't comfortable with the one in the guest room. or when he heard what George's favorite chocolates were so he got some from the UK and got all nervous when he was opening the gift. or when he'd tell fans to use prime on other CCs instead. I think Dreamie is a teddy bear that made a wish to a fairy to become a human so he could hug his friends back and spread love into the universe.

or when he thought of giving away misprinted dream merch to homeless shelters, offered to buy groceries for sylvee and Sam’s cooking streams, uses a breathalyzer on his friends before they go home to make sure they drive safe, felt bad about wasting food in George’s bday stream so he decided to donate food to the homeless, bought sketching pads for fan artists, bought someone a car bc theirs broke down, paid off his grandparents’ mortgage, bought his family new iPhones… yeah

#ask

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beegalactica · 6 months ago

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HOT GIRLS ARE CONSCIOUS.

I haven't been on Tumblr in about 3 months (life has been busy), and when I finally decided to check back in today, I kept seeing the same thing over and over again, so I am here to dispel some myths.

If you have seen any of my posts, you will know the issues I have with traditional TikTok-y trendy 'glow-up' advice, but today I realised how much of it is just a ploy to get us to spend tons of money on things we CAN live without. I think we all need to be more CONSCIOUS: conscious of what we can realistically afford and implement into our daily lives.

For example, in a typical 'glow-up' advice post, tiktok or youtube video, they recommend these super unrealistic routines that include a full skincare routine of every type of cream you could ever imagine, and an incredibly detailed list that lays out how you need to spend every 10 minutes of your day in order to achieve this perfect form.

It's all hear-say.

Don't get roped into thinking that you need those brand new clothes, or you need those skincare items to be your best self. The idea of turning your 'glow-up' into a sustainable part of your life is to do things you can manage to do over and over again. The secret to glowing up permanently is having a routine that keeps you happy and healthy. Instead of buying a full shelf of skincare all in one go, get 1 or 2 items with positive reviews to start. You don't need to throw out your whole wardrobe and sell your soul to TEMU just to look aesthetic; use what you have. Rather than making short term impulsive purchases, treat every part of your life as an investment.

Especially when it comes to clothing, being someone who has lost weight and no longer fits into all their old clothes, instead of throwing everything out and starting from scratch, I bought a little amazon sewing kit with a couple of needles and different types of thread and started cutting and sewing my way to a better wardrobe. (Even TODAY, I turned an old pair of jeans that I never wear into a cute miniskirt all from a 5 minute YouTube tutorial.) If sewing isn't your thing, you can try using some hemming tape and an iron, fabric glue, or whatever you can. Be conscious of the things you buy and how often you buy them.

I know lots of people like thrifting, and you can thrift online with apps like Vinted, which I personally use and love, if you don't have access to massive thrift stores like they do in America (I'm totally not jealous at all 🙄🙄; I live in the UK and the closest things I have near me are charity shops but there's a sort of stigma around shopping in them but honestly who cares what others think).

When you shop for clothes, look for timeless and versatile pieces you can mix and match, layer and style with lots of different things, allowing you to wear them well. Try to find good staple pieces, that will make the basis of your wardrobe. Be an outfit repeater. Do not blindly follow trends; take the time to curate and explore to find your style. Make a massive Pinterest board of everything you think looks good, and start to make a list of common items of clothing and accessories you save the most; these will be your staples. Don't feel like you have to stick strictly to one aesthetic; my wardrobe ranges from 'fairycore' maxi skirts to y2k denim skirts, but what matters is that I am mindful of whether I will use the things I want to buy.

Of course, feel free to treat yourself, you 100% deserve it, but don't get sucked into the idea that your self worth is determined but WHAT you have; instead it should be how you FEEL in what you have.

I like to see my blog as a little notebook of things I wish I could have told my younger self, and things I want to remind my future self, and I feel like it would be a disservice to not talk about the oversaturation of our feeds with infinite products, to the point where everything feels like an AD.

Moral of the story: don't just take everything you see online at face value. Don't get trapped in extensive consumerism; it's bad for your bank account, it's bad for the environment and it's bad for your mental health.

Also here's my Pinterest if you want to have a peek around <3 Pinterest

#lifeblr #self improvement #becoming that girl #girlblogger #girlblogging #it girl #self care #that girl #consumerism #thrifting #sustainability #sewing #think before you buy #there's enough to go around for everyone

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totothewolff · 7 months ago

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Season of Love (6/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

Dances with Wolff Arc Chapter 6: Collision at Turn "Your Heart"

Sam and Toto go to the Soft Serve Society in London the following day to have milkshakes. They share a sizeable Instagram-able shake, asking for two straws instead of one.

The place is intimate and small, perfect for chatting. Its location in a trendy neighborhood gives Sam the ideal excuse to pull that Thom Browne boyish suit out of her suitcase.

As Sam is asking for two matcha cookies to complement their order, she notices Toto smiling like an idiot at his iPhone screen.

—Wow, that time you two spent apart did wonders for your relationship. I thought it was a "cease and desist" situation, as if there wouldn't be a turning point, but I haven't seen you like this in a long time.

—How? —Toto moves his gaze to Sam, a bit perplexed.

—Stupidly in love. So you two are genuinely back?

—Oh, that... well, we are trying this open relationship thing. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about it.

Sam gives him a judgy look, her eyebrows slightly frowning. —Let me guess. Susie suggested it; you said no, then she pressured you, and you followed along. There is no need to explain further; I get it.

Toto shrugs and barely nods his head.

—It's always what Susie wants, isn't it? You are so blind sometimes —she sounds now annoyed.

—I thought you, of all people, would get it. You see love differently than in the traditional way. Preferences aside, you are more free regarding feelings and partners.

—Yes, yet I'm not into playing with other people's feelings.

—I'm not being played or playing with her feelings.

—To which one of the two hers are you referring?

A silence.

It's the first time Sam addresses the elephant in the room.

—Listen, I don't want to overstep, and God knows I don't want to get in the middle; I love you both; yes, I said that, and stop smiling like that, but for fuck sake, you two need to communicate and talk! LIKE TALK! I know it's not my place, and I have tried to remain as neutral as possible, but I genuinely care about Y/N; there's more you need to know about each other because this thing is going to blow in your faces the worst way.

—What's on this? Is this really happening? You telling me how you are feeling? —Toto picks up the shake to smell it, making a funny face and trying to lighten the mood. He also avoids giving Sam an answer but pays attention to her every word.

—Oh, fuck off —Sam pushes him a bit roughly.

—Sugar sure is a drug! —Toto's holding a laugh.

—How did your day out with Toto go?

—How do you know we went out? Stalker!

In response, you give Sam an exaggerated insulted expression (hand over your chest and open wide mouth). —He texted me when you two were at the ice cream place! He even sent me these pictures! —you show her the conversation. —By the way, that outfit of yours is CUTE!

—Oh! It was you then —she says quickly and softly.

—Sorry? —you look at Sam as if another head grew from her neck.

—Oh, nothing. Toto didn't mention anything. He was just smiling like an idiot and giggling like a teenager, looking all in love at his phone screen.

—All what? Sam, what you said?! —you feel your heart in your throat.

—Did you follow my advice? —she cuts your shenanigans.

—I tried to follow it and address our "situation," but he rushed to get wine. He ran from the conversation, and I didn't feel like having it much, either. I knew how it was going to end.

—Well, keep pushing, trust me.

—Is there something I should worry about? —you suddenly stop and look straight at her.

—It's not my place to tell —Sam answers neutrally.

Then you two board your jet with directions home, your new home, Monaco.

Now, thanks to Sam's words, an eerie sentiment fills your head. Is she trying to warn you something?

It's a quiet flight; well, if it wasn't for Samanta's snoring, not even an English Bulldog snores that loud.

Which makes you laugh hard; you have forgotten how terrible Sam sleeps.

It's been a while since you two slept nearby, which was the most common thing for all those years you lived at the Manor.

You have always been very much like sisters.

You take out your phone and start recording a video of Sam sound asleep with T-rex arms, open mouth, and loudly snoring, all weirdly placed on the comfy, big seat next to you.

Monaco

Why, every time you land in Monaco, your mind is in desperate need of a Toto detox?

As soon as you are in the car ride home, you hit the send button on the "Get a grip, loca🏎!" group chat.

After you share the video of Sam sleeping, a long list of replies and reactions appear in the group.

She threatens to murder you in your sleep.

Two nights after being back, when Charles enters the apartment wearing the world's most oversized outfit while trying to juggle four bottles of wine - one held under his chin - and a big fancy grocery bag while avoiding stepping on "Robbie" - your Roomba robot - you feel so at home; this couldn't be a more domestic scene for you two before you rush to help him.

Never mind, too late! Now, the kitchen floor looks like a crime scene.

God, how much you missed him! Keeping your friendship while hiding it from the rest of the Scuderia has been difficult.

Ferrari is a hermetic group that likes it that way; being extra friendly with the enemy could cost Charles' head, thanks to Binotto's paranoia.

—FUCK! FUCK AND FUCK! —he lets out, looking at the now red floor, followed by various French cursings coming out of that pouty mouth.

—At least the other three survived —you hear Sam say, entering behind him and holding two more bottles and a cake.

—Several bottles of wine and lots of food. This is an intervention for me, isn't it? —you ask, looking at them suspiciously.

Both of them energetically nod.

—We need to talk about Bruno —Charles jokes; he obviously means Toto while grabbing the paper towel on the kitchen counter to try cleaning his mess, which is as useless as you expected.

—Damn —is all you let out.

At some point, Charles gives up and prefers leaving a fat tip and a Post-it for Rosita when she comes clean tomorrow morning.

—Hi, I have a quick question: How much do you weigh?

A text from Toto comes in the early hours of the day as you are about to hit the treadmill in your luxurious building's training center. You rushed down there, unable to sleep a second more.

After the intervention, you comprehend lots of things need to change.

—(Y/N's weight), why? —you reply.

It's still dark outside.

Only you and three others are alone in the enormous gym section, which feels quiet and isolated, perfect for decompressing.

Apparently, when Toto and you are apart, you are both early birds. It's always a snooze fest when you two are tangled in sheets. Probably, it's because he makes the world's most fabulous pillow or because he loves having you wrapped in his arms.

Judging by his text's unusual hours, he may be overthinking it too. Lately, you have felt driven to exercise earlier in the morning as well to avoid losing your sanity.

A couple of minutes later, a video of Toto adjusting the weight of his barbells to your weight before doing a couple of hip thrusts comes as a reply.

You watch the video a couple of times, okay, several times, before hitting the reply button. —I can help you do some repetitions if you want; I know a very effective routine! My trainer also advised me I needed more cardio —you tease him, feeling a tingle down there, hehe.

Fuck! You are falling for it again, and you just swore to Sam and Charles that there would be no Toto during this break!

As Toto reads your text, a pleased smirk forms on his lips, and then he exhales and returns to exercise.

He shouldn't be feeling this desperate for your attention. It has been only the first week without seeing you.

The way you have turned his life upside down is unimaginable.

—Your girl is in town! —Normani sends a selfie of herself in the group chat, throwing a pose on the Monaco pier, looking flawless and stylish in a two-piece Casablanca outfit (an orange thee with colorful stripes and shorty shorts and pulling the coolest glasses) while blowing a kiss. —Let's hang out tonight!😈😈

—OH, I KNOW JUST THE PLACE —Lando writes back.

—Italy.

Several "???" appear.

—I'm in Italy —Seb clarifies.

Now, it makes sense.

—Someone needs to help Seb with this, really —George says.

—Let's take him to one of those free classes at the Apple store, you know, with the senior citizens —Checo jokes. —I'm with Carola's parents and the kids in Guadalajara, so we are out of the fun this time.

—Tell Carola I love her —you request Checo.

—I will, thx.

—I don't wish for an apple, thank you —Seb replies.

—Dear God —Lewis texts.

—Jk! Jk! I'm not that inept, and I'm not yet a senior citizen, but soon, 2032 let's go! —Seb exits the conversation.

—Lando, send the location —Lewis texts. —That's great to know, Seb. I'm already saving for our turbo wheelchairs to challenge you in races at the retirement home.

—There, see you guys at 1 a.m.

—I want to live enough to witness that, Lewis —Mick enters the conversation.

—This club looks like a shithole! I don't wish for my organs to get stolen —Charles points out after looking for the place on Google Maps; it's only a run-down facade photo of the place in a not-that-neat street.

—Trust me, you are going to love it —Lando comments.

—Is it private? —Lewis asks. —Cause last time we went out in London, getting us out of there was a nightmare.

—That's precisely why I'm suggesting this place!

—Spain.

—I'm in Spain —Carlos texts, mocking Seb. —Have fun without me, guys, even though I don't think you can. Send pictures. I miss you, my friends.

—Te extraño, too🙇‍♀️ —you reply, Carlos, you have become fond of him.

—🥰🥰 —Carlos sends.

—I'm liking this sketchy, mysterious place already —Sam joins in.

—Sam, is Millie still in town? —you ask her, you met Millie for brunch two days ago.

—No, I already left 😭😭😭. Mick invited me to hike in Patagonia—a photo of them out in nature follows her text.

—Okay, the ones who are going, please send a hands-up emoji; I'm booking the table —Lando texts.

You make your way through the winding streets of Monaco on Charles' bike at full speed; you are sure you flashed at least four people with that party mini dress you are wearing as you head to the mysterious nightclub.

As soon as you park, you agree with Charles that it looks like a sketchy part of town, but the faint sound of pulsing music and the flickering lights emanating from a door down a narrow corridor between two buildings right in front of you quickly distract you and guides you in.

Soon, as you enter and go down the long stairs, you are immediately enveloped in a world of luxury "decadence."

The atmosphere is electric, and the air is heavy with the scent of exotic perfumes.

—It smells like good sex —is what Lando tells you as he greets you, looking at your two "trying to discover the scent" faces.

The walls are decorated with striking artwork, each more provocative and daring than the last.

For sure, this place is the stage for many wild escapades.

As almost everyone gets there, the group is drawn to the center of the club, near where the main stage, lit up with swirling lights and seductive, almost naked dancers.

Your table in the VIP area "it has the best location in the place", again, according to Lando.

As you sit next to Nomani, who gave you the world's greatest greeting hug, you get mesmerized by the hypnotic rhythm of the music and the dancers' graceful motions.

You get transfixed, unable to tear your eyes away from them. Gorgeous he/she/they are on the stage.

—Beer, gin, what are we drinking? —Normani asks you.

—Tequila —you answer too quickly for her and Sam's amusement.

—Tequila, it is! —she says loudly and makes a little dance, shaking the girls around. The more than happy waiter witnesses it before getting the bottle.

You pour everyone a shot to start the night. Lewis just arrived, and George is running late as usual.

—Can you smell it? —you ask everyone.

A couple of "What?" come along.

—The regret —you joke as you all take the shot.

The group then goes full party core, joining the pulsating dance floor and losing themselves in the music.

Laughter and shouts fill the air as the exotic dancers approach you and the crowd to exchange some sensual moves.

Amidst the chaos and allure of the night, Toto arrives. Unexpectedly.

Charles and Sam instantly look at you, almost throwing you darts.

—I swear to God I didn't invite him!

George did.

As alcohol skyrockets Lando, he starts doing push-ups for you in the middle of the dance floor as a techno-dub mix of Olivia Newton John's and Dua Lipa's "Physical" starts playing while he looks straight at you.

—Is that supposed to impress me? —you raise an eyebrow, cross your arms, and lean on Lewis, who is also witnessing the action.

—Is it working?

—Never stop believing in your dreams —you laugh it off, and Toto playfully rolls his eyes at him, then winks at you.

"Oh, God, I'm weak! I'm not going to resist the temptation."

—The dancer with the jockstrap hasn't taken his eyes off you the entire night —Toto points out for Normani, gesturing to which one he refers.

Normani makes a "definitely wouldn't mind" expression. —Too bad I don't do one-night stands —she confesses.

—Like ever? —Lewis looks at her like she is from Mars.

—Hopeless romantic right here! —Normi answers. —I like to party, but I'm so old-fashioned. Thanks, Mom!

—What a classy lady, indeed! —George says.

—It's my Britishness britishing —she jokes. —I want a husband, a big house in the countryside, horses and babies, you know, the traditional.

—Like, literally, this is the worst place to discuss family! —Sam warns them with a "Don't kill the mood, guys" look.

—The worst! —you all burst out laughing.

—I'm not sure if she is messing with us or..? —Lando comes closer to saying to Charles.

—No, really! It's my biggest wish. I can't wait to be a mom! —Normani lets out.

—But you are so young! —everyone looks so shocked at her. Quite the revelation!

—I KNOW, but I want four! So, I better hurry up.

—FOUR?!! —everyone kind of screams in response.

Normani looks at them with a big smile, happy with the chaos her confession is causing.

—I get you, girl. I do love one myself; I have wanted to be a mom for years now. I feel I'm close to adopting one, but I need to do something with my schedule first. It would be impossible with a baby!

Toto listens to your conversation, very quiet and still, looking as if something inside him broke.

—Hey, I want to talk to you privately. I have something important to tell you; it's been on my mind for a while —Toto approaches you to whisper in your ear.

—Oh, sure, yeah —you agree to. "Okay, breathe, the moment it's coming."

When you reach a quiet spot to talk without all the people buzzing around, the loud background noises, and the almost butt-naked performers, you two remain there in an awkward silence for a minute.

Toto looks like he wants to say something but doesn't, so you break the ice first, feeling your hands shaking a bit.

—So what do you want to tell me that's so important?

He looks straight at you and takes two steps to close the distance between you. —Ahem, so... so what are you planning for... for the off-season? —he takes you off guard.

"Okay, this is not what I was expecting."

—I... I don't know... yet.

—Maybe we could spend it together. I know a private island that would be perfect —Toto offers you, totally improvising.

—Oh, I see...

—I mean... if you want to.

—No, no, of course, I want to!

—Perfect, then —he says, his voice deep. Toto then takes your hand, and you're surprised by the warmth from his touch.

"Coward" "Selfish" is all Toto thinks for himself. "But I don't want to lose her. I need her just a bit more. I don't know how to quit her."

—What do you say if we continue this conversation somewhere even more private? —Toto invites you, his intense dark eyes piercing right through you.

Before you have time to respond, he takes your hand and leads you toward the exit at the back of the place and into his car.

Soon, you arrive at his luxurious penthouse, abandoning almost all of your party clothes in the process.

You glance around the dimly lit living room, admiring its opulence. The walls are decorated with fine art, and the scent of wealth lingers in every corner.

Toto, already bare-chested, removes the rest of his clothes, revealing himself. You can't help but stare at his toned abs, defined muscles, and delicious dick.

He smirks, noticing your admiration, and pushes you closer to the sofa. It creaks softly under your weight as he sits you down, eyes locked onto each other.

—You're stunning —Toto says while tracing his fingers down your body as you remove your last piece of clothing.

Your pulse quickens at his touch, and you move in, pressing your lips hard against his.

Toto's tongue sneaks its way between your parted lips as he pulls your naked body close to his. You moan softly.

Slowly, he leans back onto the plush pillows, taking you with him. Your bodies intertwine in a passionate embrace, enjoying the heat from his broad chest into you as you run your hands all over him, feeling every inch of Toto pressing against your core.

He grabs you by the hips, grinding you against him forcefully, causing an excited whimper to escape your lips. You can't help but crave his every single inch.

Sliding yourself lower, you feel him harden beneath you. —Fuck, you're so hard —you whisper into his ear as you stroke his length up and down.

Toto flips you onto your back, not letting you control the show yet, spreading your legs wide. He effortlessly glides both of his hands beneath your ass, lifting you up like you weigh nothing.

His left-hand squeezes your ass cheek possessively while his right supports your lower back. Then Toto lowers his mouth to your inner thigh, his tongue trailing a path of wetness up to your core, where he tastes you.

You gasp, your breath hitching whenever his tongue flicks your clit.

Plunging his tongue deep inside you, he tastes the sweetness of your essence. Moving back up to your clit, he sucks hard, provoking you to tremble under the pleasure.

Your fingers entangle his thick hair, tugging and pushing as waves of delight roll over your body.

Toto stares at your swollen clit and massages it gently, building an almost unbearable tension in the pit of your stomach before he slides first one finger, then two inside of you, feeling you tighten around them as he moves them in deliberate circles.

—What the fuck, you feel incredible —he mumbles against your folds. He increases his pace, sucking harder, flicking faster until you are shuddering against him, gasping for breath, about to break apart.

Your vision gets blurry as an involuntary moan escapes your lips.

—I'm so fucking close —you cry out, inarticulate with pleasure. Toto looks up and climbs back up your body, kissing and nipping at your soft flesh as he goes up until his thighs are between yours.

—You want me to make you come, don't you? —he whispers seductively, nibbling on your earlobe.

You nod, biting your lip. You need Toto to fill you, to end this unbearable craving he had built inside you.

—Please, Toto —you beg, thrusting your hips upward. A desperate whimper tears from your throat when your sexes don't meet.

Toto chuckles softly, smirking at your desperation. —Then fuck me —he murmurs, placing you on top of him, inviting you to ride him right there, inviting you to guide him inside of you. —Fuck me hard.

The feeling of him filling you up, inch by inch, sends waves of ecstasy through your body. —Oh, god, yes —you moan, encouraging him deeper.

Your bodies move together in perfect harmony as you ride waves of pleasure. Toto grunts and groans with each bounce, whispering obscenities in your ear as you cowgirl him with an arched back, panting heavily. Wetness pools between you as your sweat-slicked bodies slap together rhythmically.

Toto grabs your hands and pins them behind your back, changing the angle of his thrusts. He hits a spot deep within you that sends shivers down your spine, producing a guttural moan from your lips.

He smirks at the sound and repeats the action, watching your reaction with fascination.

—Fuuck —you cry out, every muscle tensing as your fingers curl into fists.

Toto continues to plow into you, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, making your tits bounce without control, making you a mess.

You look down at him to see your bodies moving in a slick rhythm, leaving trails of sweat and lust on your skin. He looks wild, eyes burning with desire and mouth parted in a low growl as the scent of sex permeates the air around you.

You whimper as he releases one of your wrists, allowing you to wrap your hand around your breast. Your fingers tease your sensitive nipple, sending a fresh wave of sensation flooding through you.

Toto watches you touch yourself, entranced by the movement of your hand on your breast as his thrusts become erratic.

—Fuck, you're so goddamn beautiful —he mutters roughly, his hips slamming into yours hard. The sound of your bodies colliding resonates throughout the room, mixing with your erratic breathing.

—You like that? —Toto asks, smirking at your eager expression. You feel yourself getting closer to the edge, ready to burst at any moment.

Toto's dark eyes pierce into you, watching every twitch of your face and every moan of breath.

His thrusts become more deliberate, each one pressing into your womb.

—Fuckkk —Toto groans loudly, struggling to contain himself. His muscles tense as he gives it to you very fast; sweat drips down his face, onto his chest, and you.

—Toto! —you moan very loud as you come all over his dick.

—I need you —he confesses to you as he is about to come. You bounce hard and desperately on his cock, till you hear him grunting loud; a mess of panting Toto fills you up.

Ferrari's big anniversary is coming up next weekend, and they are set to throw the biggest party ever, a very fancy gala that will take place in Rome, or so Charles discloses to you.

—I'm actually excited for this one! —then he turns to show you the jewelry bracelet he likes before trying it on while cheerfully chit-chatting.

—This one is more your style, I like it better —you agree with his pick, as you two are out shopping.

While the sales lady adjusts it to his wrist measurements, Charles continues telling you: —This party has been in the making for so long, and all the rumors we have been hearing about it from the planners keep getting better; it honestly sounds so good!

You attentively listen to him while trying on a set of butterfly diamond earrings. Yes, you need them.

He continues: —I really wish I could take you like my plus one! But I'm taking my mom; I promised her way before meeting you.

—Oh, sweetie, no worries! But do tell me more about it. Sounds fabulous.

—Well, it will be very VIP, with only big clients, a couple of A-lister celebrities, and influential motorsports people. There's a lot of gossip about what or who will be the entertainment.

—I guess I'm not part of the big names of motorsports yet because I haven't been invited, haha. Mattia doesn't like me, isn't it?

—He is not your biggest fan, but almost no one has been invited; as far as I know, it's just the Scuderia and people Mattia considers his "paddock friends." —Charles gestures with his hands. —And some special guests with a history with the brand, like Niki. He is going! I know because Sam is his plus one; she told me yesterday.

—Maybe I should buy Ferrari to party with you at that fabulous event —you laugh it off as you sign the check for the earrings.

—And to party with Niki —Charles adds, joking.

—I heard he goes hard! —you joke back. Nowadays, if Niki stays up after 10 p.m., he considers it a wild night, in his words.

As you are about to finish your grilled salmon at that gorgeous "Gaia" restaurant in Monte Carlo, your phone buzzes on top of the white mantelpiece, grabbing your attention.

—Didn't you lose something?

—Not that I know.

—How weird, cause I have this plus one ticket with your name on it.

—Haha. You got me!

—Feeling like going to a fancy party in Rome?

—A getaway trip to Italy? SIGN ME UP! —you happily reply, already thinking about what you will wear.

Rome

As the sun descended over the iconic Roman Colosseum, flashing cameras lit the red carpet at the ancient structure's entrance.

Sleek Ferraris pull up, each more luxurious than the previous, dropping the celebrities and high-profile guests off to make their grand entrances, dressed in the most glamorous outfits and adorned in shining jewels.

Amidst all that circus, you two stay on the sidelines, watching the spectacle unfold before quietly skipping the paparazzi and splitting apart to enter the temporarily built ballroom.

—Surprise! —you extend your arms to Leclerc; he is now fresh off the red carpet, the one you avoid to keep it as discreet as possible.

A prominent smile forms on the lips of the Monagesque. —We could have shared the flight here, you know! Instead of you flying here all by yourself —Charles rolls his eyes at you and then hugs you. —I really believed you when you said you didn't get invited. You got me!

"But I didn't fly by myself!" You want to correct him on that, but you don't.

Inside, the atmosphere is as opulent as outside. Red lights illuminate the ancient structure, and lavish decorations adorn every table set. Cirque du Soleil performers move gracefully through the crowds, dazzling costumes twirling and shimmering as they entertain the guests with their mesmerizing acts.

You take in all the sights and sounds of the extravagant gala surrounding you, where motorsport legends mingle with billionaires, entertainers, engineers, celebrities, and beautiful models.

Laughter, loud music, and chatter fill the air, along with the clinking of champagne glasses.

After having a blast dancing around, chatting, and goofing an hour later, you go to look for Sam, knowing she must be somewhere around.

But the place is enormous, the crowd is big, and no luck so far; she is nowhere to be seen.

You get tired of searching for her and go to the bathroom. By this point, you have had many drinks, "Damn, that waiting line is long!"

As you try to find something to entertain you while you wait, you start scanning the place with your eyes, observing every gorgeous detail, when the silhouette of a beautiful blond woman steals your attention. Four girls in front of you in the line, there is Susie.

She is as beautiful as you expected her to be in person but more petite; she looks fit and fierce but kind. You can't help but stare at her before wondering what she is doing here. Then a "Duh! Idiot! She is a big name in motorsports!" hits you.

As you return to your table from grabbing chocolate-covered strawberries a bit later, you run into Sam.

She stares at you with the widest eyes ever, completely surprised. —What? —she lets out, standing still.

—Surprise! —you reach to hug her. —I have been looking for you all damn night! —she barely hugs you, and your big smile starts to fade away. —Is all good? —you ask, concern while looking straight at her.

—I'm so sorry, Y/N. I genuinely am —she mumbles. Samanta's features are full of dismay.

—Sam, you are worrying me.

She gestures to you to turn around.

"Oh, there is that feeling you remember so well."

That awful fucking feeling of getting your heart shattered. Like a bullet going through the flesh, a sting of pure pain as if your heart was glass and was getting crushed by a hammer, pure and profound pain as you watch Susie wrapped around Toto's neck with no inch of space in between them, standing by the Mercedes guest table, sharing soft kisses and pets.

Yet you are so skilled at hiding your feelings that it requires an expert - like Sam - to figure you out.

With a neutral face, you faintly say: —I need a moment.

—Y/N... I will go with you...

—I need a moment, I... I need to get fresh air. I will be right back —you start walking in the opposite direction to them, and Sam follows your every step.

—Y/N. I'm here for you...

—I'll be back, Sam. I need a moment, please —you make her stop following you around. So she contains herself and watches you walk away, worried about you.

Sam knows your mental health hangs from a fragile thread.

—I want a Tequila and tonic with three tequila shots in it, please —Samanta brusquely drops herself on her seat at the Mercedes guest table and asks the waiter for a heavy drink.

—That would be two, please. You have learned from the master herself. Where is she, tho? I spotted Y/N and was going to greet her, but I got distracted by a sexy lady asking for a selfie. Now I don't know where she went to —Lewis asks while looking around, trying to spot you among the crowds.

The music is loud, so conversing is challenging if you aren't near enough.

—She's outside chatting with Vettel —Charles inserts himself in the conversation between a pissed-off Sam and a clueless Lewis, arriving a bit rushed at the table and placing himself between their two chairs.

—Hi mate! —Lewis pats his arm, and half hugs him while still sitting. Charles rubs his shoulder in response.

—Hey, Sam. I made the changes you suggested to my speech. Do you approve? —Leclerc hands her a folded piece of paper; "She is out there crying" is written in big caps.

Sam and Charles exchange warry looks.

—It's perfect. I will help you practice it.

—Great idea, let's g...

A loud "ow" sound from the crowd interrupts them. A tray hits the floor loudly, followed by glasses breaking. It's all coming from far on their left.

They all turn their heads toward the noise, as does almost everyone in the entire place.

—I'm so so sorry! Oh my god! I'm an idiot! Please forgive me! —a very distraught and nervous Vettel apologizes frantically to you.

He accidentally crashed into the waiter holding a tray of wine glasses as he crossed paths with you, the ones that landed all over you, fucking up your dress, before smashing on the floor.

Which made poetic sense since you felt wounded, and now you looked like it.

You could sense Toto's eyes burning into you. You weren't supposed to be there.

Lewis gets on his feet. —Jesus, poor Y/N —and he notices how Toto looks utterly shaken by seeing you here and looking whiter than a ghost, and at that moment, he gets it. Fuck.

—Seb, Seb, SEB! —you raise your voice as Vettel keeps apologizing and talking nonstop. —It's okay, sweetie. No worries; I will go change! It's all okay.

—I'm sorry. Please forgive me; let me escort you out. It's the least I can do.

—Okay. Fine —you finally agree, looking a bit done with Seb.

You two start walking to the exit, which is all the other way around for your fucking luck. As you depart, you can hear the people whispering and staring at you.

A frozen Toto watches you walk past them, and you can't help it; for the briefest moment, you make eye contact with him before Vettel blocks the view.

—Sebastian Vettel, you are a good man —Sam whispers.

—What? —Charles reaches even closer to her.

—Y/N is not coming back. Seb was her exit out.

—Was that on purpose?!!

—Yes. That's why you saw them talking out there, for sure.

—Are they that close? Since when? I had no fucking clue.

—Since Y/N set foot on the paddock —Sam replies, knowing the whole story. —She's an expert at hiding in plain sight.

—Should we check on her? —Lewis turns to them, still on his feet, looking tense.

—Y/N will be fine; she always is —Sam says aloud for the entire table to hear. She can feel Toto's eyes on her but doesn't care to look back at him.

Vettel takes you inside a black-tinted Suburban. As the chauffeur speeds away from the Colosseum, he holds your hand and never lets it go.

Seb asks you to stay at his place so he can care for you and keep you company, and you agree.

You two cuddle in the back seat while you cry in his arms all the ride to his place.

It's a long one.

You don't know if it's because your heart is shattering into a million pieces, or because you feel vulnerable right now, or just cause Seb is such a kind and precious being that you pour all out.

You let him know everything, every single fucking detail about your fling with Torger and how you feel right now. You had never been so forthcoming with anyone about this, not even Sam.

—I'm so sorry about how the night turned out; I invited you as my plus-one with the idea of having the best time. I wish I had known all of this before! Finding it out this way, gosh, that's harsh —Seb tells you, with a mixture of mortification and sadness.

—You aren't the one who should apologize! Hey, at least we had a good time on the flight here. Thanks to you, now I want to build hundreds of hotels for the bees.

He smiles brightly before adding: —Right now, you need to rest and feel, let it all out of your system, and tomorrow start new! I'm here for you.

—Thanking for acting out that exit; you deserve an Oscar.

—I have been mistaken for Brad Pitt before, you know —he jokes to try to make you smile, but it's in vain. —You are a good actress, too.

You crash on his couch. Barely making it inside, collapsing as soon as you cross the entrance door, feeling drained.

You have experienced the "heart broke syndrome" before and know how it goes, so you needed to lie down ASAP.

After God knows how many minutes since you blacked out on the sofa, you hear a noise above you. You slightly and a bit unwillingly open your eyes to see Seb covering you with a remarkably soft blanket that feels so delicious. He drops a puffy pillow on the rug beside you and lays himself down there next to the couch.

You move to face him as he gets comfy there on the floor. —What are you doing?

—Oh, shit, did I wake you up? I'm staying here if you don't mind —he looks at you with apprehension in those stunning eyes.

—You are the sweetest —you tell him as you slowly drift off, exhausted.

As you fall asleep again, you understand now why Lewis dared risk it all for Seb and start wondering what happened to those two.

You wake up disoriented and feeling anxious.

It's still dark.

Seb is profoundly asleep and relaxed in the blueish-tinted living room, with the moonlight sneaking through the large windows.

You stay there, unable to sleep but with zero energy to move. You observe his breathing, which weirdly helps you soothe yourself when suddenly, your phone screen lights up, stealing your gaze.

You try to reach for it since Seb placed your purse and phone on the coffee table at arm's distance before going to look for an oversized T-shirt that could work you as pajamas.

It's a simple text from Toto. "Can I please talk to you?"

As you navigate your phone, you notice many missed calls from Sam, Charles, and Lewis.

Well, now it's clear communication and sincerity weren't your thing. You weren't one of those couples.

Were you even a couple?

"Maybe it's best this way," is all you reply to him before turning your phone off.

Tears start coming down again as your phone screen dims and fades to black again.

The following day, Seb offers you to stay for as long as you wish, and you will take his word for it.

You don't feel like returning to the city you share with Toto; it's way too risky for you to be in Monaco.

You need time to compose yourself. A lot is about to happen soon, and you need to be at your best. You can't fail. To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

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starlight-library · 4 months ago

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So American | LN4 & MV1

pairing: lando norris x oc x max verstappen

summary: Snippets of times that Storm, an up and coming American figure skater, being Lando and Max's favorite American soon to he partner friend

warning: fluff! some mad thirsting from Storm. but really just fluff!

FC: @/simimoonlight on instagram!

WC: 4.7K

a/n: Storm is genderfluid uses all pronouns fluently so the pronoun shifts are intentional, to showcase how they're presenting! yes! it is based off of 'So American' by Olivia Rodrigo! Yes, i did added the lyrics in! No, i do not own the song and all rights to her!! also, i blame @norrisleclercf1 for getting me on the norstappen train!!! so enjoy my first attempt at this!!

Drivin' on the right-side road. He says I'm pretty wearin' his clothes.

“Surprise!” Storm beams a bright smile at the older McLaren driver, arms stretched out wide for a hug while standing outside his hotel room. She almost cackles at the surprised expressions Lando is currently sporting before he rushes over, laughing and smiling as Lando pulls Storm into a tight hug, spinning her around before putting her down in shock. Storm is trying so hard to stay focused on Lando words as he rambles about them being here for Silverstone and all the things they’ll have to do before he stops, glances down, and laughs.

“Is this my hoodie?”

Glancing down at themselves, Storm feels her face suddenly on fire from being called out but she keeps her cool as she looks up at the Brit, “yeah. You left it at my place so now it’s mine. If you want it back, you’ll have to fight me for it and Max already took his back.”

Lando laughs as he shakes his head, “Calm down. As much as I love this hoodie, it looks much better on you. Max only took it back because Sassy loves to hide in his hoodies but I think I can part with this one if you promise to wear it often,” he beams that stupid heart stopping smile with a wink, “did you drive here?”

“Yes Lando, I drove here from the airport” making a face, “I don’t need someone to drive me around, Lando.”

“Booooooooooooooo! Return the car! I’ll drive you around while you’re here.”

“I think you just want an excuse to make fun of my driving and show me how to “properly drive” as you claim.”

“Am I wrong?”

Storm gasps and smacks Lando’s arm who is not fast enough to avoid it but he’s laughing. “Asshole!” Storm claims, “so the answer will be no.”

Crossing their arms over their chest, Storm studies Lando. She can’t help the small smile that appears on her face as Lando whines and complains that there’s no reason for Storm to drive when Lando is right here to be her personal chauffeur, especially at his home race. Storm shakes their head refusing to budge on the subject as Lando starts to coax them to put their things down so they can get drinks in the lobby.

And he's got hands that make hell seem cold.

“Jesus,” Lando hisses as his hand brushes against Storm’s hand as he takes his drink from her, “why are your hands freezing?”

“Maybe it’s because you run extremely hot all the time?” Storm counters.

“No no—put that down.”

Storm does and she blinks when Lando takes her hands into his. His hands are gigantic, completely engulfing her own, and they’re so “Lando, what the fu—”

“Storm, you're freezing. How are you okay with running this cold? And spare me the ‘I’m an ice skater’ bullshit. I know they’re all thermal so you don’t freeze.”

“How do you know that?”

“Common sense,” Lando states before speaking after a beat, “also cause I know you mentioned your tights ripping and money was a bit tight—”

“You bought me tights? Lando you didn’t have to do that. I have to pay you back—”

“No. Just take them. No strings attached. Really. Also stop distracting me from the fact you run way too cold—”

Storm laughs softly and shakes her head. They’ll die before admitting aloud that she has low iron and that she’s been taking iron pills but had forgotten to take one while traveling all the way out to the UK. Instead, she shrugs softly, “maybe it’s just the UK I’m allergic to,” she jokes with a grin.

Feet on the dashboard, he's like a poem I wish I wrote…I wish I wrote.

“Put your feet down!”

“No way!” Lando laughs as he shifts in the passenger seat with his feet up on the dashboard, “you refused to let me drive you around so now I get to play passenger princess! They do this all the time, why can’t I?”

“Cause god forbid I break short or something and then boom! Broken legs or worse, amputated legs,” Storm glances at the Brit trying her hardest to not cave and break this facade she’s put on, “I’ll buy you—fucking ice cream or something and won’t tell your trainer if you take your feet off the dashboard so I’m less stressed.”

Lando tilts his head from side to side before finally moving his legs off the dashboard, sighing dramatically as if Storm banned him from having fun. Storm laughs at the dramatic antics from the Brit but keeps driving as she steals a glance. Lando’s scrolling through his phone for something, maybe a song, but Storm can’t help but watch how his curls blow in the wind or how he’s got this glint in his eye when he focused or how sometimes he’ll end up making a duck face in thought and somehow make it work. Forcing her gaze away Storm continues driving and pushes the feelings down.

When he laughs at all my jokes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, it's just not fair of him to make me feel this much.

The days leading up to Silverstone felt like a dream that Storm did not want to wake up from. From the late night chats to the gaming to the shopping to the exploring, Storm can’t really pinpoint the last time she’s had this much fun, even if it’s just lounging around in his hotel room, Storm high out of her mind while Lando is basically giving her a fashion show for an outfit for media day.

“Your tolerance must be shit,” Storm says while sprawled out on the bed.

“It is,” Lando glances at her from the mirror while buttoning his shirt. Sea green eyes meet brown and Storm smiles and is thankful he looks away to finish getting dressed, “I’ll have some time during summer break but not much. Might have to stick to carts until the season ends.”

“One hit and you’ll be seeing god.”

“It’s better than the American on my bed,” Lando smirks in the mirror.

I'll go anywhere he goes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, I'm gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up.

“Well, this American will now stop giving fashion advice since the Brit seems to know so much more.” Storm starts, “and I guess this American just will sell her Hungary tickets a—”

“You’re going to Hungary too?!” Lando turns sharply to face Storm.

Sighing dramatically, Storm looks at the ceiling “Well, not anymore since someone would rather see God than the American.”

“I was kidding!” Lando starts and Storm just dramatically tosses her head to the sigh before Lando is launching himself onto the bed. Storm screams slightly and rolls so she’s not suffocated or injured and covers her mouth out of shock. Lando’s laughing and Storm shifts, grabbing a pillow. “Asshole!” Storm swears and smacks him with the pillow just as he sits up and she gasps before cackling at the McLaren driver falling off the bed.

I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love.

Silverstone was not the results McLaren wanted. They were too greedy and the calls were all off. Why were the boys being left to make these decisions? Why didn’t they do a double pit in the beginning when McLaren was p1-p2. Storm debated if a lifetime ban from the garage would be worth cursing the race engineers out but Storm decided it wasn’t worth it in the long run so instead Storm took to stepping out of the garage to not get banned.

Watching the podium from her spot in the garage, she couldn’t help but smile sadly. As much as she was proud of Lewis for getting his home win, she knew that this meant so much to Lando (and George who didn’t even finish) as well and Lando was so close. If the calls were just right maybe it would’ve been a different outcome.

Storm hears the anger in his voice when Lewis points out they pitted Lando a lap too late. She winces slightly at it before she depearts and starts making her way to see the podium, hanging closer to the back as the boys appear. She’s thankful Max is up there as well, to be a support beam for Lando. Storm refuses to imagine what this would’ve been if Max and Lando let Austria really get to their friendship, even if she hasn’t talked much even with Lando there.

When the podium is over and everyone’s finishing up, Storm is lingering around the McLaren garage. Scrolling through her phone, she glances up seeing the Red Bull driver and pockets her phone as she steps forward intercepting his path. “Max,” Storm starts with a smile, backing up slightly seeing she had startled the male.

“Oh–Justice, is it?”

“Uh, yeah but everyone calls me Storm. Call me Storm, please.”

“Okay. Storm it is,” Max smiles and nods.

“Thanks. I also just wanted to say thank you, for today.”

“You’re welcome for…what exactly?”

“Trying to cheer Lando up. I saw you really tried ever since the race ended,” Storm admits, “he really needed that so thank you. Especially after Austria..” letting her voice trail off for a moment, “it means a lot coming from you so, I just wanted to say thank you. Now if you excuse me, I have to deal with a moping Lando for the evening.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Max offers, “to have help while he’s moping. He can be–”

“A lot,” Storm finishes, “I know but…I’d appreciate that a lot.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you in the hotel lobby. We can–take him to the bar there or I can buy something on the way back and we can drink and just relax in his room.”

“Sounds like a plan. See you soon.”

God, I'm so boring and I'm so rude. Can't have a conversation if it's not all about you.

“I was thinking–are you even listening to me?”

“Hm? Yeah, totally.”

“Liar. You’re not even looking at me. You haven’t spoken in thirty five minutes. You’ve just shut me out.”

“Just because I’m not looking at my phone doesn’t mean I’m not listening. Also the fact you know how long I’ve been quiet is a bit weird.”

There’s a noise on the other end, “It’s not weird when you’re typically always talking. What are you doing anyway that’s apparently so important?”

“Looking for costume ideas for my competition,” Storm mutters while glancing at his phone for a second then back to his laptop, “what were you saying again?”

“So you were ignoring me. That’s rude, you know”

“I wasn’t ignoring you. I was just prioritizing my competition--"

"Competition for what?"

"Figure skating," Storm glances at the screen then away, "and being genderfluid sometimes suck cause that means more costumes to fit the mood. Doesn't matter since you’re just talking my ear off and probably will continue talking my ear off for another another three hours about your cats,” Storm jokes and smirks hearing the noise that comes from the other end of the FaceTime call before he starts to mimic Max’s rant.

Storm has heard the same playful rant so much that Storm has accidentally memorized it ever since the end of Silverstone with Storm and Max talking more often now, especially with Lando spending time with family and Quadrant which…Storm didn’t hate at all.

The way you dress and the books you read.

Storm was truly no better than a man or woman or person. Deep in the back of Storm’s mind, Storm is kicking himself right now for staring shamelessly at Max but how could they not? Any other time they’ve spoken to Red Bull’s current golden boy, he’s always in Red Bull merch which did not do him any justice.

The plain black t-shirt and jeans with sneakers and a backwards cap? That was doing him all the justice in the world as the two sat at the bar, waiting for drinks. Storm knew where he should look but he was going to take every inch of Max’s figure in while he could.

Storm started at his thighs. It was a shame Max didn’t wear shorts as often because he had some killer thighs. Honestly, Storm bet he could crush a watermelon easily with them…or Storm’s head. Either way, Storm would be very content. They also looked so rideable. Storm would love nothing more than to just swing a leg over and get himself off on Max’s thigh.

Moving his gaze up, Storm sucked his bottom lip between his teeth while staring at Max’s chest. The way the shirt clung to his chest was impossible to ignore. The way his muscles twitched and flex with the simplest of movements. Storm would kill to sink his teeth into his biceps or have a bicep around his waist or his throat.

Looking up more, Storm settles on studying Max’s face. How his eyes shine from the bar lights, how his jaw twitches slightly or his lips are together as he looks over before smiling brightly at Storm. Storm blinks before smiling back but glancing away, embarrassed for just staring Max down like a piece of meat.

I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me. When he's with me.

Time really does fly when you’re having fun. Storm had come to Monaco to hang out with Lando since he had the time off but he was stuck in meetings all day. Storm didn’t really want to sit in their hotel room by themselves so they had called Max. Max was more than kind to let Storm hang out at his apartment while Storm waited for Lando to finish his meetings.

What was meant to be a few hours turned into Storm walking around holding Jimmy and Sassy while Max was in the kitchen cooking dinner. What was just meant to kill some time turned into Storm trying to explain how wonderful Waffle House was to Max and “when you guys come to Austin, I have to take you!” What was meant to just be a quick stop turned into Storm and Max on the couch watching some really cheesy spoof movie with the cats just dissecting the movie.

“Oh my fucking god it’s almost midnight!” Storm proclaims when they finally check their phone. They don’t feel as bad since Lando sent a text apologizing that he’s been in meetings all day and had to handle stuff for Quadrant and he’d make it up to them, “I need to get back to the hotel–”

“Just stay.”

“What?” Storm looks.

“I said stay. It’s late,” Max forces himself to prop himself up on his elbows, “or I can take you back but you shouldn’t be driving. All the crazies are out.”

“That’s a kind offer but it’s fine,” Storm is looking around for their jacket, “besides. If you drive me, then I won’t have a car. What am I going to do then? Huh?” Turning to face him, “have you or Lando drive me all over town?”

The silence that falls upon the apartment is almost comical. Storm is waiting for Max to answer but all instead they just get a blank face and finally an eyebrow raise as if Storm’s question was a stupid one. Shaking their head, Storm turns back around and grabs their things as there’s shuffling behind them.

“I appreciate the offer,” a silent one that is, “but really. I can handle a twenty minute drive back,” Storm turns and nearly jumps out their skin with how close Max is, who’s currently got his arm outstretched to grab a jacket, “what are you doing?”

“Walking you to the car.”

There’s no point of arguing with Max once his mind is made up. Any other time, Storm would argue but it’s late and Storm is counting their blessings that Max was letting them drive back to the hotel. The two chatted all the way there and Storm waved bye as Max watched them drive off.

Laying in their hotel bed, Storm stares at the ceiling before looking at the digital clock on their nightstand. 3am. Looking back at the ceiling, Storm tries to convince themselves that they can’t sleep is totally not because talking to Max was so easy and nice and they would’ve much preferred to stay up all night hanging out with him. They’re wide awake because they had to drive back and they’re struggling to fall back asleep.

It doesn't work but Storm can try.

When he laughs at all my jokes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, it's just not fair of him to make me feel this much.

The week in Monaco is a blur in the best way possible.

Storm found herself with Max when she wasn’t running around with Lando. For most of it, they just hung out at his apartment watching movies or Storm learning way too much about F1 while Max was on the sim. Hell, she happily sits in the corner when he streams and swallows her giggles though it doesn’t matter. The chat can see Max turning to look back at Storm with that stupid, stunning smile.

I'll go anywhere he goes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, I'm gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up.

Storm wasn’t a huge party person. Sure, they enjoyed going out but the consistent partying like other celebrities and pro athletes? Not really and they always got teased about it by their friends.

Storm found themselves out at a club in Monaco, vibing to the music as they gently sway from side to side against the wall. “I should’ve taken being teased,” Storm mutters to themselves as they glance around the club. How people went clubbing by themselves, they would never know and they gave them so much credit for being that confident. Sighing gently, at least Storm could say they tried it and it wasn’t their vibe.

“Storm!”

Perking their head up, Storm’s a bit surprised to see Max making his way over, “what are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing.”

‘He’s tipsy’ Storm thinks. Between his accent being thicker, the very slight slurred speech, and the alcohol–Red Bull and vodka–Storm deduces he’s tipsy at least. Putting their lips together, they can’t help but smile slightly as Max leans against the wall, wincing slightly when he hits it a bit harder than probably intended.

“I asked you first.”

“Lando. Well Lando and Charles. They wanted a night out and I did promise Lando ‘next time’ and well,” gesturing to the club, “here I am.”

“Ah.”

“You?”

Storm instinctively leans back slightly when Max leans in slightly, “ If I had known Lando was organizing something, I probably would’ve come with you guys but I tried solo clubbing.”

“Find anyone?”

Storm practically jumps out of her skin at the new voice. Turning their head to the side, they see Lando on the other side, clutching their shirt. Relaxing when they realize that it’s just Lando, they settle against the wall to look at the two drivers. Mulling the question over, Storm tilts their head slightly.

“Is that all you think about?” Storm quirks a brow, “not everyone is looking for someone.”

“Are you?” Max asks.

“No–” Storm internally winces at how fast they answered, “I mean, not particularly,” they correct themselves considering the only two they would want currently have them trapped between them, “I’m a bit…”

“Picky?” Lando leans in with a smirk.

“Guarded,” Storm retorts.

They notice Lando’s eye dart to Max and they glances at Max, who shoots a look back at Lando. Unsure of the silent conversation happening right now, Storm decides as much as they would love to stay and be the center of these boys' attention and talk to their friends, they decide to give them the time to talk.

“Well,” Storm announces promptly, “this was a great chat but I have to go. Been here so long, you know,” pushing off the wall and just out of their grasp, Storm turns to them with a smile, “and I have a flight to catch in the morning so I’ll see you guys!”

Storm proceeds to slip onto the dance floor as the music drowns out the pleas from Lando and Max as the crowd swallows Storm whole before they exit on the other side. They cover their face in embarrassment. How stupid could they have been? That was the perfect situation to be in with their two crushes and yet they panicked and chickened out. Hopefully something eventful happens and they forget about this interaction.

I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love. I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon but if the conversation ever were to come up I don't wanna assume this stuff…

“That was a really good job out there. I think you’re gonna do great at World’s this year. Maybe even win.”

“Thanks coach,” Storm says, skating over to the edge of the rink with a smile before waddling off carefully to sit on the bench and take her skates off, “you think so?”

“Yeah. Just keep up with what you’re doing. Don’t overwork yourself,” coach jokes as Storm ties her boots and grabs her bag, standing up. Laughing slightly, the two exit the rink before parting ways.

Taking their phone out, Storm checks her phone as she walks to her car. She opens her messages and is greeted with pictures of Jimmy and Sassy and Lando memeifying them. She sits in her car, laughing to herself as she finally answers.

STORM - LN

There you are! - MV

Here I am - ST

How was practice? - LN

Good! Coach thinks I can win World’s this year but I think she’s being nice. - ST

No, I think your coach is right. - MV

Yeah, your coach doesn’t say that shit slightly. You’ve told me first hand. - LN

Yeah but, I don’t know. One step at a time, you know? Let me get through the competition this week. - ST

WHAT? You’re competing and didn’t tell us?! - LN

I did! I said I’m gonna be busy with practice for the competition this week! Max, back me up. - ST

Lando’s right. We were unaware. - MV

Really? Shit, sorry guys. I swore I told you guys. - ST

BOOOOOO. I wanna see you compete :( - LN

Me as well. - MV

Well, maybe next time! Or I can, you know, teach you guys how to figure skate and do something. - ST

PLEASE. - LN

For Lando to break something? I don’t know. - MV

HEY. - LN

Haha, true. Well, I gotta drive home, talk to you guys soon! - ST

Laaaame, drive safe though! - LN

Text us when you get home. - MV

Text you. I’m stalking their location as we speak! - LN

But ain't it love? Think I'm in love.

“And our first place winner, taking it by a tenth of a point is…Justice Storm Thatcher!”

Storm stood dumbly in her spot on the side before she moved as the crowd erupted in applause. Making her way onto the ice, Storm skated over to the podium, thanking the other two winners when they offered their hands to help her up, smiling wide. She bent down for her medal before standing back up, smiling brightly. She couldn’t believe that she won her competition.

After photos and congratulating the other two, who returned the congratulations, Storm made her way off the ice and hugged her coach tightly, beaming. She was speaking, they both were, but it was hard to hear over all the noise of everyone talking and leaving.

Eventually, Storm emerges from the locker room in sweatpants, sporting her leotard as a top. She’s trying to find her friends that she knew came and she turns to hear her name being shouted. Spying a hand in the air, she starts making her through the crowd, half apologizing and half not caring. She sees an opening and bursts through before stopping in her tracks at the sight before her.

“Storm!” Storm stumbles back when Lando barrels into her chest and she hugs back, not as hard as Lando, still in shock as Max makes his way over.

Pulling back, Lando puts his hands on her chest, “You were amazing!”

“I–what are you guys doing here?!”

“You thought you’d have a competition and we wouldn’t be here?” Max asks, offended.

“Well no it’s just–” Storm is baffled. She really isn’t sure what to say and Lando laughs as Max pulls her into a hug that she also semi returns.

“Are those for me?” Storm asks as she’s handed a bouquet of flowers, looking between the two.

“Of course dude. You thought we’d show up empty handed?” Lando scoffs.

“It’s not a proper celebration if we don’t go out,” Max adds, “Storm, where are we going?”

“Applebee’s.”

“...I’ve never been to an Applebee’s,” Max admits and Lando nods in agreement

“What?! You guys haven’t been to an Applebee’s?! Oh come on. We have to go! I want my bucket of alcohol–”

“Bucket!?”

“That cannot be possible,” Max shakes his head.

“Come on!” Storm starts leading the charge out of the door, “let’s go! Bucket of alcohol and half-apps! On me!”

“You are NOT paying!” Lando and Max shout as they follow after her.

When he laughs at all my jokes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, it's just not fair of him to make me feel this much. I'll go anywhere he goes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, I'm gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up…

Introducing Lando and Max to Applebee’s was better than winning any competition. They sat at a high top table, Storm seated across the two drivers. Storm nearly chokes on her water seeing the pure shock / joy that forms on the boys faces when the drinks arrive and Storm is handed a small bucket of alcohol.

“Could we just have a few more minutes to decide?” Storm asks the waiter and smiles when the waiter agrees and leaves.

“What are you getting?” Max asks.

“Appetizers.”

“You just gave the performance of your life, and you want to get appetizers?” Lando asks.

“And?”

“You need food.”

“It’s half apps! You don’t come to Applebee’s at this hour to get an actual meal, you come for drinks and half apps. Trust me,” Storm huffs seeing the look Max and Lando exchange, “I’m telling you guys.”

Lando decides to follow suit with the appetizers and Max, begrudgingly, also follows suit when the waiter comes back around. Storm can’t help but cackle when they realize how big the portions are for just appetizers and the three end up staying for roughly an hour just talking and chatting while working on their food and drinks.

Storm isn’t entirely happy that Lando and Max refused to let her pay or even help with the tip after she explained how tipping works. The three head out and the smart thing would be heading home and getting some sleep.

Instead, Storm finds herself stirring from her slumber the next morning as the sun creeps through the blinds. Rubbing her eyes, she closes her eyes and shifts hearing someone grunt. Storm tries to settle down but now she notices a weight on her and opens her eyes again.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she looks over seeing the digital clock read 2:10pm. She was supposed to stay a few hours but Max, Lando, and her had spent so long talking and goofing off that by the time someone, she can’t remember who, declared bed time, it was almost 4am.

There’s a leg tossed over hers and an arm. Storm looks around and realizes she’s between bodies. Rubbing her eyes again, her eyes focus on blonde hair tousled to her left and curly dark hair to her right realizing that the three of them ended up in a cuddle pile.

Storm makes the mistake of trying to sit up before Max and Lando both make some form of protest and Storm is pulled back down between them. Staring at the ceiling, Storm lets out a silent laugh.

I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love ~

#starlight library presents;#lando norris imagine #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x oc #lando norris x oc #norstappen imagine #norstappen x of #lando norris x storm x max verstappen #ln4 imagine #mv1 imagine #mv1 navigation #ln4 navigation #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #startlight library navigation #mv1 x oc #ln4 x oc #figure skater verse

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sunshineandspencer · 5 months ago

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Much needed apology (Iridescent, Part 8)

Let me stress, this is not Maeve from the show, but my own Maeve just named the same to send Spencer into hell whenever he thinks about it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!OC.

Summary: Thanks to the love and genius of one Penelope Garcia, Spencer knows exactly what to do to get Maeve to accept his apology and start forgiving him.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: swearing, spencer gets over himself finally

Parts: Pt1, Pt2, Pt3, Pt4, Pt5, Pt6, Pt7, Pt9

be added to the taglist

He knew he needed to go all out. With how badly he fucked up, just turning up and grovelling wouldn’t be enough. So he took Penelope’s advice.

Rushing down - and having to walk since Ava took the car - to the nearest store that he knew sold some decent wine. Glad that they only lived about fifteen minutes from work so that it wouldn’t take too long to get back to her apartment. The less time it took to apologise, the less time she had to stew and get angrier.

Finding the best bottle of rosé that money, and taste, could buy. Dragging an attendant along with him to make sure that he’s definitely getting the right thing. All the way to the card section, which was absolutely shit, so they swiftly abandoned that and went for the chocolates instead. Of course, she’s not a fan of American chocolate since she visited the UK, and so he gets her a bar of dark mint chocolate. The poor attendant quizzed on everything for their input, barely able to keep up with the genius whirlwind.

As they finally got to the tills, and the attendant rang up his items, she gave him a look. To be fair, he was desperately begging her to tell him where the nearest florist was.

“.. just how badly did you piss off your girlfriend?”

He hesitated, only a moment, but that gave him the time to realise how bitter his mouth had suddenly become at the prospect of having to say “not my girlfriend”. So he didn’t, giving a sheepish smile as he picked up the wine and the chocolate.

“She might not let me into her apartment.”

“Good luck man.” Laughing at him goodnaturedly as she gave him the receipt. “Florist is down the street, make sure you remind her that you were stupid, she’s perfect and you love her.”

Even as he walked out onto the street, it stuck to him in a way that he wasn’t sure he knew how to shake off.

‘You love her, you love her, you love her.’

But he doesn’t, he can’t. He’d only just come to terms with liking her for fuck’s sake. Surely he can’t love her yet - he definitely would’ve realised by now. He can’t.. he can’t be that oblivious to his own feelings that he fell in love without even fucking realising, right?

Absently, he wandered to the florists and bought a bouquet of lilacs, even letting the sweet old man behind the counter wrap them in brown paper, adding a ribbon around the chocolates and the wine.

When asked if he wanted to put a card with the flowers, Spencer nodded, and the man waited patiently for the message to write.

“Write.. I’m an idiot, you’re perfect and..” I love you “.. I’m sorry.”

The man gave him a look, probably for the less-than-romantic message. Nestling the card safely between the flowers and handing the items back over. Clearly, however, the man didn’t need to be profiler to realise Spencer was going off to apologise to someone.

Patting his hand softly as Spencer tried to manhandle it all into his arms, terrified of dropping the wine.

“Good luck.”

Thanking him, he hurried back out onto the streets and started walking. Once again realising just how shit of an idea it is to piss off the owner of the car they drive into work, having to walk home as quickly as possible. Dammit, it’s their car.

It had been nearly an hour now, and that was too long for her to think that she actually thinks that way about her. He needs to make this right.

Passing the little blue mini, which he has come to adore just as much as Ava, and going straight past it into the building. Using his own fob - which he had specially made after she purposely left him out in the rain - and irritably waited for the lift to get up to her floor.

Resisting the urge to use the spare key he had, knowing that barging in uninvited wasn’t the best idea, and knocking on the door.

Waiting, heart heavy and suffocating in his throat, as her footsteps got closer. The door swung open and.. she’s already glaring. How the hell did she know it was going to be him?

Thankfully, however, he watched her eyes drift down to the offerings he had for her, softening incrementally until they nearly looked like how they had before. Carefully handing over the bouquet so that he didn’t drop the wine or chocolates. Her eyes flicked to his, accusatory.

“These are my favourites.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She blinked, clearly she didn’t expect him to apologise so quickly. Especially not without teasing her first - she knows she had flour on her face.

“Spence, I-”

“No, please, let me apologise.” If his hands were free, he would’ve already been holding hers, damn chocolate and wine keeping his hands busy. “I was way out of line. I am worried about you taking on more work that you should, especially from people only taking advantage of how sweet you are. But it all came out so wrong. I didn’t mean to shout, or do it in front of so many people, I was going to say something on the way home tonight. I was overwhelmed and lashed out, but that isn’t an excuse and I shouldn’t have done it at all. I won’t do it again, ever.. unless you deserve it.”

The way she had been looking at him, clutching the flowers to her chest and just gazing at him through the apology, morphed into her usual smile at his teasing lilt returning at the end. Just what they both needed.

It did make him feel a hell of a lot better, seeing her smiling at him again, but she still hadn’t said anything.

Until she stepped aside and held the door open for him.

“Come on, I made too much pasta for myself.”

Stepping in, he can’t pinpoint why this feels different to when he comes in the morning, besides the obvious of course. Maybe because he’s going to spend (hopefully) more than ten minutes with her.

“You’re making pasta?”

“Yep.”

“Even when half the flour ends up on your face instead?”

Ava pouted softly and swiped his arm as he stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him. But it was nice to have that little thing between them back. Considering he’d been pulling away from her, and then lashed out, she was sure they were going to have to go back to hating each other.

Not that she’d be able to do that now, or ever.

“Rossi gave me the recipe when I joined, this is the first chance I’ve had to make it.”

It’s incredible, really, how he’s able to hold such a casual conversation with her while his subconscious is screaming that he loves her for everything.

He follows her into the kitchen, he loves her. He sets down the wine and chocolates on the counter, he loves her. She shows him the recipe that she’s following, complaining all about Rossi’s vague measurements, and God, but he loves her.

His loving mantra being stopped short in its tracks when he spots the little pink elephant on her couch, seemingly waiting for her to come back.

“You kept the elephant?”

Once again, he gets a sharp look, as she finishes up the sauce, and he wonders what the hell he managed to do now. Giving her a soft, sheepish smile to hope that it would placate her a little - it worked.

“His name is Clementine, and he doesn’t like you right now.”

Scoffing, Spencer went through her cabinets to look for the wine glasses and plates. Giving his own little look, which she challenged immediately. What kind of idiot was he, thinking he could give her up?

“I gave him to you, he can’t hate me, I’m his father.”

“Well, you upset his mother, and I’m the favourite.”

When she caught his gaze again, he was pouring the wine, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Which he returned and made them both laugh, a sound that blended so well together and eased some more of the lingering irritation in her chest.

Oh who’s she kidding, she couldn’t ever be mad at him for too long. Him and his stupid face.

Whereas he was stuck on her words, he’d upset her. He hated that.

They’d decided to eat on the couch, their ‘child’ between them, which they kept trying to subtly drag closer to themselves and away from the other person. Each of them wanting to prove that they were the favourite. Ava switched on the tv, putting on Married At First Sight Australia, claiming it was the superior version, and he willingly indulged her this time. During an ad break, he gently nudged her shoulder with his.

“We’re alright, aren’t we?”

“You bought me wine, chocolates and flowers, you’ve been forgiven, Spence.”

“So.. we’re alright?”

She laughed softly, meeting his little grin with one of her own. Nudging his shoulder back, but staying there, leaning into him and resting her head on the shoulder as the reality show kept on playing in the background.

“Yeah, we’re alright.”

Oh, he had to focus very hard on his breathing to make sure that she didn’t realise anything was different with him. Carefully laying his own head on top of hers.

“Great, good! I’m really sorry Ave, I take back everything I ever said that hurt you.”

“Even about my driving?”

Bastard didn’t even hesitate, spinning the spaghetti around his fork as his eyes flitted to the screen, finding himself getting into her show.

“No. You drive like a lunatic and I won’t let you behind the wheel.”

“.. little shit.”